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Hey everyone! Welcome to one of my newest stories. It's a Harry Potter / DxD crossover. I hope you all like it! This story will exclusively have long chapters. 

Chapter 1:

– Harry –

“Wake up, Potter! It's your fucking birthday!" Dudley shouted, banging his heavy fist loudly on my old bedroom door.

My eyes snapped open, startled awake by Dudley's booming voice and relentless pounding. A tired groan escaped my lips as I rolled over, blinking the sleep from my eyes. Even at nineteen, Dudley's excitement for birthdays was off the charts.

It was weird being back here in my childhood bedroom—same old posters peeling at the corners, the faded carpet, the bed that was suddenly too small now. I'd moved out a year ago, the day I turned eighteen and finally tasted some real freedom. Still, family tradition and all, I was always back here for birthdays and holidays, letting Dudley and my aunt and uncle feel like we were still connected.

Dragging myself up, I kicked off the blankets, feeling a rush of chilly morning air against my bare skin. I rubbed my face, yawning deeply again as I got up and stretched, feeling my muscles loosen. I headed to the closet, pulling out a clean towel before stepping into the hall.

The bathroom door creaked as I pushed it open. I stripped down quickly, stepping into the shower and turning the water on hot. Steam filled the tiny space, fogging up the mirror, as I stood under the water, letting it run down my body.

After thoroughly scrubbing myself clean, washing away the sleepiness, I turned off the shower and wrapped the towel loosely around my hips. I swiped a hand across the foggy mirror, clearing a patch of reflective glass, and stared at myself closely.

The guy in the mirror looking back at me was pretty damn handsome, if I did say so myself. I had those piercing blue eyes that college girls always seemed to lose themselves in. My black hair hung straight and sleek down to my shoulders—girls liked running their fingers through it. Swimming had done wonders for my body, leaving me lean but muscular, broad shoulders tapering down to toned abs. 

Damn, I looked good… 

Feeling more awake, I headed back into the bedroom, pulling on a snug black t-shirt that hugged my chest and arms just right, and some worn blue jeans. Running a hand through my hair to shake off the excess moisture, I glanced at my reflection in the dresser mirror one more time, giving a satisfied smirk.

"Harry! Hurry the hell up, birthday boy!" Dudley called impatiently from downstairs, sounding hungry enough to tear into breakfast already.

"Yeah, yeah, chill out," I shouted back.

Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley were already sitting around the kitchen table when I came downstairs. The smell of pancakes and freshly brewed coffee drifted toward me, waking me up even more.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” Uncle Vernon said warmly, surprising me with a genuine smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Thanks, Uncle Vernon,” I replied, stepping forward to hug him. My uncle was still a large guy, broad-shouldered and built like a bear, but the hug he gave me back was gentle. 

It was weird, when I was a kid, Vernon acted annoyed whenever I was around. Treating me—not great actually. 

But then, sometime after I turned sixteen, things changed drastically. Suddenly, Uncle Vernon was treating me like family— like I was the nephew he wanted at long last . I never figured out why he didn’t like me at first, though, but I never brought it up. Might as well keep the good thing going and all that.

Aunt Petunia stood near the stove, sliding another batch of pancakes onto a platter. She smiled when she saw me. “Sit, Harry. Eat while it's hot,” she insisted, putting the pancakes on the table. “Go on, boys, dig in.”

She didn't have to tell Dudley twice. He already had a forkful halfway to his mouth, syrup dripping onto his plate. I smirked, amused. Dudley was no longer the pudgy, round kid he had been back in secondary school. Ever since he'd discovered boxing, he'd gotten leaner, his arms strong and toned beneath his loose-fitting hoodie.

I sat down across from him and grabbed a stack of pancakes, pouring syrup over them generously.

“How does it feel being nineteen, man?” Dudley asked with his mouth half-full, grinning across at me.

“Pretty much like being eighteen,” I shrugged, cutting a bite from my pancakes. “Just older and still clueless about adult life.”

Dudley chuckled, swallowing before he spoke again. “Yeah, sounds about right.”

I glanced at my cousin again and remembered how we'd both gotten into sports around the same time. While Dudley took to boxing, I found swimming. Something about the water called to me—not in some metaphorical sense, but literally.

I always felt connected to water… And I could literally breathe underwater , which was definitely not normal, but I'd always been smart enough to keep that a secret. It did give me a massive advantage in the swimming pool, though, enough to get a university scholarship, just like Dudley got one for boxing as well.

Petunia sat down next to Vernon, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She took a small sip, eyeing Dudley and me fondly. “So,” she said brightly, “do my two boys have any special plans today?”

Dudley shrugged, glancing at me again. “Up to Harry. It’s his big day.”

I finished swallowing a bite of pancake before responding, leaning back casually in my chair. “Haven't thought much about it yet. But I’m sure Dudley can come up with something entertaining enough.”

“Oh, you bet your ass I can,” Dudley grinned wickedly.

“Language, Dudley!” Aunt Petunia snapped sharply, giving him a pointed look. Dudley just shrugged, unfazed as usual, stuffing another forkful of pancake into his mouth.

Beside her, Uncle Vernon chuckled deeply. "Alright, alright," Vernon said cheerfully, pulling something out of his pocket. "I've got something special for you two." He slid a pair of tickets across the table, looking pleased with himself.

Dudley practically lunged for them, his eyes widening in excitement as he saw what was printed. "Holy shit—football tickets? Seriously, Dad?"

Petunia cleared her throat, shooting Dudley another glare, but Vernon just laughed again. "Yeah, thought you boys might enjoy yourselves today."

I grinned, leaning forward to glance at the tickets Dudley held tightly. Football wasn't exactly my passion, but there was something undeniably exciting about being in a roaring crowd, the energy pulsing through the stands and the noise overwhelming my senses.

I was riding shotgun in Dudley's car, drumming my fingers on the passenger door as we weaved through the busy London streets toward the stadium. Dudley gripped the wheel tightly, his eyes practically shining with excitement. "England is going to kick ass today, Harry! I just fucking know it," Dudley announced confidently, glancing over at me with an enthusiastic grin.

I leaned back in my seat, smirking mischievously. "We'll see," I said, deciding right then to root loudly for the opposing team just to annoy him. It was a small pleasure, but the look on Dudley's face would definitely be worth it.

He shot me a sideways look, chuckling as he shook his head. Then, his expression suddenly shifted, and his grin turned sly. "Hey Harry, think you could work your magic later today? Like you used to do back in secondary school?"

My heart skipped a beat, and my fingers stopped drumming against the door. "My magic?" I echoed nervously, swallowing hard as my pulse quickened. 

Did Dudley figure something out?

Before my thoughts spiraled too far, Dudley burst out laughing. "I'm talking about your magic with chicks, idiot! That stupidly handsome face of yours always drew the girls like crazy. Help a guy out, will you? Let's score some hot babes to celebrate after the game."

Relief washed over me instantly, and I chuckled weakly, feeling slightly embarrassed at my jumpy reaction. "Yeah, yeah, I'll see what I can do," I replied, relaxing back into the seat again.

He did not know... That was good.

My thoughts drifted back to my school days, triggered by Dudley's teasing comment. I felt warmth rising in my cheeks, remembering all the attention I used to get back then. Girls would literally chase after me in the hallways, blatant invitations and sliding their numbers into my locker. 

I had a bit of a reputation back in school, and not without reason. Whatever it was that set me apart from normal people also made me ridiculously horny all the time. My urges had always been intense, way stronger than other guys my age. Recently, I've really tried to tone it all down, to get my impulses under control. 

But honestly, I was failing spectacularly. At least I was trying—effort had to count for something, right?

Dudley's sudden whoop jolted me out of my thoughts as we pulled into the stadium parking lot. The place was packed—rows and rows of cars, flags waving in the breeze, loud music blasting, and excited fans shouting and laughing around grills and coolers.

"Hell yes! Now this is what I’m talking about," Dudley cheered enthusiastically, slamming the car into park.

I chuckled, feeling Dudley's excitement rubbing off on me. "Alright, let's go find some trouble," I joked, opening the passenger door and stepping out into the noisy, crowded lot.

…

Vernon definitely went all out on our tickets, because Dudley and I were sitting practically front-row, close enough that I could see the sweat dripping off the players' faces. I'd never been a huge football fan, but the wild energy buzzing through the stadium drew me in. Before long, I was on my feet, screaming and cheering along with Dudley and the rest of the crowd.

By the time the whistle blew for full-time, England lost by just one goal, but they played one hell of a match. The crowd wasn't even that upset... 

I chuckled quietly, realizing there'd probably just be a small riot on the streets of London tonight instead of a full-scale disaster.

But football wasn't the only interesting thing going on today. Right next to Dudley and me, there were two gorgeous blonde girls who'd had my attention practically the whole time. Their looks would seriously make magazine cover models jealous. 

One seemed a bit older, maybe early twenties, with silky blonde hair falling past her shoulders and bright blue eyes that kept sneaking curious glances at me. Her younger sister looked about my age, with equally stunning features—soft pink lips, flawless skin, and a confident little smirk every time our eyes met.

Dudley elbowed me sharply in the ribs as the crowd started filing out. He leaned close, whispering urgently into my ear, "Don't let me down, Potter. Those girls are hot as fuck. Go talk to them!"

"Alright, alright," I muttered, rolling my eyes but grinning anyway. I stood up, stretching casually as I turned toward the two girls.

"So," I said, smiling warmly, catching their attention instantly. "What'd you think about the game? Pretty intense, right?"

Both girls looked surprised for a second, then smiled back, their cheeks turning slightly pink.

The older one giggled softly as she leaned in a little closer. "Oui, it was fantastic," she said, her voice dripping with a thick French accent that's both sweet and sexy. "So much excitement. We almost won, non?"

"Very close," the younger one chimed in, leaning forward a bit as well, her accent just as alluring as her sister's. "You English boys are quite passionate fans."

Holy shit, those French accents were amazing…

I laughed softly, feeling a warm flush creep across my face. Dudley nudged me again, clearly thrilled by the attention we were getting.

"I'm Harry, by the way," I told them smoothly. "This is my cousin Dudley."

The beautiful French girls turned to us, their smiles bright and charming. The older one tilted her head slightly, brushing back her long, shimmering blonde hair, and introduced herself first. "I'm Fleur Delacour," she said confidently, her accent thick and appealing, "and this is my sister, Gabrielle."

Gabrielle gave us a sweet smile, her blue eyes meeting mine for a moment before she shyly looked away.

Dudley, clearly feeling bold, leaned forward slightly, giving them his most charming grin. "So tell me, what's a couple of French beauties like yourselves doing stuck here in dreary old England?"

Fleur laughed softly, the sound clear and musical, while Gabrielle giggled into her hand. Dudley looked pleased, obviously thinking he'd just nailed it.

"We're here for a school tournament," Fleur explained patiently. "Our private school sent us to compete. But that tournament doesn't actually start until October, about a month away."

Gabrielle nodded, her expression brightening a little more. "We're here early to settle in and practice."

Dudley grinned wider, glancing at me with his eyebrows wiggling dramatically. "Right on, then. So that means you've got plenty of time to check out the sights and meet new people."

Both girls rolled their eyes, playfully amused by his obvious attempt at flirting. It was clear to me—and probably to Dudley, judging by his deflated expression—that they were much more interested in talking to me than to my cousin. I almost felt bad for Dudley, but then again, being devilishly handsome came with its own set of perks and problems.

Smiling at Fleur and Gabrielle, I casually said, "Dudley and I were thinking of grabbing some food at a restaurant near the stadium. If we hurry, we can beat the rush. You two want to join?"

Fleur glanced at Gabrielle, their eyes exchanging a quick look before turning back to me.

"Oui," Fleur answered immediately, smiling warmly. "That sounds lovely."

Gabrielle's cheeks turned a slight shade of pink as she nodded in agreement. "Yes, we'd love to come."

Dudley turned to me, an excited, triumphant grin on his face. I shot him an amused look, already knowing exactly what he was thinking.

Dudley might be getting excited over nothing, I thought quietly, glancing back at Fleur and Gabrielle through the rear-view mirror. These girls were classy, nothing like the ones who used to throw themselves at me in school. They were obviously interested—otherwise, they wouldn't have agreed to come out to eat with us—but I doubted they were looking to jump straight into my bed. Or Dudley's. Though judging by how they were ignoring my cousin completely, he was probably out of luck anyway.

"So, 'Arry," Fleur spoke up, leaning slightly forward from the backseat, her beautiful accent filling the car with each word. "Tell us about yourself. How old are you?"

I glanced back at her, smiling. "I'm nineteen. Dudley and I are both at university. I got in on a swimming scholarship."

Gabrielle's eyes sparkled with curiosity. She leaned forward too, resting her arms casually on the back of my seat. "Swimming? Oui, I can tell. You definitely 'ave ze body of an athlete."

I grinned, feeling warmth creep into my cheeks. Before I could say anything back, Gabrielle suddenly reached out and gently squeezed my bicep. Her fingers lingered a little longer than necessary, sending a jolt of heat through my body.

"Gabrielle!" Fleur scolded playfully, pulling her sister's hand away. "You are being too forward."

Gabrielle giggled, completely unfazed. "Oh, come on, Fleur. You were zinking ze same thing."

"Maybe," Fleur replied with a mischievous smile, her eyes flicking to mine for just a second too long. "But zat does not mean you should grab 'im like zat."

Dudley loudly cleared his throat, obviously trying to pull the conversation his way. "Well, I box. Got myself a scholarship too," he said proudly, glancing back hopefully.

Fleur turned politely toward Dudley for a moment. "Oh, zat is nice," she said sweetly, giving him a quick smile. But her eyes slid back to me almost instantly, clearly uninterested in talking to anyone else.

Dudley deflated visibly, muttering something under his breath, and I had to bite back a laugh.

We pulled into the diner parking lot, and thankfully the place wasn't crowded yet. Most people were probably still at the stadium, meaning we had the place mostly to ourselves.

I jumped out first, moving around quickly to open the door for Fleur and Gabrielle.

"Ah, such a gentleman," Fleur teased softly, stepping out gracefully and smiling warmly at me. "Merci, 'Arry."

Gabrielle hopped out next, her hand briefly touching mine as she moved past. "Oui, merci," she whispered shyly.

We sat down in a booth near the back of the diner, Dudley sliding in beside me with a loud sigh of relief. The two girls sat directly across from us, their perfect blonde hair catching the diner’s bright overhead lights. Dudley immediately grabbed a menu and flipped it open, leaning forward eagerly.

"So, what're you getting, Potter?" Dudley asked, rubbing his stomach dramatically. "After cheering all game, I'm starving. Seriously, I could eat a whole football team!" He laughed loudly at his own dumb joke, elbowing me lightly in the ribs.

I just chuckled and rolled my eyes, flipping through my own menu casually. But when I glanced up, I noticed the two French girls suddenly freeze. Fleur's blue eyes widened, her lips slightly parted, and Gabrielle's expression looked like someone had just shocked her.

Gabrielle suddenly leaned forward across the table, staring intently at me with bright, eager eyes. Her gaze traveled slowly up and down my face, as if she were studying every detail carefully.

"Wait… eez your name really 'Arry Potter?" Gabrielle asked, sounding breathless with excitement.

"Um, yeah," I said slowly, feeling a bit puzzled. "That's what my parents named me…."

Gabrielle gasped softly, turning quickly and poking her older sister in the arm repeatedly. "Fleur! You 'eard zat, oui? We are actually sitting wiz 'Arry Potter himself!" Fleur seemed equally stunned, looking at me like she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. Gabrielle leaned closer to me again, her cheeks flushed pink with excitement. "'Arry, you were my childhood 'ero," she said eagerly, her eyes sparkling with genuine admiration. "I used to write you letters all ze time. Did you ever receive any of zem?"

I blinked a couple of times, feeling awkward and confused. "Letters? Uh, no, I never got any letters. Are you sure you've got the right Harry Potter?" I asked. 

Gabrielle looked disappointed, but Fleur chuckled softly, shaking her head with an amused smile.

"Gabrielle, zis eez probably just a funny coincidence," Fleur said gently, placing a calming hand on her sister’s arm. She turned to me again with a small apologetic shrug. "Unless, of course, your parents were named James and Lily Potter?" she asked with a touch of sarcasm.

I froze at her words, feeling my stomach twist strangely. I scratched my cheek awkwardly, staring at Fleur and Gabrielle in surprise. "Um…yeah, actually," I said slowly, my voice hesitant. "They were."

Both sisters stared at me, eyes wide in stunned silence.

Dudley looked between us, completely confused, before he spoke up, sounding thoroughly lost. "Wait…what the hell is going on here?"

Gabrielle suddenly leaned forward across the table, her eyes bright with excitement. She clasped her hands together tightly and stared at me like she was about to burst. "'Arry, why did you never go to 'Ogwarts?" she blurted out eagerly, almost bouncing in her seat.

I just stared at her, completely lost. "Come to…what? What's a Hogwarts?"

That was a strange sounding term.

Gabrielle looked even more shocked, her eyes widening dramatically. "You do not know about 'Ogwarts? Ze wizarding school!?"

Before I could even answer, she was firing more questions at me, leaning even closer across the table. "Why did you disappear from ze wizarding world? Everyone zought ze Death Eaters secretly killed you! Where 'ave you been all zis time, 'Arry?"

I sat there feeling totally overwhelmed. Wizarding world? Death Eaters? What the hell was she even talking about?

"I…I honestly have no idea what you're saying," I finally told her, shaking my head. "I don't know about any wizarding world or Death Eaters or anything like that."

Gabrielle opened her mouth again, looking ready to fire off more questions, when suddenly Dudley interrupted loudly.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, eyes widening as he pointed directly at Fleur and Gabrielle. "You two— you're witches, aren't you?"

I turned to Dudley in shock, feeling irritated by his sudden rude outburst. "Dud, come on, that's a pretty rude thing to call classy women like them," I scolded him, embarrassed about what he had just called these classy girls.

But Dudley just shook his head insistently, looking completely serious for once. "No, Harry, you don't get it. I promised Mum and Dad I'd never talk about this stuff again, but magic—magic's real. They're witches, like, actual witches!"

I stared at Dudley, completely stunned, feeling my heart thud quickly in my chest.

Magic.

Real magic?

I'd always known something like magic was real. How else would I explain being able to breathe underwater, move faster than normal people, or even the wings I kept hidden from everyone else? But until now, I'd always believed I was totally alone.

Turning back to Fleur and Gabrielle, I gave them both an astonished look. "Witches, huh?" I said softly, still taking it all in. "That's…that's pretty cool, actually."

Gabrielle beamed excitedly, looking relieved that I finally seemed to understand. She leaned forward again, batting her eyelashes sweetly. "'Arry, please, you must tell us—"

But Fleur gently placed a hand on Gabrielle’s shoulder, cutting her off mid-sentence. "Gabrielle, slow down," she said calmly, giving her sister an affectionate but stern look. "Can't you see? Poor 'Arry Potter looks genuinely confused right now..."

Oh, I definitely was, but at the same time, I felt like this was going to turn out to be the most important day of my life.

Our food arrived a few minutes later, the waitress setting down large plates filled with greasy fish and chips, burgers stacked tall with melted cheese dripping down, and big cups of iced sodas. Fleur and Gabrielle stared at their plates in dismay, their beautiful faces scrunching up almost simultaneously in an expression of disgust.

I couldn't help but laugh quietly at their reaction. "What's the matter? Not up to your fancy French standards?" I teased lightly, picking up a fry and popping it casually into my mouth.

Gabrielle turned her head to glare at me playfully, her bright eyes narrowed slightly as she poked at her food with obvious disdain. "I do not understand 'ow you can stomach zis, 'Arry. Zis food is absolutely uncultured and disgusting," she said dramatically, giving a small pout of disapproval.

"Gabrielle," Fleur interjected with an amused smile, picking up her fork to carefully inspect a greasy fry. "You must not forget zat Britain conquered 'alf ze world in order to steal spices from everyone else, only to never actually use zem in zeir own cooking."

I laughed out loud at Fleur's joke, shaking my head slightly. "Fair point. But if you're too good for our British cuisine," I said jokingly, leaning forward with a mischievous smile, "I know a decent ice cream place just around the corner. Maybe that'll be a bit more to your tastes."

Both girls immediately brightened, exchanging hopeful grins, clearly excited by the suggestion. But before either could respond, the delicate silver watch on Gabrielle's wrist suddenly began blinking with a small red light, casting a faint glow onto the table.

Their expressions shifted instantly—Gabrielle looked startled and disappointed, her shoulders slumping, while Fleur's face grew serious, lips pressed tightly together.

"We apologize," Fleur said softly, placing her napkin down beside her barely touched plate. "But we cannot stay much longer."

Gabrielle's eyes widened and she opened her mouth, clearly about to protest. Fleur shot her a stern look, silencing whatever argument Gabrielle was preparing to make.

I glanced between the two sisters, feeling confused and concerned. "Hey, what's wrong? Everything okay?"

Gabrielle bit her lower lip nervously, her cheeks coloring faintly pink as she met my eyes with an embarrassed expression. "Well...you see, Fleur and I, we are not exactly normal witches ."

"What do you mean by 'not normal'?" I asked, tilting my head curiously.

Fleur sighed softly, meeting my gaze steadily as she explained. "In order to safely spend time around non-magical people, Gabrielle and I must wear zese enchanted watches." She gestured toward the blinking watch on Gabrielle's wrist. "Zey stop us from projecting something called Allure zat our kind naturally possesses."

"Allure?" I repeated, still lost. "What's that exactly?"

Gabrielle shifted uncomfortably in her seat, looking shyly down at the table as she replied. "Eet is a magical charm zat makes people extremely attracted to us, sometimes uncontrollably so. Without ze enchantment, eet can cause... issues."

Fleur nodded in agreement, her voice gentle but firm. "Unfortunately, ze enchantments do not last very long. Zis is why we must go soon."

Gabrielle looked genuinely sad, her bright eyes glancing up at me apologetically. "We really did enjoy meeting you, 'Arry."

Dudley and I walked Fleur and Gabrielle out of the diner and into the cool evening air. The sun had already set, leaving a soft glow from the streetlights lining the sidewalk. Both girls paused, turning gracefully toward us with warm, slightly regretful smiles.

Gabrielle stepped forward first, clasping her delicate hands together in front of her, looking up at me with bright, hopeful eyes. "Eet was so lovely meeting you, 'Arry. I 'ope we see each other again very soon. I really do want to know more about my childhood 'ero!"

I smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck in confusion. Even after our conversation, I still had absolutely no clue what she meant about being her hero. "I'd like that too," I said honestly. "Maybe you can explain more about…well, everything."

Gabrielle nodded eagerly, reaching out to gently touch my arm. "Of course! If you really want answers, zere ees a place you can find zem." She glanced around, then leaned in close, her soft voice dropping into an intimate whisper. "Go to zis address in ze middle of London—ze wizarding world ees zere, 'Arry."

She carefully recited the address, watching intently as I repeated it quietly to myself. Once she was satisfied I had it memorized, Gabrielle rose onto her toes, her face flushing a faint shade of pink as she pressed her soft lips lightly to my left cheek.

"'Appy birthday, 'Arry," she whispered, pulling back shyly with a bright, adorable blush coloring her cheeks.

I smiled, warmth spreading through me at the sweet gesture. "Thanks, Gabrielle."

Before I could say anything more, Fleur stepped closer. Being taller than her younger sister, she easily leaned in, her blue eyes locked steadily on mine as she gently kissed my left cheek. Her lips lingered just a second longer, brushing lightly against the very corner of my mouth in a soft, teasing touch. My heart sped up, heat rising into my face instantly.

Gabrielle immediately noticed, and she pouted dramatically at Fleur. Fleur gave her sister an innocent, playful smile before stepping back slightly. "Eet was very nice to meet you, 'Arry," Fleur said softly, her voice silky and inviting. "I truly 'ope zat we can meet again soon."

"Me too," I managed to respond, my throat suddenly dry as I stared at her beautiful, amused expression.

Both girls gave us a final charming wave before turning together, their silky blonde hair cascading over their shoulders as they walked away. Dudley and I stood side by side, silently watching the gentle sway of their hips until they disappeared around the corner.

Dudley sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. "Well, that was a total bust," he grumbled sourly. "Figures. The hottest girls we meet ever turn out to be witches and aren't even remotely interested in me."

I snorted softly, glancing sideways at him. "Tough luck, Dud."

He turned toward me, eyebrows raised hopefully. "You wanna hit up a club or something, Harry? Maybe find some girls who aren't witches and actually notice me?"

I gave him a deadpan stare, crossing my arms over my chest. "Seriously, Dud? After everything we just heard?"

He shrugged, looking sheepish. "Yeah, alright, I guess that's fair."

"I think I'm a little more interested in finding out about this whole wizarding world thing you've all been hiding from me," I said, unable to keep the sharp edge from my voice.

Dudley held his hands up defensively, stepping back slightly. "Whoa, Harry, calm down, alright? I swear it wasn't my fault. Mum and Dad made me promise never to tell you about any of it."

I frowned at him, feeling a tightness in my chest. "But why? What possible reason could you guys have for keeping something so important a secret from me?"

He sighed heavily, shoving his hands into his pockets. "When you didn't get that Hogwarts letter or whatever it is at sixteen, Mum and Dad just figured you weren't magical or something. They thought it'd be better not to bring it up at all, you know, to avoid making you feel bad or something."

I grimaced at his words, feeling frustration bubbling inside me. Was it partly my fault too? I'd always kept my own unique abilities secret from everyone, including my relatives. I'd never trusted them with my strangest secrets—like the wings I'd hidden from everyone, or the fact that I could breathe underwater. Maybe if I'd been honest about myself, they would have been honest about all this magic stuff. And probably continued to not treat me like family as well judging by what Dudley was telling me.

I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling deeply. "Yeah, okay. I get it. Sort of."

Dudley looked relieved, clapping me roughly on the shoulder. "Listen, Potter, whatever you decide to do, I've got your back. I might not get all this wizarding shit, but you're still my cousin."

I felt myself relax a little, smiling faintly at his earnest expression. "Thanks, Dud. That means a lot."

"Anytime," he said with a grin, nudging me lightly. "Now, how about we at least grab a beer somewhere before heading home?"

I chuckled softly, shaking my head as we started walking. "Sure, Dud. One beer. And you're paying."

Dudley and I had ended up at a crowded, noisy bar downtown. Music thumped loudly, neon signs glowed brightly, and people filled nearly every inch of space, laughing and talking over each other. We sat at the bar, Dudley downing his beer quickly while I slowly sipped mine, thoughts drifting constantly back to Fleur, Gabrielle, and the bizarre revelation they'd shared with me.

Throughout the evening, several women approached us. Some were young, probably university students like us, and others were more mature, bold enough to openly flirt and drop clear hints that they were interested. They leaned against the bar, offering to buy drinks or simply asking if I was alone tonight.

"Hey there, handsome," a tall blonde in a tight dress purred, sidling up next to me. "Need some company tonight?"

I shook my head politely, giving her an apologetic smile. "No thanks, just hanging out with my cousin."

She shrugged, disappointed, before moving away. A couple more girls tried the same, flashing inviting smiles and making it clear they were interested. But after the strange day I'd had, after meeting Fleur and Gabrielle and learning about magic—real magic—I simply wasn't in the mood. 

None of these girls compared to the intrigue and mystery of the French sisters or the wizarding world they'd hinted at.

Dudley, however, had no such thoughts. He enthusiastically chatted with every girl who approached, finally focusing his attention on a particularly pretty brunette in a short skirt and tight top. She giggled at all his jokes, touched his arm repeatedly, and soon enough, Dudley had convinced her to come home with us.

We climbed into Dudley's car, the girl squeezing herself between us in the front seat. I sat awkwardly against the passenger door, trying to give them as much space as possible. Dudley grinned widely as he drove, obviously pleased with himself.

The brunette glanced at me with a mischievous smile, her eyes glazed slightly from alcohol. Suddenly, without warning, she tugged down the neckline of her top, baring her perky tits and pink nipples to me openly. "Would you like to join in?" she asked boldly, her voice playful and sultry. "I'm always down for a devil's threesome."

Dudley's eyes immediately darted sideways. "Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, swerving the car sharply, barely managing to keep control!

"Dudley, keep your eyes on the damn road!" I snapped, grabbing the dash for support as the car steadied again.

He chuckled nervously, refocusing on driving while still stealing glances sideways.

Turning my attention back to the girl, I shook my head firmly but politely. "Thanks for the offer, but no thank you." 

She pouted dramatically, obviously disappointed. "Aw, that's no fun," she sighed, shifting her attention fully back toward Dudley. "Guess I'll have you all to myself, then."

Her hand drifted toward Dudley’s lap, fingers tracing slowly along his thigh before boldly reaching for his zipper. Dudley swallowed audibly, struggling to keep his attention on the road as her hand slipped inside his pants.

That was my cue to leave.

"Dudley, just let me out here," I said firmly, already reaching for the door handle. "We're close enough. I wanna check out that address Gabrielle gave me anyway. I won't be able to sleep if I don't."

"Sure thing, man," Dudley responded distractedly, clearly more focused on the girl's exploring hand than on anything I was saying. He barely slowed the car enough for me to safely hop out onto the sidewalk.

"Have fun!" I called sarcastically over my shoulder as the car pulled away, Dudley’s laughter mixing with the girl’s loud giggles.

I walked down the street for a few more blocks as the sun dipped lower, casting a soft golden glow over the buildings. My heart thumped steadily with anticipation as I moved closer to the address Gabrielle had whispered to me earlier. The street was mostly quiet now, shadows stretching out and deepening around me. But as I approached my destination, an odd sensation prickled at my skin, making the hairs on my arms stand on end.

My senses suddenly felt overloaded, like there was something heavy and buzzing in the air. I'd never experienced anything quite like this before. Was this magic? Real magic from other people? Until now, I'd only ever sensed my own powers, and this was completely different. 

I slowed my pace, taking a careful look around. Several people had appeared, wandering down the street dressed in the strangest clothes I'd ever seen. My eyes widened as I took in their odd attire. They wore robes—actual robes that looked like something out of a historical movie or a fantasy novel.

"Are they seriously wearing old-timey robes?" I muttered quietly to myself, blinking in disbelief.

As I got closer, I realized many of them looked slightly unkempt. There was dirt on some robes, unbrushed hair, and disheveled appearances overall. It made me wonder uneasily if maybe the magical people in London were all homeless or something.

"Doesn't magic come with showers?" I asked under my breath, shaking my head a bit.

Still unsure, I spotted an old pub on the corner. A faded, slightly crooked sign swung gently in the evening breeze, creaking softly as it read "The Leaky Cauldron." The pub didn't exactly look inviting, but the oddly dressed people were moving in and out like it was perfectly normal. I took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The interior was dimly lit, the air thick and smelling strongly of old ale and stale smoke. I squinted a bit, trying to adjust my eyes to the darkness. The pub itself looked ancient—cracked wooden tables, worn benches, and walls stained with age. A few patrons glanced up briefly, giving me indifferent looks before returning to their conversations.

As I stood there, still adjusting to my surroundings, I noticed a small group moving quietly toward the back of the pub. There were three of them—a middle-aged man in dark blue robes, a younger woman wearing bright green, and an older woman with long, gray hair cascading down the back of her scarlet robes. They spoke quietly to one another, their voices low but audible enough to catch my attention.

"Come along, we still have some shopping to do in Diagon Alley," the older woman said impatiently.

Diagon Alley. 

That was the place Gabrielle had mentioned to me earlier. Without a second thought, I discreetly fell in step behind them, hoping no one would notice or object.

They didn't even glance my way as they walked through the back door of the pub into a small, cramped courtyard. The younger woman stepped forward, pulling out a thin wooden stick from her robe pocket.

"Right then, stand back," she instructed, tapping several bricks in a quick, deliberate sequence. 

I watched carefully, committing the pattern immediately to memory. I'd always had a knack for remembering details like this.

As she tapped the last brick, I jumped slightly in shock as the entire wall began shifting and rearranging itself right before my eyes. Bricks moved fluidly, sliding smoothly aside to form an archway that revealed an entirely new street—bright, bustling, and packed full of people.

"Bloody hell," I whispered in awe, stepping forward slowly. The sight before me was incredible. It was like stepping into a completely different world. Shops lined both sides of the cobblestone street, their windows filled with strange and exotic items that I couldn't even begin to name. Owls fluttered overhead carrying small packages, children raced excitedly past holding ice creams that appeared to change colors, and groups of robed people chattered animatedly.

Diagon Alley was definitely way nicer and cleaner than the shitty-ass pub I'd just walked through. I took slow, curious steps along the cobblestone path, eyes wide and trying to absorb everything at once. All around me, magical people strolled casually, chatting and laughing in their strange old-fashioned robes. Shops lined both sides of the street, each packed with brightly-colored displays and objects I had absolutely no clue about.

I paused briefly, glancing into the nearest shop window. Brightly polished instruments spun slowly on stands, their surfaces glittering in the lamplight. I had an urge to step inside immediately and ask what the hell all these weird gadgets actually did, but I hesitated. I really didn't want everyone here thinking I was some clueless bumpkin from nowhere.

Turning away, my gaze shifted toward a small group of kids gathered near an ice cream shop. The storefront was cheerful, brightly painted with stripes of pink and yellow. A smiling older man behind the counter scooped ice cream into cones and handed them to eager customers.

Curious, I moved a bit closer to watch. The kids reached into their pockets, but instead of pulling out pounds or notes, they held small metal coins, gleaming silver, gold, and bronze in their palms.

I patted my own pockets lightly, frowning. I definitely didn't have anything like those metal coins. I wondered briefly if they'd even accept normal money here at all.

"Thanks, Mister Fortescue!" a young boy said cheerfully, handing over a few bronze coins and eagerly taking his ice cream cone. He licked it enthusiastically, grinning widely as he walked away.

My eyes wandered further along the bustling street and finally settled on a huge building down at the far end of the alley. It was impressive, towering grandly over the smaller shops nearby. Shiny white marble and massive. Above the front entrance, an enormous sign read clearly in golden letters: Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

I stepped closer, gazing at it thoughtfully. A bank—exactly what I needed. Maybe they'd exchange some of the regular money I had in my pocket.

As I walked up to the bank, I immediately noticed something weird. Standing out front were guards dressed in full medieval armor, holding actual swords and long spears. Their armor was shiny but battered, like they’d seen plenty of action. 

Did people try to rob this place all the time or something?

And their faces—I grimaced without meaning to—they had rough, twisted features, bulging eyes, hooked noses, and uneven, sharp teeth. Honestly, their ugly looks were something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemies— not that I really had any.

Another strange thing was their height. These guys were seriously short. None of them stood taller than about chest-level to me, and they eyed me warily as I approached, gripping their weapons tighter. Their nervous little eyes darted back and forth, looking anxious, even fearful.

I slowed down as I approached, raising my eyebrows cautiously. What exactly had I done to freak them out this badly?

The guard at the front stepped forward. He held his spear out stiffly in my direction, his hands shaking a little.

“What is your business here, Devil?” he growled sharply, his voice scratchy and gruff. “Are you here to rob us?”

Devil? I frowned slightly, confused. 

What was he talking about?

“Whoa, relax,” I said calmly, lifting my hands a little to show I wasn't a threat. “I’m just here to exchange some currency. You know, regular pounds into—uh—wizard money or whatever...”

“Oh,” the guard said, visibly relaxing. He lowered his spear immediately, shoulders dropping as if relieved. Behind him, the other guards also eased up, their grips on their weapons loosening. “You should have just said so in the first place, Devil. Go on in, then. Talk to the Goblin teller Grubstomper, first desk on your left. Your kind doesn’t have to wait in line like the humans.”

He moved aside and gestured toward the large double doors behind him. As if sensing me coming, the doors swung open on their own, revealing the gleaming interior of Gringotts Bank.

Goblins huh? At least now I knew what these things were.

“Um, thanks, I guess,” I muttered uncertainly, still caught off guard by the weird interaction. I stepped carefully past the guards, feeling their beady eyes follow me until the doors closed behind me.

Inside, the bank was just as grand as I'd imagined. Tall marble columns, pristine marble floors, and long rows of elegant desks stretched before me. Small creatures sat behind those desks, scribbling rapidly on parchment with feathered quills. They were clearly the same species as the guards out front, short, ugly, and sharp-eyed.

My mind drifted again to the word "Devil." Yeah, I’d always known I had wings. But I'd never seriously considered myself as anything other than human. Maybe I was some kind of mutant, like in those American comic books Dudley was always reading. 

But now, after everything I'd experienced today, I was starting to realize I might've been wrong about that.

I found Grubstomper’s desk easily, first on the left as instructed. The little creature sitting there glanced up nervously from his ledger, blinking his tiny, dark eyes quickly.

“Uh…are you Grubstomper the goblin?” I asked, stepping closer to the desk and resting my hands on the polished wooden surface.

The goblin swallowed, seeming uncomfortable and wary as he stared up at me. “Y-yes, I am Grubstomper. How can I help you…sir?”

“I just want to exchange some pounds for wizard money,” I explained patiently, trying to sound friendly and non-threatening. I reached slowly into my pocket, pulling out my wallet and taking out several notes. “Can you do that here?”

“...It may not be necessary for you to exchange your Muggle currency at all. Your clan likely has an open account here at Gringotts. You might be able to withdraw funds directly."

I blinked at him in confusion. 

Clan? 

What the hell was he talking about? First I'd been called "Devil," and now I apparently had some kind of clan? For a second I opened my mouth to ask questions, but quickly changed my mind. Honestly, the way things had gone today, it felt better to just roll with it.

"Okay," I said simply. "That sounds… convenient."

The goblin nodded seriously and stood up from behind his tall wooden desk. He stepped around it and gestured for me to follow. "Come this way. We'll verify your lineage and see what vaults are accessible to you. My private office will provide more privacy for this matter."

I snorted softly to myself, amused by the situation. "Alright, lead the way."

I followed the goblin as he led me down a corridor behind his desk. Glancing around as we walked, I had to admit, the goblins clearly lived well. The corridor was brightly lit, lined with fine paintings and intricate gold trim. When the goblin finally stopped at a large wooden door, he pushed it open, ushering me inside.

His office was ornate and sophisticated. A beautiful dark oak desk sat prominently in the middle of the room, piled neatly with thick ledgers and paperwork. Richly embroidered tapestries hung along the walls, and plush chairs sat invitingly across from the goblin's own.

Damn, this little ugly guy worked in style.

"Please, have a seat," he said politely, moving around the desk to sit himself down. 

I sank slowly into one of the chairs, shifting awkwardly as I watched the goblin carefully open a drawer and pull out a jagged-looking blade with a sharp blood red tint.

My body instantly tensed up, and I eyed the blade nervously. "Whoa, what's that for?"

The goblin gave me what I guessed was supposed to be a reassuring smile. It didn't help much. "Relax," he said calmly. "This blade was provided directly from the current Beelzebub herself to our people. Even if we are no longer allowed to do business in the Underworld, we kept the knife in case Devils ever come to the surface to do business with us.”

“How come your people aren’t allowed to do business in the underworld?” I asked. 

“There was a war… We lost. We don’t talk about it.” His reply was curt, and clearly that was all I was going to get.

A war huh? A war between devils and goblins? I wondered if that was why the goblins outside were so hostile to me at first?

“So what does the blade do?”

He ran his long fingers along the flat of the blade, careful not to cut himself as he explained to me. “It is enchanted specifically to identify Devil lineages from a single drop of blood. This will allow us to verify your lineage accurately."

I frowned in confusion, shaking my head slightly. "But I already know who my parents are," I said defensively. "I don't see why—"

The goblin quickly held up a hand, cutting me off mid-sentence. "We simply need to be sure, sir. This will only take a moment."

I sighed quietly, deciding not to argue further. "Alright, fine. Just make it quick."

He nodded seriously and gently took my hand. I watched apprehensively as he brought the blade carefully to my fingertip. There was a quick, sharp sting, and I winced slightly as a drop of bright red blood welled up. He pressed my bleeding finger lightly against a blank parchment, and the blood seeped into the paper immediately, forming strange lines and shapes.

Within seconds, glowing golden letters began to appear on the parchment. My breath caught in my throat as I leaned forward, staring intently at the words slowly revealing themselves.

My eyes widened in disbelief as the names formed clearly.

Harry Sitri of Clan Sitri. Half-Devil
Mother: Lily Evans
Father?: Serafall Leviathan

I stared blankly, reading the names again. 

What the actual fuck? 

My name wasn't even Harry Potter? And what the hell—my father was someone named Serafall Leviathan? Not James Potter, the man I'd believed was my dad for nineteen years?

I laughed uneasily under my breath, sitting back in the chair heavily. Had my mum seriously cheated on Dad?

The goblin suddenly went completely silent, his tiny eyes widening in disbelief as he stared down at the parchment. His long fingers trembled slightly as he read something over again carefully, as if he couldn't quite believe what was written there.

"Your mother..." He paused, his voice shaking a bit as he lifted his gaze to look at me. "Your mother was Lily Evans?"

I frowned, feeling more uneasy by the second. "Yeah, that's what it says. Why? Is something wrong?"

The goblin swallowed hard, still clearly shocked. "You..." He paused again, his words coming out slowly. "Are you—the Harry Potter?"

I blinked, shaking my head slightly. "Honestly? I guess I'm not. At least, not according to this." I motioned toward the parchment. "I thought that was my name my entire life. Looks like I was wrong."

The goblin slowly regained some composure, nodding thoughtfully. "I see. That certainly explains why you never emerged in the wizarding world. Because you aren't actually a wizard at all… Most of us thought you were killed by Death Eaters or something…"

I sighed in frustration. This was the second time today someone had implied that my name Harry Potter, or whatever, was famous somehow. And that whoever the Death Eaters were—had murdered me as a child or something. I still wasn't sure what to think about that.

Shaking my head slightly, I pointed back to the parchment, tapping my finger on the second name listed. "Look here, then. Under 'Father', it says someone named Serafall Leviathan. With a question mark. Do you know anything about this guy?"

The goblin's eyes darted to the spot I'd indicated, and suddenly his whole body stiffened again. He did a full double take, his jaw dropping open slightly as he read the name carefully again.

"Serafall Leviathan?" he choked out, sounding like he was about to pass out from shock. "Serafall Leviathan is not a man. Serafall Leviathan is a woman."

I blinked, my mind suddenly going completely blank. "Wait, what?" I stammered, completely confused now. "How the hell is my father a woman?"

The goblin gave me a long, awkward stare before clearing his throat uncomfortably. "Serafall Leviathan is one of the four Devil rulers of the Underworld. Arguably one of the strongest women alive."

I stared at him for several silent seconds, my mind scrambling to put together what he had just said. It made absolutely no sense.

"I'm sorry," I said slowly, shaking my head again. "But… my father is a woman? You're saying my father is actually one of the most powerful female devils? How the fuck does that even happen?"

The goblin stared back at me, his expression completely deadpan now. "Clearly, magic of some kind was involved. In the bedroom, it's not exactly unheard of for certain witches or female devils to magically give themselves a co—"

I held up my hand quickly, cutting him off right there, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. "Whoa, whoa—stop. I get it. Seriously, you don't have to explain. I can fill in the blanks perfectly fine on my own, thanks!"

The goblin nodded curtly, looking just as relieved as I felt that the conversation didn't need to go any further down that awkward path.

"Alright," I sighed deeply, rubbing my temples in frustration. "Let's just…move on. Please."

"Very well," the goblin agreed, quickly regaining his professional tone. "This revelation, however unusual, does mean you now have full and rightful access to the Clan Sitri vaults. I'll arrange the necessary documentation immediately."

"Sure…" I said quietly, leaning back in the plush chair. I had a lot on my mind.

The goblin looked up from the parchment, studying my face carefully. I could tell he was trying to gauge my reaction, which must've looked pretty stunned because he gave me a knowing nod.

"I imagine, from the look of shock on your face, that you had no idea about any of these revelations, did you, Mr. Sitri?" he asked gently, emphasizing the new last name—my new last name.

Sitri. I rolled the name around in my mind. Harry Sitri. That would definitely take some getting used to. My entire life I'd been Harry Potter, and suddenly I wasn't. It felt completely surreal.

I shook my head slowly, trying to collect my thoughts. "Honestly, no. I didn't have a clue about any of this," I admitted quietly. "I have no idea who Serafall Leviathan iss, or that she was my…well, apparently my other parent. And definitely not that she was some kind of Devil queen or whatever."

The goblin adjusted his small spectacles, leaning forward slightly across the desk. "Well, Mr. Sitri, we might be able to help you learn more about her, if you wish."

I glanced at him cautiously, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

He cleared his throat, obviously a bit nervous, and took a deep breath. "You see, despite our exile from the Underworld, we goblins still maintain contact flyers for each of the major Devil clans. We have methods of communication that could reach your mother—Serafall Leviathan—on your behalf."

My pulse quickened, but I kept my expression guarded. "And what's the catch?" I asked carefully.

The goblin fidgeted a little, looking suddenly anxious. "It's just that…well…we goblins have been exiled from our ancestral homeland for centuries now. Some of the younger goblins desperately wish to return to the Underworld, but our kind have always been forbidden." He paused, watching me cautiously. "A good word from someone of your stature—a prince of the Underworld—could greatly help our case."

I blinked, startled by his words. "Wait—I'm sorry, I'm a what?"

The goblin nodded quickly, his expression serious. "Yes, Mr. Sitri, you're a prince. As I mentioned earlier, Serafall Leviathan is one of the four current rulers of the Underworld. And honestly, she is arguably the most popular among them."

My stomach tightened in a knot as I processed that. A prince of the Underworld. Today just kept getting crazier. I took a deep breath, trying to sort through my thoughts. I'd lived my entire nineteen years thinking both sets of parents—James and Lily—were dead and gone. 

I was alone.

Sure, my aunt and uncle had stepped up eventually, at least for the last three years when they thought I was finally "normal." This birthday had been pretty fun too. 

But I'd never had a real and full family experience. I'd always wondered what it might be like to actually have parents.

Now I had the chance to meet one of them, except—my living parent was a devil. And not just any devil, but a powerful ruler of the Underworld.

My mind immediately filled with nervous questions. Would she be evil? Fire and brimstone and eternal torture? I quickly corrected myself—no, maybe water and brimstone, since I'd always had an unusual affinity for water. That explained why I could breathe underwater, and even sometimes control it if I concentrated hard enough. Maybe it wasn't so weird after all.

I realized the goblin was staring at me expectantly, awaiting my answer.

…

I stepped out of Gringotts Bank feeling a bit overwhelmed but weirdly relieved. I'd made my choice, telling the goblin to go ahead and send that message to Serafall Leviathan, the woman who was apparently my actual mother. The goblin had looked ridiculously pleased, giving me a huge, toothy grin and enthusiastically shaking my hand.

"Thank you, Mr. Sitri," he'd said earnestly. "Gringotts will owe you many favors for this, I assure you."

So now here I was, back out on the bustling cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, a small black leather bag securely strapped to my hip. The goblin had explained it was completely unstealable and directly connected to the Sitri Clan vaults—vaults that apparently had enough gold in them to buy every single thing in this alley a thousand times over. 

That must be a metric fuckton of money…

The sun had already set. I glanced around curiously, wondering where I should go first. I still had a few hours left of my birthday, and despite the utterly insane revelations I'd been given today, I figured I should make good use of them.

A nearby bookshop caught my eye, still brightly lit and clearly open for business. I figured it made sense to start there. After all, I was completely clueless about this whole magical society I'd just stumbled into. Even if I wasn't technically a wizard, my mom—one of my moms—Lily, obviously was a witch. 

Learning more about her and this crazy hidden world seemed like a smart first step.

I pushed open the heavy wooden door of the shop, a soft bell ringing gently above my head. The smell of old books and parchment filled the air instantly as I stepped inside, and I inhaled deeply, feeling strangely comforted. Rows upon rows of shelves stretched endlessly, packed tightly with books of every size, color, and thickness imaginable.

An older man with grey hair and half-moon glasses glanced up from behind the counter. He gave me a small smile as I approached him.

"Good evening, young man," he greeted me warmly. "Can I help you find something?"

"Yeah," I replied, smiling back politely. "Could you point me toward your history section? I'm kind of new to all this magic stuff."

"Ah, a fresh learner!" He nodded approvingly, eyes twinkling kindly. "Just down the aisle on your left, towards the back. You should find everything you need there."

"Thanks," I said gratefully, turning to follow his directions.

I made my way slowly through the aisles, eyes scanning book titles absently as my mind kept spinning back to today's revelations. Devils, wizards, hidden worlds, magic—it all felt surreal and honestly a little overwhelming. I was so lost in thought that I didn't even notice someone else standing in the aisle until I'd collided gently but firmly into something incredibly soft.

"Ahh!" came a startled, feminine yelp, followed by a loud crash as several books toppled onto the floor around us.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry," I said quickly, instinctively reaching out to steady the girl I'd just bumped into. My hands landed softly on her shoulders, and I looked down to see wide, startled brown eyes staring back up at me.

"Watch where you're going, you—" she began sharply, then abruptly stopped speaking, her cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink as her eyes met mine directly.

Yeah, that tended to happen. At least now I had a decent explanation for the whole devilishly good-looking thing.

She was cute—really cute, actually—with frizzy brown hair that fell loosely around her shoulders and a pretty, expressive face that was now glowing bright red in embarrassment. She also had some very nice slender curves but I didn’t focus on them for more than a glance. Her chocolate-brown eyes quickly dropped away from mine as she hurriedly began picking up the scattered books from the floor.

"No, I'm really sorry," I said again, bending down to help her gather up the fallen volumes. "I had a lot on my mind and wasn't paying attention."

"No, no, it's okay," she replied quickly, shooting me an apologetic look as we stood back up, both holding a few books each. "I wasn't exactly paying attention either."

I smiled at her, handing over the books I'd picked up. "Guess we were both a bit lost in thought then."

"Yeah, seems like it," she said softly, smiling shyly back at me and tucking a strand of her frizzy hair behind one ear.

There was a brief, slightly awkward silence as we just stood there looking at each other. I cleared my throat gently, deciding introductions were probably a good next step.

"I'm Harry," I said, hesitating just slightly before adding my new surname for the first time out loud. "Harry Sitri."

She blinked in surprise, her blush deepening just a bit more. "Oh…Harry Sitri," she repeated softly, as if committing the name to memory. "It's nice to meet you, Harry. I'm Hermione Granger."

"Hermione," I repeated, liking the way her name rolled off my tongue. "Nice to meet you too."

We stood there quietly again for another moment, both of us clearly a bit unsure what to say next.

"Are you…new around here?" Hermione finally asked curiously, adjusting the heavy books in her arms. "I don't think I've ever seen you in Diagon Alley before."

I chuckled awkwardly, running a hand through my hair. "Uh, yeah. You could definitely say that. I literally just found out about this place today, actually. Bit of a crazy birthday present, to be honest…"

"Today's your birthday?" she asked, smiling warmly. "Happy birthday then!"

"Thanks," I replied with a genuine grin. "It's been one hell of a day."

She laughed softly at that, nodding sympathetically. "I can imagine. If you need help finding anything, I know this bookstore pretty well."

I felt myself relax a bit at her friendly offer. "That'd actually be great. I'm basically clueless about all this magic stuff."

Hermione brightened visibly, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Then you're in luck, Harry. Books and magical research happen to be my specialties!"

I laughed lightly, feeling genuinely relieved. "Perfect. Lead the way, then." I think I just made my first magical friend…?

– Serafall –

Serafall Leviathan slumped dramatically behind the enormous polished oak desk in her luxurious office, a tall stack of signed documents and completed paperwork towering neatly to her side. She leaned her head onto the cool wood surface and groaned loudly, stretching her arms forward with exaggerated boredom.

"So freaking bored! And lonely," Serafall grumbled aloud to the empty room, kicking her feet lightly beneath the desk. She raised her head slightly, her vibrant blue eyes narrowing in frustration.

School had just started again for her beloved little sister back in Japan, which meant no more fun sisterly bonding time for months! “My precious yuri-yuri…”

Serafall missed her sister terribly already. And to make matters worse, her parents had decided now was the perfect time for some romantic getaway to a sunny tropical island in the human world, leaving her completely alone.

Serafall pouted dramatically, propping her head up with one hand as she stared blankly at the ornate ceiling. "I guess I could always go bother Behe-tan," she mumbled to herself with a sigh. Then she immediately grimaced. "But ugh, she's always so freaking serious! Seriously, she just needs to get laid. Like…yesterday."

Serafall sat up, her expression shifting thoughtfully. Come to think of it, it had been quite a while since she'd had any fun herself. She leaned back in her chair, tapping one finger thoughtfully against her lips as memories drifted through her mind.

"Hmm, when was the last time I got laid anyway?" she wondered out loud. A sly smile curved across her lips as one particular memory rose up. "Oh, yeah. That sexy little redhead back in London. Mmm…that was a fun night."

She giggled softly to herself, remembering vividly the woman's fiery green eyes, flushed cheeks, and soft curves. They'd spent hours tangled together in her bed, the redhead’s anger toward her fiancé having apparently given her a passionate energy that Serafall thoroughly enjoyed.

She laughed again softly, shaking her head. "Honestly, who cares if she only slept with me to get back at that idiot fiancé of hers for cheating on her first. Meh, they definitely weren't going to last anyway."

Still, that had been quite a while ago. Too long, she decided firmly. 

She sighed again, resting her chin back onto her palm as her mood darkened once more. "Ugh, when Sirzechs gets bored, he can just go annoy his wife or dote over his adorable little son," she complained bitterly. "Must be nice." Serafall sat up abruptly, eyes widening slightly at her own idea. "Hey! Maybe I should get a family too!?" she exclaimed excitedly to herself. "I'd be an awesome mom! Super loving and super fun—way more fun than any of those other boring Devil parents!"

Her cheerful rant was suddenly interrupted when she felt a sharp, familiar tingling sensation run across her skin. She stiffened slightly, recognizing it immediately. 

Someone was actually summoning her! 

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. It had been ages since anyone dared to call her like that. Most people nowadays were way too terrified of her status as one of the four Devil Maou to even think of trying it.

"Ooh, this could be fun!" she said brightly, excitement bubbling up in her chest. But then she paused, frowning deeply as she focused on the energy of the summoning. Her mood immediately soured. "Ugh. Seriously? Them?"

Goblins. Those nasty, greedy little creatures who had rebelled against the Devils when they'd been weakest, right after two brutal wars. They'd tried—and spectacularly failed—to seize the Underworld for themselves. 

Serafall scowled. "Disgusting little traitors," she muttered angrily, tempted to simply ignore the summons altogether. But after a moment's thought, her eyes lit up mischievously again. "Although…maybe this could be entertaining." She grinned wickedly, eyes sparkling with amusement. "If those goblins dared to summon me without a really, really good reason, I'll just go full Miracle☆Levia-tan Magical Girl and kick their ugly asses all the way back to the Stone Age! Now that's a perfect way to relieve stress!"

Laughing delightedly, she stood up quickly, straightening her clothes and smoothing out her dark, silky hair. Taking a deep, cheerful breath, she let herself relax, surrendering to the pull of the summoning spell.

"Okay, disgusting goblins!" she announced loudly to the empty room, a playful yet threatening grin on her face. "Let's see what you have to say! And you'd better hope it's good!"

XXX

Chapter Text

Heyo! We are back with the second chapter of my new story: That’s not wizard magic! 

Chapter 2:

– Harry –

Harry and Hermione stepped out of the bookstore into the cool evening air of Diagon Alley, Hermione carefully holding a small leather bag at her side. The magical bag, enchanted to fit far more inside than it appeared to hold, now carried all the books they'd just bought together.

As they stood outside the brightly-lit shop window, Harry glanced sideways and noticed Hermione chewing on her bottom lip, her eyes nervously darting around the street. She shifted her weight uncertainly, clearly not sure what to do next.

"Hey," Harry said gently, turning to her with a reassuring smile. "Are you okay?"

Hermione blinked, startled from her thoughts, and quickly looked up at him, blushing slightly. "Oh, yes, I'm fine," she replied hastily, tucking a loose strand of curly brown hair behind her ear. "I just…"

"You look nervous," Harry observed gently, raising an eyebrow. "Want to go find a café or something? Preferably not the Leaky Cauldron though, because honestly, that place is horrifying," he added with a playful grimace.

Hermione's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Oh. You—you still want to spend time with me? Like…outside the bookstore?" she asked, her voice soft and hesitant.

Harry chuckled softly, giving her a warm, easy smile. "Well, yeah. Unless there's somewhere else you'd rather go."

Hermione's cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink, but her nervousness eased into a shy smile. "No, no, that's great," she assured him quickly. "There's actually a nice little café nearby that I know of. It's quiet, comfortable, and a million times better than the Leaky Cauldron."

Harry laughed quietly. "Yeah, I think anything would be better than the Leaky Cauldron. Talk about a bad first impression of the wizarding world."

Hermione giggled softly, relaxing visibly now. "Exactly! You know, there are actually much nicer ways into Diagon Alley that most people don't know about," she informed him with a smile.

"Seriously?" Harry asked, genuinely interested. "Well, you're definitely going to have to show me sometime. But first, lead the way to that café."

Hermione smiled shyly again, clearly pleased by his enthusiasm. "Okay, follow me. It's just a couple streets down, away from the crowds."

…

I sat across from Hermione at a small table in the cozy little café she'd suggested. It was a huge improvement over the dumpy tavern I'd first walked through—the Leaky Cauldron. That place had been grimy, dim, and smelled like someone had pissed all over the floor. This café, though, was bright and inviting. The warm glow of lanterns hanging from the ceiling reflected off the clean wooden tables, and soft chatter filled the air. It wasn't crowded—just about half full, with customers drinking tea, eating pastries, or quietly reading.

Across from me, Hermione fidgeted nervously in her chair, her fingers tracing invisible circles over the tabletop. Her gaze kept flicking down, avoiding my eyes, and her posture was stiff. She had seemed more confident and relaxed back at the bookstore. I wondered what was making her so uncomfortable now.

"Hey," I said gently, leaning forward slightly to catch her attention. "Are you alright? You seem kind of tense."

Hermione sighed quietly, a soft blush appearing on her cheeks as she finally looked up and met my eyes. "I'm sorry, Harry," she admitted, her voice hesitant. "I was trying really hard to seem confident earlier, but I'm honestly pretty nervous right now."

I raised an eyebrow in confusion, resting my elbows casually on the table. "Why would you be nervous?" I asked. "We're just hanging out. You don't need to feel pressured or anything."

Hermione's blush deepened, and she shifted in her seat, clearly embarrassed. "I guess…I don't exactly have many friends in the wizarding world," she confessed quietly. "I haven't really spent much time with anyone my own age outside of classes. And, to be completely honest, I've definitely never been invited out by a handsome boy before."

I felt a wide smirk tug at my lips when she mentioned the word 'handsome.' I didn't think she'd even realized she'd said it out loud, given the way her eyes widened slightly and she pressed her lips tightly together. But something else about her words stuck out to me—I genuinely found it hard to believe she didn't have boys constantly trying to ask her out.

"Wait," I said seriously, leaning in closer across the table. "Are you saying guys don't approach you often? You're clearly a beautiful girl. I find that pretty hard to believe."

Hermione's blush intensified, her face turning bright red all the way up to her ears. She reached up nervously and tucked a loose strand of her curly brown hair behind her ear, shaking her head slightly. "I—no," she stammered awkwardly. "They really don't. At school, I'm basically invisible. Most people just think of me as annoying or weird."

I frowned at that, finding the idea ridiculous. Hermione seemed sweet and intelligent, and I had trouble believing others wouldn't appreciate those qualities.

"Well, their loss," I told her firmly. "Honestly, you're interesting, smart, and attractive. Anyone who doesn't see that is clearly an idiot."

Hermione smiled shyly, clearly pleased by my compliment but still visibly embarrassed. Wanting to shift the conversation slightly, I leaned back in my chair, giving her a friendly smile as I asked, "So, tell me more about yourself. You mentioned something earlier about Hogwarts, right? Do you attend school there?"

Hermione nodded, a wistful expression crossing her face as she answered, "Yes, I go to Hogwarts. I'm about to start my fourth year soon. I'm a Gryffindor."

I studied her carefully, noticing the slight melancholy tone in her voice. "You don't sound super thrilled about it," I pointed out gently. "Is there something about the school you don't like?"

Hermione sighed softly, leaning forward slightly and lowering her voice as if embarrassed someone might overhear. "It's not the school itself," she clarified hesitantly. "Hogwarts is amazing—beautiful grounds, fascinating classes, and the professors are mostly great. But, honestly, I'm pretty much a social outcast there. Everyone in my house thinks I'm this boring, stuck-up girl just because I like to study and follow rules."

She shrugged slightly, but I could clearly see the sadness in her eyes. I chuckled quietly, shaking my head in disbelief.

"There's absolutely nothing wrong with studying or wanting to follow rules. Rules are usually there for a reason—as long as they're fair, of course."

Hermione looked up at me in surprise, clearly not having expected my support. "You really think that?" she asked hopefully.

"Studying and following rules don't make you boring, Hermione. And I'm pretty sure anyone who gives you grief about that is just insecure or jealous," I told her.

Hermione smiled warmly, visibly relaxing for the first time since we'd sat down. "Thank you, Harry," she said softly, her voice sincere. "You have no idea how much it means to hear someone say that."

I watched as Hermione took a sip from her tea, her eyes flicking up to meet mine with curiosity. She set down her cup gently, her expression thoughtful.

"So, Harry," she started, leaning forward slightly with interest, "what magical school do you go to? You said this is your first time in Diagon Alley. Do you attend some academy outside of Britain, then?"

I shook my head slowly, my shoulders lifting in a casual shrug. "No, actually. I've never been to a magical school at all. I've only ever gone to regular schools with normal people. I just got accepted into university on a swimming scholarship."

Hermione's eyes widened dramatically, and her mouth opened slightly in surprise. "What? Are you serious?" she asked, her voice rising slightly with shock. "I thought all magical children in Britain were supposed to go to Hogwarts. It's practically mandatory…" She hesitated, glancing around quickly before lowering her voice to a cautious whisper, her eyes darting nervously. "Harry…are you a squib?" Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she hurriedly added, "It's perfectly alright if you are, you know. I would never judge you."

I frowned slightly, genuinely confused. "Honestly, I don't even know what a squib is."

It sounded bad though. 

Hermione blinked in surprise and leaned closer, her tone turning quietly sympathetic. "Oh, sorry! A squib is someone who can see magic but can't actually perform it themselves."

I smiled at that and looked down at the glass of ice water on the table in front of me. I held out my hand directly over the rim of the glass, focusing clearly. Instantly, the water inside smoothly lifted itself up out of the glass, forming a perfectly round, hovering sphere in my palm. The cold, silky water hovered there effortlessly, suspended in mid-air by my concentration.

"Nope," I stated casually, a playful smirk on my lips. "I'm definitely not a squib. I can use magic just fine." With a relaxed motion, I gently lowered my hand and guided the floating ball of water back into the glass. It settled neatly without spilling a single drop.

Hermione stared at me with wide, astonished eyes, her mouth hanging open for several silent seconds before she spoke again. "Harry…that was incredible! That was some absolutely amazing wandless magic!"

I raised an eyebrow curiously, leaning forward slightly. "Wait, what do you mean by wandless magic?"

Hermione scrunched up her nose slightly, studying me carefully. "Harry, do you seriously not know anything about the magical world at all? You don't even know what wands are?"

That's why I bought all the books. I had some serious studying to do.

I shook my head, giving a small, embarrassed laugh. "No, I really don't. Honestly, I only found out it existed earlier today. It was a complete coincidence, actually. I ran into these two French witches a couple of hours ago, and they told me about it. That's the whole reason I'm here now."

Hermione stared at me, her face skeptical at first. After a long moment, she sighed softly and shook her head, giving me a sympathetic look. "That's honestly really unfortunate. I'm sorry you're only learning about it now. The wizarding world is incredible, Harry. It's such a wonderful place." She paused, glancing down at the table, tracing her fingers lightly over the polished wood. "I've honestly never felt like I fit in with regular people at all."

I watched her carefully, nodding slowly in understanding. "Yeah, I get exactly what you're saying. I don't fit in with regular people either. I always have to hide my real self around them. I never felt comfortable letting anyone see who I really was."

My chest tightened a little, guilt creeping in as I spoke. Even now, sitting across from Hermione, I was still hiding my true self. I'd let her assume I was simply a wizard, never mentioning the actual truth, that I was a devil. 

That was definitely not a casual conversation starter with a new potential friend. 

"Well, either way," Hermione said brightly, "I'd like to officially welcome you to Diagon Alley and the Wizarding World. Anyway," she continued, curiosity lighting up her brown eyes, "do you like what you see so far?"

I felt amusement tugging at me and couldn't resist teasing Hermione just a little bit. I let my eyes deliberately trail up and down her body, clearly and explicitly checking her out from her feet up to her chest and back again, before returning my gaze to her slightly startled face. A playful smirk curved my lips as I said, "Oh, yeah—I definitely like what I see."

Hermione's eyes widened, and she sputtered in embarrassment, her cheeks rapidly flushing a deep shade of red. 

Suddenly, I felt her foot kick me sharply under the table! 

"Ow!" I chuckled, reaching under the table to rub my shin, though it hadn't really hurt that much. "Okay, okay—sorry. I just had to tease you a little."

Hermione crossed her arms, trying to glare at me, but the smile fighting its way onto her lips showed that she wasn't really angry. I found her flustered reaction adorable and chuckled again, deciding to take the conversation more seriously now.

"Honestly though," I said, becoming thoughtful, "I haven't really gotten the chance to see much of Diagon Alley yet. Most of my time here tonight was spent in Gringotts, getting news that completely shocked me. It pretty much flipped my whole life upside down…" I added with a mutter.

Hermione's amused expression immediately shifted to concern. She leaned forward, her voice softening gently. "Oh no. Was it bad news? Wait," she paused suddenly, shaking her head apologetically, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't pry into something so personal."

I waved my hand dismissively, offering her a reassuring look. "No, it's fine," I said honestly. "It's not like I've got anyone else to talk to about it, anyway. And as far as whether it's good or bad news—I honestly haven't figured that out yet."

Hermione hesitated slightly, clearly still worried about intruding, but her curiosity got the better of her. "Well…what happened?"

I sighed quietly and rubbed a hand through my hair, suddenly feeling strangely vulnerable. I met Hermione's eyes and spoke plainly. "The goblins ran some kind of magic paternity test on me. Turns out, my mom apparently cheated on my dad. So I've been living my whole life under the impression someone else was my father."

Hermione's mouth opened and closed silently for a few seconds as she processed what I'd said. Finally, she cleared her throat awkwardly and whispered softly, "Oh, wow. That's…definitely a thing. Yep…" she mumbled in embarrassment. She fell silent then, clearly unsure of what else she could possibly say to something like that. 

I didn't blame her, it was pretty heavy information to just drop on someone I'd only recently met.

"It's okay," I said quietly, giving her an understanding smile. "Don't worry about it. I'll figure it out eventually. It'll just be weird not referring to myself as Harry Potter anymore, you know?"

Hermione suddenly froze, her eyes widening dramatically in shock. Her mouth fell open as she stared openly at me, her hands abruptly slamming down on the table with a loud bang!

"Oh my gosh!" she practically shouted, excitement evident in her voice. "You're Harry POTTER?!" Her words echoed loudly throughout the café, causing every single head in the place to snap around sharply, eyes immediately locking onto our table. 

I cringed inwardly, realizing the entire café had just heard her announcement.

Instantly, whispers broke out around us, starting as quiet murmurs and quickly growing louder.

"Harry Potter? Alive? He's actually alive?" said one middle-aged witch sitting at a nearby table, her teacup frozen halfway to her lips.

"Did she just say Harry Potter? The Harry Potter!?" another man whispered urgently to his companion, eyes wide with disbelief.

A woman at another table leaned forward sharply, trying to get a better look at me. "Is he really here, in this café, right now? Impossible!"

“The boy-who-lived is alive and in my humble cafe!?

I shifted uncomfortably under the intense scrutiny, feeling dozens of curious and excited eyes boring into me from all directions. Hermione covered her mouth with both hands, her expression guilty and embarrassed as she realized how loudly she'd spoken.

"Oh my gosh, Harry! I'm so sorry!" she whispered urgently, her cheeks flaming red again.

It was becoming very clear that I'd underestimated just how famous I was in the wizarding world. When we first walked in, I only noticed a few curious glances, nothing too alarming. That tended to happen because of my looks. But now those casual looks had shifted into wide-eyed stares of admiration. People openly pointed at me, their whispers growing louder by the second.

I felt exposed and uncomfortable under their intense gazes. It was obvious the café patrons were about to swarm our table. Several of them had already jumped down from their stools, making their way toward us with eager faces.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath, urgently reaching into the magical money pouch secured tightly on my side. My fingers brushed against the cold metal coins inside. I grabbed a couple gold coins and quickly tossed them onto the wooden tabletop. 

"Hermione, we need to get out of here right now," I told her, trying to keep my voice steady. "I think they're about to mob us."

Hermione glanced around anxiously, noticing the people beginning to approach. "Oh no, you're right! Let's go quickly!" she said, her voice tense with worry.

Without thinking, I reached out and firmly grabbed Hermione's hand, pulling her close as we rushed towards the café's exit. 

Behind us, the noise rose sharply, excited voices calling out loudly. "Wait! Harry Potter, don't go!"

"Is it really you? Can you sign something for me?"

A booming voice pierced through the growing chaos, shouting frantically, "The Boy Who Lived is alive, everyone! He's right here!"

I glanced back over my shoulder. People from the café poured out onto Diagon Alley after us, their eyes bright with excitement. Suddenly, dozens—no, it looked like hundreds—of witches and wizards lining the street turned around sharply. They stared straight at me, mouths dropping open, faces shocked and then ecstatic. 

Some began running towards us, shouting my name.

"Oh, fuck," I groaned, my hand gripping Hermione's tighter. I felt her palm sweating against mine, her small fingers squeezing mine back.

"Harry," Hermione said urgently, pulling on my hand to get my attention, "I know a way out. There's a smaller side alley up ahead that's not crowded. Follow me!"

"Lead the way!" I said breathlessly, trying to keep my voice from shaking. I held onto her hand as she quickly guided me through the chaos. We ran down the cobbled street, dodging startled shoppers and street vendors, whose eyes widened as they realized who was sprinting past them!

I followed Hermione closely as she led me quickly through the narrow, winding passageway out of Diagon Alley. The small alleyway twisted sharply a few times before opening up abruptly onto a quiet street in regular London. 

As we emerged from the hidden entrance, the noise and chaos behind us quickly faded into silence…

We didn't stop immediately, both of us were too nervous that my sudden, unwanted fan club might still be chasing us. Instead, we hurried for another couple of blocks down the dimly-lit street, passing closed shops and empty sidewalks until we finally felt safely away from the madness we'd just escaped.

Finally slowing to a halt, Hermione leaned over slightly, bracing her hands on her knees as she struggled to catch her breath. She was panting softly, her chest heaving under her blouse with every shaky inhale. 

My own breathing was heavy, but as a swimmer, it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. My heartbeat was strong and fast, but not uncomfortable. I knew I'd recover in just a few moments.

My eyes drifted over to Hermione again, though, drawn involuntarily to the way the sweat trailing down her slender neck. I’d always been able to see better than regular people, even at night. My gaze slipped lower, and I couldn't stop myself from staring openly at her modest but perky breasts as they rose and fell rhythmically. I felt a sudden heat spike through my chest, a surge of arousal that I quickly tried to push away.

Hermione stood up fully a moment later, wiping her forehead lightly with the back of her hand. She still hadn't noticed my staring—either that, or she was simply too distracted to care.

"Oh my gosh, Harry," Hermione said breathlessly, her voice shaky and filled with genuine remorse. Her eyes were wide, still reflecting the shock of our recent escape. "I am so sorry again for shouting your name like that! I should've known better, especially considering how huge a celebrity you are in our world. I nearly got us both mobbed!"

I chuckled softly, attempting to lighten the tense atmosphere. "Hey, it's really fine, Hermione," I told her reassuringly. "I'm just as surprised as you are. I honestly had no idea I was famous at all, let alone that famous..."

Hermione shook her head, her cheeks flushed from exertion and embarrassment. "Still, I can't believe it. I just had tea with Harry Potter! It's completely unreal," she murmured, almost to herself. Her eyes looked slightly glazed over, as if she were still processing everything that had happened.

A small pang of guilt twisted in my chest, and I shifted awkwardly where I stood. "Uh, Hermione…about what we talked about in the café earlier," I began hesitantly, scratching the back of my neck awkwardly.

She blinked up at me, still catching her breath but clearly listening closely now. "Yes? What about it?" she asked cautiously.

"Well, remember how I said I wasn't actually Harry Potter?" I reminded her quietly, watching her carefully for her reaction.

Hermione's eyes widened dramatically, realization dawning across her flushed face. She covered her mouth in shock, staring up at me with newfound clarity. "Oh—oh wow. Oh my gosh," she whispered, voice filled with disbelief. "So Lily Evans…she really cheated on James Potter? That's—oh my gosh, Harry. When this gets out, it's going to be a huge scandal!"

I frowned slightly, utterly confused by her reaction. "Wait, seriously?" I asked, bewildered. "Is it really that big of a deal?"

Hermione looked at me as if I'd grown another head, disbelief clear in her eyes. "Harry, you have no idea, do you? James and Lily Potter are like legends! They're revered heroes. Their story—how they died trying to protect their son from the Dark Lord—is practically sacred. Finding out Lily Evans cheated, and that you're not James Potter's son…that's going to shake the wizarding world to its core."

I stared back at her, absorbing what she'd just told me. I finally started to grasp exactly how complicated my life had become in just one day…

"Well," I muttered quietly, attempting a weak smile. "Shit."

Hermione gave me a small, sympathetic smile, clearly recognizing how overwhelmed I felt. She reached out gently, resting her hand reassuringly on my arm. "Don't worry, Harry," she said softly. "You're not alone in this. I—um—I’m here for you. As your friend…?" she asked, looking nervous and hopeful.

"Thanks, Hermione," I said sincerely, meeting her eyes. "I'm really glad I met you today. And I’d love to be friends with you, I told her."

Hermione and I stood there awkwardly in silence for a moment, neither of us quite sure what to say or do next. The busy sounds of London drifted faintly towards us from down the street, but between us was quiet. I noticed Hermione shifting from foot to foot, her eyes flicking nervously between me and the ground.

After a few seconds, she suddenly giggled softly, breaking the tension. Her gentle laugh was warm and instantly made me smile. I looked at her curiously, raising an eyebrow in amusement. "So, Harry," Hermione began tentatively, her cheeks still pink from our earlier conversation. "Um…what should we do now?"

I felt a surge of relief at her easy tone, thankful she'd decided to push past the awkwardness. Smiling brightly at her, I glanced at my watch, noting the late hour, before looking back up at her pretty, flushed face.

"Well," I said with a wide grin, "it’s technically still my birthday until midnight. And I've made a new friend today." I paused meaningfully, watching her closely. "Want to go get a proper meal with me at a real restaurant? We never actually got the chance to eat anything at that café earlier because we got chased out."

Hermione's eyes widened slightly in surprise, her cheeks turning an even brighter shade of red. Her gaze quickly darted away from mine, her fingers fidgeting nervously at her sides. Her voice was very soft when she mumbled hesitantly, "Oh, wow… that kind of sounds like a date."

I clearly heard every word she'd just said, but decided to pretend otherwise for her sake. Hermione was obviously shy and nervous, and the last thing I wanted was to embarrass or emotionally fluster her more after the crazy evening we'd already had.

Instead, I just smiled warmly and stepped a little closer, gently nudging her shoulder with mine in a friendly gesture. "Come on," I encouraged lightly, keeping my tone playful and casual. "Let's just get something nice to eat and relax. I'm honestly starving after all that running."

Hermione relaxed visibly at my casual tone, a small, relieved smile breaking across her face. Her shoulders loosened, and she finally looked up and met my eyes again.

"Okay," she agreed shyly, her voice steadier now. "That sounds really nice, actually. I could definitely eat."

I chuckled, feeling pleased that the awkward moment had passed so easily. I tilted my head, gesturing toward the street where people walked casually by. "Great. Do you know any good restaurants around here, or should we just wander around and pick the first decent-looking place we see?"

Hermione glanced thoughtfully up and down the street for a moment before turning back to me with a shy grin. "There's a place just a block over," she told me softly, stepping slightly closer as she spoke. "It's quiet and the food's really good. My parents took me there once when they visited London."

"Perfect," I replied, my stomach rumbling softly at the mention of food. "Lead the way."

We started walking side by side down the quiet London street. Hermione’s small shoulder occasionally brushed against mine as we moved along the pavement. She seemed relaxed again, the earlier embarrassment fading away as we enjoyed the cool evening air.

"Harry," she said quietly after a minute, her voice soft but steady, "I really am glad I met you tonight. Honestly, this is the most interesting—and insane—evening I've had in years."

I laughed openly, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, tell me about it. My birthday usually isn’t this crazy, I swear."

…The two of us kept walking, having no idea just the kind of craziness I’d unleashed upon the wizarding world by showing my face after apparently missing for so long…

– Serafall –

Serafall Leviathan stood in the center of the ritual chamber, wearing her sparkly magical girl outfit. Her long, shimmering black hair was tied into cute twin tails, and her colorful costume glittered even in the dim torchlight of the stone chamber. 

Around her, groaning goblins lay scattered across the floor, nursing bruises and bumps they'd just received from her. Had she needed to beat them all up after they summoned her? 

Absolutely not. 

But she'd been angry and frustrated, and frankly, she just felt like doing it. Especially after the unbelievable information they'd just revealed.

Serafall took a deep breath, feeling a rush of conflicting emotions surge through her body. She was angry, confused, excited, and completely shocked, all at the same time. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest, her hands were trembling, and she felt slightly dizzy with the overwhelming realization of the truth.

She had a son.

She, Serafall Leviathan, one of the four great Devil rulers, was a mother.

The goblins had nervously explained everything to her after she arrived. Apparently, that gorgeous redheaded witch she'd enjoyed an intimate night with about twenty human years ago had gotten pregnant from their brief encounter. Serafall remembered the woman clearly—soft, smooth skin, fiery red hair, bright green eyes, and a beautiful, eager body that she'd enjoyed thoroughly. She hadn't thought much of their night together afterward—it had just been fun. She certainly hadn't considered the possibility of pregnancy.

But now she had just learned her casual night of passion had resulted in a child—a son named Harry, who the goblins informed her had grown up entirely unaware of his devil heritage. Her heart clenched painfully when the goblins mentioned how some vile dark wizard had tried to murder her baby when he was just an infant. 

Fury boiled inside her chest, and she clenched her fists tightly, feeling her sharp fingernails dig into her palms. If that wizard hadn't died in the attempt, Serafall would have hunted him down herself. She would have dragged his pathetic soul straight into the depths of hell and inflicted torment far worse than simple death!

And apparently, according to these goblins, the entire magical community believed that the followers of this dark wizard—Voldemort, they'd called him—had hunted down her son and his adoptive "muggle" family. The house where Harry had been left as a baby was discovered completely empty years ago, and Harry never received the letter to Hogwarts all magical children in Britain automatically got on their sixteenth birthday. According to the goblins, this caused everyone to assume her son had died or disappeared. Of course, Harry hadn't gotten a letter—he was a devil, not a human wizard, and their human tracking devices simply weren't attuned to devils. It made perfect sense to Serafall.

She frowned, considering the goblins' story carefully. Her guess was that this "muggle" family Harry had been left with—Lily Evans' relatives—had wisely decided to move away after discovering Lily had been brutally murdered. It was probably the smartest thing they could have done, especially if killers had been actively hunting her son. Of course, she'd learn the entire truth herself very soon. 

She planned on tracking Harry down immediately to meet him face to face!

Her gaze sharpened, narrowing in annoyance as she glanced down at the bruised and battered goblins still scattered across the chamber floor. Instead of detaining her son after discovering him earlier, these little idiots had let him leave! Though, if she was being fair, she would have beaten them senseless either way— she really didn't like goblins at all.

She sighed softly, calming herself slightly, and glanced around at the fallen goblins again, softening her voice just a bit. "Thank you for bringing me this valuable information. As thanks, I’ll consider allowing some of your people back into the Underworld to visit their ancestral homes sometime in the future."

Despite their battered conditions, the goblins' ugly faces brightened immediately at her words. Several of them even managed weak smiles of gratitude as Serafall turned sharply and strode from the ritual chamber.

She moved quickly through the vast, luxurious goblin bank, her high-heeled boots clicking sharply against the polished marble floors. When she finally reached the large double doors leading outside into Diagon Alley, she expected to step out into quiet, empty streets—after all, it was late at night in the human world.

However, as the heavy bank doors swung open, Serafall stopped in shock. Instead of silence and emptiness, she found herself staring at a bustling street filled with hundreds of cheering and celebrating witches and wizards. Bright, colorful magic flashed wildly through the air, illuminating the buildings with bursts of joyful light. The atmosphere felt like a massive festival, complete with food, drinks, music, and laughter.

Bewildered, she listened closely to the people shouting happily in excitement, their voices overlapping as they celebrated together.

"Harry Potter is alive!"

"It's true! He's alive, everyone!"

"The Boy-Who-Lived is back!"

Serafall stared around in confusion and disbelief. It seemed that, only minutes after she'd learned the truth, the entire magical community had somehow found out her son—Harry Sitri—was alive as well…

She was a bit annoyed they were all cheering the name Harry Potter —hopefully that mistake would be corrected to the masses sometime in the future. After all, his proper name was Harry Sitri!

Serafall spread out her senses trying to detect the lingering traces of any Devils. It was faint, almost like something was trying to hide her son—maybe some kind of seal on his powers?—but she eventually pushed towards a small cafe in the middle of the alley. People there were excited and gossiping that Harry Potter had just had tea here! From here, it was easier to pick up on the lingering traces of the ambient Sitri magic that would naturally waft off him and she started slowly following the route he took out of the pack and crazy alley.

Serafall stepped out of the magical exit and onto the quiet, dimly lit streets of late-night London. Her eyes were sharp, focused, carefully scanning the empty streets as she walked, senses alert for any hint or trace of her son's presence. The magical aura Harry had unknowingly left behind was subtle but distinctive enough for her to follow.

She wasn't alone, though. Just ahead of her on the otherwise deserted sidewalk stood three men, wizards with shabby robes and ragged appearance. They were filthy and unkempt, muttering quietly to each other. One of the wizards, a taller man with shaggy brown hair, emitted a pungent odor that reminded her strongly of a wet dog— clearly a werewolf. But not the natural kind like the one attending her sister's school in Kuoh, this was the mangy diseased kind…

Her delicate nose wrinkled slightly in disgust at the unpleasant smell as she stepped closer, listening closely to their conversation.

"Harry Potter must've gone this way!" the werewolf growled eagerly, looking down the street hungrily. "We just need to hunt him down and kill him properly this time—get revenge for our master."

A shorter, pudgier wizard beside him laughed roughly, his voice dripping with cruel amusement. "Hell yeah. I'm sure Lucius Malfoy or one of the other high-ranking Death Eaters would pay us a shitload of gold for the head of the Boy-Who-Lived."

The third wizard, tall and skinny with a pockmarked face, snorted. "Easy money, boys."

Serafall's jaw tightened sharply at their words. Rage surged hotly through her veins at the idea these pathetic bastards wanted to kill her child! 

Her emotions immediately influenced the weather. 

Instantly, the temperature throughout the entire city of London dropped sharply, plunging several degrees lower in mere seconds! Even colder on this particular street. Much colder. Frost rapidly formed along the pavement and shop windows, ice cracking audibly as it spread out around her feet in shimmering patterns.

"What the fuck?" the werewolf cursed in confusion, looking around wildly as he pulled his robes tighter. The three men quickly noticed the sudden, unnatural chill. Their breath puffed visibly into the freezing air, and they spun around quickly to see Serafall standing a few feet away.

Her brightly colored magical girl outfit glittered beneath the streetlights, standing out vividly against the dark London street. The werewolf's eyes traveled shamelessly up and down her curvy body, focusing explicitly on the generous swell of her breasts that strained against her sparkly costume.

He smirked, his yellow teeth showing clearly. "Well, shit, boys—look at the tits and costume on this slut. You out here lookin' for a good time, gorgeous?"

The pudgy wizard next to him grinned lecherously, his small eyes raking over Serafall's slender waist and exposed thighs. "Hey, sweetheart, why don't you come over here and warm us up? It's freezing all of a sudden."

The skinny wizard frowned in annoyance, slapping his companion roughly on the arm. "Hey, idiots—we don't have time to fuck around. Remember the mission."

The two other wizards groaned dramatically, visibly disappointed. The werewolf gave Serafall one last crude leer, his voice dripping with reluctant frustration. "Looks like you lucked out, beautiful. Better run along now."

Serafall's eyes narrowed dangerously, her soft lips twisting into a disgusted scowl as she stared back at the filthy trio. Oh—how she wanted to slowly torture them and bathe in their screams. But they honestly weren’t worth it. Instead she waved her hand, a wave of frost magic blasted towards the three of them.

“What the Fu—!”

That was all the werewolf was able to get out before he and his two trash companions were all frozen solid. All of the blood in their veins and their organs turning to crystal ice. Instant death. She left the frozen statues in the middle of the street as a warning as she continued on…

— Dumbledore —

Albus Dumbledore sat quietly at his large wooden desk, staring blankly at the various magical instruments scattered around the room. His shoulders felt heavy with exhaustion, the stress of years pressing down on him physically and emotionally. He rubbed a hand across his tired face, feeling the scratchy texture of his beard under his fingers. 

"Where did it all go wrong, Fawkes?" he asked quietly, addressing the phoenix perched on a golden stand nearby. The bird looked at him silently, blinking its dark eyes slowly, giving no answer.

Dumbledore exhaled deeply and leaned back heavily in his chair, his eyes distant. Three years had passed since the night Voldemort had successfully infiltrated Hogwarts—Harry Potter’s first year at school. 

…Or rather, it would have been his first year, had Harry received his Hogwarts letter. 

Dumbledore clearly remembered that day when he realized something was wrong. He'd apparated immediately to Number 4 Privet Drive, certain something was wrong.

Instead of finding the Dursleys, he found an entirely different muggle family who had apparently lived in the home for more than a decade. He hurried desperately to Arabella Figg's nearby house. Arabella was his appointed watcher, tasked with secretly monitoring Harry's safety. But when she opened her door, she'd looked confused and disoriented, her eyes vacant and lost.

Arabella had been suffering from severe dementia for years, though she hadn't even been aware of her condition. The letters she'd sent Dumbledore about the Dursleys’ health and status had been utterly false—mixed-up reports about a completely unrelated family next door who didn't even have any sons. The realization hit Dumbledore hard—Arabella's deteriorating mental health had allowed years of misinformation to flow directly to him. 

All the carefully placed magical tracking charms he'd placed on young Harry had long since gone inactive, further cementing his fear.

The night he'd realized Harry was gone, likely dead, a deep, agonizing guilt had consumed him. Even now, the pain stabbed sharply at his chest. The worst part was remembering the binding magic he'd placed on Harry as a baby. The boy had possessed a terrifying amount of raw magical power, more than he'd ever seen in an infant, and so he'd limited the child's magic, sealing away most of his abilities. His intentions had been to protect Harry and others around him from bursts of accidental magic, but now he bitterly understood that the binding might have left Harry vulnerable and defenseless. 

Perhaps if he had never placed those bindings on Harry, the boy might have survived. 

The possibility haunted him constantly.

"James… Lily…" Dumbledore whispered hoarsely into the quiet office, eyes stinging with unshed tears. He'd already carried the heavy burden of their deaths, and now he had their son's apparent death on his conscience as well for the past few years.

But he couldn't allow himself to wallow in sorrow.

 He was the Leader of the Light, the singular beacon of hope against the ever-growing darkness! Voldemort was alive, and despite the quiet of recent years, Dumbledore knew better than to trust the illusion of peace.

With Harry Potter presumed lost, he'd been forced to enact a backup plan. Another child existed who could potentially defeat Voldemort—a child born to parents who had thrice openly defied the Dark Lord. The child had Potter blood too— James Potter's blood, in fact. It wasn't the ideal scenario. Harry Potter had been specifically marked as Voldemort's equal, chosen by fate itself. 

But in his absence, this other Potter child was Dumbledore's best chance.

He'd secretly contacted the child and personally overseen their training, preparing them meticulously for the eventual confrontation. It had been his responsibility—one he took seriously and gravely.

Surprisingly, the plan had seemed effective so far. In their first year at Hogwarts, the second Potter child and their friends had navigated the difficult magical obstacles he'd placed around the Philosopher's Stone. They'd bravely confronted Voldemort in front of the Mirror of Erised, ultimately preventing him from obtaining eternal life. 

Voldemort had vanished once again, forced back into hiding.

Since then, the last two years had passed relatively peacefully. Voldemort had remained quiet, hidden somewhere unseen. Hogwarts itself had seen no major disturbances, allowing everyone to relax somewhat. But Dumbledore's instincts told him this year was going to be different…

He looked down at the large parchment laid across his desk—the official announcement for the upcoming Triwizard Tournament. Hogwarts was hosting the prestigious event this year. Normally, he'd be excited and proud, eager to see the students flourish through the difficult challenges. Now, however, he felt uneasy. Something deep in his gut warned him that danger was lurking, waiting patiently to strike.

He sighed again, the sound heavy and defeated, as he turned his head to Fawkes. The phoenix's vibrant red and gold feathers glowed softly in the candlelit office. Dumbledore reached out a tired hand and gently stroked the bird's warm feathers, comforted slightly by the creature's gentle warmth.

"Chaos is coming again, my friend," Dumbledore said quietly, voice heavy with worry and sadness. "I feel it clearly. Voldemort won't stay hidden much longer. He's been quiet too long. But, I feel like that’s not all that’s coming…"

Just then, the heavy wooden door to Dumbledore’s office swung open violently, slamming hard against the stone wall. Dumbledore startled, straightening abruptly in his seat as his eyes widened in surprise. He immediately saw Minerva McGonagall stride purposefully into his office, her lips pressed tightly into a thin line, followed closely by Amelia Bones, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Both women had hard, furious expressions on their faces.

Amelia stepped forward, her piercing gaze locked firmly onto Dumbledore. "What the hell have you been playing at, Dumbledore?" she demanded sharply, her voice loud and accusatory.

Dumbledore blinked rapidly, momentarily taken aback by the sudden intrusion and harsh tone of the women. Clearing his throat softly, he quickly composed himself, meeting Amelia's intense glare with confusion. "I'm sorry, Amelia, but I'm afraid I genuinely have no idea what you mean by that question."

Minerva let out a frustrated sigh, her fingers curling tightly into fists at her sides. Her sharp eyes narrowed as she leaned forward slightly, visibly agitated. "Harry Potter is alive, Albus!" she declared clearly, her voice filled with exasperation. "He was spotted in Diagon Alley just over an hour ago."

Dumbledore's heart jolted violently in his chest, a sharp surge of adrenaline racing through his veins. He stared blankly at Minerva, his mind spinning, unable to process what he'd just heard. Before he could respond, Amelia cut in.

"We thought it was an imposter at first," she explained sternly. "But then reports began coming in—reliable eyewitness accounts. Harry Potter was spotted entering Gringotts Bank. Witnesses saw him inside Flourish and Blotts purchasing books. Finally, several sources confirmed seeing him sitting in a café, sharing tea with an unidentified female Hogwarts student." Amelia paused briefly, allowing the shocking news to fully sink in. Her hard eyes never left Dumbledore's pale, stunned face. "We immediately went to investigate. Something strange had happened at Gringotts. The goblins were found bruised and battered, clearly assaulted. But despite their condition, the goblins were quite clear—Harry, the boy seen wandering around Diagon Alley tonight, was no imposter. Their tests confirmed beyond any possible doubt that the young man was genuinely the son of Lily Evans."

Dumbledore felt his breath catch sharply in his throat. "Harry is alive," he mumbled quietly to himself, eyes wide and glazed, hardly believing the words coming out of his own mouth. "After all these years… alive?"

Amelia folded her arms tightly across her chest, stepping closer to Dumbledore's desk. "You have a hell of a lot of explaining to do, Albus," she said sharply, her eyes narrowed into angry slits. "I suggest you start now."

Dumbledore was afraid that he sadly had nothing to explain. He was just as shocked as everyone else. But he was also much more hopeful for the future. He needed to immediately track down young Harry, make sure the young man was safe, and then hopefully get him to attend Hogwarts. 

He wouldn’t fail again…

Although he did wonder what he was going to do now with Harry and the ...other child of James Potter.

XXX

Thanks for reading!!! You can check out more of my stories on my profile.

If you want to see more of my work ahead of time feel free to check out: 

https://www. /blog/somestarwaves

Here is the list of Current Advanced Chapters:

The Fallen Gamer ch 345-349

Thunder and Black Wings 41

That’s not wizard magic 8

That’s not wizard magic 7

That’s not wizard magic 6

Thunder and Black Wings 41

The Fox Hole 112

The Blood Queen 63

The Blood Queen 62

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 35

That’s not wizard magic 5

That’s not wizard magic 4

The Fox Hole 112

That’s not wizard magic 3

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 34

The Blood Queen 61

The Fox Hole 111

The Fox Hole 110

Thunder and Black Wings 40

A systematic tale the hero 33

Thunder and black wings 39

The Fox Hole 109

Chapter Text

Chapter 3:

– Harry –

We finally made it to Hermione’s house, both of us more than a little tired from the insanity of the night, but we did have a nice dinner at least. The street was quiet, most of the nearby houses dark except for a few lit windows. 

Hermione fiddled with her bag strap, biting her lip nervously as she glanced at the front door.

“So, um,” I said quietly, shifting my weight a little, “are you sure it’s alright if I stay over? I can just look for a hotel or something nearby, if that’s easier. I know it’s really late, but the last bus is long gone and I don’t think I’d even be able to get a cab out here at this hour. My place and the Dursleys are both way too far to walk.” Dudley had been my ride, and he was probably still shagging that girl from the bar. If he had the stamina of course. It had been a couple hours after all. 

Hermione shook her head quickly, her cheeks pink in the porch light. “No, it’s fine, Harry. Honestly, I… I’ve never had a friend over before. Not once.” Her tone was shy but hopeful, and I could tell she meant it.

I teased her. “Glad I could be your first, then.”

Hermione rolled her eyes but grinned, and led me up to the front door. She unlocked it quietly, glancing at me one more time as she turned the handle.

When we stepped inside. The lights were on in the living room, and as we stepped in, I realized we weren’t alone. 

Hermione froze just inside the door.

Seated on the couch were a man and a woman, both probably in their forties. The man had short brown hair, some grey at his temples, and wore a pressed collared shirt. He had Hermione’s eyes. The woman next to him was just as attractive as her daughter was, her hair a little longer and wavy, wearing a cozy sweater. 

Both of them looked up at us the second we walked in, their faces serious—like they’d been waiting for Hermione to come home.

Hermione’s posture stiffened a little. “Mum, Dad… I’m home,” she said, her voice quiet but steady.

Her mother stood up first, giving her daughter a quick look to make sure she was alright. “Hermione, you’re late,” she said, her voice carrying a mix of relief and worry. Then she glanced at me.

Her father stood as well, eyes moving between me and Hermione, then settling on me with a look that felt like he was weighing me up in a single glance.

Hermione cleared her throat awkwardly. “Um, this is Harry. Harry, these are my parents.”

I smiled politely, feeling suddenly self-conscious about my hair and my clothes after everything that happened tonight. “Hi. Sorry to barge in so late. There wasn’t really anywhere else to go at this hour…” I trailed off.

As soon as I stepped into the living room behind Hermione, I realized her parents weren’t angry to see me there with their daughter. They were actually grinning, both of them looking genuinely pleased. 

It was like I’d just made their night by showing up on their doorstep with their daughter.

I caught the father’s voice, not bothering to whisper. “I told you she’d bring someone home eventually, Janet! And here I thought she was on the fast track to lonely cat lady status!”

Hermione heard that too and spun around, pouting at her parents. “Mum, Dad! I only have one cat for the record!”

Her mother let out a soft laugh and turned her warm brown eyes to me. “Come, sit down,” she said, gesturing to an empty armchair across from the couch. “We’re so glad you’re here. It’s nice to finally meet one of Hermione’s… very close friends.” She put a little too much emphasis on the word friends, as if she didn’t quite believe it.

Her dad grinned at her mom. “Oh come now, my dear. They're obviously more than that!” 

Hermione shot me an exasperated look, cheeks flushed pink. “Mum. Dad. Harry and I are just friends. He’s not my boyfriend!”

Hermione’s dad stood up and disappeared into the kitchen briefly. When he returned, he carried two cold bottles of beer. He handed one to me with an easy grin and settled back comfortably onto the couch, twisting open his own bottle with practiced ease.

“So, Harry,” he started casually, taking a long pull from his beer before fixing me with an amused look, “you have to tell me—how exactly did my reclusive, antisocial daughter manage to meet a fine young man like yourself?”

I felt a smile tugging at my lips and relaxed back against the armchair, feeling oddly at ease despite the initial awkwardness. The beer was pleasantly cold against my palm. I twisted off the cap, took a drink, and felt the cold, slightly bitter liquid slide smoothly down my throat. It felt refreshing after the insane evening we’d had.

I glanced over at Hermione, noticing she was sitting on the edge of the couch beside her mum, clearly nervous and still blushing. Her cheeks were pink, and she kept shooting embarrassed glares at her dad for his bluntness.

“Well, actually,” I started, setting my beer down on the coffee table in front of me, “we met at a bookstore earlier tonight. I was browsing for books about—well, let’s just say it’s a topic I'm completely clueless about. Hermione spotted me and pretty much rescued me from making a fool of myself.” I chuckled, recalling how overwhelmed I'd felt standing lost among all those magical books.

Hermione’s dad laughed, nodding slowly in obvious understanding. Her mum smiled softly, glancing fondly at her daughter. Neither of them looked remotely surprised to hear we'd met surrounded by books.

“Yes, that sounds exactly like Hermione,” her mother said, voice filled with gentle humor. “Our daughter has practically lived in bookstores since she learned how to read.”

Hermione let out a quiet sigh and shot me an apologetic look. “Sorry about my parents, Harry,” she said softly. “They're pretty convinced I'm destined to be alone forever, with nothing but books and cats for company.”

Her dad chuckled again, sipping his beer as he leaned back, completely unfazed. “It’s not our fault you've been so bloody antisocial your entire life, sweetheart.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated but used to their teasing. “I'm not antisocial! I just have standards,” she muttered defensively. “And the people at school don’t meet them!” She finished with a huff.

I couldn't help laughing at the playful banter between Hermione and her parents. The room felt comfortable, warm, and welcoming, something I definitely hadn't expected earlier when we'd arrived at her doorstep.

“So, Harry,” her mum continued after another sip of her wine, looking at me curiously. “Tell us a bit about yourself. Hermione rarely brings anyone home, let alone a handsome boy. We’d like to know more about you…”

Before I could answer Hermione’s mum, a loud, unexpected knock at the front door made us all turn our heads sharply toward the hallway.

I frowned slightly, confused. "Are you all expecting any late-night visitors?"

Hermione’s dad shook his head, setting his beer bottle down slowly. He checked the time on his watch and raised an eyebrow. "Not at almost midnight, no."

Hermione stood quickly, looking a little uneasy. "I'll get it," she said quietly, stepping toward the front door.From my position in the living room, I couldn't quite see who was there. I heard Hermione make a surprised noise, her voice rising slightly. "Um, can we help you? Hey—what are you doing? You can't just barge in!"

Before anyone could move or respond, the person at the door stepped confidently past Hermione and into the living room. Hermione’s parents immediately stiffened, their eyes wide and wary.

My mouth went dry when I got a clear look at the newcomer.

A stunningly beautiful young woman stood there, dressed in the most bizarre, sparkly outfit I'd ever seen, something straight out of a cosplay magazine. Her silky black hair was tied into two long, glossy twin tails cascading past her shoulders. Her curvy, voluptuous body was barely contained by the tight-fitting costume, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. My eyes lingered briefly on her generous breasts, straining enticingly against the shimmering fabric. 

When I managed to tear my gaze upward, I was stunned again. Her deep blue eyes met mine, exactly the same striking shade as my own. My breath caught painfully in my throat, my heart suddenly racing in confusion and surprise. 

Something about her felt incredibly familiar, like I somehow already knew her.

In a blur of movement, she launched herself across the room—she literally leapt. I barely had time to flinch before her full weight landed directly on top of me in the armchair. Her body slammed into mine, soft and warm and way too close. I staggered backward into the cushions, caught completely off guard.

My face was instantly buried in her chest. Her breasts were massive, soft, and barely contained by the top of her glittery outfit. I could hardly breathe. Her arms were wrapped tightly around my shoulders as she laughed in delight.

“Hi, Harry!” she said cheerfully, squeezing me tighter.

“W-what the hell—?!” I gasped, struggling to breathe as I tried to push myself up. “Who the hell are you?!”

Her grip didn’t ease, and her boobs were still crushing my face.

“Oh, sorry sorry!” she chirped. She finally pulled back just enough for me to breathe, but her hands stayed on my shoulders. Her face was now just inches from mine. Her expression was completely thrilled. “Wow,” she said softly, eyes studying me closely. “You look just like I imagined. You have my eyes!”

My brain froze. “What?”

Behind her, Hermione stood near the hallway, mouth open in shock. Her parents looked like they didn’t know whether to intervene or call the police.

“Who the hell is this?” Hermione demanded, voice rising with disbelief at the audacity of this woman.

The woman turned slightly to look at her, but didn’t let go of me. “Hi! I’m Serafall! I’m Harry’s mom!”

“What?!” Hermione shrieked.

“What?!” I shouted at the exact same time.

Serafall just smiled brightly and pulled me into another suffocating hug, like nothing about this situation was remotely weird.

“Oh my gosh,” I muttered, dazed. “What the fuck is happening right now…?”

My mind was still spinning wildly as I tried to catch up to the insane reality unfolding around me. 

Serafall— my mother? 

Even though the goblins had promised to contact her, I didn’t expect her to show up immediately, certainly not bursting into Hermione’s house at midnight.

Serafall made no attempt to get off my lap. In fact, she nestled even closer. My brain was still lost in a torrent of thoughts, trying to process if this was even real right now. Was this actually her, and was she actually here? 

“...Excuse me,” Hermione’s mother, Janet, finally spoke up. Her voice was hesitant and trembling slightly, clearly unsettled by the bizarre situation. “Did you say your name was… Serafall?”

She turned slightly, facing Hermione’s mother with a playful, confident smirk. “Indeed, I am the great and powerful Serafall Levia-tan!” she declared proudly. “Or Serafall Leviathan, if you’re feeling boring...”

Hermione’s parents immediately reacted in a way that left my jaw hanging open. 

Both Janet and her husband quickly slid off the couch and dropped down to their knees right there on the plush carpet, their heads bowed respectfully.

“Forgive us for not immediately recognizing your greatness, my lady!” Hermione’s father said, voice genuinely apologetic and reverent. “Please, accept our deepest apologies!”

What the actual fuck was going on right now?

But before I could even voice my confusion, I watched Hermione get onto her knees alongside her parents. Her cheeks flushed a deep, embarrassed red, and she looked mortified, but there she was, head bowed, clearly showing respect.

“Uh… Hermione?” I managed to say. “Mind explaining what the hell you and your parents are doing right now?”

Hermione glanced up nervously, her eyes wide and hesitant as she bit her lower lip anxiously. “Oh, um… Well, the thing is, Harry, I really should have recognized the name Sitri when you mentioned it earlier. You see, my parents and I… we are—I suppose—Satanists.” Her voice trailed off sheepishly, cheeks still bright red.

I blinked at her, momentarily speechless. My brain struggled to process this. Today alone, I’d discovered magic was real, that I was apparently famous, that I was a devil, and now Hermione and her nice, dentist parents were apparently devil worshippers.

“Wait,” I finally muttered incredulously, still uncomfortably aware of Serafall’s curvy form pressed into mine. “So… you worship devils?”

“Y–Yes…?” Hermione replied hesitantly. 

I stared back at them, stunned and overwhelmed. Serafall giggled softly beside my ear.

I cleared my throat awkwardly.

“Oh… okay?” I replied uncertainly. I wasn’t entirely sure what else to say. After everything that had happened today, I was too exhausted to even process this properly. 

I mean, I literally just found out today that I'm a devil. Honestly, before today I was raised by my Aunt Petunia, who’s extremely Christian…

I had no idea how she or uncle Vernon would feel once they found out they'd been raising a devil for the past 19 years. 

I imagined they would not take it well…

Serafall finally eased herself off my lap, standing gracefully and brushing a few loose strands of her glossy black hair away from her face. She turned back toward me, those deep blue eyes—identical to mine—as she studied my face. "Sorry about that, Harry," she said lightly, giving a soft, easy laugh. "I bet you're feeling pretty overwhelmed right now, aren't you? I recognize that look—my little sister So-tan makes that same face whenever things get a bit crazy."

I exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand across my face in exhaustion. "Overwhelmed doesn't even begin to cover it," I admitted bluntly. My gaze flickered to Hermione, suddenly feeling guilty. "Hermione, I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't exactly lie, but—I probably should have corrected you when you assumed I was just a wizard. Truth is, I'm actually half-devil, apparently." My voice trailed off awkwardly as I watched her reaction closely.

Hermione smiled gently, shaking her head as she finally stood back up from the floor. "Harry, that's honestly fine. It's not like you had much opportunity to explain everything. Besides," she continued, her tone becoming thoughtful, "it makes perfect sense now. It finally explains why Harry Potter—or, I suppose, Harry Sitri—never showed up at Hogwarts when he was supposed to."

I nodded slowly, feeling a pang of regret. "You know, I think I really would have liked going there," I admitted quietly. "From everything you described, it sounds like an amazing school."

Beside me, Serafall’s eyes suddenly glittered brightly with interest, and her lips curled into a small, secretive smile. She cleared her throat gently, pulling everyone’s attention back toward her as she addressed me again.

"Harry, I know this is all probably very confusing for you—I mean, it's even a little confusing for me, and I've only just arrived here. But, I was wondering…" she paused briefly, looking somewhat hesitant for the first time since she arrived. Her voice softened just a bit, becoming genuinely earnest. "Would you like to come with me? We can go somewhere a little less crowded, and I'll explain everything you want to know—about me, your heritage, and about devils in general."

I hesitated for a long moment, biting the inside of my cheek as my mind raced. I turned to Hermione and her parents, who had finally gotten to their feet again but still looked at Serafall with awe and reverence.

Did I really want to run off with some random woman who had just showed up a couple minutes ago claiming to be my long lost mother? 

Yes…? I kind of did? 

Taking a steadying breath, I finally made my decision. "Okay, I'll go with you," I agreed quietly, feeling strangely nervous but also genuinely curious about everything she could tell me. Turning back toward Hermione and her parents, I gave a sincere, grateful smile. "Thank you so much for offering me a place to stay tonight. It really meant a lot, especially after how insane tonight has been. But—" I glanced sideways at Serafall again, feeling my pulse quicken slightly. "—I think I should probably go with my… mom."

“He called me mom! I'm so freaking happy right now!” Serafall declared. Mostly to herself. 

Hermione's dad quickly stepped forward, nodding enthusiastically as he shook my hand warmly. "You're always welcome here anytime, Harry," he assured me sincerely. He then immediately turned his attention to Serafall, giving her a deep, respectful bow. "And you as well, my lady. I can't begin to express how much of an honor it is to meet you in person!"

Serafall giggled softly, clearly amused by the situation and the way Hermione’s family was reacting to her presence. She waved a hand casually. "Oh, please! It's always such a thrill to meet enthusiastic fans," she laughed warmly.

Beside her father, Hermione smiled slightly, still looking a bit embarrassed by her parents' reactions. She stepped forward, catching my eye and holding my gaze for a long moment. "Harry," she started quietly, cheeks still flushed slightly, "please keep in touch, okay? I'd still really like to be your friend, even if you did turn out to be a bit more interesting than just a wizard."

I laughed, nodding eagerly. "I promise, Hermione. Tonight was insane, but meeting you was honestly the best part of it."

With that, I turned back toward Serafall—mom? Who was waiting patiently near the doorway with a bright, cheerful smile on her lips. "Ready to go, Harry?" she asked gently, extending her hand toward me.

Taking another deep, calming breath, I finally reached out and took her offered hand, feeling the soft, smooth warmth of her palm as she closed her fingers gently around mine.

"Yeah," I said simply, giving her a small, slightly nervous smile. "I'm ready."

…

Serafall and I ended up checking into a hotel for the night—not just any hotel, but the most expensive and luxurious hotel in all of London. That she had teleported us to. Because literally teleporting was something we could do as devils, apparently. 

No wonder she found me so fast…

Serafall rented out the penthouse suite without even hesitating at the astronomical price tag of a hundred thousand pounds per night.  

Clearly, money was something we Sitris had more than enough of.

In the elevator, Serafall pressed herself close against my side the entire way up. She was apparently very comfortable with physical contact. The entire ride, her hands were wrapped tightly around my arm, fingers gently stroking my skin in affectionate, rhythmic circles.

When the elevator doors opened to the penthouse suite, I was momentarily stunned by just how absurdly luxurious the room was. Polished marble floors stretched across an enormous, high-ceilinged space filled with expensive-looking furniture and elegant decor. Huge windows gave us a sweeping view of London at night, twinkling lights sprawling out in every direction beneath us.

Serafall excitedly pulled me over to a richly upholstered couch, sitting down and immediately pulling me down beside her. She didn’t let go of my arm, leaning in and pressing herself comfortably against me, her silky, sweet-smelling hair tickling my cheek as she nestled close. Her chest pressed firmly against me, and it took all of my concentration to keep my mind clear and focused.

When I glanced down at her face, I noticed she looked simultaneously thrilled and anxious. Her deep-blue eyes shone brightly, the same color as my own, studying me intently as she finally spoke.

“I'm sorry if I just came out of nowhere earlier tonight, Harry,” Serafall said softly, her voice filled with genuine nervousness. She tightened her grip gently on my arm as if afraid I might vanish. “I was just so excited when the filthy little goblins told me I had a son! Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to suddenly become a mom today. It feels pretty weird, and probably even weirder for you.” Her voice softened further, becoming earnestly tender. “But I promise, I'll do whatever I can to make up for all the time we've already missed. I'll be the best mom ever, Harry!”

I looked at her carefully, noticing the genuine sincerity and anxious hope shining in her expression. My chest tightened a little, and I gave her a reassuring smile.

“It’s okay, really,” I replied, doing my best to sound calm and reassuring. “I mean, yeah—today was fucking insane, and I didn’t even know you existed until the goblins did that paternity test. Until a few hours ago, I always believed my dad was James Potter.”

Serafall immediately made an amused snort, rolling her eyes slightly at my mention of James.

“James Potter? No, definitely not,” she scoffed with casual disdain, though her tone stayed light-hearted. “To be honest, Harry, I barely knew Lily Evans at all—just for one night, actually. But it was definitely one hell of a memorable night. She was one of the sexiest women I'd ever met. A fiery, gorgeous redhead who was out looking to get revenge on James because she found out he’d cheated on her first.” She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Honestly, I'm kind of surprised they ended up staying together after that whole mess. Then again, I suppose with the war against Voldemort raging on at the time, maybe it just felt safer and more practical for them to stay as a couple. Though considering they both ended up dead not too long afterward, maybe staying together wasn’t actually such a great idea after all.” She gave me a little shrug and a rueful half-smile.

I sighed quietly, leaning my head back against the couch cushions. “Honestly, I don’t really know much about any of that,” I admitted, rubbing my forehead tiredly. “Up until today, I had no idea the magical world even existed—let alone the fact that I'm apparently famous within it. Hell, until those goblins spoke to me, I didn’t even realize I was actually part devil.” I chuckled bitterly, still struggling to fully grasp how much my life had changed in such a short amount of time.

Serafall’s mouth formed a small, surprised 'O' shape, and she blinked rapidly at me for a second.  “Oh wow,” she breathed out, shaking her head slightly as she absorbed my words. “Okay, Harry, wow—we really do have a lot we need to talk about, don’t we? I mean, that’s seriously huge stuff you've been dealing with today. You poor thing, you must be completely exhausted and overwhelmed!” She straightened abruptly, glancing toward the phone resting on the elegant glass coffee table in front of us. “We’re definitely going to need coffee for this—lots and lots of coffee,” she declared firmly. “I'll call down for room service immediately and order a couple of pots—probably three, actually. I get the feeling we’re going to be up talking for quite a while tonight.”

We took turns talking for the next couple of hours, settling into the comfortable, expensive couch in the luxurious penthouse suite. The coffee Serafall had ordered helped, and I sipped from my cup occasionally, keeping me alert and focused despite how exhausted I was.

I started by sharing the details of my life growing up with the Dursleys, how I spent most of my childhood suppressing my powers, constantly hiding the weird things I could do, always afraid they would realize I wasn’t normal.  

Serafall listened carefully, her expression gradually shifting from interested to distressed as I talked.

"They didn't physically abuse me or anything like that," I clarified quickly, noticing her darkening expression. "They just weren't particularly kind or welcoming. They were always distant and disapproving, so I grew up pretty isolated. At least until I turned 16, and then they started treating me like real family…"

Serafall clenched her fists. "Even if they didn't physically hurt you, emotional neglect is still terrible, Harry. I hate that you went through that. If I'd known sooner…" Her voice shook slightly.

I gave her a reassuring smile, reaching over to gently squeeze her hand. "Hey, it's alright. I survived it, didn't I? Besides, finding out I have a living real mom—is already making things a whole lot better."

Her tension faded a little at my words, and her expression softened again into a warm smile. "You're very sweet, Harry. But you deserve better. Our family, the Sitri Clan, is one of the most respected in the Underworld. My parents— your grandparents —are wonderful people, and they're going to absolutely adore you. My little sister, Sona—So-tan, as I like to call her—is going to freak out when she finds out she has a nephew!"

I laughed at the enthusiasm in her voice. "So, what exactly do we do? Devils, I mean."

Serafall settled back into the couch, tucking her legs beneath her comfortably. "Devil society is complicated right now, honestly. We're kind of divided—on one side, you have a lot of devils who are genuinely trying to improve, building happy lives with their peerages, being responsible and kind. On the other side, you have arrogant assholes who still want to treat people as servants or slaves. It's my job, as one of the Four Great Satans, to keep those idiots in check and make sure they don't start wars with other supernatural beings!"

I blinked, processing all that she'd just casually mentioned. "Wait, so you're basically stopping supernatural apocalypse scenarios on a regular basis? Mom, that's incredible. I'm seriously proud of you!"

The second I finished speaking, Serafall’s eyes immediately watered, and she lunged at me again, pulling me into a tight, suffocating hug. Her soft chest pressed tightly against my own, making it hard to focus.

"Oh my gosh, Harry! No one has ever said that to me before!" she sobbed dramatically, clinging to me as though she feared letting go. 

…It took me ten full minutes to gently pry her off of me and calm her down enough to continue our conversation.

After catching her breath, she wiped her eyes, sitting back with a shy laugh. "Sorry about that. I'm just so happy you're here!"

"It's okay," I chuckled. "But hold on—so you're saying my aunt—Sona—is just attending a regular human school in Japan? Not even a magical one or anything? What's the point? That sounds like a total waste of time, unless she's studying to become an engineer or scientist or something useful."

Serafall groaned slightly, rubbing her forehead with a weary sigh. "Sona's studying government and political science…"

I frowned in confusion. "But that's human government stuff, right? How exactly is that supposed to help her as a devil?"

She looked at me helplessly, shrugging. "I adore So-tan with all my heart, but she isn't always as practical or forward-thinking as she believes. Still, since we're essentially immortal beings, wasting a few decades playing schoolgirl isn't the end of the world."

My jaw dropped. "Wait—immortal? We're actually immortal?"

She nodded casually, sipping more coffee. "Well, technically yes. No devil has ever died of old age, at least not yet. We can still die from battle or violence, obviously, but age alone won't kill us."

I felt my pulse quicken, my thoughts instantly flicking back to Hermione. And maybe even Dudley? "Then… what about my friends? Or—friend, specifically. Like Hermione? She's not a devil, she's human."

Serafall’s lips curled into a playful, knowing smile. "If you're so worried about your cute little girlfriend, then you might consider adding her to your peerage once you become a proper devil king. Her family already worships devils anyway— which is extremely rare nowadays, by the way —so she'd probably love it. But," she added more seriously, "it’s a huge decision, Harry. Don't rush into it lightly. Once she joins your peerage, she's essentially yours forever!"

I absorbed that carefully. The whole peerage thing, becoming a devil king with a group of loyal servants was still incredibly strange to think about. It sounded like something out of a fantasy novel, yet apparently, it was my new reality.

"Speaking of peerages," Serafall continued thoughtfully, "Sona recruited a bunch of her human classmates into hers, and I'm honestly not sure how that'll pan out over the next few decades..."

I nodded slowly, letting her words sink in fully. Before I could reply, Serafall leaned closer, her blue eyes suddenly glowing intensely, focused solely on me.

"Before we worry about all that," she said determinedly, "we have to remove that pesky magical blocker that's restricting your powers!"

"Magical blocker? What exactly do you mean?"

She reached out and placed her soft hand gently on my chest. "Harry, you're my son! The child of Serafall Leviathan, one of the strongest devils in existence!” She declared proudly! “...Even if you've never trained your magical power, you should naturally be at least mid-class in strength. Yet right now, your magic is weaker than a low-class devil's. That means someone deliberately sealed your powers away."

"Someone actually sealed my magic? Who the hell would do something like that?"

Her eyes flashed protectively. "I don't know who, but I'm going to find out eventually. Right now, though, we need to remove the seal and unlock your true potential. Are you ready for that, Harry? It might feel… strange."

I swallowed nervously, but met her gaze steadily. "If there's something holding me back, then let's get rid of it."

– Serafall –

Serafall let out a sharp yelp, quickly reaching out and catching Harry as he slumped forward onto her chest the instant she broke the magic seal. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, feeling the sudden weight of his limp body press fully against her.

 She hadn't anticipated Harry reacting so dramatically to the seal's removal, but perhaps she should have. He'd been carrying that suppression seal for so long, his body wasn't prepared for the sudden rush of unrestrained magic.

Holding him firmly against her, she gently eased them both back onto the plush cushions of the couch, cradling his head carefully against her chest as she leaned back. Her heartbeat quickened slightly as she looked down into her son's unconscious face, a surge of protective affection rising sharply in her chest. 

Despite the surprise, the warmth and weight of him resting safely in her arms felt right somehow.

Serafall examined Harry carefully, studying his unconscious features as she felt his dormant powers steadily begin to grow. His aura expanded quickly but smoothly, the dense, potent energy of his Sitri heritage finally awakening from beneath the magic that had kept it sealed for so long. 

His breathing gradually became deep and steady, and his face relaxed as he adjusted to the sensation.

As his devil heritage fully emerged, subtle physical changes began to appear in Harry's face and body. His already attractive features sharpened, cheekbones becoming more defined, jawline strengthening into a more pronounced, handsome shape. Serafall watched with pride as her son's physical form began to reflect the powerful bloodline of his mother and the Sitri clan. 

"You’re definitely my son," she murmured softly, gently brushing her fingertips over his cheek. "Going to break hearts everywhere, aren’t you? Just like your mama. I almost feel bad for all the girls who are going to fall for you!"

She giggled softly to herself, feeling a sense of pride at her son's clear beauty and growing power. 

There was something else within Harry, something that was separate from his devil heritage. Carefully probing his soul with her senses, she discovered the source and grimaced in mild irritation.

Her son had a Sacred Gear attached directly to his soul!

Damn!

Serafall clenched her jaw lightly, annoyance flickering briefly across her features. She had mixed feelings about Sacred Gears. Tools created and distributed by God himself, or rather by the system he had established. They tended to complicate the lives of their hosts dramatically, making them magnets for conflict and trouble, regardless of their intentions.

She tightened her embrace slightly, holding Harry protectively against her chest. The last thing she wanted for her son was to suffer because of some divine trinket she had no control over. Still, she had to admit, there was nothing inherently malicious about the Gear itself. It was simply a powerful, double-edged tool. Dangerous, certainly, but potentially useful if mastered.

Serafall released a resigned sigh, stroking Harry's soft black hair gently. For now, his soul and his newly awakened magic were still fragile. Activating or even identifying the Sacred Gear would have to wait until Harry had time to adjust and stabilize his growing powers.

She whispered softly to him, knowing he couldn’t yet hear her. "Don't worry, Harry. I'll keep you safe. No matter what happens, your momma's here to make sure everything turns out alright!"

…

The next morning, Serafall sat comfortably across from Harry in an elegant, private booth within the hotel's lavish restaurant.

Watching her son quietly eat his breakfast, she finally broke the silence.

"So, Harry," she began gently, "I've been thinking. You've got some big choices to make now, huh? What would you like to do? You can stay in regular school like Sona is doing, you can come live with me in the Underworld, or you could even do something else entirely. You know I'd absolutely love having you home with me, right?" Her eyes practically glowed with excitement. "Oh, and you'd immediately become one of the permanent main characters on my TV show!"

Harry paused, lifting his gaze from the plate in front of him. His expression grew thoughtful, hesitant. "Actually, Mum, I've kind of been thinking about maybe going to Hogwarts, you know—the same school my mother Lily Evans attended. Hermione mentioned it yesterday. It seems really interesting, but..." he trailed off awkwardly, uncertainty obvious on his face. "I'm not sure they'd even let me in."

Serafall snorted softly, rolling her eyes playfully as she smiled reassuringly at her son. "Oh please, Harry, that's absolutely ridiculous. Devils are naturally much better at magic than humans are. Believe me—if you want to go to that school, you'll completely dominate every class you take. You're my son after all, which means magic practically runs through your veins. They'll be begging you to enroll."

Harry's brows furrowed slightly, skepticism clear on his handsome features. "But, how exactly would I even get accepted there? I never received one of those Hogwarts letters Hermione was talking about."

Serafall waved a hand dismissively, leaning back into her plush velvet seat with absolute confidence. "Don't you worry about any of that, sweetheart. I'll figure it all out for you. And trust me—if all else fails, we'll just throw money at the problem until it disappears. You'd be amazed at how often that strategy works in our favor."

Harry let out a small, bitter laugh, shaking his head slowly. "Honestly, Mum, that doesn't surprise me at all. That's pretty much exactly how corrupt elites get out of trouble up here on Earth."

She giggled mischievously, her eyes sparkling as she leaned in slightly. "Oh, Harry—they definitely learned that particular trick from us devils." Harry smiled softly. Then, his expression turned wary as Serafall's face abruptly grew more serious. She leaned forward again, her voice taking on a noticeably sharper edge. "Anyway, before we start sorting out your school plans, I really think we should make a quick visit to your relatives' place. You know, to properly 'thank' them for all these years they've spent raising you and taking such 'good' care of my precious boy."

Harry shifted nervously in his seat, his eyes widening slightly in alarm. "Um, Mum, is that really a good idea? I mean, Aunt Petunia is incredibly religious. Not only is she about to find out devils actually exist, but you're literally a female devil who had a child with her sister. That's probably going to completely break her brain."

For some inexplicable reason, Serafall found herself positively delighted at the thought, a wickedly excited smile curling slowly onto her lips. She reached over to affectionately pat Harry's hand, utterly unfazed by his concerns. "Harry," she purred with genuine excitement coloring her voice, "trust me! That's exactly why I'm looking forward to it!"

– Albus –

Albus Dumbledore stood quietly in front of the large, neatly maintained house, located on a pleasant suburban street. It was bigger and certainly more expensive-looking than the small, cramped home he'd left young Harry Potter at nearly two decades ago. 

Discovering that the Dursleys had moved rather than been killed was humbling. 

It took Amelia Bones mere minutes to locate their new residence using what Muggles referred to as a "phone book." Such a simple oversight had cost them Harry Potter for many years. Dumbledore didn't think it was foolish though that Muggles simply gave out their residency addresses to absolutely anyone. 

Standing on the clean doorstep, Albus glanced thoughtfully around, stroking his beard with a slight frown. His magical senses were sharp, reaching out cautiously, and he quickly realized Harry was not currently inside.

Dumbledore adjusted his robes, exhaled slowly, and knocked firmly on the wooden door. After a short pause, a shrill, irritated female voice emerged from inside, rising in volume as footsteps rapidly approached.

"Do you have any bloody idea how early it—" The door swung abruptly open, and Petunia Dursley stopped cold, her narrow eyes widening in startled recognition and displeasure. Her hair was tied back severely, and she wore a prim nightgown covered by a hastily fastened robe. "Oh," she snapped sharply, her tone turning from irritated to scathing, "it's you! What do you want, old man? We don't want any of your kind's trouble here. We're a good, Christian, normal family without room for your magical freakishness!"

Dumbledore sighed internally, realizing instantly how complicated and unpleasant this interaction was going to be. Petunia Dursley had always harbored resentment towards him for not letting her also attend Hogwarts like her magical sister, but it had clearly hardened into something far more bitter. 

He raised his hands placatingly, trying to project calm despite her immediate hostility. "Mrs. Dursley," he began gently, keeping his voice steady and patient, "I realize the hour is inconvenient, and I apologize for disturbing your morning. However, it is vital we discuss Harry. You see, there seems to have been a grave misunderstanding—"

Before he could finish his careful, diplomatic explanation, every hair on Albus Dumbledore's arms stood rigidly erect! He experienced an immediate, physical reaction as a pulse of overwhelming, monstrous magical energy suddenly materialized right behind him, washing over his skin in an intense wave. 

He spun around sharply, fingers instinctively reaching toward the concealed pocket of his robe where his wand rested.

Standing there in broad daylight, on the neatly manicured Dursley lawn, was none other than Harry Potter himself—the very same young man whose face graced today's newspapers. And by newspapers, he meant all of the newspapers! Pretty much every single magical newspaper from London to China… All of them were about the return at long last of the boy-who-lived to the magical world.

But it was the young woman beside Harry who momentarily held Dumbledore frozen in place. She was beautiful, yes— maybe he’d care more about that if he was ever attracted to women —but he wasn’t. What really drew his astonished gaze to her was she was the source of all of that magical power he could feel saturating the air all around them! 

What manner of woman was this!? It was as if she was a walking leyline, a living magical hotspot! 

For a moment, silence lingered awkwardly. Then Harry cleared his throat softly, breaking the stillness. "Hi, Aunt Petunia," he said, sounding noticeably uncomfortable as he glanced past Dumbledore towards his shocked aunt in the doorway. "I'm home. And uh—" his attention shifted, landing squarely on Dumbledore. "Who exactly are you, old man?"

Dumbledore quickly regained composure, smoothing the surprise from his face. Carefully and respectfully, he inclined his head to Harry in greeting "Ah, forgive my rudeness," he said calmly, projecting warmth and sincerity. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry, I’m so glad to see you alive and well after all this time, and I owe you a very large apology for everything that happened…"

Petunia gasped sharply from the doorway behind him. "Absolutely not!" she shrieked. "No nephew of mine is going to that freak school!"

The woman next to Harry smirked softly and leaned close to Harry, speaking loud enough for Dumbledore to clearly overhear.

"He’s the Headmaster of Hogwarts, huh? The school you wanted to attend? That's perfect, Harry!”

Dumbledore blinked at those words, before smiling. Ah, maybe his journey today would turn out to be a good one!

“ABSOLUTELY NOT!” Petunia shrieked behind him again. “And who the hell is this floozy, Harry! And where is Dudley, wasn’t he supposed to be with you? Neither of you came home last night! Did my precious boy get corrupted by some slut too!?”

Well—mostly good, he figured as everyone but Petunia seemed to sigh at the same time…

XXX

Thanks for reading!!! You can check out more of my stories on my profile.

If you want to see more of my work ahead of time feel free to check out: 

https://www. /blog/somestarwaves  

Here is the list of Current Advanced Chapters:

The Fallen Gamer ch 345-349

Thats not wizard magic 9

The Blood Queen 64

The Fox Hole 113

Thunder and Black Wings 41

That’s not wizard magic 8

That’s not wizard magic 7

That’s not wizard magic 6

Thunder and Black Wings 41

The Fox Hole 112

The Blood Queen 63

The Blood Queen 62

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 35

That’s not wizard magic 5

That’s not wizard magic 4

The Fox Hole 112

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 34

The Blood Queen 61

The Fox Hole 111

The Fox Hole 110

Thunder and Black Wings 40

A systematic tale the hero 33

Thunder and black wings 39

Chapter Text

Chapter 4 (~7200 words):

– Harry –

I sat next to Serafall on the plush couch in the Dursleys' overly pristine living room. Opposite us, Dumbledore sat stiffly in an old-fashioned armchair.

I’m surprised Petunia had even let them come inside with me, although I think it was just so she could yell at them without her neighbors hearing her.

Petunia stood across the room. Her thin lips were twisted into a hateful sneer, her eyes bulging with hate.

"Absolutely not!" Petunia screeched for the third time. "My nephew is normal! Completely normal! I won't stand for you freaks barging into my home and trying to drag him into your evil little magic cult world!"

Dumbledore tried to speak up but was cut off—

"You freaks have no business here!" Petunia shouted again, pointing a bony finger accusingly at Dumbledore. "It's not enough that you corrupted my sister with your vile ways, now you're here to take Harry too?" She then turned to Serafall. “And who the hell are you? Some kind of magical whore trying to corrupt my nephew!? That won’t be happening. He got a good scholarship to a respected school where he will have a normal life! Without you!”

I shifted uneasily, glancing sideways at my mother. Serafall's beautiful face grew darker, her eyes narrowing dangerously at each hateful word my aunt spewed. Realizing how close she was to snapping, I quickly reached over and took her hand, squeezing it firmly in mine. Her fingers immediately relaxed, threading gently through my own. When I glanced at her again, her expression had softened instantly. She looked at me warmly, a tender smile forming on her lips, her anger momentarily forgotten.

But Petunia continued relentlessly. "My nephew is a good Christian boy!" she raged at Dumbledore, ignoring us entirely now. "He belongs here with me, away from your twisted freak world! Get out of my house—now!"

Finally, the old man had lost his patience. 

"Petunia!" he shouted sharply. "That is enough! Be silent at once!" Petunia squeaked as Dumbledore spoke again, his deep voice cutting sharply through her tirade. “Your shrill screeching doesn't change reality, Petunia. Harry is magical, whether you like it or not!”

I was magical. Just not the kind he probably thought I was.

My aunt’s expression shattered into disbelief. For a moment, I saw genuine heartbreak cross her pinched face. Her angry glare fell away, replaced by something almost vulnerable as she turned to look at me directly. “Is it true, Harry?” she asked softly, her voice breaking slightly. “Are you actually like— like them?”

I met her eyes and nodded slowly. “Yeah, Aunt Petunia. It’s true.”

To emphasize my point, I lifted my hand, palm facing upward. A smooth sphere of crystal-clear water formed effortlessly, floating just above my skin. Petunia gasped sharply, stumbling back a step as she stared at the shimmering orb in my palm.

“I’m sorry for hiding it,” I said, my voice quiet but firm as I dispersed the water. “But what choice did I have? You and Uncle Vernon never really accepted me. I knew if you discovered I had magic, you’d only treat me worse.”

Dumbledore leaned forward immediately, a troubled look shadowing his lined face. “Harry, what exactly do you mean by that?” he asked, his tone deadly serious.

Serafall spoke up before I could answer, practically hissing the words through clenched teeth. “Until my precious son was eleven years old, these people forced him to sleep in a tiny closet! Only when he physically grew too big to fit inside did they finally give him a proper bedroom.” Her voice trembled with barely controlled fury as she turned her glare directly toward Petunia. “This house has six bedrooms. Six. And only four people were living here! Yet they kept him locked in a closet! And even afterward when he finally got his own room, they still never treated him as family—not until he turned sixteen, after he never received his Hogwarts letter! They’ve only been nice to him for three out of 18 years!” 

My mother’s whole body was visibly shaking now. Suddenly, the walls around us began vibrating, rattling pictures hanging on the walls and causing decorative plates on shelves to teeter dangerously. 

My eyes widened in shock. 

“Please, my dear lady,” Dumbledore said quickly, his eyes darting nervously between Serafall and the trembling walls around us, “control your magic. If this continues, the house may very well collapse on top of us.”

“Whoa,” I muttered softly under my breath, reaching out and taking my mother’s trembling hand again, gently squeezing it in an attempt to calm her down. I had no clue she could unleash this kind of power without even trying. 

How strong was she when she was trying?

Serafall exhaled slowly at my touch, her intense fury gradually settling. The vibrations around us faded, and the room grew still once more. But when she finally spoke again, her voice was ice-cold, each word carefully controlled. “You should all feel incredibly lucky that Harry has a kind heart,” she said, glaring at Petunia. 

Petunia was still visibly trembling. Her eyes darted anxiously between me and Serafall, then flickered briefly toward Dumbledore before settling back on Serafall again. She drew in a sharp, shaky breath. “Just—who exactly are you anyway?” Petunia asked. Her voice wavered nervously. “And why are you even here, in my house…?”

Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair, his wrinkled forehead furrowing deeply. “Actually, Miss, I would like to know that myself,” he said in a quiet, measured tone. “Please don't misunderstand. I do sincerely appreciate how passionately you've stood up for Harry just now. But your identity, I'm afraid, remains unclear to me as well.”

Serafall huffed loudly in annoyance. She straightened her back and lifted her chin proudly. “Well,” she said in a bright voice, “I’m Harry’s mother.”

Petunia immediately shook her head, her eyes narrowing angrily. “No,” she snapped. “That’s impossible. Harry is Lily’s son!”

Next to her, Dumbledore slowly nodded his head in agreement. “Indeed,” he said softly, carefully studying Serafall's face. “Harry is Lily Evans’ son… I was there when he was born.”

Serafall rolled her eyes dramatically at both of them. “Obviously, Harry is Lily’s son,” she retorted impatiently. “Because I’m the one who impregnated Lily in the first place!” To emphasize her point, she sat up straighter, deliberately puffing out her large, full chest as if proud of the revelation.

Petunia’s eyes widened in shock. Then, her eyes rolled backward, and she collapsed heavily to the floor in a dead faint.

I winced as her thin body hit the carpet. Thankfully, the living room rug was extremely thick and fluffy. Petunia made a dull thud on impact but otherwise seemed fine.

I shifted awkwardly in my seat. I glanced over at Dumbledore, who looked just as stunned as Petunia had. He blinked several times, clearly struggling to process what he’d just heard.

“I can’t believe Lily would cheat on James Potter,” Dumbledore finally muttered. He sounded genuinely shaken by the revelation, his voice barely above a whisper.

Serafall let out an annoyed breath. She leaned back against the couch cushions, her expression openly exasperated. “Oh, please,” she scoffed. “James Potter cheated first.”

Dumbledore sighed softly, his expression suddenly heavy and regretful. “Yes, actually, I'm well aware of that,” he said. His tone became quiet, thoughtful. “There was even a child as a result of his affair—a girl.”

Before I could stop myself, the words flew out of my mouth. “Wait—does that mean I have a sister?”

Serafall gently placed her hand on my arm, shaking her head slowly. “Harry, no. You aren't a Potter anymore, remember?” she reminded me softly.

“Oh. Right.” I felt embarrassed, looking down at my lap. “Sorry,” I muttered quietly, feeling awkward. In my mind, I briefly considered that if James Potter had a kid from cheating and so did Lily. 

I supposed it evened things out a bit…?

Or maybe not? Ugh, this is why you don’t get married literally right out of school. Neither of my “parents” had been mature enough yet. They were both only 22 years old…barely 24 when they died.

Dumbledore sighed. “This information is going to cause a great many problems in the wizarding world when it eventually becomes public,” he said quietly. He looked directly at me, his gaze suddenly gentle and compassionate. “None of this is your fault, of course, my boy.”

But then his eyes slid toward Serafall, lingering there in silent judgment.

Serafall immediately huffed again, glaring at him with clear irritation. “Oh, don’t give me that look,” she said defensively. “This wasn’t my fault either! A sexy redhead came right up to me at a bar, practically begging for a one-night stand. How the hell was I supposed to say no to that?” she whined.

"By just saying no," Dumbledore said flatly, clearly unimpressed by my mother's casual excuse.

Serafall leaned back against the plush cushions and smirked at him. "Trust me, for my kind, saying no is nearly impossible. We always stay true to our desires!"

Dumbledore paused, eyes narrowing slightly. "Your kind?" he repeated carefully, glancing from Serafall to me, clearly confused. "Miss Serafall, forgive my bluntness, but are you human?"

A mischievous grin spread slowly across my mother’s face. "Nope," she replied cheerfully, popping the 'p' deliberately, as if amused by his curiosity.

"Then, if you're not human, may I ask exactly what you are?" he asked slowly. "And are you perhaps the reason young Harry never received his Hogwarts letter?"

At this, Serafall turned her head slightly and winked at me before turning back to face the headmaster again. 

"I have no idea why Harry didn't get his letter," she lied smoothly, her voice perfectly innocent. "As for what I am, well… that's something between Harry and me. Consider it our little family secret. If you want answers, you'll just have to figure them out yourself."

Dumbledore stared at her blankly for a moment before letting out a tired groan. He leaned back in the stiff armchair, suddenly looking weary and resigned. "Perhaps it's best that I don't know after all," he muttered quietly. "I suppose knowing your true nature wouldn't change much anyway." Then, turning his attention toward me again, his blue eyes grew serious and focused. "Well then, Harry, the important thing now is what you wish to do next. Have you given any thought to your future?"

My pulse quickened nervously as I considered my answer. Honestly, I wasn't entirely sure why I felt so anxious asking. Still, I gathered my courage and cleared my throat, trying to steady my voice. "Can I… can I go to Hogwarts?" I finally asked. "I'd really like to attend, if it's still possible."

A gentle, genuine smile broke across Dumbledore's face, his entire expression instantly warming. "Harry, I'd be delighted to have you join Hogwarts," he assured me sincerely. He paused briefly, clearly thinking things through. "Obviously, your curriculum would need to be adjusted, considering you're joining at such a late stage. You would have some catching up to do compared to your peers. However," he continued quickly, noticing my worried expression, "please don't feel discouraged by that. Late admissions are rare, but certainly not unprecedented. In fact, there's a historical rumor about a student who didn't begin attending until their fifth year, way back in the early 1800s. From what the stories tell, that student managed perfectly well—they even saved the entire school during a goblin attack."

Serafall immediately let out a loud, irritated scoff beside me, causing Dumbledore and I to glance over at her in surprise. "Fucking goblins," she muttered darkly under her breath.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by her reaction. "I take it you don't particularly care for goblins, my lady?" he asked politely.

Serafall's eyes narrowed sharply, her pretty face twisting into a scowl. "I fucking hate them," she said bluntly, without further explanation. Her tone made it perfectly clear she had nothing more to say on the subject.

…The conversation didn’t last much longer. We stayed seated in the Dursleys' overly tidy living room, with Dumbledore promising he’d handle everything regarding my admission to Hogwarts. He assured me my unusual circumstances wouldn’t be a problem, and he’d have my class schedule sorted before I arrived.

Dumbledore shifted slightly in his stiff armchair, leaning forward as he glanced at me with a curious expression. "By the way, Harry," he began casually, "I see you’ve been getting along rather well with young Miss Granger."

I blinked in surprise, sitting a little straighter on the plush couch. "You know Hermione?"

He smiled gently, nodding. "Yes, of course. She’s an exceptionally bright student, always at the top of her class year." His expression softened slightly, becoming sympathetic. "Unfortunately, according to her head of house, Professor McGonagall, she’s struggled to make friends for three years running. I'm hopeful you'll continue being a good friend to her."

“That doesn’t even make sense to me," I said bluntly. "Hermione is smart, genuinely nice, and pretty. Guys would have to be absolute idiots not to want to be friends with her."

Dumbledore simply chuckled softly, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oh, you’ll soon discover, Harry, that when it comes to the magical world, there are far more idiots around than you might expect!" He laughed like that was an inside joke.

Serafall snorted lightly beside me. "That's not just the magical world. Idiots are everywhere. Trust me—I've had enough experience to know."

I glanced sideways, surprised when Dumbledore actually laughed quietly at her comment. His expression was warmer now, less guarded. "On that, I must admit you are entirely correct, my dear."

"Wait a minute—how exactly did you know I was friends with Hermione in the first place?" I asked.

He raised an eyebrow slightly. "Ah," he said, eyes sparkling with mischief, "because, Harry, your face is currently plastered across every wizarding newspaper. And several of those papers featured Miss Granger as well!"

Before I could even ask for more clarification, Dumbledore snapped his fingers lightly. A newspaper instantly appeared out of thin air in his outstretched hand. My mouth fell open slightly in shock, not just at the sudden appearance, but at the moving black and white pictures splashed across the front page.

The Boy Who Lived is Alive! …And Already Has a Secret Mistress!? Everything to Know Inside, by Rita Skeeter…

Wow…

My jaw tightened in disbelief. The images showed Hermione and me sitting in the cozy little café from last night, leaning toward each other and chatting quietly. The pictures actually moved, capturing every subtle expression and small gesture we made.

I groaned quietly to myself, feeling irritation building sharply in my chest. "Of course the magical world has tabloids," I muttered bitterly.

Suddenly, Serafall reached across and swiftly snatched the paper straight out of Dumbledore’s hand. Her eyes sparkled happily as she studied the moving photographs of Hermione and me, a delighted smile forming on her pretty face. "This is adorable!" she announced cheerfully. "It's definitely going in the photo album I'm planning to start immediately!"

I stared blankly at her in disbelief. "Wait, Mom—you're seriously going to keep that trashy article?"

She just beamed at me and nodded enthusiastically, clearly not bothered in the slightest. "Of course, Harry! This is your very first scandal! As your mom, I'm practically required to document moments like these! Besides, it runs in the family. Just wait til you read some of mine where I'm apparently having a secret affair with Grayfia and Sirzechs! At the same time!"

Dumbledore finally stood up, smoothing down his long robes. He turned to me with a friendly expression. “Before I go, Harry, there's something else I'd like to mention,” he said in a gentle voice. “I realize adjusting to this world so suddenly will be difficult, especially since you're entering Hogwarts late. I know a family called the Weasleys who could help you. They have several children, including a son about your age, along with a few older brothers. They're good people—trustworthy and genuinely kind. Unfortunately, they're away on vacation in Egypt at the moment, but once they return, I could arrange an introduction if you're interested?”

I blinked in surprise, not exactly sure how to respond to that. I was nineteen years old, and the headmaster was acting like I was a shy little kid who needed help finding playmates. Still, as ridiculous as it sounded, I really didn’t have many friends to begin with, magical or otherwise.

Despite feeling slightly embarrassed, I chuckled quietly and nodded at him. “Alright, sure. Thanks, Professor. I'll keep that in mind,” I said, smiling at the older man. He seemed relieved by my answer, nodding back as he moved slowly toward the door.

“Very good,” he said quietly. “Please contact me anytime if you have further questions or concerns, Harry. I'll ensure your Hogwarts preparations are all taken care of.”

“Thank you, Professor Dumbledore,” I said sincerely.

He nodded politely once more, gave a small respectful nod to Serafall, and then stepped out through the front door. The instant the door closed behind him, I heard a loud crack outside, making me jump slightly in surprise.

Beside me on the couch, Serafall laughed softly at my reaction, giving my arm an affectionate squeeze. I exhaled slowly, relaxing back into the overly soft cushions. It felt strange, suddenly sitting alone in the Dursleys’ pristine living room with my new mother.

I glanced across the room to where Aunt Petunia was still sprawled motionless on the thick carpet, her pale face slack and unconscious. It felt wrong leaving her lying there. With a heavy sigh, I got to my feet, gently releasing Serafall's hand in the process.

"Hold on just a second, Mom," I murmured. "I should probably take care of Petunia."

Serafall gave a reluctant sigh, clearly unhappy I was bothering with my aunt. But she didn’t argue, only watched with mild amusement as I walked across the room and knelt beside my aunt’s thin body.

Carefully, I slid my arms beneath Petunia’s shoulders and knees, then lifted her up slowly. I carried her carefully across the living room toward the nearby couch. Standing back up, I turned to Serafall, who watched me patiently from her seat.

“I’ll leave her a note explaining what happened,” I told my mom quietly. “I don’t think either of us wants to be here when she finally wakes up… It’s probably better if I don't see my relatives for a while.” 

It was also clear— considering the fact that she fainted just from hearing her little sister also liked women —that aunt Petunia would not be able to handle the fact that her nephew was half devil! 

I’d be leaving that out of the note.

Serafall immediately smiled. "I couldn't agree more," she said cheerfully, standing and stretching her arms above her head. As she stretched, my eyes involuntarily drifted downward, drawn to the generous swell of her large breasts straining against the thin fabric of her sparkly costume. My cheeks heated slightly as I forced my gaze quickly back up to her face. Pretending not to notice, Serafall flashed me a bright grin and walked over, wrapping her arm casually around mine. “Come on then, Harry,” she purred softly. “We’ve got a whole bunch of stuff to do today!”

Serafall pulled me quickly outside, gripping my hand tightly as she guided me away from the Dursleys’ front porch and onto the neatly mowed lawn. The neighborhood was quiet at this time of morning, just a couple of joggers passing by on the far sidewalk and a dog barking somewhere down the street. A few curious glances drifted toward us, probably because of Serafall's brightly colored, sparkly magical girl outfit. 

She didn't seem to care in the slightest, completely at ease as we stopped on the grass.

“Alright, Harry, hold on tight to me,” she said, turning to face me with an excited expression. Her grip on my hand tightened a little more, her fingers pressing warmly against mine. “This is probably going to feel pretty weird, since we’re about to teleport directly into the center of the Earth!”

I blinked at her, my mind taking a second to register what she'd just casually mentioned. “Wait—what?!” was all I managed to get out, my voice rising sharply.

But before I could protest further or even try to clarify what she meant, the ground beneath our feet suddenly lit up bright blue, almost blinding. My stomach lurched violently, an intense pressure squeezing around me like a giant fist. The sensation was overwhelming and disorienting, and for a split second I was convinced I was going to throw up.

Then, just as abruptly as the feeling started, it vanished!

Blinking rapidly to clear my vision, I realized we were no longer standing outside in front of my aunt’s suburban house. Instead, we were inside a modern, luxurious office—one far nicer and more stylish than the goblins' I'd visited the day before. 

The walls, though, were the most eye-catching part. Almost every inch was covered with large, colorful posters showing various magical girls—none of whom I recognized. All the girls wore extremely revealing costumes, many of them nearly naked. The drawings clearly emphasized their exaggerated curves, with oversized breasts and round, exposed asses prominently displayed.

One poster in particular caught my attention immediately. 

Right there in the center of the wall was a large, glossy image titled Miracle Girl Levai-tan. It was unmistakably Serafall. My gaze moved slowly over the poster, heat rising in my cheeks. She was wrapped up by shiny pink tentacles that were actively tearing away her sparkling costume, exposing large, perfectly shaped breasts.

I stood frozen in place, my heartbeat quickening as I stared at it. After a moment, I felt Serafall step closer to me. When I turned to face her, she was grinning proudly.

“Yep, that's the newest promotional poster for my show! Season 13!” she declared enthusiastically, clearly pleased by my reaction. “The fans are absolutely going to love it!”

I swallowed awkwardly, feeling both embarrassed and strangely intrigued at the same time. “Wait—your show actually has nudity?” I asked, my voice coming out hoarse and uncertain.

Serafall smirked mischievously, raising her eyebrows as if my question amused her. “Harry, sweetie, it’s a devil show,” she said clearly, as if that explained everything. “Of course it has nudity. My show actually has sex scenes in every single episode! Devils don't have the same hang-ups as humans when it comes to stuff like that!”

Before I could even process that shocking piece of information, the office door swung open suddenly, interrupting our conversation. I turned my head sharply as a tall, beautiful blonde woman strode briskly into the room. She wore a stylish black business suit that hugged tightly against her curvy figure. She had on professional-looking glasses perched on her nose, giving her an air of seriousness and authority.

The woman paused briefly, taking us both in. Her gaze settled on Serafall first. “Leviathan-sama,” the blonde woman said curtly, adjusting her glasses with a practiced gesture. Her voice was stern and formal. “You have paperwork that requires your attention. Quite a large amount, actually. Since you disappeared all day yesterday and this morning…” she grumbled before looking at me more closely. “And who is this young man? A cousin of yours? He has Sitri features,” she pointed out.

Serafall immediately perked up at the question. “Hi, Behe-tan!” she greeted the woman happily. “Let me introduce you. This handsome young man beside me is my super awesome and cool wonderful son, Harry!” Serafall said. “And Harry, this is my queen Behe-tan!” she said happily to me.

The sexy, stern woman stared at Serafall, her mouth hanging open slightly in shock. "You have a son? Since when!? And he's actually yours? This isn't some weird new gimmick for your show, is it…?"

Serafall pouted. "Of course not!" she replied indignantly. Then her expression softened, and she glanced sideways at me, an eager smile spreading across her face. "Though, honestly, I would absolutely love having Harry appear in my show! He'd definitely be an instant hit with the fans. He’s got my good looks after all!"

I felt my cheeks grow warm at the idea, quickly shaking my head in embarrassment. "Uh, Mom, I'd really rather not," I said quickly. "I'm not exactly keen on the idea of acting out full-on sex scenes for a TV show."

Serafall chuckled softly, reaching out to pat my shoulder reassuringly. "Oh, that's perfectly fine, Harry," she said lightly. "All of the sex scenes are actually fake anyways. We just fabricate them with high-level illusion magic." She leaned closer, lowering her voice to a playful whisper. "Just don't tell the fans about that, okay? They'd be incredibly disappointed to learn the truth." She finished with a playful wink.

It was all fake? My eyes glanced over to her half nude poster once again. That was a bit of a relief—

“Oh, that was a real photo shoot though! Those are my real titties!” Serafall declared playfully, making me blush once again.

Behe-tan cleared her throat pointedly, interrupting our conversation and bringing us back on topic. She straightened her posture, adjusting her tight black business suit, and then gave me a respectful bow. "Allow me to introduce myself properly," she began in a formal tone, her eyes locking firmly onto mine. "I am Lady Serafall Leviathan’s Queen—the Behemoth. I've served your mother loyally for hundreds of years now, and it’s my honor to finally meet you, Lord Harry."

My eyes widened slightly in surprise at the number she casually mentioned. Hundreds of years? Right… 

I kept forgetting about the immortality thing. It felt completely surreal, trying to wrap my head around the idea that I might actually live forever. How exactly was someone even supposed to deal with information like that?

Before I could fully absorb that revelation, Serafall clapped her hands together excitedly, bouncing slightly on her heels. "Anyway," she continued enthusiastically, "I brought Harry here specifically because I want him to receive the Sitri magic crest immediately. He needs it so he can start properly learning devil magic and building up his magical reserves!"

I glanced toward Behe-tan, catching the way her blue eyes tightened slightly behind her glasses, and noticed how she reached up, rubbing her temples slowly as though suddenly struck by a headache. 

Clearly, I wasn't the only one feeling overwhelmed by my mother's whirlwind energy.

But Serafall wasn’t finished. She grinned widely at her Queen before continuing, her tone growing even more enthusiastic. "Also, Behe-tan, I want you to contact Ajuka-tan right away. Harry will need a set of Evil Pieces—custom-made, obviously, because absolutely nothing but the best is acceptable for my precious son!"

– Gabrielle Delacour –

Gabrielle Delacour sat on the comfortable wicker chair on the back porch of her family's large mansion, her eyes fixed irritably on the British newspaper clutched in her manicured hands. 

Around her, household servants quietly set their breakfast out on the table. Fresh croissants, jam, pastries, and various fruits lined polished porcelain plates. Another servant poured fresh juice into two tall crystal glasses, placing them carefully beside the sisters.

Gabrielle hardly noticed any of it. 

Her attention was completely on the moving picture splashed across the front page. It showed Harry Potter sitting across a table, drinking tea with some frizzy-haired British girl. He leaned forward slightly in the picture, smiling warmly and occasionally laughing at something the girl was saying. 

Gabrielle's fingers tightened around the edges of the newspaper. “Zat should 'ave been me wiz 'im,” she muttered bitterly, glaring at the image.

Her sister Fleur, seated opposite her, glanced up from buttering a croissant, raising an elegant eyebrow. Fleur wore a pale-blue sundress that perfectly complemented her flawless pale skin and shimmering silvery-blonde hair. Fleur’s blue eyes sparkled with amusement as she watched her younger sister pout.

Gabrielle huffed, slapping the newspaper onto the table and crossing her arms stubbornly. "I'm so annoyed zat our charms wore off so quickly yesterday. We barely got to spend any time wiz 'im," Gabrielle complained. "It was supposed to last all afternoon, and we ended up 'aving to leave early."

“You really 'ave eet bad for 'im, don't you?” Fleur teased lightly, biting delicately into her croissant.

Gabrielle narrowed her eyes at her sister, her face growing hot. “Don't pretend you weren't totally into 'im as well, big sister,” she shot back immediately. “I saw you kiss ze corner of 'is lips yesterday. You can't deny zat.”

Fleur paused, her cheeks flushing slightly as she swallowed a piece of pastry. She cleared her throat, clearly uncomfortable with Gabrielle’s accusation. After a moment, she shrugged gracefully, her embarrassment quickly fading into a playful expression. “I didn't deny eet, did I?” Fleur replied lightly, picking up her glass and sipping her juice calmly. “Anyway, we're Delacours and Veelas. If zere’s a man we want, getting 'im shouldn't be any trouble at all.”

Gabrielle glanced away, briefly considering her sister’s words. Fleur did have a point. Their Veela heritage gave them an edge in matters of attraction, but even so, Gabrielle didn’t want Harry Potter interested in her only because of Veela charms. 

She wanted him to actually like her!

Fleur leaned forward, placing her glass back down gently and giving Gabrielle a thoughtful look. “Why don't you just send 'im a letter?” Fleur suggested. “Invite 'im to zat Quidditch game in a few weeks. You said 'e mentioned liking sports, right?”

Gabrielle sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. Fleur really had no appreciation for Quidditch at all. “Eet's not just some Quidditch game, Fleur,” Gabrielle said impatiently. “Eet's ze World freaking Cup! You know, ze single most important event in ze wizarding sports world!”

Fleur waved her hand dismissively, unimpressed. “Fine, ze World Cup zen,” Fleur conceded easily. “But if eet’s as exciting as you claim, wouldn't zat make eet ze perfect event to invite 'im to? Papa would definitely agree to get us ze best box seats available.”

Gabrielle brightened immediately at the suggestion. Inviting Harry Potter to the Quidditch World Cup was actually a great idea. 

They’d met him by chance at the football match yesterday, thanks mostly to Fleur’s obsession with the muggle sport for some reason. 

Getting seats next to Harry had felt like FATE! 

…Even if their charms to hide their allure had fizzled out prematurely.

“Yes, you're right,” Gabrielle agreed finally, her mood instantly lifting. “I'll bully Papa into securing us ze absolute best box seats. 'Arry will 'ave to accept an invitation like zat.”

Fleur smiled knowingly at her sister’s determination. She leaned back comfortably in her chair. “Good, zen zat's settled,” Fleur said with satisfaction. “But before we can even zink about watching Quidditch, we 'ave somezing more important we need to deal wiz.”

“And what exactly would zat be?” Gabrielle asked cautiously.

“Our training for ze Triwizard Tournament, of course,” Fleur stated clearly. “You 'aven't forgotten about our plan, 'ave you? Each participating school will select two champions. Our goal is for both of zose champions to be us!”

Gabrielle felt a wave of nervousness rise inside her. Fleur was incredibly skilled with magic, her wandwork quick and precise, far ahead of most witches in the world. Gabrielle, on the other hand, often felt self-conscious and awkward with her spellwork in comparison. 

The tournament wasn’t going to be easy, and Fleur's intensity during practice made Gabrielle uneasy.

Gabrielle shifted nervously in her seat, running her fingers anxiously along the smooth wooden edge of the table. “I 'aven't forgotten,” Gabrielle muttered hesitantly. “But Fleur, you're way better at zis zan I am. Maybe—maybe I’m not good enough yet.”

Fleur immediately shook her head firmly, fixing Gabrielle with an encouraging stare.

“Gabrielle, you're plenty good enough,” Fleur told her clearly, her voice softer now, more understanding. “You just need to practice more seriously. If we train togezer properly, I 'ave no doubt you'll be ready!”

– Sirius Black –

Sirens blared around Sirius, shrill and relentless, they sent sharp waves of pain through his sensitive canine ears. Despite the discomfort, he forced himself forward, determined and steady as he padded quickly along the cold stone corridor.

The hallways of Azkaban were narrow and damp, lit only by faint torches spaced far apart along grimy stone walls. Beneath his paws, the stones felt slick and rough, still wet from the constant moisture that seeped down from cracks in the prison’s ceiling. The stale, musty smell was overpowering, mixed unpleasantly with decay and despair.

Dementors drifted silently through the halls around him. Their dark cloaks fluttered softly as they moved, hunting for him but not seeing him. Whenever one passed, a deep chill seeped through his fur, prickling his skin painfully beneath. Sirius's body shivered involuntarily each time, and he had to fight the instinctive urge to cower away from the creatures. Yet despite their oppressive presence, the Dementors paid him no attention. They floated on silently, ignoring the black dog entirely. 

Dementors hungered exclusively for human souls, showing no interest in animals at all.

Sirius wondered briefly why he hadn’t attempted escape like this years earlier. The route was painfully straightforward now that he was finally doing it. He’d spent 18 miserable, lonely years confined to a tiny, filthy cell, haunted by bitter memories and overwhelming guilt. At some point, he’d convinced himself he deserved punishment for his stupidity, trusting that disgusting traitor, Peter Pettigrew, and indirectly causing James and Lily’s deaths.

Regret gnawed at him deeply as he moved forward through the hallways. He’d loved James like a brother. Lily, too, had been one of his closest friends after she finally warmed up to him.

Then, only a few days ago, everything changed by complete accident. Minister Fudge had visited Azkaban to inspect the cells. Sirius remembered clearly the portly man strolling carelessly past, before accidentally dropping a newspaper onto the filthy floor outside his cell. Desperate for something—anything—to distract from the crushing boredom and depression, Sirius had reached through the rusty bars, grabbed the newspaper with his shaking fingers, and pulled it inside.

The photo printed prominently on the front page had made Sirius’s blood run cold with shock, and then boil instantly with fury.

It was the rat. Sitting on the shoulder of one of the Weasleys in the middle of Egypt.

In that single instant, all the guilt, shame, and despair that had kept Sirius imprisoned for years suddenly transformed into cold, focused rage.

He was going to escape Azkaban, find Pettigrew, and rip him apart piece by piece!

The sirens continued blaring around him, painfully loud and shrill. Sirius pressed on steadily, picking up his pace until he reached the main exit corridor that led to the prison’s outer gates. After that, it was nothing but a mile of doggy paddling in near freezing waters to freedom. 

Sirius’s thoughts weren’t completely focused on revenge though. Part of him also wondered how James’ son Harry was doing. Harry should be around 19 now right, a young man in the middle of his Hogwarts years. Sirius should make sure Harry was safe too, after all he was James’ son!

Oh, and he supposed he should check up on the girl as well while he was at it. James had secretly made Sirius her godfather.

– Amelia Bones –

Amelia Bones sat behind her wide oak desk, the surface scattered with parchment, quills, and ink bottles. She leaned back heavily in her chair, letting out an exhausted sigh. Her head pounded, throbbing with irritation and stress. She felt close to yanking out strands of her own graying hair. It was barely noon, and today had already turned into an absolute disaster!

Earlier that morning, Amelia had been sitting in the kitchen of her comfortable home, sipping on her first cup of strong coffee. She'd received good news. A penned letter from Albus Dumbledore himself, confirming that Harry would be attending Hogwarts in the upcoming school year! Amelia knew immediately what it meant—good publicity. 

Possibly even excellent publicity for magical Britain, especially given the circumstances.

This year Minister Cornelius Fudge had insisted on hosting the infamous Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts. Amelia personally considered it one of the worst decisions the Ministry had ever made. The Triwizard Tournament had a grisly reputation, champions had died horribly in past tournaments. 

But Fudge seemed convinced that hosting the dangerous event would portray him as a thrilling and dynamic minister, somehow improving his chances at reelection. 

Amelia considered him an incompetent fool.

But Harry Potter returning from the dead, showing up unexpectedly to attend Hogwarts—that was something even Fudge couldn't ruin. It would draw positive international attention, potentially salvaging the situation. 

Or so she'd hoped.

Unfortunately, her optimism had been short-lived.

Less than an hour ago, Amelia had been in her large Department of Magical Law Enforcement office, quietly reviewing a stack of recent Auror case files, when the Minister had stormed inside, completely unannounced. 

"Amelia! Amelia! You need to listen to me right now!" Fudge had practically shrieked, flailing his pudgy hands dramatically. He stomped his feet across her polished floor, heading straight for her desk. "We have a massive disaster on our hands—absolutely terrible!"

Amelia felt her stomach drop, anticipating something incredibly frustrating. She had immediately set aside her paperwork, reluctantly giving Fudge her full attention.

"What happened, Minister?" Amelia asked calmly, forcing patience into her voice.

Fudge tugged anxiously on the collar of his emerald-green robes, glancing nervously around her office as if expecting someone to jump out at him. "Sirius Black!" he finally blurted out, his voice cracking slightly with fear. "That dangerous madman just escaped from Azkaban prison about an hour ago!"

Amelia felt as if someone had suddenly punched her hard in the stomach. Her chest tightened painfully as she stared back at Fudge, utterly stunned. "Escaped?" she repeated flatly. Her mind raced with disbelief and shock. Azkaban was supposed to be impossible to break out of, the magical wards and Dementor guards making it impenetrable. Yet somehow, Sirius Black had managed it.

"Yes!" Fudge shouted, throwing his arms upward in panic. "The Aurors stationed there sent an emergency alert directly to my office just now. He's on the loose, Amelia—free to hunt down Harry Potter and kill him! We have to do something immediately! Otherwise everyone is going to think I’m an incompetent minister! And that can’t be allowed to happen! You need to fix this!"

Damn… Had Sirius escaped to kill Harry Potter?

The timing was incredibly suspicious—too coincidental to ignore. Harry Potter returned to the wizarding world for less than a day, and suddenly Sirius Black, the prisoner infamous for betraying the Potters and causing their deaths, managed to escape from Azkaban. 

Even Amelia, who had always held some doubts about Black's guilt after all these years, couldn't ignore the timing of this.

And no matter how much she’d tried to convince Fudge it was a stupid, very stupid idea—the man insisted on having dementors stationed around Hogwarts once the school year started. 

“For the protection of Harry Potter and all of the visiting students for the upcoming tournament!" Fudge declared!

Her hands slammed on her desk. “The other schools are not going to be happy having their students around dementors!” She tried her best to convince him. 

Fudge sputtered but didn’t budge sadly. “I don’t care what they think, the only thing that matters is we catch this escaped murderer so I—I mean WE don’t look bad!”

– Lucius Malfoy –

Lucius Malfoy paced slowly around his spacious study. Lucius felt his stomach churn slightly as he thought about the Ministry raids that had grown increasingly frequent over the past few years…

Several of his former Death Eater companions had already suffered Ministry raids, their homes ransacked, dark artifacts confiscated, reputations ruined. 

Lucius had so far avoided this fate. He had carefully bribed Minister Fudge, discreetly funneling large sums of galleons to the incompetent politician. That had kept him safe.

Until now.

Lucius sighed deeply. 

The recent escape of Sirius Black complicated everything. Lucius knew, of course, that Sirius had never been a Death Eater. The man had always been a passionate opponent of their cause, loyal to the Potters and Dumbledore. But Sirius Black had to remain imprisoned in Azkaban for Lucius’s sake. With Sirius locked away, Lucius’s son, Draco, stood to inherit the title and considerable fortune of the Black family upon the man's eventual death. 

Sirius’s escape now put Lucius in an extremely difficult position.

Lucius clenched his jaw, walking over to his massive wooden desk. He sat down heavily in his leather chair, leaned back, and closed his eyes briefly. 

One of his Ministry informants had delivered worrying news. With Sirius Black on the loose, the Aurors intended to raid Malfoy Manor soon, suspecting that Lucius and Narcissa might be secretly sheltering her escaped cousin. She was Narcissa Black before marrying him…

Lucius knew perfectly well that Sirius wasn’t hiding in his house, but that didn’t matter. If the Aurors entered his home, they might discover something far more dangerous and incriminating.

His thoughts turned toward the secret compartment built cleverly into the floor beneath the thick green rug in his private study. Inside that compartment was an object of enormous dark power! 

A small black diary that his master, Lord Voldemort, had personally entrusted to Lucius years ago. Lucius had no clear idea what precisely the artifact was or what exactly it could do, but the Dark Lord had emphasized its value. 

It was an object of great darkness, capable of unleashing death, chaos, and unimaginable destruction if used properly!

Lucius opened his eyes again, heart beating quickly as he considered his options. He had to rid himself of this cursed diary immediately. It was simply too dangerous to keep now, especially if the Ministry planned to invade his home. But he couldn’t simply throw it away or bury it somewhere random either. 

If the diary caused havoc, and if anyone traced it back to him, Lucius’s reputation and influence would be destroyed forever. He had to carefully think through his next move, making sure to turn this dangerous complication into a potential advantage.

He tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the polished surface of his desk. 

The upcoming Triwizard Tournament would soon take place at Hogwarts, bringing students from other magical schools to the castle. 

…If something catastrophic were to occur during such an important international event, the consequences for Dumbledore would be severe! 

Lucius smiled slightly, picturing how quickly public opinion would turn against the Headmaster! 

Yes, Lucius realized, this diary might serve his master’s cause perfectly if placed carefully at Hogwarts. But how should he smuggle the book into the castle without implicating himself directly? 

Hmmm… His son was bright, resourceful, and fiercely loyal to their family. Draco could certainly manage something so simple…

XXX

Thanks for reading!!! You can check out more of my stories on my profile.

If you want to see more of my work ahead of time feel free to check out: 

https://www. /blog/somestarwaves  

Here is the list of Current Advanced Chapters:

The Fallen Gamer ch 345-349

The Fox Hole 114

That’s not wizard magic 10

Thats not wizard magic 9

The Blood Queen 64

The Fox Hole 113

Thunder and Black Wings 41

That’s not wizard magic 8

That’s not wizard magic 7

That’s not wizard magic 6

Thunder and Black Wings 41

The Fox Hole 112

The Blood Queen 63

The Blood Queen 62

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 35

That’s not wizard magic 5

The Fox Hole 112

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 34

The Blood Queen 61

The Fox Hole 111

Thunder and Black Wings 40

A systematic tale the hero 33

Chapter Text

Chapter 5 (~9300 words)

– Harry –

A high-powered spray of water burst violently from my palm, the pressure so intense that it sliced clean through the thick straw target twenty feet away. The two halves flopped apart and hit the training yard floor with a soft thud. My arm tingled from the force of the release, and my breathing was ragged. I’d been at it for about an hour straight, sweat soaking the back of my shirt, my hair clinging to my forehead. My shoulders ached and my hand felt raw from channeling so much magic.

Off to the side, standing in the sun, were the devil maids my mother had assigned to me—identical twin sisters named Lyra and Lyna. They were gorgeous in an almost distracting way, with matching long black hair, pale flawless skin, and huge breasts straining against tight low-cut blouses. Their short skirts swished when they moved, and I was certain there weren’t any panties under there. The way the fabric clung and lifted when they shifted their hips left little to the imagination.

They clapped and cheered like I’d just won a tournament. “Good job, young master!” Lyra called, her voice lilting and playful. “Such power, you’re improving so quickly!”

“Yes, that was incredible, young master,” Lyna added, flashing me a sultry smile. “You make it look so easy.”

They praised me like they both weren’t secretly High Class and could wipe the floor with me.

“Uh, thanks,” I said, trying not to stare at the deep line of cleavage between them. My face felt hot. It was awkward having two sexy women fawning over me like this, especially while I was dripping sweat and trying to focus on training.

They exchanged a glance and then approached me in perfect sync, their hips swaying. Lyra stopped on my left, Lyna on my right, close enough that I could smell their perfume—sweet, heavy, and intoxicating.

“You’ve worked hard, young master,” Lyra purred, letting her fingers trail lightly over my forearm. “Would you like dinner first?”

“Or maybe a nice bath?” Lyna suggested, her hand resting briefly on my shoulder as she leaned in just enough for her chest to brush my arm.

Lyra’s lips curved into a mischievous grin. “Or…” she drew the word out, her voice dropping lower, “…maybe you want us?”

The way she said it left no doubt she wasn’t joking. My stomach did a weird flip, and I could feel heat rushing to my cheeks. I opened my mouth, trying to sound casual, but my voice cracked slightly. “I’ll, uh… I’ll take a bath. By myself.”

Both of them pouted immediately, their matching lower lips jutting out as if I’d just denied them something important. “Aww, you’re no fun,” Lyna teased, but there was still a glint in her eyes that said she’d take me seriously if I changed my mind.

I chuckled awkwardly and stepped back, needing some space before my brain stopped working altogether. “Seriously. Just the bath.”

“As you wish, young master,” Lyra said, though the playful tone in her voice told me they weren’t done teasing me yet.

They trailed after me as I headed toward the Sitri estate.

…

I finished cleaning up and ended up running into my new family in the hallway.

“There’s our favorite grandchild!” a deep, confident voice called out toward me as soon as I stepped into the main hall of the Sitri estate. I turned toward the sound and saw a tall, broad-shouldered man who didn’t look a day over thirty despite the fact that he was supposedly my grandfather. This was Sebastian Sitri—my mother Serafall's father. His black hair was thick and perfectly groomed, the same deep shade as mine, and his bright blue eyes were unmistakably the same as mine too.

Standing at his side was a strikingly beautiful woman who could have passed for Serafall’s older sister. She was tall, elegant, and held herself with a poise that radiated authority. Her medium-length black hair shimmered, but unlike her husband’s and mine, her eyes were a vivid pink that stood out immediately. This was Selene Sitri, my grandmother.

Selene’s expression softened even further as she stepped forward, her arms already spreading wide. “Come here, Harry,” she said in a warm, inviting tone. “Let me have a proper look at my favorite grandson.”

I hesitated a second—this was still pretty surreal—but stepped forward. Her arms wrapped around me in a firm, affectionate hug. I caught the faint scent of her perfume, sweet and floral. Behind me, I could hear Lyra and Lyna, my assigned maids, quietly cooing and whispering like this was some adorable family reunion scene from a drama.

“I’m pretty sure I’m your only grandchild,” I said with an awkward smile as Selene finally let go of me.

“That doesn’t mean you’re not our favorite, dear,” she replied immediately.

Sebastian chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “She’s right. We just came back from vacation a few days ago, and Serafall drops the biggest news possible on us—that she has a son. You. I’ll admit, it was a shock.”

Selene nodded in agreement, her smile never fading. “A shock, yes. But once we got over the surprise, we were nothing but happy. You’re family, Harry, and we’re not letting you feel otherwise.”

“Guess I should say… thanks,” I said, still adjusting to being welcomed so quickly into a family I hadn’t known I had until recently.

They both grinned and said, “Of course,” in unison. Then Sebastian’s expression shifted to something more serious and he gave me a small gesture with his head. “Come on, Harry. I want to have some proper man talk with my grandson,” he said in a low, confident tone.

I glanced over my shoulder at Lyra and Lyna, who were instantly curious and ready to follow.

Sebastian cut them off with a simple raised hand and a firm look. “You two wait outside.”

They both pouted, their lips pushing out and their eyes widening in mock sadness. Lyra even crossed her arms under her chest, pushing her tits up deliberately like she thought it might change his mind. 

It didn’t. 

I couldn’t hide my small sigh of relief when they finally turned and stepped out, the sway of their hips lingering in my peripheral vision as the door shut.

Sebastian led me into a side lounge off the main hall. The place looked like something out of a royal palace, all polished wood, gleaming floors, and a massive window letting in warm light. He walked straight to an oversized, high-backed chair upholstered in dark blue velvet and sat down like he owned the place—well, he did.

I made my way to the plush couch opposite him and sank into it, the cushions swallowing me a bit.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, his sharp blue eyes locking onto mine. “Alright, Harry. Let’s talk,” he said, his voice calm but deliberate.

“About what exactly?” I asked, trying to read his expression.

Sebastian leaned back slightly, studying me with that piercing stare. “I want to make sure you’re actually doing alright here in the Underworld,” he said plainly. “You spent nineteen years thinking you were just some human kid in London. That’s a hell of a thing to have flipped on its head.”

I scratched the back of my neck, feeling the weight of his words. “Yeah… it’s been a lot to take in,” I admitted. “Everything’s so over the top here. The place is gorgeous, the food’s insane because you have like 100 personal chefs, everyone’s dressed like they’re going to a ball all the time… I’m still not sure I fit in.”

He nodded slowly, with his elbows resting on his knees. “That’s normal. You grew up rougher, without all this flash and pomp. Doesn’t mean you don’t belong. You’re a Sitri!” he said proudly.

“I mean,” I continued, glancing around the pristine lounge, “I’m not gonna lie, the luxury feels weird. Back home I had a bed that was barely bigger than me and an aunt who would’ve lost her mind if I tracked dirt into the kitchen. Here I’ve got maids bringing me wine if I even look thirsty.”

Sebastian cracked a small grin. “Could be worse problems to have.”

“True,” I said with a short laugh. “But the nice part is… I can actually use my magic here without hiding it. No worrying about someone freaking out or calling me a freak. That’s… nice. Really nice.” Also just being able to let my wings out once in a while and fly around, that’s a Godsend— OW —I mean devil-send…

After mom unsealed my devil powers, I can’t say Big G’s name anymore. I rubbed my temples for a few seconds. The pain didn’t linger which was nice.

“That’s how it should be,” he said firmly. “You’ve got power—don’t be ashamed of it. Learn to use it well, and the rest will fall into place.”

I met his gaze, seeing the seriousness there. “Thanks. I appreciate you checking in. It means a lot.”

“Of course,” he said simply. “Family looks out for each other. Always.”

Sebastian leaned back, gave a quick nod, and then smirked. “Alright, with that out of the way, let’s talk about the most important thing in a man’s life—women!”

I felt my face heat up instantly at where this was going. “I’ve got plenty of experience with women,” I shot back, trying to keep my voice steady.

He snorted. “You’ve got experience with girls. Women are a different story! There’s a world of difference between quick flings and actually building something with them. Do you want to spend the rest of your life bouncing from bed to bed, or do you want meaningful relationships?”

That made me blink. “Relationships… as in plural?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned like I’d just walked into the perfect setup. “Of course. We’re devils, Harry. We love hard, but we’re not wired for one partner and done. Monogamy isn’t natural for us. People call us bats, but we’re closer to wolves or lions—we live in packs. We thrive surrounded by our people.” He leaned forward, his voice steady and sure. “That’s why peerages are such a big deal. They’re not just political or power structures. For a lot of us, they’re family, lovers, partners in every sense. You build one right, and you’ll never be without support—or company—in your bed or otherwise.”

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, giving me a knowing look. “So, how do you feel about Lyra and Lyna?” he asked casually, but I could tell from his tone he was fishing for something.

I shrugged, a little unsure where he was going with it. “They’re… fine, I guess. Not really used to having maids, though.”

“They’re more than just maids,” he said. “They’re branch members of the Sitri clan. The second they found out you existed and your mother asked them, they were eager to serve you. They take that shit seriously.” He smirked. “And apparently they both love being maids because they’re big fans of Queen Grayfia.”

“Who’s that?” I asked, curious.

His grin widened, and he leaned in a bit like he was about to tell me a dirty secret. “Don’t tell my wife or my daughter, but she’s the hottest MILF in the Underworld. By far! Trust me, when you see her, you’ll get it.” He even gave me a quick wink.

I chuckled, shaking my head, but I couldn’t help thinking about it. Considering how insanely sexy every female devil I’d met so far had been, I was more than a little curious to see what made this Grayfia so special.

Sebastian’s attention shifted back. “So, have you been spending much time with Lyra and Lyna?”

I scratched my jaw. “Honestly… maybe I’ve been avoiding them a bit. I’m not used to people waiting on me hand and foot. And they’re… a lot. They’re gorgeous, they’re flirty, and I’m still figuring out how the hell I’m supposed to act around them without looking like a total idiot.”

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, giving me a slow nod. “I get it, Harry, but there’s one thing you need to know about the Sitri clan—family never betrays family. Ever. That loyalty runs in our blood. Same goes for our closest friends, the Gremory clan and the Phenex clan.”

“I don’t know either of them,” I admitted.

“They’re not important right now,” he said with a dismissive flick of his hand. “Just keep an open mind. And remember—having reliable servants is a damn good thing once you get used to it. You don’t have to rush, but when you do decide, you’ll be glad they’re there. Your mother’s busy as hell, so she made sure to put girls around you she could trust completely.”

I leaned back slightly. “I’ve already got someone I can trust back in London.”

That made him grin and lean in closer, his eyes narrowing like he’d just smelled gossip. “Oh? Does my grandson have a proper lover? Because Serafall’s been talking. She says you’ve been exchanging letters with a few women this past week.”

I could feel my ears getting hot. “Yeah… I’ve been getting letters from my new friend Hermione. And, surprisingly, from two French sisters—Fleur and Gabrielle Delacour. I met them at a football game,” I explained. 

“Three girls and Two sisters? Now you’ve got my attention.”

Hermione’s letters had been friendly, nothing sexual—just the two of us learning more about each other, talking about day-to-day things. The Delacour sisters’ letters, though, were on a whole other level. Fleur’s were flirtatious enough, but Gabrielle’s were blatant.

Every line she wrote felt like she was testing how far she could push it before I’d call her out.

The most obvious example came when one of her envelopes didn’t just have parchment inside—it had a magically animated photo. The moment I opened it, there she was, standing in her robes, a slow, deliberate smile spreading across her lips. Her hands went to the front ties, pulling them loose. She opened the fabric just enough to flash pale skin before letting it slide off her shoulders. Underneath, she wore a black lace bra that lifted her breasts high, and matching panties that clung snug to her hips. Her stomach was smooth, her legs long and toned. The image looped endlessly, her finger hooking under one bra strap and dragging it down her shoulder as she locked eyes with the camera. Even in a still image, her body language screamed that she knew exactly what kind of effect she was having on me, and she was enjoying it. 

I shook my head, pulling my attention away from the thoughts back to my grandfather. 

He caught the look on my face and laughed, a deep, amused sound that filled the lounge. “It’s obvious you’re enjoying the height of your youth,” he said, still grinning. “And for a devil, that youth’s going to last you hundreds of years, so there’s no rush to burn through it all at once.”

He pushed himself up from his chair with a smooth motion, straightening his jacket as he moved toward the sideboard. He poured himself a drink, took a slow sip, then glanced back at me. “There’s something else,” he said, his tone shifting slightly. “Your aunt Sona—who you haven’t met yet—will be coming home later today. She’s bringing some of her peerage members with her. She wants to meet her new nephew officially.” He paused then. "And I know a great way the two of you could break the ice with each other!"

"And how is that?" I asked him.

– Sona –

Sona sat behind her oversized desk in the student council room, the blinds open so the midday sun spilled across the polished floor. Even though it was summer break, she had the same hard, no-nonsense look as always, eyes flicking over neatly stacked papers and a tablet glowing with the day’s schedules. She wasn’t the type to relax just because classes were out—she expected every one of her peerage members to be here every single day, knocking out chores, honoring contracts, and keeping things running.

Her Queen, Tsubaki, stood at her right, posture straight, hands folded neatly, waiting for instructions. Beside the desk stood Saji, the newest addition to the peerage, looking like he was trying to stand at attention but shifting his weight under Sona’s sharp gaze. He was coming with her and Tsubaki to the Underworld. 

It would be the first time for him. 

She knew that part of him still didn't quite realize that he was no longer human. That he wasn't just some schoolboy that lucked out joining a student council full of pretty girls. But that he was now the eternal servant of Sona Sitri, the future head of house Sitri.

...At least, she hoped she still was. She supposed she'd find out on this trip...

The rest of the peerage lounged nearby, though the moment her eyes swept toward them they straightened fast. “While I’m gone,” she said, voice crisp, “I don’t care if it’s for three days or three hours—you do not slack off. Every contract gets done on time. Every duty gets handled. If I come back and find otherwise, you’ll regret it.”

One of the girls, Momo, gave a little smirk and said, “Come on, Sona, you think we’re that lazy?”

“Yes,” Sona replied flatly without missing a beat, making a few of the others chuckle under their breath.

Another member, Reya, leaned back in her chair with a grin. “We’ll be fine. You act like we can’t handle ourselves.”

“You can handle yourselves,” Sona said, eyes narrowing, “but I know how easily you get distracted.” Her gaze lingered on each of them in turn until they looked away or muttered their agreement. “If you have time to play games, you have time to take another contract. Understood?”

“Yes, President,” they answered, some with mock salute, which earned them a small, exasperated sigh from her.

“Good. Now get to it.” She stood, adjusting her jacket, and motioned to Tsubaki and Saji to follow her out. 

Sona could feel a tight, restless energy in her stomach, the kind that made her tap her fingers against her thigh while she walked.

She hated to admit it, but she was both nervous and excited.

The news that her sister had a child had knocked her sideways. Finding out Serafall hadn’t even known about it for nineteen years? That part, she could believe. Her sister was powerful and brilliant, but not exactly the most detail-focused person in the world.

Still, the thought of this young man, Harry, her new nephew, lingered in her mind. She pictured what he might look like, how he might act, whether he carried himself like someone born into devil nobility or if the human world had left him rougher around the edges.

 What really gnawed at her was the possibility that his existence, as the son of a Maou, could undercut her claim as heiress to the Sitri house. In their world, lineage and strength mattered, and his mom was a Maou… At that point, him being a half-devil didn’t really matter.

She’d already heard the talk about Rias Gremory’s position being in jeopardy because Millicas Gremory’s talent was surpassing expectations rapidly. 

So yes. It wasn’t paranoia, it was precedent. And Sona understood all too well that precedent had a way of turning into reality when you weren’t ready for it.

…

A few minutes later, they’d arrived in the underworld. Sona was caught off guard by what happened next to say the least.

"Huh?" Sona realized her face had gone still for a moment, her brow slightly raised and lips pressed together as she took in the sight before her. 

Standing just a few paces away was a tall, well-built young man—her nephew, Harry—who looked uncannily like her sister would have if she had been born male, right down to the sharp cheekbones, intense blue eyes, and thick black hair that framed his face. His posture was relaxed but his eyes were locked on hers with a direct, almost defiant focus.

“I challenge you,” he said again. “I want to see what you’re made of…?” he asked, but sounded slightly uncertain.

She had only just stepped off the teleportation circle, the familiar air of the Underworld brushing over her skin, and here he was, already throwing down a gauntlet before she’d even set her bag down!

Her hand twitched slightly at her side, the faint buzz of magic at her fingertips instinctive.

“What the hell did you just say to the President?” Saji barked, his voice rising in disbelief as he stepped forward, his expression twisting in outrage. “You don’t just walk up to her and—”

“That’s enough, Saji,” Sona cut in sharply, her voice crisp and controlled. She didn’t take her eyes off Harry, the hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. “If he wants to challenge me, I’ll oblige. It will be… enlightening to see just what my dear nephew thinks he can do.”

Saji’s mouth opened like he wanted to argue, but the cold certainty in her tone made him clamp it shut.

She stepped forward until she was standing directly opposite Harry. “Fine. You’ve got your match.”

Sona stood with her feet planted firmly in the vast manicured backyard of the Sitri family mansion, the grass underfoot trimmed to perfection. The space was enormous, ringed by elegant stone walls and dotted with ornate fountains, but all of her focus was on the tall young man across from her.

Harry looked composed at first glance, but her trained eyes didn’t miss the faint tremor in his hands.

Off to the side, Lyra and Lyna—her distant cousins, though right now they were dressed in ridiculously revealing maid outfits—were shouting encouragement toward Harry. Their tight tops left deep cleavage on display, their skirts short enough that every step threatened to flash what she suspected was bare skin beneath. They cupped their hands to their mouths as they called out, voices high and enthusiastic.

“You got this, young master!”

“And if you lose, we’ll nurse you back to health!”

“We have a lot of sexy nurse costumes in our closet!”

Further back, Saji was shouting, “Kick his ass, President!” Tsubaki, as always, maintained her composed stance beside him.

Sona’s gaze sharpened as she caught the subtle shake in Harry’s fingers when he raised them into a ready position. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice even but laced with curiosity as she rolled her shoulders and readied her own stance.

Harry hesitated for a second before blurting it out. “I’ve… never been in a REAL fight before. Definitely not a dangerous magical one...”

She blinked once, her brows lifting. “You’ve never fought…at all?” When he shook his head, she felt a wave of incredulity tighten her jaw. “THEN WHY THE HELL DID YOU THINK IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO CHALLENGE ME OUT OF NOWHERE!?”

Harry shifted on his feet, his eyes flicking briefly toward the ground before he met her gaze again. “Grandpa said it’d be a good way to break the ice with my aunt!” he admitted, his voice carrying a mix of sheepishness and determination. “Honestly… when I heard the word ‘aunt,’ it didn’t sound like a good thing. I had this mental image of some older woman with a fake smile, maybe nagging me about manners. I definitely wasn’t expecting someone my age—someone… well, you.”

Sona’s brow arched slightly. “Someone… what, exactly?”

Harry’s lips twitched like he was trying to find the least embarrassing way to say it, but the words still came out unfiltered. “Someone beautiful. Smart and sharp looking, sure, but—yeah, really beautiful.”

She felt a small, unexpected warmth rush to her cheeks at the bluntness in his tone.

Sona exhaled slowly through her nose, her eyes narrowing—not in anger, but in thought. 

…Of course her father would put her brand-new nephew up to something like this. It was exactly the kind of strange, borderline reckless ‘lesson’ he liked to set up. He probably had some weird plan she didn’t know if she even wanted to bother figuring out…

She took him in properly now, letting her gaze sweep over him without hiding it. He was handsome in a way that made sense for a Sitri—broad-shouldered, strong build, clearly active. But the faint stiffness in his stance, the nervous flicker in his eyes, told her he wasn’t some arrogant upstart itching to show off.

He was nervous because of her. And, damn it, she found that endearing.

The tension she’d been carrying since hearing about his existence loosened almost instantly. This wasn’t the scheming rival she’d built up in her head, the one who might somehow undercut her place as the family heir.

No, this was just… Harry. A new family member who had been dropped into her world without a guidebook.

…She could be that guidebook.

Her lips curved into the faintest of smiles as she straightened her posture. “We’re not going to fight for real,” she said firmly.

Harry blinked. “We’re not?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head just enough for her hair to shift across her shoulders. “But you’re my nephew. You’re part of this family now. And you should at least know the basics of magical combat. You clearly don’t have the experience, and that’s not your fault—but we’re going to fix that!”

His brows furrowed slightly, like he was trying to decide if she was letting him off easy or setting him up for something worse. “So… training instead?”

“Exactly.” She let a trace of amusement into her voice. “Think of it as me making sure you don’t embarrass the family name the next time someone throws down a challenge.”

Harry gave a quick, lopsided smile. “Fair enough. Where do we start?”

“Right here,” Sona replied, her tone all business now. She stepped closer, the air between them humming faintly with the magical energy she was already calling up. “First, I need to see what you can actually do without hurting yourself.”

He swallowed, then nodded. “Alright. Just… go easy on me.”

Sona’s smirk widened a fraction. “We’ll see.”

– Serafall –

Serafall stood on the wide marble balcony of the Sitri estate, her hands resting on the cool railing as she leaned forward slightly and watched. The warm Underworld air carried the faint scent of damp grass from the estate’s backyard below, where Sona was guiding Harry through the first clumsy steps of combat worthy water magic. 

Beside Serafall were both her parents. Serafall’s eyes tracked the way Sona adjusted Harry’s stance, the way Harry’s brow furrowed in concentration, and she took in the whole scene piece by piece, committing each precious detail to memory before finally glancing toward her parents.

Serafall turned her head toward Sebastian, a sly grin spreading across her face. “You’re devious, you know that,” she said, her tone a mix of amusement and accusation. She knew exactly what he’d done. “You set them up perfectly.”

Selene’s gaze shifted from the yard to her husband, one dark brow arching. “Do you really think this will work?” she asked.

Sebastian didn’t look away from the training below. “I think it will,” he said simply.

Serafall chuckled under her breath, leaning an elbow on the railing. “Of course it will,” she added, answering for him.

Sona had been drifting further from the family for years, and Serafall knew exactly why. Everyone was buried in their own work, wrapped up in obligations, and Sona had been left without anyone who truly depended on her.

No one leaned on her for guidance, no one looked to her as the person they needed.

Now, though, she had Harry—a brand new family member who was so clearly out of his depth in the Underworld that it was almost painful to watch. He could throw water at a straw dummy, sure, but that was a far cry from standing in front of someone who meant to kill you and holding your ground.

From her vantage point, Serafall could see the way Sona was fully engaged, stepping in close to adjust his stance, explaining in short, firm sentences, and watching him try again. And there it was—an unguarded smile tugging at Sona’s mouth, the kind she probably didn’t even notice.

Serafall recognized it instantly. Her sister was already investing in him, already becoming closer to family again and it had barely been 20 minutes since her sister returned to the underworld for the first time in months.

And it was all because of Serafall's amazing son!

And speaking of her amazing son, Serafall’s attention sharpened on the yard again as Sona moved in close to Harry. She circled him once, her eyes running critically over his posture before she stepped in to correct him. Her hands went straight to his forearms, lifting one and angling it just so, then sliding up over his biceps to his shoulders to adjust their height. She didn’t stop there—her fingers skimmed down his sides to nudge his hips into position, and she gave his back a firm press to straighten it. Harry’s cheeks flushed deep pink almost instantly, the color creeping up to the tips of his ears. From up on the balcony, Serafall caught the faint warmth in Sona’s cheeks too. Her sister kept her face composed, but Serafall had known her long enough to recognize the signs.

Sona liked this— liked him?

Serafall let out a low, amused giggle, the sound slipping past her lips before she could stop it. She’d seen her sister fuss over people before, but never like this.

She glanced toward her parents, catching the small, knowing smiles on their faces. Selene’s pink eyes softened, and Sebastian had approval in his expression. They didn’t say anything yet, but she could read them like a book—they saw it too. This was exactly the kind of spark the three of them had hoped for when Sebastian cooked up this whole “challenge your aunt” idea. Sona, who’d been growing distant for far too long, was actually connecting with someone again.

Serafall turned her gaze back to the yard, watching Sona give Harry’s elbow another quick nudge before stepping back to assess him. Her voice carried just enough for Serafall to hear the calm authority in it. Harry responded with a clipped “Yes, ma’am,” his tone a mix of respect and determination.

“Looks like your plan’s working faster than expected,” Serafall murmured to Sebastian without taking her eyes off the pair.

He didn’t deny it. Selene simply let out a quiet hum of agreement. And Serafall, feeling a surge of pride, thought to herself that this was the first real step toward pulling her sister back into the heart of the family.

...But then Serafall also caught something that killed the playful mood instantly. A sharp pulse of killing intent cut through the air, subtle but real enough to prickle at her skin. It was radiating off the dark-haired kid standing with his arms crossed near the edge of the yard. Sona's new pawn. His eyes weren’t on Sona at all, they were locked onto Harry with a cold, unblinking focus that made her jaw clench.

She didn’t like that. Not one damn bit. She flicked her gaze to her parents to see if they’d noticed, and the look in their eyes told her they had.

Selene’s voice was quiet but firm. “Oh dear… that will be a problem in the future.”

Sebastian’s tone was just as even, but there was a warning in it. “This is why it’s risky for a female devil to keep men in her peerage. Strength is one thing. Pride, jealousy, and all the mess that comes with it… that’s another.”

Serafall kept her eyes on the pawn, already filing the moment away. This wasn’t something she’d let slide. If that kid thought for a second he could aim that kind of intent at her son without consequences, he was going to learn how fast she could make him regret it!

– Harry –

After my second magical workout of the day, I was sweaty, sore, and—honestly—feeling pretty damn good about myself. Sona might’ve been a gorgeous hardass when it came to training, but every tip she drilled into me actually made casting smoother. I was still catching my breath when Lyra and Lyna came jogging over, their tits bouncing in those ridiculous maid tops as they waved a pair of fluffy towels.

“Let us wipe you down, young master,” Lyra said, her tone syrupy-sweet. “Go on, take your shirt off for us.”

I blinked. “Uh… what?” Before I could protest properly, they were already tugging at the hem, yanking it up over my head. The shirt hit the ground a second later, and cool air hit my bare chest. 

The twins didn’t waste a second running the towels over me.

“Damn, you’ve been working hard,” Lyna murmured, grinning as she dragged the towel across my shoulders and down my arms.

“Indeed he has, sister…” Lyra added.

From off to the side, I heard a quick, surprised squeak. I glanced over to see Sona staring, her cheeks faintly pink. “You two are shameless! What do you think you’re doing?”

“We’re helping wipe down our master,” Lyra said matter-of-factly without pausing her work. “Mistress Serafall told us to always look out for his needs.”

I just stood there, not sure whether to laugh or feel even hotter in the face.

Then Lyna glanced over at Sona with a sly smile. “We can do the same for you, Mistress Sona.”

Sona’s blush deepened instantly. “That’s not necessary!” she said sharply.

I was doing my damnedest not to pop a stiff one while Lyra and Lyna rubbed me down like I was some prize stallion fresh out of the race. Their towels moved slow enough to make me suspicious, gliding over my pecs, across my stomach, and lingering just a little too long near the waistband of my pants. I could feel Sona’s eyes on me the whole time, and when I finally glanced over, her face was flushed a bright, obvious red. 

She opened her mouth and spoke up, her tone sharp but not hiding the heat in her cheeks. “You did very well today, Harry. We can have another lesson tomorrow,” she said, straightening her jacket like that might distract from the color in her face. “But for now… how about I take you out for a reward? There’s a great ice cream place in the nearby town.”

That actually made me laugh, even with the maids still making me the center of their personal softcore show. “Ice cream, huh? You sure you don’t want to see your family first? You literally just got back.”

Her head shook quickly, almost too quickly. “No. I need… more time to mentally prepare before seeing my sister,” she said, looking away. The slow speed of her answer told me there was something there, but I decided not to push.

Meanwhile, Lyra’s towel was tracing dangerously low on my abs, and Lyna’s hand was creeping around my lower back. I felt fingertips skim the top of my ass and that was my cue to shut it down. “Alright, that’s enough,” I said, swatting at them.

They yelped like I’d caught them doing something scandalous—which, to be fair, I had—then giggled and bolted toward the mansion, their skirts riding high as they went.

I rubbed the back of my neck and turned back to Sona, who was still watching me with that mix of composure and… something else I couldn’t quite place. She didn’t push, just stood there, waiting for me to answer her offer. 

I shot Sona a teasing grin and asked, “So… is this you asking me out on a date?” Which wouldn’t actually be that weird for Devils in the underworld apparently. A lot of pureblood Devils apparently still married brothers and sisters to keep bloodline powers strong, so my aunt asking me out wasn’t abnormal. 

If she was…?

She froze for a second, her eyes narrowing even as a faint flush crept up her cheeks. “I—um—That offer just slipped out and—” she muttered, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. The way she avoided eye contact told me even she wasn’t totally convinced by her own answer.

“Sure doesn’t sound like a no,” I said, smirking.

She turned her head sharply toward the far end of the yard, clearly looking for something else to focus on. Her hand came up and she gestured toward the only other two people still hanging around. “It’s definitely not a date,” she said firmly. “Because my Queen and my new pawn will be coming with us. Their names are Tsubaki and Saji.” She changed the subject.

Tsubaki gave a small, polite nod when I looked over, but Saji’s response was nothing like hers. He just stood there with his arms crossed, glaring at me like I’d kicked his damn puppy. The guy’s eyes were locked on me, sharp and cold, and I could feel the hostility dripping off him even from several yards away.

I lifted a hand in a casual wave, trying to be civil. “Hey,” I said, remembering that I’d pretty much skipped proper introductions earlier when I decided to open with challenging Sona in front of everyone. “Sorry about before.”

Tsubaki’s nod didn’t waver, but Saji didn’t return the greeting. His jaw flexed, and his glare stayed fixed on me. For a second, I thought he might actually say something, but he didn’t. Just stood there, silent, radiating dislike.

“Friendly guy,” I muttered under my breath.

Sona glanced between us. “They’ll both be joining us!” she repeated, maybe trying to convince herself.

“Great,” I said, letting my voice go neutral even though I was already wondering what the hell his problem was. Maybe it was about the fight challenge earlier, maybe it was something else entirely. Either way, I made a mental note not to turn my back on him until I knew for sure.

…

Over the next two weeks at the Sitri mansion, my days fell into a rhythm—training, eating, getting teased by the maids, and more training. 

I spent most of my time with Aunt Sona and her Queen, Tsubaki. At first, Tsubaki had been polite but distant, all formality and perfect posture. But after spending hours sweating side-by-side in the training yard, she started opening up more. She wasn’t just some elegant silent servant—she could handle a weapon like a pro. Most of them were Japanese styles—katanas, naginatas—but she had a solid grip on Western swords too. She even took the time to teach me the basics so I wouldn’t slice my own arm off the first time I tried.

I’m not sure if I would ever be a true sword guy though.

Sona, on the other hand, was relentless when it came to magic. Every single day, she drilled me until my fingers ached from spellcasting. She was sharp, demanding, and had zero tolerance for laziness. But she also explained things in a way that actually made them click. When I wasn't getting turned on by how "hands on" her explanations were...

My control got better, my spells hit harder, and I stopped feeling like I was going to pass out after five minutes of continuous casting.

Somewhere in that first week, I figured out why she’d been dodging her sister Serafall. Serafall was just as clingy with Sona as she was with me—maybe even worse. She’d sweep into a room, hug Sona like she was never letting go, and gush loud enough for the whole house to hear. And she had this obsession with trying to get Sona to dress up as a magical girl. It was like watching someone try to force-feed a cat medicine.

Honestly? I found the whole thing hilarious… and, yeah, I’m not gonna lie—it was pretty hot.

Especially when I accidentally made an offhand comment about how "she’d probably look good in one of those outfits."

Sona froze, glared at me, and then the next thing I knew, Serafall had roped her into actually wearing one. Full frilly skirt, stockings, wand, the whole package. And because Serafall is Serafall, she turned it into a “modeling show” for the family. She even joined in herself, twirling and striking ridiculous poses next to her sister while I tried to keep a straight face. Sona’s cheeks were burning the whole time, but she didn’t quit, which only made it better.

Not everything during those two weeks was perfect, though...

About a week ago, I was walking through the gardens with Sona on one side and my mum, Serafall, on the other. It was a warm, calm day, the kind where you’d think nothing could ruin the mood—until Saji came storming up the path. His face was bright red, like he’d sprinted the whole way, and his eyes were locked on Sona with this pissed-off determination.

“President, I want to go home,” he blurted out before he’d even caught his breath. “I’m sick of sitting around all day watching you fawn over this pretty-boy loser.” He jerked his chin toward me like I was the last person on earth he wanted to see. “You deserve better than that!” And because apparently he didn’t know when to shut his mouth, he kept going—throwing a couple more cheap insults my way.

I actually had to put a hand out in front of my mum, because I could see the way her magic flared. She was about half a second from turning him into an ice sculpture right there in the middle of the garden.

Sona’s whole body went stiff. Her mouth pressed into a hard line, and the glare she fixed on Saji could’ve stopped him dead in his tracks if he had any sense. “Saji,” she said, her voice sharp enough to cut glass, “you are home.”

He blinked at her like she’d just spoken a foreign language. “What?”

“Your home in the human world was given up when you joined my peerage,” she said, each word slow and deliberate. “You go where I ask, when I ask. You wait as long as I tell you. That is how this works. You knew that when you agreed to become my pawn.”

Saji sputtered, his bravado starting to crack. “That’s not true! We should just go back to Japan already and get back to our normal lives!”

“Normal?” Sona stepped toward him, closing the gap. “You are not human anymore. You don’t have a ‘normal life’ to go back to. This—” she gestured to the grounds around us “—is your life now. The sooner you accept that, the better.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but one glance at her expression made him hesitate. For a moment, the only sound was the wind through the hedges.

Serafall tilted her head, her voice deceptively light when she finally spoke. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, talking to my son like that. And even more, talking to my little sister like that...”

That wasn’t the last time Saji decided to run his mouth around me and Sona. A few days later, he outdid himself and interrupted our training session. I’d just finished nailing a solid water blast into the target when he stomped across the yard, face twisted like he’d smelled something rotten.

“President, you’re wasting your time teaching a weakling like him,” he said loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. 

My mum wasn't here this time, but my maids looked like they wanted to murder him...

I’m usually a pretty calm guy. I can shrug off insults from idiots without letting it get under my skin. But hearing the same crap, day in and day out, for over a week? That’s not just annoying—that’s begging for a beating. 

“That’s it,” I said flatly. “You and me. Right now.”

Sona looked like she was about to shut it down, but before she could, Tsubaki spoke up from the sideline, her tone steady. “Let him. Saji needs this.”

That little bit of support wiped the smug look right off Sona’s face and planted it firmly on Saji’s. He strutted across the grass to face me, cracking his knuckles. “Finally,” he said. “Sacred Gear!”

A gauntlet flashed into being on his arm, ugly and clunky. I probably should’ve asked Sona what his Sacred Gear did before throwing down. Too late now.

The fight started fast. A glowing rope of energy shot from the gauntlet on Saji’s wrist, lashing out and coiling tight around mine. The magic bit into my skin with a weird, draining sensation.

“You’re done for now!” he barked, grinning like he’d just won. “My Sacred Gear can bind your magic and siphon it into me. You can’t use any spells—”

He didn’t even get to finish. I surged forward and closing the gap between us in seconds. “I don’t need spells to kick your ass,” I snapped, and drove my fist straight into his face. My knuckles connected hard, the satisfying crack echoing across the yard as his head snapped back. He stumbled, the smugness wiped clean in an instant, and I was already lining up the next hit.

I didn’t give him a chance to recover from that first hit. The moment his head snapped back, I yanked hard on the glowing rope between us, pulling him straight into another punch that smashed into his jaw. He grunted and stumbled sideways, trying to tighten the rope’s hold on my wrist, but I ripped against it with everything I had. The magic in it faltered just enough for me to get in close again.

Saji swung at me with his free hand, but it was sloppy, desperate. I ducked under it and drove my shoulder into his chest, sending him back a few steps before hammering my fist into his gut. The air rushed out of him in a loud, ugly wheeze. His knees bent, and I grabbed him by the front of his shirt to keep him from falling before slamming my forehead into his nose. There was a wet crack and his head snapped back again, blood already spilling down his face.

He tried to lift the gauntlet between us again, but I’d had enough of that thing. I caught his arm, twisted it hard until the ropes slackened, then shoved it away and landed another clean hook across his cheek. His eyes went glassy for a second, and that was my opening to drive him down to the ground.

Tsubaki was calling something I didn’t hear, Lyra and Lyna egging me on like it was the best show they’d seen all year. I planted a knee in Saji’s side and grabbed the gauntlet, ripping the rope completely off my wrist before tossing it aside. Then I hit him again, and again, each strike landing with the dull thud of knuckles on flesh. He flailed, tried to buck me off, but I wasn’t letting him up until I made my point.

Finally, when I felt his resistance start to fade, I pushed off and stood over him, breathing hard. His face was a mess—swollen lip, bloody nose, red marks blooming across his jaw. He coughed, tried to glare at me, but it didn’t have the same bite anymore.

“Next time,” I said, shaking out my sore knuckles, “keep your mouth shut unless you’re ready to back it up.”

Sona jogged across the yard toward me the second I stepped back from Saji’s limp form. Her eyes swept over me fast, checking for injuries, and then her hands were on me—gripping my arms, sliding down to my wrists, brushing across my sides, and patting along my chest like she was making sure I hadn’t been hit anywhere serious. The warmth of her touch and how close she was made my face heat up immediately. “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice sharp but laced with concern.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, though I wasn’t sure if I was more rattled from the fight or from having her hands all over me in front of everyone.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Saji still sprawled on the ground, breathing heavy, face swollen and bloodied. His glare was pure venom, but he couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. “I want to go home,” he whined, his tone pitiful compared to the bravado he’d had before. “I’m done with this.”

Sona’s head turned toward him slowly, her expression hardening in an instant. She didn’t say anything right away, just stared at him for a moment like she was weighing the situation. Then she straightened and crossed her arms. “Fine. You can go back to Japan,” she said flatly. “Clearly, you’re not ready to be here.”

Saji didn’t argue, just looked away, the defeat settling in as Tsubaki moved to help him up. Sona, meanwhile, kept her focus on me.

The next few days were surprisingly calm. Training sessions ran smoother without Saji mouthing off, and Sona seemed more relaxed. We’d gotten into a good rhythm—magic drills, sparring, some flirtatious conversation here and there that was starting to feel less stiff. But then the day came when she had to head back to Japan. She’d been away from her peerage longer than she’d planned, and from the way she talked about it, there was a “firm conversation” with her pawn waiting for her the second she arrived.

In the teleportation room, she stood a few feet away from the glowing platform, looking composed but with just the slightest hesitation in her stance. I could tell she didn’t really want to leave, even if she’d never admit it. When she stepped toward me, I expected a quick handshake or some formal goodbye. Instead, she wrapped her arms around me in a firm hug, pulling me in close. The contact caught me off guard—the warmth of her body pressed against mine, the faint scent of her hair, the strength in her arms that made it clear she wasn’t rushing this moment. I hugged her back, holding for a second before she pulled away.

Her eyes met mine for just a beat, then she gave a small, almost imperceptible smile and stepped up onto the teleporter platform. The magic flared, and in a blink, she was gone.

The sudden quiet in the room felt heavier than I expected. I turned and found myself standing there with my grandparents and my mum.

My mum already had tears streaking her cheeks. She was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, her bottom lip trembling. “I miss her already!” she blurted out, voice cracking like Sona had moved away forever instead of taking a quick trip back home. She sniffled loudly, then looked at me like I was supposed to join her in moping.

I was bummed that Sona was gone. We’d gotten close over those two weeks—between the training, the little moments where she’d actually laugh, and even the occasional lingering look, I felt like we’d crossed that awkward “getting to know you” phase. Still, I knew I’d see her again soon enough. No point moping like my mum, who was still sniffling like she’d just lost her sister for good.

“I can’t believe she’s gone already!” Serafall whined, wiping her eyes dramatically. “She didn’t even let me braid her hair before she left!” She sniffled hard enough to make Selene glance over with a raised brow. “And she didn’t say yes when I asked if she’d wear the magical girl outfit for me again! What if she never does it again?!”

I shook my head, trying not to laugh. “You’ll live, Mum.”

I had other things on my mind anyway. Tomorrow, I’d be heading back to London to meet up with Hermione. And it wasn’t just her—Dumbledore had sent me some letters too. The old man apparently had a phoenix for a familiar, one that could travel anywhere it damn well pleased. He’d sent it to deliver a letter right in the middle of a family dinner, and the thing had scared the hell out of everyone.

I could still see it in my head—the blinding flash of golden light filling the dining room, the red and gold bird materializing in the air with a piercing cry. 

Serafall had practically leapt into my lap. “What the fuck is that?!” she’d shouted.

Sona had been halfway out of her chair, hand glowing with magic. “Is that thing hostile?!” she demanded.

Selene, completely unfazed, had just sipped her wine. “It’s quite beautiful,” she’d said.

Sebastian had nodded in agreement. “Elegant creature. It’s quite rare. Too bad they can’t live in the underworld, it's too full of dark ambient magic for them to thrive.”

Meanwhile, Serafall had been peeking at it over my shoulder. “Harry! It’s staring at me…”

“Probably because it's a light magical creature and you’re an "evil" Maou...” I’d told her.

The phoenix had dropped the letter in front of me, ruffled its feathers like it was smug about scaring everyone, and then vanished in another burst of light.

Dumbledore’s letter had said the Weasley family I’d mentioned before would be happy to host me, and that they'd all be going to the Quidditch World Cup like I would. I’d promised to go with the Delacour sisters, and Hermione had already said she wanted to come too. But I wasn’t about to turn down a chance to make more friends—hopefully.

I’d been feeling a bit down about how my guy friend count was sitting at a solid zero. I’d stopped hanging out with anyone from secondary school months ago, and the only one left in my life was my cousin Dudley. That ended the second my aunt found out I was magical—she’d fainted in her own living room and then probably told him not to answer any letters I sent. And I had sent around five or six so far…

So yeah, no male friends.

Dumbledore’s letter mentioned the Weasleys, who apparently had three sons around my age at Hogwarts. Hopefully we’d click, and if not, at least I’d tried. I figured there’d be a few decent blokes at school once I finally got there after the Quidditch World Cup.

For now, I just needed some sleep. Tomorrow was going to be big. I stretched out in bed, a grin creeping onto my face at the thought of seeing Hermione, Fleur, and Gabrielle again. My mind drifted a little on what exactly that reunion might look like, and yeah, it warmed me up in more ways than one.

Just as I was getting comfortable, there was a knock at my bedroom door. I cracked my eyes open, already suspicious, and sure enough, Lyra’s voice came through, dripping with playful teasing. “Master, do you want us to help you warm your bed tonight?” 

“We could give you a very peaceful night's sleep!” Lyna chimed in a second later, her tone matching her sister’s.

I rolled my eyes, but my face heated instantly. “No thanks,” I called back, trying to sound flat, but I could already feel my cock twitch at the thought. It wasn’t like this was new—they pulled this kind of thing at least once or twice a day—but it still caught me off.

From the other side of the door came a pair of muffled giggles, the kind they did when they knew they’d scored a reaction. “As you wish, young master,” Lyra purred, before I heard their footsteps retreating down the hall.

I let out a slow breath, staring up at the ceiling. I was getting more used to their antics, but not enough to stop them from messing with my head. 

Oh well, tomorrow, I would be back in London… And I could leave them here in the Underworld.

XXX

Thanks for reading!!! You can check out more of my stories on my profile.

If you want to see more of my work ahead of time feel free to check out: 

https://www. /blog/somestarwaves  

Here is the list of Current Advanced Chapters on there:

The Fallen Gamer ch 345-349

The Fox Hole 114

That’s not wizard magic 11

That’s not wizard magic 10

Thats not wizard magic 9

The Blood Queen 64

The Fox Hole 113

Thunder and Black Wings 41

That’s not wizard magic 8

That’s not wizard magic 7

That’s not wizard magic 6

Thunder and Black Wings 41

The Fox Hole 112

The Blood Queen 63

The Blood Queen 62

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 35

The Fox Hole 112

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 34

The Blood Queen 61

The Fox Hole 111

Thunder and Black Wings 40

A systematic tale the hero 33

Chapter Text

Chapter 6:

– Harry –

Serafall was once again bawling dramatically, her voice filling the room with exaggerated sobs as she tightened her grip around me. Her slender arms were like steel cables, squeezing my torso in a hold that felt deceptively delicate but was nearly impossible to escape. The warmth and softness of her body pressed insistently against me—her ample breasts squashed firmly against my chest, each curve distinctly noticeable, and the smooth, supple flesh of her thighs gripping mine in an almost desperate embrace. 

I stood there awkwardly, cheeks heating from both embarrassment and the undeniable, distracting sensations her clinginess caused.

"Harry, you can't leave me!" Serafall wailed, her voice quivering and melodramatic. "First, Sona left me all alone, and now you’re going to abandon me forever, too! It’s too cruel!"

I let out a weary sigh, gently patting her back in a futile attempt to calm her. In the short weeks since I'd met her, I'd rapidly discovered how incredibly clingy, eccentric, and emotional my mother Serafall could be. Still, despite her over-the-top theatrics and relentless displays of affection, I found myself genuinely fond of her. 

She might have been a bit much at times—well, most of the time—but I couldn't deny I loved her just the same.

Just when I thought Serafall’s wails couldn't get any louder or more dramatic, her stunningly blonde Queen, Behemoth, strode into the room. She was a vision as always, tall and regal with a perfectly sculpted figure that demanded attention. Her eyes narrowed with irritation as she moved closer, losing patience with her mistress.

"Lady Leviathan," Behemoth said firmly, placing her hands onto Serafall’s trembling shoulders and attempting to pry her away. "Please stop being so dramatic! You have a mountain of paperwork awaiting your attention. Harry-sama is only going to be gone for a few days at most!"

Serafall’s sobs quieted just slightly, and she lifted her head from my shoulder, her cheeks flushed, eyes wide and wet with tears. She pouted dramatically, giving Behemoth a look of pitiful defiance. "But it's too long! Any amount of time away from my precious Harry is torture! What if he forgets about me?"

I couldn't suppress a chuckle despite my embarrassment, shaking my head as I finally managed to gently disengage her arms from around me. "I won't forget you, Mum. It’s literally just a couple of days. I promise I'll be back before you even realize I’ve been gone."

Serafall sniffled loudly, wiping at her face with the back of her hand. "You promise, Harry? You really promise?"

"Yes, I promise," I assured her, meeting her tearful gaze with sincerity.

Behemoth exhaled a breath of relief, nodding to me gratefully as she carefully guided the still-sniffling Serafall away from me. "Come now, Lady Leviathan, there’s plenty of work waiting. You’ll see Harry-sama again very soon."

Mum then got a mischievous look in her eye.

"We need to give him something to remember us by, so he doesn't forget about us," Serafall pouted dramatically, her voice dripping with exaggerated concern. She crossed her arms under her ample breasts, pushing them up enticingly. "I won't let those young, pretty human girls steal my precious Harry away! Behemoth, do something so he won’t forget about us. I order you as your king!" she demanded with a pout and stomped her foot.

Behemoth rolled her blue eyes beneath the frames of her sexy glasses, the motion both alluring and exasperated. Clearly used to Serafall's theatrics, she nevertheless complied without a word of protest. "Excuse me, Harry-sama," she murmured softly, stepping closer to me with graceful, measured strides that made her long, toned legs incredibly noticeable.

Before I had time to fully comprehend her intentions, Behemoth leaned forward abruptly. My eyes widened as her full, plush lips pressed against mine. Her kiss was bold, possessive, her mouth open and inviting. Her tongue slipped deftly between my lips, tangling with mine as she deepened the kiss without hesitation.

My body reacted instantly, a hot shiver coursing down my spine. The kiss was electrifying, her lips and tongue leaving me breathless and dizzy. My hands hovered uncertainly at my sides, fists clenching tightly as I struggled not to grab onto her curvy hips and pull her closer. Behemoth maintained the intense lip-lock for a solid thirty seconds, each moment of her lips and tongue escalating my arousal until I was painfully aware of how stiff and demanding my erection had become.

She pulled back slowly, a thin trail of saliva connecting our mouths briefly before snapping apart. Her piercing eyes, laced with amusement and satisfaction, lingered on my flushed face before dropping pointedly downward. 

With a sly smirk, she gestured openly toward my blatantly obvious erection, the fabric of my pants strained obscenely by my hardened cock. Turning her attention back to Serafall, Behemoth asked dryly, "Happy now? He won’t forget that."

"Perfect!" Serafall declared cheerfully, clapping her hands in delight. With a playful skip, she bounded toward me, surprising me yet again as she stood on tiptoes and placed a quick, chaste kiss on my lips. It was brief and sweet compared to the overwhelming passion Behemoth had unleashed, yet it still managed to leave me stunned.

Serafall giggled mischievously at my shocked expression, clearly enjoying my predicament. "Have fun in the human world, Harry! But remember," she warned playfully, wagging a finger at me, "not too much fun~"

I watched Serafall swaying her hips and ass as she skipped out of the room, her short skirt bouncing with every cheerful step. The image burned vividly into my mind, and I felt heat rush up my neck, turning my cheeks a deep red. I blinked slowly, still processing the outrageous goodbye she'd just orchestrated. Turning my eyes to Behemoth, I silently questioned if everything that had just happened was real or if I'd somehow imagined the entire scene.

Behemoth caught my gaze, her full, sensual lips curving into an amused smirk. She winked at me knowingly, her striking blue eyes filled with playful mischief. "Have fun in the human world, Harry-sama," she said, her voice smooth and teasing.

Before I could respond, she activated the teleportation formula beneath my feet. The intricate runes etched onto the floor glowed brilliantly with a deep blue light, and I felt the familiar, strange sensation of being pulled through space. Traveling instantly from the Underworld back to London never ceased to amaze me. Normally, a journey this far would mean hours on a cramped train, but nepotism clearly had its advantages.

As the son of a Maou, I enjoyed privileges that other devils only dreamed of. Discreet and instantaneous travel between the "two worlds" was just one of them.

Sona had the same perks, and I'd heard that a girl named Rias Gremory, apparently the little sister of another Maou and one of Sona's closest friends, could also move back and forth freely.

Moments later, the teleportation magic deposited me right into a familiar living room. Before I could even get my bearings, I was wrapped in a warm, enthusiastic hug.

Hermione's soft, inviting body pressed tightly against mine, her arms wrapping firmly around my neck. Her touch sent a warm shiver down my spine, and I couldn't stop myself from smiling as she hugged me even tighter.

"Harry! I missed you so much!" she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with happiness and excitement. Her curly hair brushed softly against my cheek, tickling slightly as she squeezed me in her embrace.

"It's great to see you again, Hermione," I replied sincerely, feeling my own arms wrap around her waist naturally. Over her shoulder, I noticed her parents smiling politely at us, obviously pleased at the reunion.

As she finally released me, Hermione stepped back just enough to gaze up into my face, her eyes sparkling with genuine affection. "I couldn't wait for you to get here! We've got so much to talk about!"

I chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. Hermione's family were devil worshipers, Mum had easily convinced them to host a Sitri Clan teleportation circle right in their home.

"You want a beer, Lord Harry. Or maybe a scotch on the rocks? Whatever you need I'll get it for you..." John asked.

Hermione’s parents, John and Janet, were practically tripping over themselves, rushing around me like eager servants. Their eyes sparkled with excitement, and they wore wide, overly-friendly smiles. Janet stepped close, batting her eyelashes dramatically.

“Harry, is there anything you need? Anything at all?” she asked, her voice dropping into a suggestive tone that made my throat go dry.

She reached up to her shirt, tugging the top of it down slightly so I could see down the top of her breasts. I swallowed hard, feeling a sudden heat creeping up my neck. The way Janet was staring at me wasn't exactly motherly—it felt like a blatant invitation. Knowing they worshipped devils had definitely changed things. They treated me completely differently from when we’d first met. The deference and eagerness were obvious, almost uncomfortable.

The look Janet was giving me right then was particularly intense, and I had the uneasy feeling that if I asked her to get down on her knees and suck me off right there, even in front of her husband, she wouldn’t hesitate.

Part of me felt powerful and liked the idea of having that kind of control, a darker part I didn't usually entertain. But that part had been becoming a bit more prominent in my mind ever since mum fully unsealed my devil heritage.

But these were Hermione's parents. Hermione was one of my closest friends, and crossing lines like that wasn't something I wanted to risk. Plus I just wasn’t an asshole like that. 

Hermione must have noticed my discomfort and the increasingly overbearing attentiveness of her parents because she suddenly grabbed my arm and pulled me gently but firmly toward the door.

“Harry’s fine, Mom, Dad. We're supposed to be somewhere else soon,” Hermione said pointedly, shooting her parents a firm glance as she tugged me along. 

Janet and John exchanged brief looks before smiling again, a bit sheepishly this time. “Of course, dear,” John replied quickly, nodding vigorously. “You two go have fun.”

Janet’s smile was still bright but carried a hint of regret at missing the chance to continue doting on me. “Bye, sweetheart! We love you,” she called out warmly.

Hermione smiled and waved. “Love you too…”

Just as we stepped outside, John added hastily, “And Hermione, make sure to listen carefully to Lord Harry Sitri and do anything he asks!” Janet chimed in eagerly, emphasizing, “Anything at all!”

I felt my cheeks burn hotter at their enthusiasm, casting a sideways glance at Hermione who just rolled her eyes but was blushing the same as I was as she glanced at me. “Sorry about them,” she muttered as we moved further away.

I glanced over at Hermione and shrugged awkwardly, trying to brush off the heat lingering in my cheeks. "It's alright," I told her, forcing a casual laugh. "I just didn't expect them to be so enthusiastic."

That was one word for it...

Hermione groaned softly, rubbing her forehead like she was fighting off embarrassment. "Harry, you really don't even know the half of it," she sighed, shaking her head slowly. "My parents have been beyond excited for weeks now. It’s been nonstop."

I raised an eyebrow, giving her a curious look. "Really?"

She nodded, sighing again. "Yes, really. Think about it. They've believed in devils and magic for years without any solid proof. And then when I was 16 years old, we found out magic was real. Now they find out devils and demons are also real—and even better, their daughter is close friends with an actual devil prince! It’s made them more than a little overly excited..." she trailed off.

I chuckled despite myself, thinking about how surreal that must be for her. Part of me wanted to ask exactly how her family ended up worshipping devils in the first place, but it felt like it might lead into a longer conversation than we had time for right now. 

Instead, I shifted gears, focusing on our next move. "Okay, so how are we supposed to get to the Weasleys' place?"

Hermione’s eyes sparkled with anticipation, and a sly grin crept onto her face. She reached out, gently slipping her warm hand into mine, her fingers interlacing with mine comfortably. "We're going to apparate," she said.

"What's apparating?"

Her grin widened, and she squeezed my hand reassuringly. "It’s wizarding teleportation. Sort of like what you're used to, but much less comfortable. You may or may not vomit your first time..."

"Oh, great," I replied dryly, unable to stop a small, uneasy laugh. "Sounds delightful..."

She rolled her eyes playfully but stepped closer, tightening her grip on my hand. "I’ve practised this a lot. Don’t worry, it’s completely safe. Unpleasant, but safe. And since we're both over 18, we can use magic freely—even if we're both still attending Hogwarts." Hermione had been so happy in her letters when she found out I'd be attending Hogwarts as well this year, in the same class as her. 

…Although, I knew that she was a bit nervous about what that would do for all the rumors about the two of us. The newspaper articles about Hermione being “Harry Potter's muggleborn secret Mistress” had not died down.

And yes, the wizarding world still thought James Potter was my father. 

For now...

"Alright," she warned, her eyes meeting mine seriously now. "Hang on tight. This is going to feel really weird."

Before I could ask what she meant by "weird," I felt a sudden, intense pull, like I was being sucked rapidly into a tight, uncomfortable tube.

...My hands were gripping my knees tightly as I fought hard not to throw up. My stomach churned violently, and I took deep breaths, desperately trying to settle it down. This type of teleportation felt way worse than the devil's version—like my insides had been scrambled and shaken around!

Fuck, that really was unpleasant! 

"You alright, Harry?" Hermione asked gently, stepping closer with a worried look on her face.

"Give me a second," I groaned, slowly straightening up. My legs felt shaky, and I swallowed heavily to keep everything down. "What the hell was that?"

She gave me an embarrassed smile, rubbing the back of her neck. "Sorry, it's always rough the first time. You'll eventually get used to it, though."

I shook my head firmly, taking another steadying breath. "I'd rather not have to get used to something like that," I muttered, earning an amused smile from her.

Hermione chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling playfully as she reached into a small pouch hanging at her hip. I watched in amazement as she stuck her whole arm inside it, disappearing up to her shoulder before pulling out a blackened wand with a deep blue handle. "Here," she said, holding it out to me. "I got this for you."

I took it hesitantly, turning it over in my hands curiously. "What's this for?"

"Well, it'll look strange if you go around casting spells without a wand," Hermione explained patiently. "Wizards use wands, and people might start asking awkward questions if you start doing magic with just your hands."

"Right," I replied slowly, feeling foolish for not considering that myself. "Thanks, Hermione."

"Of course," she said with a smile. "I just figured you'd need it to blend in better."

I nodded, thinking it through carefully. I couldn't use the Sitri magic circles on my hands either. They were tattooed in invisible ink—although they glowed bright blue when I used them—and using them openly would definitely draw unwanted attention. Clan magic circles had been perfected over centuries, maybe even thousands of years, and using them made devil magic incredibly powerful and precise. But it would also be a clear sign that I wasn't human. 

At least to people who knew about devils. Maybe Dumbledore didn’t know, but then again he was a teacher and I imagine he didn’t really get out that much.

On the other hand, I could still cast spells just fine using my imagination. It wouldn't be as strong, and it'd take more energy, but at least it wouldn't draw attention. Combined with the fake wand Hermione had gotten me, I felt confident I could blend into the wizarding world without causing any suspicion.

Hermione gave me an encouraging nod, clearly pleased with her idea. "You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," I said with a nervous laugh, tucking the wand into my pocket.

'...What a shithole,' I thought immediately as Hermione and I stood in front of the house she'd teleported us to. This was supposedly where the Weasley family lived—the same family Dumbledore wanted me to meet. I looked sideways at Hermione, wondering if she was seeing the same thing I was. Her eyes were wide open, staring at the house with a shocked expression.

The house looked like someone had just taken a bunch of sticks and shoved them together with magic to form a house shape. Sure, it was big enough, but it didn't seem very sturdy or comfortable. Some parts looked like they might fall over any second. There were windows at odd angles, and bits of wood sticking out randomly.

"I kind of expected an entire magical family to live somewhere nicer," I said, scratching the back of my head awkwardly.

Hermione turned her surprised gaze to me and offered a wry smile. "Honestly, so did I," she admitted. "But I've heard a lot of rumors at Hogwarts. The Weasleys are supposed to be incredibly poor."

I tilted my head, genuinely confused. "How can they be poor? They have magic. Can't they just, I don't know, turn invisible and rob a Muggle bank or something?"

Hermione smacked my arm playfully, but her cheeks were flushed with amusement. "Harry! That would be totally wrong!"

I laughed, feeling the tension ease a little. "Yeah, but they could still do it, right?"

She rolled her eyes, still smiling. "Technically, yes. But wizards have rules against that sort of thing."

"Right," I nodded thoughtfully. "But seriously, how do wizard families even end up poorer than Muggles? It doesn't make sense."

Hermione tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I've always wondered about that too. With all the magical resources they have, you'd think every wizarding family would at least be comfortable."

Before we could continue, the front door of the house suddenly swung open, and we both jumped slightly in surprise.

There was a very beautiful young woman standing in front of us, with long, vibrant orange hair cascading down her shoulders and pale, smooth skin dotted with adorable freckles across her heart-shaped face. Her eyes were a bright, sparkling blue that widened dramatically as she stared at me. She had a curvy figure, accentuated by the simple summer dress she wore, which hugged her body in just the right places, making it hard not to stare.

Her mouth fell open into an ‘O’ shape, her eyes darting rapidly back and forth between me and Hermione before finally settling on my face. “Holy shite, you’re Harry Potter,” she blurted out, her cheeks instantly turning a deep, embarrassed pink.

I chuckled softly, amused by her reaction, deciding not to immediately correct her mistake about my last name. "Hi, I'm Harry," I said with a friendly smile.

Hermione, standing next to me, gave the girl a warm smile. "Hello, Ginny," she greeted gently.

Ginny glanced briefly at Hermione, visibly nervous and slightly flustered. "Mom said you were supposed to be coming over today before the World Cup, but honestly, I thought she was just having us on," she admitted sheepishly. Then her gaze snapped back to Hermione with an intense curiosity, her voice dropping to an eager whisper. "Are the tabloids true? Are you actually Harry Potter’s secret mistress?"

Hermione’s face immediately flushed bright red, and she sputtered, clearly mortified by the question. "Absolutely not!" she protested, shaking her head vehemently.

Seeing Hermione’s embarrassment, I couldn’t resist teasing her just a bit. I slid my arm smoothly around her shoulders, pulling her close against my side, causing her to shiver slightly in surprise. "Come on, love," I said playfully, leaning in close enough that my voice was just loud enough for Ginny to hear clearly. "We can't hide what we are."

With a mischievous grin, I placed a quick, playful kiss on Hermione’s flushed cheek, causing her blush to deepen further. I turned my gaze back to Ginny and winked, enjoying her shocked reaction.

"Uh oh," I muttered, noticing Ginny’s eyes starting to roll back into her head. She began making faint, odd noises—something like "ah wah wah wah"—and suddenly started to sway dangerously backward. Reacting quickly, I released Hermione and lunged forward, wrapping my arms around Ginny just before she hit the ground.

I lowered her gently, supporting her head carefully with one hand while my other hand softly touched her warm cheek. "Hey, are you alright?" I asked gently, leaning closer to check on her.

Ginny blinked rapidly, clearly trying to regain her senses. Her eyes slowly focused on mine, widening once again as awareness returned to her expression. Her entire face turned scarlet, a deep blush that spread rapidly across her cheeks and neck.

"This is the kind of thing I've always dreamed of," she mumbled faintly, almost to herself, her voice trembling with embarrassment and awe. "Harry Potter is actually holding me in his arms."

Hearing that, I couldn't help but chuckle quietly. Yeah, it was pretty clear, this girl was definitely a fangirl. Carefully, I helped her to stand again, still supporting her gently with my hands on her waist.

“Easy now,” I said warmly, keeping my grip supportive until she found her footing again.

She swayed slightly, holding tightly onto my shoulders for balance. Her hands trembled a little, and her eyes stayed locked on mine. “I'm so sorry,” she stammered, obviously embarrassed. “I didn't mean to just...you know, faint.”

Hermione sighed beside me, giving me a sideways glare even as she tried to hide a small smile. “Honestly, Harry,” she scolded lightly, shaking her head. “Did you really have to tease her like that?”

I chuckled again, letting go of Ginny carefully once she was steady. “Sorry,” I said, not entirely sincerely. “I couldn't resist. It was too perfect.”

Ginny giggled nervously, tucking a strand of her vivid orange hair behind her ear. “I guess I deserved that,” she admitted shyly, glancing up at me through her eyelashes. “I really am a big fan.”

“So I noticed,” I replied gently, smiling reassuringly to put her at ease. “It’s really nice to meet you, Ginny.”

Ginny smiled back at me brightly, her blush still vividly visible on her pale cheeks. “It’s amazing to meet you too, Harry!” 

Two twin redhead boys suddenly walked out from inside the house, their mischievous expressions immediately catching my attention. They were tall and lean, with identical freckles scattered across their pale faces, and bright green eyes gleaming with mischief. They had the same shade of vivid orange hair as Ginny, messy and slightly unruly, adding to their playful, carefree appearance.

The moment they spotted us, grins spread across their faces. One of the twins elbowed his brother and pointed straight at Ginny, who was still standing awkwardly close to me, her cheeks flushed bright red.

"Well, would you look at that, George," one of them teased loudly. "Ginny finally got her wish. She's practically swooning in Harry Potter's arms."

"I know, Fred," the other chimed in with exaggerated shock. "Our little sister, all grown up and already throwing herself at her childhood hero."

Ginny scowled fiercely at her brothers, stepping back quickly from me, her face somehow becoming even redder. "Shut up, you two idiots," she snapped, her voice shaking slightly with embarrassment.

Hermione sighed beside me, clearly familiar with their antics. Turning toward me, she spoke up calmly. "Harry, these are Fred and George. They're going to be sixth years this year in Gryffindor. And yes, they're absolute menaces at school. Always playing pranks and causing trouble."

Fred and George smirked at Hermione, exchanging quick glances with each other before turning their mischievous grins toward her.

"Wow, Hermione," Fred teased playfully. "That's high praise coming from Gryffindor's secret Ravenclaw nerd girl."

"Yeah," George agreed, nodding seriously. "Honestly, we take that as a huge compliment."

I couldn't help but frown slightly at their teasing. Ravenclaw was the Hogwarts house for studious, smart students—so yes, nerds.

...Something that definitely described Hermione, judging by her enthusiastic letters filled with excitement about learning and studying. 

But I still didn't like hearing anyone tease my friend. It rubbed me the wrong way, even if they weren't being entirely mean-spirited.

Fred and George immediately noticed my frown, quickly exchanging uneasy looks before turning back toward me, their expressions shifting to apologetic. "Sorry, mate," Fred said quickly, raising his hands defensively. "We didn't mean anything by it. Just messing around."

George nodded rapidly in agreement. "Yeah, seriously. We're just surprised and excited to have a legend like Harry Potter standing in our house."

Fred suddenly grinned again, his eyes sparkling mischievously as he gave me an exaggerated once-over. "Honestly, though, George, look at him. He's so handsome, he's going to steal our girlfriend!"

George dramatically clutched his chest, faking distress. "Exactly! First Hermione, now Ginny—this guy just keeps snatching everyone's girlfriends. There's no stopping the boy-whos-too-damn-handsome!"

I couldn't hold back a smirk at their antics, feeling the tension easing from the room. Despite their initial teasing, it was clear they meant well and were just having fun. 

Ginny, however, clearly didn't share my amusement. Her face was still bright red, her eyes narrowing angrily at her brothers as she crossed her arms tightly across her chest. "You two are impossible," she muttered irritably. "Can't you act normal just once? Especially when we're trying to make a good impression! Now he thinks we’re weird!"

Fred and George shared another quick glance, their smirks softening slightly as they looked back at their sister. "Aw, come on, Ginny," Fred said soothingly. "You know we love you."

"Yeah," George added sincerely. "We only tease because we care."

Ginny rolled her eyes dramatically but couldn't hide the slight smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Fine," she relented grudgingly. "Just try not to embarrass me too much today."

"No promises!" Fred and George declared in unison, grinning broadly as they turned their attention back to Hermione and me.

"Anyway," Fred continued cheerfully. "Come inside! Mum's been cooking all day, and she's going to be thrilled you're here."

Hermione and I followed Fred, George, and Ginny deeper into the Weasley’s house. 

Once inside, I immediately noticed how different it looked compared to the outside. The inside was surprisingly warm and cozy. Everything looked neatly arranged and inviting. The walls were covered in family photos that moved, showing smiling faces waving or laughing, clearly happy. The furniture looked worn but comfortable, giving the whole place a relaxed and lived-in feeling.

I felt slightly guilty. I had definitely been quick to judge this place as a complete dump when we'd first arrived, but now it felt like a real home. It felt warmer and friendlier than the large but cold house I'd lived in with the Dursleys growing up. I couldn’t help but compare the difference. That place had always felt stiff and sterile, like no one truly belonged there. But this place felt different. It felt real.

As we moved further inside, a woman stepped out of what looked to be the kitchen. She was probably in her mid-thirties from appearance, attractive with soft features and vibrant red hair pulled into a messy bun. She was slightly plump but in a pleasant way, the curves of her body comfortably filling out the simple yet flattering dress she wore. Her cheeks were flushed from cooking, and her eyes lit up with excitement when she saw us entering.

"Oh, you're finally here!" she exclaimed joyfully, wiping her hands on a cloth and rushing over to greet us. "I'm Molly Weasley, it's so wonderful to meet you both!"

I smiled politely, extending my hand to shake hers, but Molly ignored it and instead enveloped me in a warm hug. Making me really feel those nice plump curves as I was squished against her suddenly. 

She stepped back slightly, her hands gripping my shoulders as she looked up at me. "You have no idea how happy we were when Dumbledore contacted us and told us you were alive after all these years!" she gushed emotionally. Her voice was slightly shaky with genuine excitement and happiness. "Your parents were very dear friends of ours. They were wonderful people." Her eyes softened as she spoke, her voice dropping slightly. "Especially James Potter. He was such a brave, honorable man. You remind me so much of him already!"

I shifted uneasily, glancing sideways at Hermione, who was watching me carefully, clearly understanding my discomfort.

"Er, yeah," I said quietly, not knowing exactly how to respond without sounding rude or blunt.

Ginny noticed my hesitation, immediately sensing something was off. Her eyebrows knitted together with concern as she looked up at me curiously. "Harry, is something wrong? Did Mum say something weird?"

Fred and George stopped their joking around, turning their attention fully towards me as well, their smiles slipping into confused expressions. 

I scratched awkwardly at my cheek, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under everyone's intense stares. "Um, well," I began slowly. "Actually, James Potter wasn't my father…"

A stunned silence immediately filled the room. Molly's eyes widened dramatically, shock clearly visible on her face. "Oh, my goodness!" she gasped, one hand flying to her mouth.

Fred and George shared an astonished glance, looking back at me with matching expressions of disbelief and curiosity. Ginny just stared at me, completely stunned, her eyes wide and mouth slightly open as she processed my words.

"Are you not the boy-who-lived?" Ginny asked, her voice soft but clearly filled with confusion. Her bright blue eyes widened slightly, looking between my face and Hermione's anxiously.

"I mean, I’m 19. I'm not exactly a boy anymore, am I?" I joked, giving her a small smile as I lifted my hand to push my hair back from my forehead.

As the strands moved aside, the faded but still visible scar I'd carried my entire life came into clear view. I traced the jagged shape gently with my fingertips, aware of everyone's eyes locked on the distinctive mark.

Ginny gasped softly, stepping closer to get a better look. Fred and George immediately leaned forward as well, their curiosity palpable.

"I've always had this scar," I explained, dropping my hand back down and meeting Ginny's astonished gaze. Although, only recently did I find out how I got it from some of the "Harry Potter" books I bought in Flourish and Blotts. "It came from when I was a baby. That evil dickhead wizard, the one who killed my mother Lily Potter, tried to use the killing curse on me. But the spell rebounded on him instead, killing him. Honestly, I'm glad the bastard got fucked by his own magic."

There was a brief silence. "So Lily Potter cheated on James Potter? That's the greatest gossip we've ever heard!" George—or maybe Fred, it was hard to keep track—suddenly blurted out.

"Blimey! That's the gossip of the year right there!" the other twin declared.

Before either twin could say anything more, Molly immediately stepped forward and smacked both sons sharply on their arms. "That's incredibly rude, boys!" she scolded firmly, glaring at them with maternal irritation. "Stop gossiping about something so personal!"

"No, it's fine," I told Molly. "But yes, it's totally true. Lily Potter did cheat on James Potter. But honestly, James cheated first. He even had a kid himself, so it’s really not fair to put all the blame on Lily. In my opinion, they just got married too young, and were in the middle of a war on top of that. That must have been insanely stressful..."

Ginny's mouth fell open. "Wait—there's a secret Potter child at Hogwarts right now?" she gasped.

"I don't actually know her name or who she is. All I've heard is that she's a girl around my age, currently attending Hogwarts."

Immediately, Fred and George leaned toward each other, their expressions filled with excited speculation as they began whispering rapidly between themselves. whispering different girls names I didn't recognize and trying to match those girls' appearances with the “famous Potter genetics.”

I had no idea what those famous genetics were until Ginny spoke up saying everyone in the gossip columns did think it was strange I didn't inherit James Potter's messy brown hair.

That would be something I could look out for at the very least. Or I could just ask Dumbledore. But maybe finding her on my own would be more fun. That would be something I could look out for at the very least. Although I don't know if this girl and I would get along considering we were both born from "our parents" cheating on each other with other people.

A loud stomping echoed down from upstairs, making everyone turn their heads toward the ceiling. Molly chuckled warmly, shaking her head slightly. "That’ll be my youngest son, Ron. He likes to sleep in late whenever he can."

Fred immediately nudged George, and the two exchanged sly grins. "That's only because Ron spends all night up with those Naughty Witch Weekly magazines," George said, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

Hermione and Ginny both cringed visibly, letting out matching sounds of disgust.

"Gross," Ginny muttered, shaking her head vehemently.

"Honestly," Hermione groaned, wrinkling her nose. "Can we not talk about your brother's hobbies..."

I, however, was too shocked by the revelation to react with disgust. I looked at Fred, raising an eyebrow curiously. "Wait, the magical world has porn magazines? Are they actually any good?"

Yes, I was genuinely curious.

Fred's grin widened. "Oh, you have no idea, mate," he said enthusiastically, leaning in closer, but not actually whispering. "They're bloody brilliant! Moving pictures and everything. Nothing like boring old Muggle magazines. Trust me, witches love to use their wands for a lot more than just casting spells!"

"We do not!" Hermione sputtered.

"Only slutty witches do that!" Ginny said with a blush.

And yet, now the image was planted in my mind as I glanced between Hermione and Ginny, imagining them both naked with their "wands." It's not like I could help it, it was just a natural reaction...

Molly, who had moved back to the stove to stir whatever delicious-smelling meal she had been cooking, clearly overheard Fred’s words despite the distance. Without even turning around, she whipped a wooden spoon through the air with frightening accuracy.

It smacked Fred firmly on the back of his head, causing him to wince and rub the spot dramatically. "Ouch! Mum!" Fred protested loudly, though he still looked amused rather than upset.

"Fred Weasley, we have guests and this is not a proper discussion!" Molly scolded sharply. "Behave yourself!"

And yet I noticed she didn't refute the words about her youngest son...

I chuckled lightly, thoroughly amused by the friendly chaos of the Weasley household. It was clear this family was extremely close and comfortable around each other.

Before I could ask anything more, footsteps sounded clearly from the hallway, drawing my attention. Another young man with vivid orange hair walked into the kitchen. He was tall and gangly, around my age, with a lanky build and a slightly awkward posture. His face was freckled heavily like his siblings, and his hair was tousled in a sleepy, bedhead mess. He wore a slightly grumpy expression, obviously still waking up and maybe irritated by the commotion?

The newcomer’s eyes landed first on Hermione, his expression twisting instantly into a sour frown. "What’s the whiney nerd doing here?" he grumbled rudely, clearly not bothering to hide his disdain.

Hermione stiffened beside me, her cheeks flushing slightly in hurt and irritation. She opened her mouth to respond, but I stepped forward protectively.

His gaze shifted toward me, his blue eyes narrowing suspiciously as he openly sized me up. "And who are you supposed to be? You're dressed in rich person clothes. You look like one of those pompous, slimy snakes from Slytherin," he sneered.

Wow, what a dick.

"I see you're as rude as ever, Ronald," Hermione grumbled, her voice tense with irritation as she crossed her arms firmly over her chest, glaring at him sharply.

"You can't talk that way to Harry Potter! Or, I mean—" Ginny suddenly stopped, turning toward me with an awkward look. "Sorry, what’s your real last name, Harry?" she asked.

I smiled at her reassuringly. "Sitri. Harry Sitri." I said with pride.

Ginny gave me a warm, appreciative smile before turning back to face Ron again, her expression instantly darkening into annoyance once more. "You can't talk to Harry Sitri like that!" she scolded sharply.

Ron just shrugged dismissively as he glanced back at me with obvious disdain. "I don't care. This bloke is just another fake Boy-Who-Lived. We get posers like this every year trying to claim they're the real deal. The real Boy-Who-Lived is obviously DEAD." He turned abruptly, reaching out and snatching a bright red apple from a bowl on the kitchen table. He bit into it loudly, crunching obnoxiously as juice dribbled down his chin. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, giving me one final sneer before heading toward the stairs. "I'll be in my room until it's time to leave for the World Cup," he announced rudely, disappearing around the corner without another word.

I watched him go in irritation. "Well," I muttered quietly to myself, feeling a surge of annoyance, "most of the family is great so far, but that guy was definitely a dick."

Ginny sighed deeply from beside me, her shoulders slumping slightly in clear embarrassment. She turned toward me, her expression apologetic and eyes sincere. "I'm really sorry about Ron, Harry. He's always had this big fantasy about becoming best friends with the Boy-Who-Lived. He practically grew up obsessed with him."

Her gaze shifted to the floor, and she fidgeted awkwardly with a strand of her long orange hair, twisting it around her fingers nervously. "When everyone started believing the Boy-Who-Lived was dead, it hit him really hard. He took it personally, I guess. Ever since then, he's gotten really bitter and angry about anyone claiming to be him."

Molly looked genuinely upset with Ron's attitude, shaking her head and apologizing to me repeatedly, promising sternly that she'd deal with his behavior later.

I waved her apologies away with an easy smile, telling her that I didn't let stuff like that bother me much. Well, unless it was Saji—that asshole had run his mouth non-stop for a week straight, and deserved the ass beating I gave him.

We all sat down at the long wooden dining table, and Molly bustled around enthusiastically, serving dishes overflowing with delicious, homemade food. The mouthwatering aroma of roasted chicken, fresh bread, and various steaming sides filled the room, making my stomach rumble eagerly. I dug in, complimenting Molly, which made her smile brightly in return.

Hermione had chosen the chair immediately to my right. Ginny slid into the seat directly on my left, pulling it so close our knees touched lightly beneath the table. Her vibrant red hair fell gracefully over one shoulder as she leaned forward, giving me a playful grin.

Hermione shot Ginny a quick look before subtly shifting her own chair even closer to mine. I could feel the gentle pressure of her thigh pressing deliberately against my leg.

Ginny responded immediately, pressing her own leg against mine firmly, her bright blue eyes narrowed challengingly across the table at Hermione.

Fred and George sat across from me, watching this silent competition unfold with matching shit-eating grins plastered on their identical faces. Every time Ginny attempted to start a conversation with me, Hermione instantly interjected, drawing my attention to herself instead. Likewise, whenever Hermione began speaking, Ginny quickly tried to distract me...

The intense back-and-forth continued throughout the entire meal, leaving me stuck awkwardly in the middle, though admittedly enjoying the attention.

By the time we'd all finished eating, Molly began gathering the empty dishes, gently ushering Fred, George, and Ginny upstairs. She explained that their father would be arriving shortly, and they'd soon need to leave for the nearby portkey.

After we finished eating all the delicious food, Hermione and I went outside to take a little walk. It felt good to move around a bit after being so stuffed. As we walked side by side, I playfully leaned over so our shoulders bumped gently. Hermione smiled shyly and glanced at me, her cheeks turning a soft pink.

“You were getting pretty possessive back there, weren’t you?” I teased her lightly.

Her blush grew even deeper, and she looked down at her feet. “Sorry, Harry,” she murmured softly. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I just got a little… jealous, I guess.”

I looked at her, confused. “Jealous about what?”

She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip nervously before speaking again. “Did you want to spend more time with Ginny Weasley instead of me…? I noticed you seemed to like her right away, and she is really pretty. Guys usually like girls with red hair, right? And I know she is a natural redhead too…”

Nice. Natural redheads were very sexy...

Her voice was quiet, and I could tell she was feeling unsure about herself. I stopped walking right then and reached out to gently take her arm. Hermione let out a little surprised squeak as I pulled her close to me, turning her so we were facing each other.

“Listen to me, Hermione,” I said seriously, holding her gaze firmly. “Ginny is nice, sure, but she's not prettier than you. Don't ever put yourself down like that.”

Hermione’s eyes widened, looking both surprised and pleased by what I said. “You mean that?” she whispered, still sounding unsure.

“Yes, I really mean it,” I insisted gently, giving her a sincere smile. “You are absolutely beautiful. Your hair is gorgeous, so long and curly and perfect. And your body is amazing, Hermione. You have a wonderful shape, with curves that are just right. Your breasts, your thighs—everything is perfectly proportioned. You should never doubt yourself.”

As I finished speaking, Hermione started sputtering in embarrassment, her cheeks glowing bright red. “Harry!” she exclaimed softly, her voice shaking slightly. “You can’t just say things like that!

"Why not?" I teased.

She looked away from me, nervously tucking a strand of curly hair behind her ear. "It's very crass... and If you keep giving me compliments like that, it’s going to be really hard to just stay friends.” she added shyly.

"Maybe I don't just want to be just friends," I admitted softly, feeling a rush of heat rising up my neck and into my face as I watched Hermione's expression shift into surprise.

Her eyes widened slightly, and her lips parted as if she wanted to speak but hesitated momentarily. "Really?" she finally asked, sounding both hopeful and skeptical at the same time. She took a small step back, folding her arms gently as she studied my face. "Aren't you meeting up with those two beautiful French girls in a few hours? I was under the impression you'd be shagging them, Harry. At least that's the impression you gave me..."

I swallowed nervously, a bit embarrassed by her blunt phrasing.

"Well," I began uncertainly, glancing away momentarily before returning my gaze to hers, "I guess it did kind of come off like that, didn't it? Honestly, Gabrielle's letters to me were really, um, sexy. I won’t lie—they made it pretty clear she was interested in more than just friendship."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at me, a faint smirk playing at the edges of her lips despite herself. "So, I'm guessing Gabrielle’s very...expressive in her letters, then?"

I chuckled nervously, feeling my cheeks burning even hotter. "Very expressive," I admitted with a sheepish grin. "Look, Hermione, I'm really sorry if this seems complicated or confusing. I've always gotten attention from girls, but all of this is so new to me. I genuinely don't know if I could ever pick just one girl. I mean there's you...and Gabrielle and Fleur. And also Sona... " I mumbled admittedly.

Hermione blinked, a look of mild surprise crossing her face. "Harry," she said slowly, her voice calm and deliberate, "why would you pick just one girl?"

"Huh?" I blurted out dumbly.

Hermione gave me a curious look, clearly amused by my surprise. "Harry," she said slowly, "the wizarding world isn’t like the Muggle world. Polygamy is completely normal here. Actually, it's quite common. Fred and George Weasley are both openly dating Angelina Johnson, and nobody thinks twice about it."

My mouth fell open slightly in astonishment. I knew that having multiple partners was typical among devils, but hearing this was accepted in the magical community genuinely stunned me. I wondered briefly if my mother Serafall knew about this little cultural similarity.

Hermione took advantage of my stunned silence to step even closer, gently placing her hand against my chest---making my heart speed up instantly. Her eyes locked onto mine intently. "Harry," she asked quietly, her tone serious but hopeful, "do you like me?"

My brain momentarily short-circuited at her directness. I swallowed hard, feeling suddenly tongue-tied, but managed a nod. "Yes," I answered truthfully, my voice coming out quieter than intended. "Of course I like you, Hermione. You're incredibly pretty, and you're one of the smartest girls I've ever met. I still vividly remember the first time I saw you in Flourish and Blotts—you left quite an impression."

Hermione’s eyes sparkled brightly at my admission, a genuine smile lighting up her entire face. Without another word, she rose onto her toes and pressed her lips softly yet confidently against mine.

A brief thought flashed in my head. This was the third woman to kiss me so far today...

My eyes closed automatically, my arms instinctively wrapping around her waist, pulling her body tightly against me.

Her lips were soft and inviting, and I could feel her warmth radiating through the thin fabric of her clothing. My hands slowly drifted lower, sliding down her back until they came to rest firmly on her perfectly shaped ass. Hermione let out a soft, startled squeak into my mouth before giggling softly, clearly pleased by my boldness.

Our kiss deepened, becoming more intense as our bodies pressed together even more closely. I was suddenly very aware of every curve of her body, her breasts flattened softly against my chest, and her thighs brushing enticingly against mine. Eventually, she slowly pulled back, her breath slightly shaky as she gazed up at me with a delighted expression.

"I've been waiting weeks to do that," she admitted softly, her cheeks flushed prettily and her eyes shining. She looked up at me through her eyelashes, a playful, slightly mischievous smile curving her lips. "Just so you know, after you're done shagging those French girls, I'll be right here, waiting for you."

The confident, teasing look Hermione was giving me sent excitement and nervousness surging through my body.

Hermione and I continued walking around the Weasley family’s gardens—holding hands lewdly. Ok, holding hands normally and just chatting as we checked out the magical property. There were a lot of plants and bugs I didn’t recognize. And I’m pretty sure those lawn gnomes were alive…

It was nice, and lasted around a half hour before Molly called us back, saying her husband was here and it was time for everyone to leave for the portkey that would take us to the World Cup.

– Upstairs –

Ron trudged heavily up the stairs and returned to his cluttered bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He ran a hand irritably through his messy orange hair, his thoughts fuzzy and swirling uncomfortably inside his head.

"Stupid fake Harry Potter wannabe," he muttered bitterly under his breath, kicking aside a pile of clothes scattered carelessly on the floor. "Thinks he can just stroll in here, impress everyone, and make a fool out of me?" But then, uncertainty crept into his mind, causing Ron to pause and scratch his head in confusion. "But Ginny seemed really convinced he was real... Could I actually be wrong?" he murmured aloud, brow furrowing deeply.

"Confundo!" a high-pitched, squeaky voice suddenly sounded from behind him.

Ron turned around sharply, his eyes going blank and unfocused as the spell took immediate effect. Peter stood there, Peter was always there when Ron was alone. He'd always been there as long as Ron could remember. He was Ron's best friend, even if he was not real and imaginary!

Peter raised his slender, grimy wand higher, a cruel, satisfied smile stretching across his thin lips. "That's not the real Harry Potter downstairs, Ron. He's a fake. And he's definitely not your friend. No one is your friend but ME."

Ron's gaze went completely glassy, his shoulders slumping in compliance as the spell erased all his doubts and hesitation. "Yes, you're right, Peter," Ron droned in agreement. "You're my only real friend."

Peter’s smile widened, clearly pleased with Ron’s response. He stepped closer, the tip of his wand glowing brighter with an eerie, unsettling light. "That's right, Ron. I'm always here for you," Peter cooed reassuringly, his voice soft and manipulative. "I’ve never let you down. You’ll help me expose this imposter downstairs, won’t you? You’ll tear him down and make sure everyone sees he’s nothing but a fraud! Help me hurt him...? He’s obviously in cahoots with Sirius Black! I bet they’re both searching for me right now!" Peter declared, with a crazy look in his eye.

Ron’s previously dull expression twisted into sudden anger, his fists clenching tightly at his sides. An unnatural surge of blind rage flooded through him, making his pulse quicken and his breath come in rapid, furious pants. "Yes," he spat bitterly. "I’ll help you, Peter. I won’t let that fake Harry Potter trick my family! I won’t let him hurt my best friend!"

Peter chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with twisted delight. "Excellent, Ron. I knew I could count on you." He stepped closer, his bony hand gripping Ron’s shoulder tightly. "You’ll follow my instructions exactly. No questions, no hesitation. Agreed?" Obviously he knew Ron couldn’t say no. Years of mental conditioning made sure of that. Peter hadn’t muddled with the minds of the rest of the Weasley family, but Ron was his obedient slave.

"Anything..." Ron replied immediately. 

XXX

I actually like Ron as a character, but Pettigrew living with him for years was one of the creepiest things in the story that was kind of just glossed over… 

Thanks for reading!!! You can check out more of my stories on my profile.

If you want to see more of my work ahead of time feel free to check out: 

https://www. /blog/somestarwaves  

Here is the list of Current Advanced Chapters on there:

The Fallen Gamer ch 346-350 The Finale! 

A systematic tale the hero 36

That’s not wizard magic 12

The Fox Hole 114

That’s not wizard magic 11

That’s not wizard magic 10

Thats not wizard magic 9

The Blood Queen 64

The Fox Hole 113

Thunder and Black Wings 41

That’s not wizard magic 8

That’s not wizard magic 7

Thunder and Black Wings 41

The Fox Hole 112

The Blood Queen 63

The Blood Queen 62

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 35

The Fox Hole 112

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 34

The Blood Queen 61

The Fox Hole 111

Thunder and Black Wings 40

Chapter Text

Chapter 7:

– Harry –

I stumbled slightly as my feet slammed into the ground, momentum from the portkey nearly sending me sprawling face-first into the grass. Just as I braced myself to hit the ground, a hand grasped my arm, steadying me firmly.

"Whoa there, careful," a deep, friendly voice chuckled warmly.

I blinked and straightened myself, turning to see the amused, smiling face of Cedric Diggory, a bloke I'd literally met just moments ago before the portkey had whisked us away. Tall, broad-shouldered, and annoyingly good-looking—not unlike myself. Cedric had an easy-going charm that made him immediately likable nonetheless. He was in the same year as Fred and George at Hogwarts.

"Thanks," I muttered, giving him a small nod. "Haven't quite gotten the hang of magical transportation yet."

Cedric grinned sympathetically, releasing my arm. "You'll get used to it eventually. Portkeys aren't the most pleasant form of travel. The first time I took one, I ended up flat on my face and broke my nose."

Behind him, Cedric's father—an enthusiastic man named Amos Diggory—gave me a hearty smile. "It's been an honor meeting you, Harry Potter! I can't wait to tell everyone we've met!"

Cedric rolled his eyes, giving me a subtle, apologetic smile. "Dad's a big fan," he whispered discreetly.

"Yeah, I picked up on that," I whispered back with a soft laugh. Raising my voice, I addressed Amos politely, "Pleasure meeting you as well, Mr. Diggory."

As Cedric and his father turned away, disappearing into the bustling crowd, Hermione stepped up beside me, brushing stray grass off her clothes and looking thoroughly irritated. "I swear," she complained, glaring down at the grass stains on her trousers, "portkeys are even worse than apparition."

I grimaced, vividly recalling the unpleasant sensation of being squeezed through that magical tube earlier. "Sorry, Hermione, but I'll have to disagree there. At least this time I'm not gagging and feeling like I've left my stomach behind."

She gave a slight huff, though amusement flickered in her eyes as she looked me over, clearly pleased I was still in one piece. 

Before she could respond, Arthur Weasley—who had cheerfully introduced himself just before we’d left—called out loudly. "Fred, George, Ginny, Ron!" Arthur waved his arm enthusiastically, beckoning them closer. "We've got our tent all sorted! Come along now!"

The twins whooped loudly, immediately breaking into an exaggerated race toward their father, knocking shoulders and playfully wrestling as they went. Ginny lingered briefly, giving me a soft, inviting smile before following after her brothers, her vibrant hair swaying behind her as she moved.

Ron didn't spare me another glance. He'd been moodily quiet since our earlier confrontation. I didn’t miss the glares he shot me though. I swear, it was like he wanted to be Saji 2.0 or something…

At least Saji didn’t keep a gross looking live rat in his pocket. I think…?

Arthur turned his attention to Hermione and me, a genuinely kind smile spreading across his weathered face. "Harry, Hermione—you're more than welcome to stay with us tonight! We've got plenty of room in our tent, no trouble at all. We’d love to host you longer!"

“I already have plans after I finish escorting Harry," Hermione replied. Hermione casually slid her warm hand into mine, fingers curling possessively around my palm. It was an innocent gesture, yet something in Hermione's eyes as they flicked briefly toward Ginny suggested the move was quite deliberate. Ginny certainly noticed. Her eyes narrowed sharply at our joined hands, lips pressing together in a thin line before she hurriedly turned away towards her brothers.

"That's very generous, Mr. Weasley," I replied sincerely, giving his family an appreciative glance. "Thanks for having us these last few hours—I’ve really enjoyed myself. You’ve got a fine family. I’d love to spend more time getting to know them all better once Hogwarts starts."

Well, except Ron. But that was definitely better left unsaid.

"You're always welcome, Harry! Truly, it's been our pleasure."

Hermione and I took our leave, stepping away from the Weasleys and heading across the expansive, lively field. Hundreds of brightly colored tents stretched out before us.

Hermione and I wandered through the grounds, weaving our way between tents and clusters of excited witches and wizards. My eyes widened at the sheer scale of it all. It wasn't just big—it was utterly massive. Thousands upon thousands of tents stretched out as far as the eye could see, each packed full of wizarding families cheerfully preparing for the match. With this many people per tent, there had to be easily over a hundred thousand witches and wizards present.

I glanced sideways at Hermione, curiosity bubbling up. "Hey, Hermione, just how big is the wizarding world exactly?"

She furrowed her brows thoughtfully. "You know, I've never really thought about it," she admitted with a slight shrug. "Though if I had to guess, I'd say tens of millions at the very least."

Tens of millions. I let out a low whistle. It was genuinely impressive that such a massive community could stay so hidden from the mundane world. Then again, considering the extensive lengths the devils like Mum, angels, and other supernatural beings went through to conceal their existences, perhaps I shouldn't have been so surprised. 

Wizards likely had their own equally effective countermeasures.

No one wants to get nuked by crazy muggles…

We continued our stroll, gradually noticing that the tents began to grow larger and increasingly luxurious, the occupants adorned in lavish, richly embroidered robes. Clearly, we'd entered the wizarding equivalent of high society. I could practically feel the wealth radiating off this part of the camp.

It was still weird for me to admit I was part of this class of “people” as a devil of clan Sitri as well. In fact, I probably made them all look “poor” in comparison.

She had finished escorting me. Despite the Weasley twins’ teasing earlier, Hermione did indeed have a few close female friends from other houses, and she'd promised to spend some time with them while I met up with Gabrielle and Fleur.

I noticed a faint, almost wistful sadness flicker briefly in her eyes as she realized we'd soon part ways for the evening. Hermione leaned in close, standing on her toes, and gently pressed her soft lips against my cheek. A pleasant warmth bloomed across my skin where her lips had touched.

"Try not to get into too much trouble without me, Harry," she teased softly.

"No promises," I chuckled quietly, giving her a playful grin in return.

Her expression turned impish as she pulled away, deliberately swaying her hips as she walked off. My eyes traced the mesmerizing swing of her curves, and she threw a knowing smirk over her shoulder before disappearing into the bustling crowd.

Shaking my head in amusement, I continued weaving through the dense sea of tents, each more extravagant and opulent than the last. Occasionally, I caught sight of some older witches lounging about, their gazes lingering appreciatively on my face and form. A few of them boldly smirked, playfully waving fingers at me in invitation.

Feeling pleasantly confident, I returned their flirtatious waves with a casual grin, though I kept moving, enjoying the slight pout of disappointment that briefly crossed their faces as I passed by. After all, I had plans tonight, and distractions, no matter how alluring, could wait.

…I eventually spotted them—two stunning figures standing out even amidst the extravagance around us. 

Fleur and Gabrielle Delacour, both easily recognizable by their long platinum-blonde hair and impeccable, striking beauty. They were dressed in tight-fitting robes of deep, vivid blue that clung seductively to every graceful curve of their bodies, highlighting figures that seemed to vividly display their sex appeal. 

My gaze lingered appreciatively, tracing the elegant swell of their hips, the sensual curve of their waists, and the perfect fullness of their breasts.

I called out their names, and both women turned instantly toward me, their eyes lighting up with excitement as wide smiles blossomed across their beautiful faces. 

Gabrielle immediately rushed toward me, her long blonde hair streaming behind her. Without hesitation, she leapt into my arms, wrapping her lithe, tantalizing body tightly against mine. The sensation of her soft curves pressing fully into me sent an exhilarating jolt through my system. Her generous breasts pressed firmly against my chest, and I instinctively tightened my hold around her slender waist, feeling my pulse quicken at the intimate contact.

"Oh, Harry! Tu es enfin là! Je suis tellement heureuse de te voir!" Gabrielle began gushing rapidly in French, her voice filled with delight and relief, lips brushing tantalizingly close to my ear as she spoke. 

To my surprise, I found myself perfectly comprehending every word—realizing suddenly that, thanks to unlocking my devil heritage, languages no longer posed any barrier to me. Understanding Gabrielle’s excited chatter perfectly sent another small thrill of satisfaction rippling through my chest.

I chuckled warmly, responding in fluent French without a second thought. "It's wonderful seeing you again too, Gabrielle. I've really missed you too."

She clung tighter, clearly reluctant to release her hold. As I gently attempted to set her down, Gabrielle playfully pouted, tightening her embrace stubbornly and pressing herself even closer, as if determined to imprint herself permanently against me. Feeling her warm breath caress my neck, I laughed softly, relenting happily and allowing myself to savor the pleasurable closeness a little longer.

Over her shoulder, Fleur approached gracefully, amusement and fondness in her blue eyes as she watched her sister's affectionate display. "Gabrielle," Fleur teased lightly, her melodic voice washing over me like silk, "Give the poor Englishman room to breathe, non?"

Gabrielle laughed softly, finally loosening her embrace enough for me to gently set her down, though her hands lingered possessively on my chest, fingertips tracing delicate patterns that sent tiny sparks dancing beneath my skin.

"Not too much room," Gabrielle whispered mischievously as she leaned closer against me. "I plan on enjoying Harry’s company fully tonight."

"I believe we both intend to thoroughly enjoy your company tonight, Harry," Fleur murmured enticingly, stepping closer and letting her fingertips softly brush along my arm.

The provocative promise behind her words sent heat rushing through me.

Clearing my throat lightly, I forced a casual smile, determined not to become completely unraveled so soon after our reunion. "It's wonderful seeing you both again," I said warmly in perfect French, enjoying the startled yet delighted expressions blossoming simultaneously on both women's faces. They finally noticed I was speaking in their native language.

"Harry!" Fleur exclaimed softly, her eyes widening appreciatively. "When did your French become so… perfect?"

Gabrielle’s lips parted slightly in surprise, her gaze turning inquisitive and curious as she tilted her head. "Yes, Harry, how on earth did you get so fluent?"

I couldn't help myself—I flashed them both a mischievous wink. "Magic," I answered cryptically.

Twin expressions of playful indignation appeared instantly on the sisters’ lovely faces. Both Fleur and Gabrielle pouted prettily, their plush lips pursed temptingly as they regarded me with mock exasperation.

"Tu es impossible, Harry," Gabrielle muttered with an exaggerated huff, though amusement danced in her sparkling eyes. She decisively took hold of my right arm, pressing herself against my side firmly enough for me to feel the enticing softness of her curves. Fleur mirrored her sister's movement on my left side, her slender fingers delicately gripping my forearm. Her tantalizing closeness made my heartbeat quicken noticeably.

"We've been waiting eagerly for you to arrive," Fleur explained, her voice low and alluring. "There's a small festival nearby, something special before the Quidditch match begins. We thought it would be a perfect way to enjoy our reunion."

I smiled broadly, glancing appreciatively between my beautiful companions. "I couldn't ask for more delightful escorts. Lead the way, ladies."

My compliment visibly pleased them, a mixture of pride and playful triumph crossing their expressions. 

French women truly were something else—beautiful, captivating, and delightfully proud in their femininity. Feeling both Fleur and Gabrielle cling possessively to me, I allowed them to guide me confidently through the bustling festival crowds.

As we strolled leisurely among the brightly colored tents and stalls, I couldn't help but notice the numerous appreciative glances—and more than a few envious stares—we were drawing from passersby. Fleur and Gabrielle were clearly aware of it too, taking obvious delight in the jealous attention we received. Their satisfied smiles spoke volumes as they pressed themselves even closer to me, reveling in the envy we stirred.

Gabrielle pointed enthusiastically toward a food stall. "Oh, Harry, you simply must try these pastries—they're utterly delicious."

Laughing lightly, I allowed her to lead me toward the booth, watching with mild amusement as Gabrielle insisted on feeding me small bites herself. Her fingers brushed my lips teasingly with each piece. Not to be outdone, Fleur offered me tastes of exotic chocolates from another vendor.

They knew precisely what they were doing, and I was more than happy to play along. 

We continued exploring the festival grounds, sampling exotic dishes from various regions and partaking in small, playful games set up to entertain visitors. Each activity provided ample opportunities for the sisters to lean into me, their warm bodies pressing enticingly against mine, their breath ghosting against my neck as they laughed softly, whispering sweet provocations into my ears.

At a ring toss booth, Fleur pressed herself provocatively against my side, guiding my hand with a gentle touch, her whisper seductive. "Aim carefully, Harry. You wouldn't want to disappoint me."

I shivered slightly at the implication, focusing intently on the task. Gabrielle laughed playfully, her hand trailing suggestively along my lower back, encouraging my concentration to waver delightfully. It was as if the sisters had silently coordinated their efforts to tease and distract me.

At one point, Fleur subtly brushed her fingertips against mine before intertwining our fingers, her elegant hand warm and inviting. Gabrielle immediately countered by drawing my attention toward her, gently caressing my arm and shoulder in slow, lingering movements. They were competing sweetly and mischievously for my attention, each trying to outdo the other in subtle sensuality.

It was thrilling to experience the push-and-pull dynamic unfolding between the two beautiful sisters. 

Eventually, we paused by a small fountain. Why was there a random fountain out here between all these tents? Who knows, wizards were weird. Either way, it was a nice place to take a break. 

Fleur leaned comfortably against my shoulder, her soft, silky hair brushing lightly against my cheek. Gabrielle moved closer, threading her fingers possessively through mine as she smiled contentedly.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Harry?” Gabrielle asked softly, eyes alight with genuine warmth.

I squeezed her hand gently. “Immensely. I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend the afternoon.”

Fleur hummed approvingly, tilting her head upward to look at me from beneath her eyelashes. Her voice was a silken murmur, filled with quiet promise. “Then the evening ahead shall be even better.”

Her words sent pleasant shivers down my spine.

…Eventually, the lively festival began to wind down, the excited crowds streaming toward the enormous wooden stadium in the distance. 

"We have a private top box reserved with our maman and papa," Fleur informed me softly, her bright blue eyes watching me closely.

I felt my heartbeat quicken slightly at the mention of their parents, a flicker of anxiety tightening in my chest. "Do they, uh, know about me?" I asked hesitantly, glancing between the two beautiful sisters nestled comfortably at my sides.

Gabrielle giggled softly, brushing her fingertips teasingly across my chest. "They know we're bringing a man along, oui—but they don’t exactly know the man we're bringing is the famous Boy-Who-Lived."

I fucking hated that title…

Fleur nodded as she clarified, "We simply told them your name was Harry Sitri. But Papa is head of the French DMLE. He'll surely recognize you from your photograph the moment he sees you."

Yeah, both sisters knew that my last name wasn’t Potter. But they didn’t yet know just what me having the last name Sitri meant. That I was a devil. It wasn’t really something to bring up in letters.

I let out a quiet breath, nodding slowly. "That's fine, I suppose." My voice was casual, though inwardly nerves continued to stir. Meeting their parents was intimidating enough without my complicated reputation being involved.

Unable to resist, I added quietly, "And how exactly do your parents feel about you two being so… close… to the man you brought along?" Even as I spoke, my senses heightened to the alluring warmth of both sisters pressing intimately against me, their soft, perfectly shaped breasts gently molding into my sides. 

Fleur and Gabrielle exchanged amused glances before Gabrielle broke into playful laughter. "Our maman is Veela too, Harry," Gabrielle explained mischievously, her eyes sparkling with playful mischief. "Trust me—she won't mind our closeness one bit."

"Papa, however, might not be quite so enthusiastic about it at first." Fleur paused, an impish smirk crossing her beautiful lips. “But I’m sure he’ll warm up to you…”

Gabrielle giggled wickedly, leaning closer and whispering teasingly into my ear. "Besides, Harry—it's not as though we've fucked, yet."

The deliberate addition of 'yet' sent a thrilling heat through my veins, igniting a pleasant tension deep in my core. Ever since unlocking my devil heritage, I knew instinctively that my hesitation around sex wasn’t necessary. It’s not like I’d ever had it before after all…

The sheer number of alluring witches and devil women openly vying for my attention had made my restraint increasingly difficult, yet I'd held back—but I didn’t know how much longer that was going to last. Probably not very long.

Though at that moment, with both Fleur and Gabrielle's tantalizing curves pressed firmly against me, I certainly wouldn't have minded indulging in such temptations.

Before my thoughts could stray further, Fleur gently tugged my arm, guiding me toward the towering wooden stadium. We ascended toward the luxurious private boxes lining the top levels, the two gorgeous sisters confidently leading the way.

Finally, Fleur and Gabrielle drew me into an extravagantly decorated private box. Immediately, my gaze settled on the alluring figure of a breathtakingly attractive woman lounging elegantly in a chair, her platinum-blonde hair cascading around her shoulders. Her striking beauty and sensual charm unmistakably marked her as Fleur and Gabrielle's mother.

Beside her stood a tall, stern-looking man with sharp, intelligent eyes and a dignified bearing that radiated authority—clearly their father, Monsieur Delacour, the renowned French DMLE director. 

He observed me with careful scrutiny, his expression composed but unreadable.

My attention was momentarily distracted, however, by two stunningly attractive black-haired women standing nearby. Both were dressed in scandalously revealing maid uniforms—tight corsets accentuating their impressive bustlines, short frilly skirts showing off long, toned legs clad in sheer stockings. 

What were they doing here…?

It was Lyra and Lyna Sitri, my personal maids from the Underworld— who I distinctly remembered leaving behind. Both women regarded me with eager, mischievous smiles.

"Hello, Young Master," Lyra purred softly, offering a playful wink.

"We've missed you terribly," Lyna added sweetly, her voice dripping with flirtatious promise.

Momentarily stunned, I blinked at them both, mouth opening slightly.

Fleur and Gabrielle's friendly, seductive smiles vanished in an instant, replaced by identical expressions of icy suspicion as they glared at the devil maid twins. Their grips tightened possessively on my arms, the warmth of their touch abruptly shifting into something defensive, almost territorial.

"And who exactly are these two women, Harry?" Fleur demanded, her silken voice dripping with thinly veiled hostility as her sharp blue eyes scrutinized Lyra and Lyna.

Gabrielle pursed her lush lips into an unhappy pout, glaring daggers at the two maids who continued to smile provocatively at me, clearly enjoying the sudden tension they'd created. "Oui, Harry. Care to explain?" Gabrielle echoed, her tone deceptively sweet yet laced with clear annoyance.

Feeling the awkward weight of expectation pressing down upon me, I cleared my throat, rubbing the back of my neck sheepishly. "These, um, are my personal maids from back home," I explained awkwardly. "Lyra and Lyna Sitri. But I honestly don't know why they're here—they were specifically instructed to remain at my mansion."

Lyra stepped closer, her hips swaying with calculated allure, her sapphire eyes shimmering with playful defiance as she fixed them squarely upon Fleur. "Our apologies, Master Harry," she purred teasingly, smirking at Fleur and Gabrielle in clear amusement. "But we simply couldn't bear the thought of you traveling without proper assistance."

"Indeed," Lyna added mischievously, her seductive voice matching her sister's as she tilted her head slightly, drawing attention to her ample cleavage. "We wouldn't dream of leaving our beloved Young Master unattended and unsatisfied."

The blatant innuendo hung heavily in the air, intensifying Fleur and Gabrielle's already growing irritation. 

I watched as Fleur's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, her eyes narrowing dangerously. Gabrielle's grip on my arm became positively vice-like, nails digging gently yet insistently into my skin.

A fierce rivalry was brewing right before my eyes, an intense competition clearly establishing itself between the Sitri twins and the beautiful Delacour sisters. 

"Harry is perfectly well cared for here," Fleur insisted frostily, raising a graceful eyebrow at Lyra. "We have our own servants to call upon, should we require any assistance."

Gabrielle nodded vigorously, glaring challengingly at Lyna. "Oui, so you two can run along back to wherever you came from. Harry clearly doesn't need or want you here."

Instead of backing down, the devil maids exchanged amused, sultry smiles, clearly enjoying the spirited opposition they faced. Their gazes drifted playfully to me, gauging my reaction with visible delight, deliberately stepping closer to fan the flames of rivalry.

"Is that so?" Lyra purred teasingly, locking eyes with Fleur, her voice dripping with playful insolence. "Yet here we are—sent explicitly by Lady Sitri herself to ensure our Young Master’s every… desire is fully satisfied."

"Indeed," Lyna continued sweetly, her gaze dancing mischievously over Gabrielle's figure before returning pointedly to me. "It's our sworn duty—and greatest pleasure—to make certain Master Harry thoroughly enjoys his trip in every possible manner."

I inwardly groaned, sensing the escalating tension rapidly becoming a powder keg ready to explode at any moment. 

Fleur's expression turned glacially cold, her voice sharp as she retorted swiftly, "Well, we can assure you both—Harry already has all the attention and enjoyment he could possibly require. Your services are quite unnecessary." The dangerous glint in Fleur's eyes clearly conveyed the veiled threat behind her words. 

Gabrielle quickly nodded, her demeanor matching her sister’s intensity as she added, "Exactly—why don’t you two return to scrubbing floors or whatever it is you lowly maids usually do. We have tonight under control, merci beaucoup."

From her chair, Madame Delacour suddenly let out a lilting, amused giggle. She said nothing outright, but she clearly found her daughter’s situation to be funny.

I might have found it funny too, if this catfight wasn’t happening because of me. 

Fleur shot her mother a brief, exasperated glare, clearly unappreciative of her amusement.

Seriously mum… Did you have to send these twins after me…? I groaned in my head.

At that moment, Monsieur Delacour stepped forward, clearing his throat pointedly. "Allow me to introduce myself," he spoke formally, his deep voice slightly strained as though forcing politeness. "I am Jean Delacour. It is… nice to meet you, young man." His tone indicated that he didn't fully mean it, clearly annoyed at seeing the rapidly escalating tension between his daughters and my devil maids.

"A pleasure, Monsieur Delacour. Thank you for allowing me to join you… Sorry about… all this…" I trailed off.

He took a moment before responding. "See that my daughters continue to be treated with the utmost respect," he added gruffly, subtle warning threaded into his words.

"Of course, sir," I responded earnestly.

I could see that he genuinely cared deeply for his daughters’ happiness.

Jean Delacour's sharp gaze locked onto mine, assessing me carefully as his brows drew together thoughtfully. "Harry Sitri, is it?" he finally inquired, tone cautious and probing. "Yet you bear a striking resemblance to Harry Potter. In fact, I’d wager you are Harry Potter."

“Ah, yes,” I said, meeting Jean’s piercing stare head-on. “My given name truly is Harry Sitri. It's… complicated. The world knows me as Harry Potter, but that’s merely because the public remains unaware of certain truths regarding my mother's past.” I hesitated briefly, glancing downward, my voice lowering even further. “Infidelity, to be precise…”

The more and more I had to tell everyone this, at least the less awkward it was becoming for me. And of course, I could never be ashamed of Serafall being my real sire!

Jean’s stern expression softened a bit, replaced momentarily by surprise, and perhaps a glimmer of understanding. 

Apolline Delacour suddenly laughed as she gracefully rose from her seat and approached us. Her every movement exuded a captivating sensuality, making it abundantly clear where Fleur and Gabrielle had inherited their enticing charms. “Now, now—such a delicious scandal,” Apolline teased lightly, the playful smile never wavering from her beautiful face. Her eyes danced mischievously as they lingered appreciatively upon my form. “You needn’t worry, Harry. Your little secret shall remain safe with us. We Delacours are quite adept at discretion. We all have our unpleasant and our pleasant secrets, don't we?” The delicate, flirtatious undertone woven subtly into her words was unmistakable. 

I couldn’t suppress the small, appreciative grin tugging at the corner of my mouth. “Thank you, Madame Delacour. Your understanding means a lot.” My voice was quietly sincere.

Her eyes glinted mischievously. “Do call me Apolline, Harry—I insist.”

Both Fleur and Gabrielle rolled their eyes simultaneously at their mother's obvious teasing, though neither appeared particularly surprised. 

“Truthfully, I don’t believe this secret will need to remain hidden for much longer. Once I officially begin attending Hogwarts this year, the full truth is bound to come out eventually. Until then, I greatly appreciate your discretion,” I told both parents.

Jean crossed his arms, nodding solemnly as he absorbed my words. “If I may inquire, Harry—why exactly have you remained hidden from our world for all these years? The public has searched fervently for any sign of you since that dreadful night so long ago. Why only now did you appear?”

I hesitated slightly beneath his penetrating stare. This guy really had the “bad cop” look down. As expected of the head of his country's magical law enforcement.

Revealing my true identity as a devil wasn’t exactly the easiest conversation starter. How was I supposed to explain that my supernatural heritage had prevented my Hogwarts letter from ever reaching me?

Fortunately, the decision was abruptly taken from my hands. Before I could offer any uncomfortable explanations, a magically amplified voice suddenly boomed throughout the immense stadium, reverberating powerfully through the crowded stands.

“Ladies and gentlemen, witches and wizards—welcome to the highly anticipated 422nd Quidditch World Cup!”

The immense audience roared deafeningly in response, an electric wave of excitement sweeping palpably through the air around us. Relieved, I exchanged quick, knowing glances with Lyra and Lyna. For now, at least, my secret remained safely intact.

…

As the match officially began, everyone in the luxurious private booth settled comfortably into their seats. I couldn't help but notice exactly where Fleur and Gabrielle had inherited their tantalizingly bold sensuality from—their mother, Apolline. 

She had practically draped herself across her husband's side, fingers slowly tracing patterns over his chest as she leaned in close and whispered intimately into his ear. Jean Delacour maintained his dignified composure, though the slight flush creeping up his neck revealed that even he wasn't immune to his wife's provocative teasing.

Seated on either side of me, Fleur and Gabrielle seemed eager to imitate their mother’s behavior. Fleur pressed her body enticingly against mine, her soft curves molding comfortably to my side. Her delicate fingertips idly traced along my forearm, sending pleasant tingles racing beneath my skin. Not to be outdone, Gabrielle leaned even closer, her thigh brushing teasingly against mine as her fingers trailed languidly across my chest. 

Their touch was possessive, yet oddly affectionate—like they wanted to make it explicitly clear whom I belonged to at that moment.

Lyra and Lyna had, thankfully, ceased their earlier teasing of the Delacour sisters. While they were undoubtedly mischievous devils who delighted in stirring up trouble, they were also still dutiful maids at their core. Evidently deciding it was time to behave more professionally, Lyra stepped forward with a polite smile. "Would anyone care for some refreshments?" she asked with practiced charm.

Fleur's eyes lit up mischievously, and she exchanged a glance filled with wicked amusement with Gabrielle. "Actually, yes—I'd like something rather special. Could you perhaps prepare a cocktail for me? Let's see… I'll take a French 75, freshly mixed. Extra cold, please."

Gabrielle giggled softly, clearly enjoying herself. "And I'd like a Blue Lagoon, perfectly chilled, garnished generously with fresh pineapple slices and cherries—oh, and precisely three mint leaves. Merci."

“Um… what?” Lyra asked in surprise.

Lyna nodded with her sister. “We were asking if anyone maybe wanted a cola or some chips—”

I couldn't suppress my amused grin and cut Lyna off. "Better get to it, ladies," I told them calmly, unable to hide the laughter in my voice. "You wouldn't want to disappoint your young master by not getting his friends their drinks, would you?”

Finally I was able to get one back after all their teasing…

The twins pouted in tandem, expressions filled with mock-betrayal, before turning and heading reluctantly to the well-stocked bar at the back of the private box. I overheard Lyra whisper grumpily to her sister, "We were never trained as bartenders, dammit… I have no idea what they asked for."

Lyna huffed quietly in response. "Quiet. We'll figure it out somehow—can't lose face in front of these Veela sluts."

My attention returned to the field below as the booming voice of the announcer reverberated throughout the massive stadium once more. "Ladies and Gentlemen—please warmly welcome tonight’s team mascots!"

Cheerful applause erupted as a shimmering golden cloud of glittering Leprechauns darted playfully across the stadium, delighting the audience with their festive antics. Gold literally rained from the sky causing a small frenzy but I knew from legends it was obviously fake gold.

Moments later, however, the atmosphere abruptly shifted as another group emerged onto the field—Veela. Immediately, a powerful wave of supernatural allure cascaded outward from the graceful, ethereal dancers. Their shimmering gowns clung enticingly to their forms, movements hypnotically seductive as they began a tantalizing dance. I glanced around, noticing the captivated expressions of nearly every man present in the stadium, each staring entranced by the mesmerizing performance below. Surprisingly, however, I felt nothing but mild curiosity and admiration at their elegance—not even the slightest trace of unnatural attraction or compulsion.

Beside me, I sensed Fleur and Gabrielle grow noticeably tense. Fleur's elegant features twisted into a faintly disapproving frown, eyes narrowed slightly in annoyance. Gabrielle pursed her lush lips, looking displeased as she leaned further into my side.

"Is something wrong?" I whispered gently, genuinely puzzled by their reactions. "You two seem upset."

Gabrielle sighed softly, glancing toward the field below with irritation. "They're debasing themselves—reducing our kind to mere cheerleaders for entertainment. It is undignified."

Fleur nodded solemnly in agreement. "Veela allure is something special and sacred—not some cheap spectacle meant to entrance an entire stadium."

My gaze shifted to the other men in the stands once more. Suddenly, a curious thought crossed my mind, and I turned toward the sisters. "Wait—are you two wearing your allure-blocking jewelry right now?" I asked curiously. "Now that I think about it, I haven't felt anything unusual around you all day."

Slowly, pleased smiles spread across their beautiful faces. "No, Harry—we haven't worn them at all today," Fleur admitted.

Gabrielle leaned even closer, her voice dropping seductively as she added proudly, "You're completely immune to our allure. You are truly a man amongst men."

"Immune?" I repeated, intrigued by their delighted expressions. "Does that make a difference?"

Fleur smiled knowingly, "It's a very important trait for any male who intends to take a female Veela as a… mate."

Gabrielle's smile deepened, her slender fingers tracing intricate patterns on my chest once more. "Indeed, Harry," she murmured sweetly.

I could hear Lyra and Lyna quietly growling in frustration from behind the bar area. They were clearly eavesdropping while struggling to mix the elaborate drinks Fleur and Gabrielle had requested. Their whispered complaints and occasional curses brought an amused smile to my lips, though I didn't let it distract me too much from the spectacle unfolding below.

Settling comfortably between Fleur and Gabrielle, I turned my full attention toward my very first Quidditch game. The entire event was, to put it bluntly, chaotic. 

The players zipped rapidly around the stadium, soaring dangerously close to each other at dizzying speeds, diving and maneuvering with reckless abandon. Trying to follow the action was a daunting task, and it didn't help that the rules themselves seemed completely nonsensical to me. Seriously—whose bright idea was it that the Seeker could single-handedly win the game in under a minute?

Still, it was undeniably entertaining, if only for Gabrielle's exuberant reaction beside me. She sat perched right on the edge of her seat, hands gripping my arm so tightly it bordered on painful, but I wasn't complaining. Seeing her so passionately engrossed in the match was genuinely adorable, and every excited gasp or delighted cheer brought a fond smile to my face.

Fleur, on the other hand, was decidedly less interested. From our frequent letters over the past months, I'd learned that she far preferred football to Quidditch, finding the wizarding sport overly chaotic and unstructured. I tended to agree, though I certainly wasn't going to voice such blasphemy aloud within earshot of Gabrielle.

As the match continued, I found myself gravitating more towards conversation with Fleur. The game provided a comfortable backdrop for our increasingly flirtatious dialogue. We chatted lightly about everything and nothing—favorite places in France, amusing stories from her school, subtle jokes and teases that only deepened the warm tension between us. 

Of course, I enjoyed Gabrielle’s lively company just as much. Despite her fierce focus on the match, she occasionally turned toward me, eyes alight with excitement and cheeks flushed attractively. Between particularly exciting plays, she’d lean close, pressing her soft curves firmly into my side as she breathlessly explained the strategies behind certain maneuvers. Her enthusiasm was captivating.

After what felt like an eternity of fast-paced madness, the match finally ended in a genuinely baffling conclusion. Some bloke named Krum—apparently quite famous, judging from the deafening cheers—managed to catch the tiny golden Snitch, and yet somehow his team still lost the game. Honestly, the Seeker position felt like a rigged joke.

Still, the stadium erupted in wild applause, witches and wizards alike cheering with unbridled enthusiasm. Fleur chuckled softly beside me, shaking her head in amusement. "They'll be celebrating this madness all night long," she murmured with a playful smile. "Though perhaps that's not such a terrible idea after all. I could be persuaded to enjoy a bit of partying myself, provided the right company...non?"

At that exact moment, Lyra finally arrived, her expression irritated yet resigned as she begrudgingly set the drinks on a small table in front of us. "Here are your drinks, Mesdemoiselles," she said tersely, narrowing her eyes slightly at the two French witches.

Fleur and Gabrielle stared blankly at the devil maid, clearly unimpressed by her timing. 

Fleur arched an eyebrow, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "It took you over an hour to make these simple cocktails? Truly impressive efficiency."

"I'd strongly suggest improving your bartending skills," Gabrielle added teasingly, sipping delicately from her perfectly garnished Blue Lagoon, her eyes dancing mischievously over the rim of the glass. "After all, Harry deserves the very best service, and clearly you and your sister aren't it..."

Lyra growled softly under her breath.

"Thank you, Lyra," I interjected calmly, giving her a teasing smile of my own. "I appreciate your efforts."

The devil maid huffed softly, spinning abruptly to return to her sister so they could clean up.

Fleur's parents both rose gracefully from their seats, signaling their intention to leave. Jean stretched slightly. "It was an enjoyable match," Jean said politely, his voice gruff but amicable. He cast a discreet glance toward the exit. "Unfortunately, work beckons early tomorrow morning back in France. Will you two be returning with us?"

Fleur exchanged a quick, meaningful glance with Gabrielle before turning her attention back to her father. 

"Not quite yet, Papa," Fleur said with calm confidence. She reached out to gently link her fingers through mine, giving my hand a possessive squeeze. "Gabrielle and I intend to stay longer, perhaps enjoy a few more festivities with Harry."

Jean paused, clearly processing this new information. His sharp gaze shifted towards me, brows creasing faintly as he studied me in a silent moment of fatherly contemplation. 

I gave him a small, wry smile, doing my utmost to project sincerity and confidence without appearing cocky or dismissive. He seemed to silently assess the depth of my intentions, likely weighing his paternal protectiveness against the reality that both his daughters were now grown women, entirely capable of making their own decisions.

Or maybe he was trying to convince himself they weren't both obviously going to be having sex with me later…

"Do be certain to have a delightful evening with my lovely daughters, Harry," Apolline whispered as she gave me a discreet, sultry wink.

Jean immediately cleared his throat sharply, shooting his wife an incredulous, vaguely exasperated look. Apolline merely laughed softly in response, stepping gracefully toward her husband and sliding her arm provocatively around his waist. “Come, my husband. We have our own lovely evening to ourselves.”

Her husband perked up at those words. "We'll trust you girls to behave yourselves then…” he trailed off and quickly moved his wife to leave.

"Of course, Papa," Gabrielle replied sweetly. With an innocent expression in place that entirely was the opposite of her actions throughout the evening thus far.

Once the Delacours had vanished through the private box's door, I turned toward my devil maids. "And what exactly are you two planning to do now?"

Lyra smirked slightly, opening her mouth, but Lyna answered shamelessly before her sister had the chance. "Why, we’ll follow you, of course, Young Master. Our place is by your side, after all."

I let out a resigned sigh, shaking my head slightly at the stubborn twins. "Fine, you can follow—but from a distance, understood? Tonight is still my time with Fleur and Gabrielle."

The maids exchanged petulant, disappointed glances, their lips pursed into matching, exaggerated pouts. 

I gave them a firm stare, unyielding in my resolve. 

After a moment’s hesitation, both finally sighed dramatically in begrudging acceptance.

"As you wish, Young Master," Lyra muttered.

I turned my attention fully back to Fleur and Gabrielle.

"Shall we continue our evening then, Harry?" Fleur purred softly, leaning in just enough that I felt the gentle warmth of her breath caress my neck

Gabrielle matched her sister’s sensuality. "Yes, Harry—there's still plenty more fun to be had. The night is young, after all."

I chuckled softly, allowing myself to be led out of the box, the twins trailing reluctantly behind at a discreet yet watchful distance. 

The night ahead promised to be memorable indeed…

…

Maybe not memorable in the way I'd been expecting.

"What the hell...?" I muttered, staring in disbelief at the crazy scene unfolding before me.

All around, witches and wizards scrambled in blind panic, their screams and shouts piercing through the smoky air. The encampment, previously alive with celebration and festivities, had devolved into utter pandemonium. Flames rose fiercely, swallowing dozens—no, hundreds—of tents, and spreading rapidly. Thick plumes of dark smoke billowed upward, obscuring the once-clear night sky, the acrid scent of burning fabric filling my lungs.

Instinctively, I expanded my senses, feeling a surge of powerful magic—violent magic—clashing nearby. Someone was fighting, casting dangerous spells indiscriminately. But as concerning as that was, the raging inferno consuming the camp clearly took precedence.

“Run for your lives!”

“Death Eaters are attacking!”

“We can't stop them!”

"Why isn't anyone doing anything?" I demanded incredulously, watching as wizards sprinted past the blazing tents without so much as attempting to douse the flames. "They literally have magic wands—how is fire even a problem?"

Maybe Dumbledore had been right, maybe magical people really were far more idiotic than I'd thought possible?

I drew the fake wand Hermione had provided me from my pocket, gripping it tightly. It was just a prop, but necessary to disguise the true source of my magic. I subtly channeled my innate demonic energy instead, casting a large amount of water, extinguishing the roaring flames burning the Delacours’ luxurious tent. 

Beside me, Fleur and Gabrielle stared in shock, their eyes wide with alarm as they took in the sight. Fleur grabbed my arm urgently, her voice strained and desperate. "Harry, we have important items still inside!"

"Quickly!" Gabrielle urged anxiously, already rushing toward the now-safe entrance. "We must get them before it catches fire again."

"Be careful," I warned sharply, feeling a tightening in my chest as they hurried inside. I resisted the urge to follow immediately, forcing myself to remain vigilant outside.

Before I could take another breath, Lyra and Lyna appeared swiftly at my side, their expressions uncharacteristically serious. To my astonishment, they brandished fake wands as well, discreetly mimicking my method by channeling controlled bursts of devil magic into powerful jets of water. 

Together, we swiftly extinguished the closest fires, halting their relentless advance.

"Master," Lyra murmured urgently, eyes flickering anxiously toward me as she effortlessly quelled another blazing tent, "we could extinguish this whole area instantly if you command it. A display of high-class devil magic—"

"No," I interrupted firmly, my voice stern as my gaze fixed determinedly upon them. "Your safety comes first. We can't risk exposure—I won't risk exposing either of you. Just keep assisting discreetly, understood?" I told them.

Both women paused abruptly at my words, their eyes widening with astonishment before their cheeks flushed crimson simultaneously. They exchanged quick glances, soft, joyful smiles blossoming across their beautiful faces despite the chaos surrounding us.

"Aww, Master truly loves us!" they chorused delightedly, their earlier urgency momentarily forgotten as their eyes sparkled mischievously.

I groaned, cheeks heating despite myself. "I didn't say anything of the sort," I grumbled defensively, returning my attention to the chaotic scene before me.

Lyra giggled softly, clearly unconvinced. "Master is adorable when shy."

"Agreed," Lyna purred teasingly. "We'll celebrate your declaration of love later, Young Master—after we deal with this mess!"

I sighed heavily in defeat, deciding that ignoring their antics was likely the safest response.

As Fleur and Gabrielle finally emerged from their tent, clutching several elegant-looking bags and heirlooms protectively against their chests.

"Are you alright?" I asked urgently, quickly stepping toward them.

"Oui, Harry," Fleur replied breathlessly, her gaze filled with admiration as she looked me over. "Thanks to you."

Gabrielle offered me a radiant, grateful smile. "Our hero!"

I smiled at them before deciding on what we should do. "We need to leave now," I said. "This looks like some kind of magical terrorist attack—and it's definitely not our fight. Let the magical police handle it."

But then I glanced anxiously around the burning campsite, my chest tightening as I thought of Hermione and the Weasleys. I could only hope they'd managed to escape the madness safely. As we hurried past the tent I'd seen Hermione enter earlier with her other friends, my heart skipped a beat when I found it empty. I took it as a hopeful sign—Hermione was smart, after all. She'd have gotten away.

I asked Fleur and Gabrielle if they could apparate us.

"We can't apparate yet, Harry," Fleur said, her eyes darkening with worry. "The wards—"

Gabrielle grimaced, finishing her sister’s thought. "They were set up originally to keep drunk wizards from accidentally splinching themselves. Now they're keeping us trapped in here."

The wards could only reach so far.

"Then we should head for the woods," I told the girls firmly, gesturing toward the distant treeline. "We can teleport away from there."

We pressed onward through the panicked crowds, dodging frantic witches and wizards fleeing the destruction. Eventually, we reached the outskirts of the encampment, the treeline finally coming into view.

I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking we'd made it clear—until an abrupt, malevolent pulse of magic prickled at the edge of my senses, jolting me into action.

"Crucio!" a vicious, hate-filled voice roared from behind us.

Instinct surged through me. I grabbed Fleur and Gabrielle around their waists and threw us sideways, tumbling roughly into the dirt as a beam of sickly yellow energy blazed through the spot we'd occupied just seconds ago. The spell struck a nearby tree with a deafening blast, obliterating the thick trunk into a hail of flaming splinters.

"Harry!" Fleur gasped, clutching me tightly, her blue eyes wide with alarm. “That was an unforgivable! Did it hit you?”

"I'm fine," I assured her quickly, rising to a defensive crouch and immediately positioning myself protectively between the sisters and the threat.

Lyra and Lyna stepped forward, hissing in fury as several shadowy figures emerged from the smoke and flames, each face obscured beneath a grotesque, bone-white mask—these were Death Eaters.

My heart slammed hard against my ribs as rage sparked hot in my veins. While I didn't know all the details about the last magical war, these bastards had followed Voldemort. The dark wizard responsible for murdering Lily Evans, my human mother!

One of the masked men stepped forward with a cruel, delighted laugh, his voice dripping with twisted excitement. "Well, well—my eyes didn't deceive me after all, boys! I saw him running and thought it was him. It's Harry fucking Potter! We've actually found him!"

“Holy shit, it is him! I recognize him from the prophet!”

“Look at those sexy bitches with him! Let's kill him and take them for ourselves! It's been decades since we could let loose!”

Fleur pulled out her wand immediately, her eyes blazing with fury as she stepped protectively in front of Gabrielle. From our letters, I recalled she'd won numerous dueling tournaments already, clearly prepared to unleash her formidable magical skills on these bastards. 

My devil maids, Lyra and Lyna, stood on either side of me, their usual playful demeanor completely replaced by cold, murderous anger. I could sense the raw power radiating from them, the restrained devil magic brimming dangerously beneath their tightly controlled expressions.

"Just give the word, Young Master," Lyra growled softly, her normally teasing voice dripping with lethal intent. "We'll torture and kill these worthless insects slowly and painfully for daring to threaten you."

Lyna nodded grimly beside her sister. "They’ll pay dearly for disrespecting our beloved master."

I clenched the fake wand Hermione had given me, before calmly slipping it back into my pocket. It was useless to me now.

"No," I said firmly, my voice quiet but clear, echoing with barely contained rage.

The Death Eaters burst into mocking laughter, jeering openly at what they mistook for cowardice.

“Did he just say no?”

"Ha! Would you look at that! Harry fucking Potter turns out to be nothing but a scared little pussy!" one shouted gleefully.

Another laughed cruelly. "That's right, Potter—accept your pathetic death. And don't you worry, we'll take extra special care of your little sluts here. They’ll be begging for mercy by the time we're done with them!"

My blood boiled violently at their disgusting threats, fury igniting white-hot within my chest. I turned slowly to Fleur and Gabrielle. Both sisters looked frightened yet determined, Fleur gripping her wand with practiced strength, ready to fight and protect her sister to the last breath. Gabrielle stood bravely, though I could see her hands trembling.

"Please don't think less of me," I murmured softly, regret tinging my words as I looked sincerely into their stunned, questioning eyes. "I'm sorry for keeping this from you both… I was going to tell you both tonight. "

Before they could question me further, a sharp, euphoric rush surged through my veins as two devil wings burst forth from my back, unfurling with a sharp snap. 

I heard Fleur and Gabrielle gasp sharply, their expressions a mixture of shock, confusion, and awe.

I allowed my rage to flow freely, letting it radiate off me in waves. The normally invisible blue magic circle tattoos on the backs of my hands ignited brilliantly, casting an eerie glow around us.

The Death Eaters recoiled instinctively, their bravado faltering momentarily as they stared dumbfounded at my demonic wings.

"What the fuck are those?!" one cried out in alarm.

"Is he even fucking human?" another shouted, voice shaking slightly.

"Some kind of filthy half-breed freak! Kill him now!" a third barked frantically, trying desperately to mask his fear with aggression.

I took a slow, deliberate step forward. "The reason I said no to Lyra and Lyna," I stated, "is because you worthless bastards are mine to kill!"

Raising my right hand, I summoned a large, blue magic circle—the proud emblem of my Sitri Clan heritage—manifesting it directly before me. A torrent of pressurized water shot forth instantly, erupting violently from the center of the circle. The powerful jet swept brutally threw the lead Death Eater, cutting cleanly and mercilessly through his neck. His severed head was sent spinning grotesquely through the air, his lifeless body collapsing like a discarded puppet onto the ground.

The remaining four Death Eaters quickly overcame their initial shock, unleashing a frenzied barrage of lethal curses my way. Their screams of rage and desperation filled the air as beams of vibrant, deadly light streaked toward me.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Reducto!"

"Sectumsempra!"

Instinct took over as my enhanced devil reflexes allowed me to perceive each spell clearly, moving as if they were suspended mid-flight. 

I ducked sharply under a sickly-green Killing Curse, feeling its dark magic ripple dangerously close over my head. Another lethal spell exploded into the ground where I'd stood only moments ago, throwing a shower of dirt into the air.

As a third dark curse flew directly at my chest, I swiftly summoned a spinning shield of water, infused with dense demonic energy. The razor-like spell slammed into the liquid barrier, sizzling violently as my shield effortlessly dispersed its destructive power.

"Is that all you've got?" I taunted coldly, rage simmering beneath my fake calm exterior. These monsters had intended to violate my cousins, along with Fleur and Gabrielle, to harm and degrade them. My blood boiled furiously at that thought alone, the fire of my wrath blazing brighter.

With ruthless intent, I surged forward, channeling powerful streams of pressurized water from multiple magical circles, slicing mercilessly through the air with surgical precision. One Death Eater desperately attempted to block the deadly jets, but the razor-thin liquid blades effortlessly cut through his protective spell, slicing into his arms and legs. Blood sprayed gruesomely as he collapsed screaming to the ground, writhing in agony. 

He'd bleed out in seconds. 

A second death eater lunged recklessly toward me, wand raised, madness and terror mingling in his eyes behind his mask. 

Reacting swiftly, I swept my hand upward, conjuring a violent geyser directly beneath him. His terrified shriek echoed through the air as he was propelled skyward by the roaring column of water. At its peak, the geyser vanished abruptly, and I watched impassively as his body plunged screaming back to the earth, smashing brutally against the unforgiving ground with a sickening crack.

The two remaining Death Eaters retreated frantically, exchanging panicked glances beneath their twisted masks. Their bravado had evaporated completely, replaced now by pure, unadulterated fear. 

But I would grant them no mercy.

"No escape," I growled darkly, unleashing another torrential wave of water, snaring one fleeing Death Eater and hurling him violently against a nearby tree. The impact was savage, splintering bark as his spine shattered audibly, his lifeless body crumpling grotesquely onto the dirt.

The final masked figure dropped his wand in abject terror, falling to his knees as he raised trembling hands in surrender. "P-please—" he stammered pitifully, voice shaking uncontrollably. "Mercy! Mercy, Harry Potter!"

I paused briefly, approaching him slowly, fury burning coldly in my chest. "Mercy?" I echoed dangerously, crouching low to stare into his terrified eyes. "Did you plan to show mercy to these women after you killed me?"

He quivered violently, eyes darting frantically between Fleur, Gabrielle, and me. "I-I—I—"

"Exactly," I interrupted mercilessly, straightening to my full height. 

With cold finality, I summoned a pressurized sword of demonic water, stabbing it toward his chest. It pierced him cleanly through the heart, pinning his body gruesomely to the earth below him. His dying scream faded quickly into a pathetic gurgle, blood dribbling from his mouth as his life drained rapidly away.

Silence descended heavily around us, punctuated only by the distant crackling of burning tents and muffled, panicked cries in the distance. 

I turned slowly back toward Fleur and Gabrielle, both sisters staring wide-eyed and breathless at the brutal carnage I'd just inflicted.

Their expressions were unreadable—shock, fear, awe, and even perhaps desire, all blended together. Neither woman moved, their eyes locked firmly upon me.

Lyra and Lyna quickly moved beside me, their expressions radiating deep pride and admiration.

"Beautifully done, Master," Lyra purred approvingly, eyes gleaming with reverence.

"Indeed," Lyna agreed softly, her voice filled with heartfelt devotion. "They deserved nothing less."

My devil wings retracted slowly into my back as I regained control of my surging emotions, allowing my breathing to gradually steady. My gaze returned gently to Fleur and Gabrielle, silently pleading for their understanding and acceptance of this darker, hidden side of myself.

Fleur and Gabrielle snapped out of their shock after a lingering, tense silence.

I stepped cautiously toward them, nerves twisting uncomfortably in my gut. 

I opened my mouth to say something—perhaps an apology or an explanation—but before I could utter a single word, Fleur closed the distance with surprising speed. Her soft hands captured my face, and without hesitation, she slammed her lips forcefully against mine!

Oh!

Her kiss was fiery, possessive, and intoxicating. My mind spun dizzily as Fleur pressed her lush curves against me, her body molding to mine as her tongue plunged deeply into my mouth, passionately exploring and claiming every inch. She tasted sweet and sinful all at once, her velvety lips soft yet demanding. 

I instinctively wrapped my arms tightly around her slender waist, pulling her even closer. 

When Fleur finally pulled away, breaking the heated, breathless kiss, I barely had a moment to catch my breath before Gabrielle stepped closer, her lips instantly capturing mine next. Her kiss was no less fierce—perhaps even more eager—as her tongue boldly invaded my mouth, tasting, teasing, and entwining sensually with mine. Her delicate fingers traced urgently across my back, nails gently scraping and sending sharp jolts of pleasure cascading down my spine. I groaned softly into her mouth, my hands instinctively gripping her hips, pulling her body flush against my already aroused form.

I felt like I was losing myself. 

The rush from my first-ever life-or-death battle still surged hotly through my veins, heightening my senses, amplifying my desires to almost unbearable levels. My heart pounded wildly, every inch of my body humming with energy and lust.

Gabrielle broke our messy, passionate kiss with a satisfied gasp, her brilliant blue eyes sparkling as she gazed up at me. Her flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips were utterly irresistible, and my cock strained desperately against the tight fabric of my trousers, aching to be freed.

I swallowed thickly, as I looked between the two breathtakingly beautiful sisters, their sultry gazes locked heatedly onto mine. 

Any lingering hesitation vanished in that moment. Desire burned fiercely within me, and I finally gave voice to my raw, unfiltered thoughts. "Right now," I growled hungrily as I stared deeply into Fleur and Gabrielle’s eager, expectant faces. "I want nothing more than to fuck you both."

A visible shiver of excitement raced through both women, their eyes darkening with matching lust as they exchanged delighted, knowing smiles. Fleur stepped closer once more, pressing her generous chest enticingly against my own. 

"I can apparate us somewhere private. A luxurious hotel. Originally, Gabrielle and I had planned to invite you back into our tent, but considering everything that's happened, this will be even better, non?"

"Take me there now," I commanded heatedly, allowing my devilish instincts to fully surface. "Tonight, you two beautiful witches belong entirely to me!"

Fleur and Gabrielle both shivered visibly, exchanging thrilled, satisfied glances before eagerly grasping my arms. Without another word, Fleur twisted gracefully, her magic wrapping firmly around us. An instant later, we vanished from the campgrounds in a sharp crack.

– Lyra – 

Lyra sighed dramatically, staring at the spot where her beloved young master had vanished with those annoyingly attractive Veela sisters. The exhilarating aftermath of watching Harry fight and utterly annihilate those Death Eaters still sent pleasant shivers down her spine. Her skin tingled, her pulse raced, and warmth blossomed deep in her core.

But at the same time…

"Did our precious young master seriously just forget about us!?" Lyra complained, pouting prettily as she crossed her arms beneath her ample bust. "After that incredible display, I wanted nothing more than to let him ravish me right here and now!"

Lyna nodded in fervent agreement, her eyes glazed slightly with lingering arousal as she stared wistfully at the spot Harry had been moments earlier. "He was so determined, so commanding… I've never felt so turned on in my life. Did you see the way his muscles flexed when he sliced those bastards apart?"

Lyra bit her bottom lip, eyes fluttering closed briefly as she allowed herself to revel again in the delicious memory. "Oh, yes. And when his devil wings manifested… Maou below , it was like witnessing peak male perfection itself!"

Lyna whimpered softly, rubbing her thighs together subtly in an attempt to alleviate some of the burning ache between her legs. "I hate to admit it, but those Delacour sluts got the better of us tonight. Now they're probably taking turns riding him into oblivion—ugh! Why couldn't he have taken us with him too? We're his devoted, loyal maids! We should be the first ones to share his bed!"

Lyra scowled briefly in irritation, jealousy pricking sharply within her chest as she pictured those annoyingly gorgeous Veela monopolizing Harry’s attentions. She shook her head quickly, forcing a determined smile back onto her face. "Enough whining, sister. We'll have plenty of time to seduce our handsome young master soon enough. He'll realize eventually that no one can satisfy him quite like we can! That’s what we trained for."

Although they’d never actually trained with a man… They had practised with each other.

Lyna sighed, pouting dramatically but nodding in reluctant agreement. "You're right, Lyra. Those witches may be pretty, but they're no match for two eager devil sisters like us."

Lyra glanced around. "I suppose we should clean up this mess and erase the lingering traces of demonic magic our young master left behind," Lyra murmured, reluctantly slipping back into her professional role.

Lyna groaned audibly, shoulders slumping in exaggerated disappointment. "Ugh, really? That's going to take forever!"

Yeah, removing demonic magical taint from an area was a pain in the butt. It tended to want to linger and corrupt anything it touched. But it had to be done. No need for any fallen angels or members of the church to stumble around here and discover the Sitri clan now has an active presence in England.

XXX

Thanks for reading!!! You can check out more of my stories on my profile.

If you want to see more of my work ahead of time feel free to check out: 

https://www. /blog/somestarwaves  

Here is the list of Current Advanced Chapters on there:

The Fallen Gamer ch 346-350 The Finale! 

A systematic tale the hero 36

The Fox Hole 115

That’s not wizard magic 13

That’s not wizard magic 12

The Fox Hole 114

That’s not wizard magic 11

That’s not wizard magic 10

Thats not wizard magic 9

The Blood Queen 64

The Fox Hole 113

Thunder and Black Wings 41

That’s not wizard magic 8

Thunder and Black Wings 41

The Fox Hole 112

The Blood Queen 63

The Blood Queen 62

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 35

The Fox Hole 112

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 34

The Blood Queen 61

Thunder and Black Wings 40

Chapter Text

There is a pretty long lemon in the first half of this chapter. I didn’t want to dedicate an entire chapter to only sex, so this is basically two chapters just put together.

Chapter 8 (~14k words… Yeah, it's a long one.)

(R - 18 Start)

– Harry –

I sat on the edge of the bed in the lavish hotel suite Fleur had whisked us off to. My heart thundered in my chest as I watched Fleur and Gabrielle standing mere feet away. 

My eyes drank in every movement as their slender hands slowly caressed each other’s voluptuous curves, exploring teasingly and intimately over their form-fitting robes. Fleur pressed herself tightly against Gabrielle from behind, her delicate fingers sliding up Gabrielle’s torso, tracing tantalizingly slow circles around her slightly smaller but perfectly firm breasts. Fleur’s lips brushed sensually against Gabrielle’s exposed neck, eliciting a shuddering gasp of pleasure from the younger witch, who pressed herself further into Fleur's seductive embrace.

Gabrielle wasn't passive in their teasing display, her own hands reached behind her, boldly gripping Fleur's luscious arse through the silk of her robes, fingers sinking enticingly into the soft, supple curves. Gabrielle squeezed possessively, prompting a soft moan from Fleur, a sound so sensual and inviting it shot straight to my rapidly hardening cock.

Then they turned to face each other, but not before giving me two near identical teasing winks.

Their lips met in a slow, deep kiss that made my blood boil and my erection painfully strain against my trousers. Fleur's tongue slid sensuously between Gabrielle’s parted lips, caressing her sister’s tongue intimately. The heated wet sounds of their kiss echoed softly in the quiet room, making it nearly impossible to maintain my rapidly fraying control. 

My fingers clenched tightly in the sheets as I desperately fought the primal urge to rip my clothing off and take them both right then and there.

The sensual show escalated further as Fleur's delicate fingers found the clasps at the front of Gabrielle’s robes, slowly, deliberately popping open each button. She deliberately allowed each one to reveal a little more creamy, flawless skin. 

Inch by tempting inch, the robes slid downward, revealing Gabrielle's enticingly shaped collarbones, then the full swell of her beautiful breasts, barely contained by a lacy black bra. Fleur smirked knowingly at me over Gabrielle’s shoulder, obviously enjoying my torment as her fingers teased the edges of Gabrielle’s lingerie, gently grazing her sister’s erect nipples through the thin fabric.

Gabrielle gasped breathlessly, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure, hips shifting provocatively against Fleur’s pelvis. She retaliated swiftly, attacking the clasps of her sister’s robes with eager fingers. Within moments, Fleur’s robes were slipping away, pooling gracefully around her feet. 

My breath caught audibly in my throat at the sight before me.

I could barely restrain the raw, animalistic desire coursing violently through my veins, but somehow, I managed to remain seated—just barely. Fleur and Gabrielle stood face to face now, bodies pressed tightly together, their scantily-clad forms grinding sensually against each other. 

They shared another passionate kiss, Gabrielle’s smaller hands tangling possessively in Fleur’s silky platinum locks as Fleur slid her hand down Gabrielle’s smooth, toned belly, fingertips teasingly dancing around the waistband of Gabrielle’s matching black panties.

I watched Fleur’s slender fingers slip beneath the waistband, eliciting a soft, wanton moan from Gabrielle as her hips bucked eagerly into her sister’s touch. Fleur smirked wickedly, clearly delighted at teasing both Gabrielle and myself so thoroughly.

Breaking their kiss, Fleur glanced provocatively in my direction once more, her sapphire eyes sparkling mischievously. Her seductive voice was a velvet caress, dripping with carnal promise.

"Do you see something you like, Harry?" she purred teasingly.

I swallowed thickly, voice husky and barely recognizable as I managed to rasp out my honest, desperate reply.

"You both look fucking incredible. If you keep this up, I'm not going to be able to hold back much longer."

Gabrielle bit her plush lower lip sensually, eyes smoldering with pure desire as she stepped towards me, hips swaying invitingly. "Then don't hold back," she whispered sweetly. "We’re yours, Harry."

Without waiting another second, I stood up swiftly from the bed, my eyes locked onto Fleur and Gabrielle. My fingers moved rapidly, practically tearing at the buttons of my shirt as I peeled it off my torso, exposing my muscular swimmer's physique inch by tantalizing inch. I noticed Fleur biting her lower lip sensuously, her gaze roving appreciatively over the lean definition of my chest and abdomen.

Gabrielle’s eyes widened. Her breathing hitched audibly, coming in short, uneven gasps, as I reached for my belt. My cock throbbed almost painfully within the tight confines of my trousers, begging desperately to be freed. I wasted no time unfastening my belt and trousers, allowing them to drop carelessly to the floor at my feet, leaving me standing only in my tight boxers, my erection visibly straining the fabric. Grasping the waistband firmly, I slowly slid my boxers down, finally allowing my thick, hard cock to spring proudly free. 

Both sisters gasped softly in appreciation, their eyes immediately drawn downward with unabashed hunger.

“Oh, mon dieu,” Fleur purred huskily, her voice dripping sensual approval as she blatantly stared at my rigid length, clearly pleased with the sight. 

Gabrielle visibly trembled, her pink lips parting slightly as she gazed upon my cock for the first time, her expression a perfect blend of excitement, anticipation, and awe.

Fleur ran a comforting hand softly along her sister's bare shoulder, drawing Gabrielle even closer as she directed a sultry smile toward me. “Harry, ma petite sœur has never done this before," Fleur confessed, voice sultry and thick with desire. "Tonight will be Gabrielle’s very first time.”

My cock jerked and throbbed powerfully at Fleur's words. Gabrielle was a virgin.

Gabrielle bit her lip nervously, but her wide eyes burned with unmistakable desire, excitement radiating clearly from her lovely, trembling body. Fleur soothingly rubbed circles on Gabrielle’s back. “Relax, Gabrielle,” Fleur cooed softly into her ear, her fingers gently tracing the edges of Gabrielle’s bra. 

Gabrielle nodded shyly, emboldened by Fleur’s encouragement. Together, the two sisters began slowly peeling away their matching black lingerie.

I watched as Fleur unclasped her bra first, allowing the delicate garment to fall gracefully away. Her large, exquisitely shaped breasts bounced gently into view, tipped by perfect rosy nipples. Gabrielle quickly followed suit, removing her own bra with shaking fingers, exposing her slightly smaller, but equally tantalizing breasts to me. Her soft pink nipples tightened visibly beneath my lustful stare, begging silently to be touched, kissed, and teased.

My eyes moved greedily downward as Fleur slowly hooked her thumbs beneath the waistband of her panties, pulling them downward sensually, exposing her smooth, completely bare pussy. The pink glistening folds of her sex were already slick and aroused. Gabrielle mirrored her sister, blushing furiously as she shyly tugged her panties down, revealing her own utterly perfect, hairless pussy—pink, untouched, and glistening with arousal.

My cock surged again at the stunning vision before me—the two breathtakingly beautiful sisters standing completely naked, their flawless, sensual bodies displayed openly for me. 

I stepped forward. I wrapped my arms firmly around both Fleur and Gabrielle, feeling their soft, warm skin press enticingly against me. My hands eagerly roamed their incredible bodies, greedily caressing every luscious curve and supple inch they offered me. 

Fleur moaned softly as my palm cupped and kneaded her full, perfect breast, my fingers tugging gently at her already stiff nipple. She pressed herself tighter against me, her slender fingers sliding down my torso until she grasped my throbbing, painfully erect cock. Her soft palm encircled my shaft, slowly stroking up and down with torturous gentleness, eliciting a deep, guttural groan from my lips.

“Your hand is so soft.”

Fleur smiled at that and slowly kept stroking.

My attention shifted momentarily to Gabrielle, whose wide blue eyes stared up at me with shy but intense longing. I lowered my mouth to hers, capturing her soft lips in a passionate kiss, my tongue slipping inside to tease hers hungrily. Gabrielle whimpered sweetly against my mouth.

Breaking briefly from her intoxicating lips, I leaned down further, my lips descending to Gabrielle’s neck, tasting and sucking at the tender flesh just beneath her jawline. She gasped sharply, pressing her lithe body tighter against me as she tipped her head back submissively, giving me full access. 

Fleur’s fingers tightened briefly around my aching cock, clearly approving of my attention to her sister. "Oui, Harry," Fleur purred huskily in my ear, her voice dripping seduction as her free hand guided mine lower to Gabrielle’s waiting breasts. "Touch her—tease her nipples. Make her moan for you."

Spurred on by Fleur’s heated encouragement, my lips trailed downward until I captured Gabrielle’s taut nipple in my mouth, sucking gently yet possessively as my tongue swirled over the hardened peak. Gabrielle moaned louder, hips bucking lightly against my thigh as Fleur continued stroking me slowly, deliberately teasing my cock with every maddeningly sensual movement.

"Oh, Harry," Gabrielle whimpered breathlessly, threading her fingers through my hair, pulling me even closer. "Yes—just like that—please, don’t stop!"

Fleur chuckled wickedly, clearly delighted by her sister’s reaction. She leaned in, whispering provocatively in my ear once more. "Gabrielle loves when her nipples are teased. She’s always been sensitive there. Suck harder, bite just a little—she'll beg for more."

A thrilling question went through my head! How exactly did Fleur know that about Gabrielle?

I increased the pressure of my mouth, tugging gently with my teeth on Gabrielle’s swollen pink nipple. Gabrielle’s cries of pleasure grew louder and more desperate, her body writhing sensually against mine. Fleur rewarded me immediately, speeding up the rhythm of her hand as she massaged and pumped my cock, driving me nearly insane with desire.

Not wanting Fleur to feel neglected, I shifted slightly, releasing Gabrielle’s breast from my mouth and turning my head to Fleur. 

I captured her lips in a ravenous, demanding kiss, our tongues dancing sensually as I slid one hand down her soft, toned stomach. My fingers soon found the wet between Fleur’s thighs, sliding slowly between her slick, swollen folds and eliciting an eager, appreciative moan from her lips. "Yes, Harry—right there," Fleur gasped breathlessly against my mouth, her grip tightening around my cock as her hips rolled forward, encouraging my exploring fingers to penetrate deeper. "Oh—fuck, yes, just like that!"

My cock pulsed and leaked precum heavily, smearing Fleur’s fingers as her grip continued driving me closer to the brink. Gabrielle pressed herself tighter against my opposite side, her mouth seeking mine hungrily once again, her warm tongue tangling seductively with mine. 

I alternated heated kisses between the two stunning blonde witches.

Gabrielle boldly reached downward, joining Fleur’s hand in massaging my hard cock. Both sisters stroked and teased me in perfect unison, their delicate fingers sliding wetly over my thick length, occasionally teasing my sensitive cockhead with their thumbs, smearing precum around my pulsing tip. My breathing grew ragged, a feral growl escaping my lips as I fought desperately to maintain control.

"I need you both," I rasped out. 

“We need you to ‘arry…” Gabrielle purred.

"Before you fuck us," Fleur purred softly, looking up at me through thick, darkened lashes, "you should mark us first, Harry," she suggested.

Fleur grasped Gabrielle’s delicate wrist, gently pulling her sister downward, guiding them both onto their knees before me. My breath grew ragged and uneven as I stared down at the sight of the two stunning, platinum-blonde sisters kneeling submissively before my throbbing cock, their soft, lush lips mere inches away from my aching flesh.

I gasped audibly, my fingers instinctively threading through their silky hair, as Fleur leaned forward first, her eyes locked hungrily onto mine. 

Her tongue darted out slowly, deliberately licking up from the very base of my cock all the way to my sensitive, swollen head. Her mouth felt impossibly warm, wet, and perfect, sending sharp jolts of pleasure radiating throughout my body!

Gabrielle followed Fleur’s lead, her beautiful blue eyes wide with shy excitement as she tentatively pressed her soft lips against my heavy balls, gently kissing and licking the sensitive skin. Her warm, trembling tongue began tracing circles around my sac, her breath hot against my skin, sending deliciously intense shivers dancing along my spine.

The intoxicating sight of both gorgeous sisters worshiping my cock simultaneously nearly drove me over the edge right then and there. Fleur’s mouth moved slowly upward again, this time enveloping my engorged cockhead fully between her plush, pillowy lips. She sucked greedily, swirling her tongue expertly around the sensitive tip, her eyes fixed upwards, filled with sultry promise.

"Mmm, Harry," Fleur moaned softly around my shaft, the vibrations of her voice nearly making my knees buckle. "You taste so good!"

Gabrielle’s confidence grew with each passing moment, her gentle kisses becoming increasingly bold and passionate as she sensually sucked and licked at my balls, her soft moans joining her sister’s as she savored my taste and scent. The sensation of Gabrielle’s eager tongue exploring every sensitive inch of my sac combined with Fleur’s incredible mouth sucking greedily at the tip of my cock left me panting harshly, heart pounding violently against my ribs.

"Oh fuck," I groaned loudly, my hips involuntarily bucking slightly forward, pushing more of my thick shaft deeper into Fleur’s mouth. Fleur hummed appreciatively, effortlessly taking me deeper, sliding several inches down her tight, welcoming throat. 

Her sapphire eyes watered slightly but never left mine, challenging and seductive, demanding my pleasure.

The sisters moved fluidly, sharing my cock and balls seamlessly between them. Fleur popped her mouth off my cock with an audible, erotic sound, saliva connecting her swollen lips to the throbbing head. Gabrielle immediately moved up to replace her, her soft, inexperienced mouth wrapping shyly around my thick shaft. She moaned softly, trembling with nervous excitement as she began tentatively bobbing her head, mimicking Fleur’s movements and quickly gaining confidence!

Fleur's tongue traced lower now, lavishing my balls with slow, wet kisses as she guided Gabrielle with whispered words of filthy encouragement. "That’s it, Gabrielle. Take him deeper. Show Harry how much you need his cock!"

Gabrielle’s eyes fluttered shut briefly, cheeks flushed a deep, enticing pink, emboldened by Fleur’s seductive praise. She eagerly began taking me deeper into her throat, the sensation of her shy, unpracticed lips sliding tightly around my length driving me utterly insane with need.

"Oh Maou , yes! Just like that…" I hissed sharply, gripping Gabrielle’s soft hair tighter, guiding her movements gently as she sucked harder, determined to please me.

Fleur returned to my cock as well, licking slowly up and down the shaft as Gabrielle’s mouth bobbed rhythmically. The two sisters took turns sucking the tip, their lips occasionally meeting around the head of my cock as they shared passionate, wet kisses with my throbbing length trapped erotically between their hungry mouths. Saliva dripped down my shaft, coating me slickly, heightening the sensations further as their tongues moved skillfully together.

Their heated moans echoed in the quiet room, blending perfectly with my own guttural groans of pleasure. 

Gabrielle pulled back slightly, panting for air, her eyes glazed with lust and newfound excitement. Fleur immediately seized the opportunity, eagerly taking my cock deep again, sliding me down her tight throat with practiced ease. She moaned wantonly around my girth, eyes blazing with pure, primal desire as she worked tirelessly to coax my orgasm.

"Mark us, Harry," Fleur repeated hoarsely, voice thick with arousal and dripping with filthy promise. "Cum all over us!"

Her words unraveled my last threads of control, sending me hurtling rapidly toward the brink. With a harsh cry, I tightened my grip on Fleur’s hair, gently pulling her back from my cock at the last moment. Both sisters instinctively tilted their beautiful faces upwards, eyes wide and expectant.

I stroked my slick, throbbing cock furiously, feeling the pressure build to an unbearable crescendo before finally erupting with a grunt! 

Thick ropes of hot cum exploded forcefully from my twitching length, splattering messily across both sisters’ gorgeous faces. Fleur and Gabrielle gasped in delight, tongues darting out eagerly to taste me, savoring the hot, sticky cum dripping slowly down their cheeks and lips.

I groaned, chest heaving with exertion as I continued emptying myself fully, marking Fleur and Gabrielle thoroughly, coating their flushed faces, luscious lips, and even their perfect breasts with my cum. 

"Fuck," I rasped breathlessly, staring in awe at the erotic sight before me. The two breathtakingly beautiful sisters utterly drenched, kneeling submissively with proud satisfaction shining in their eyes.

My cock still pulsed insistently, throbbing painfully with need, even after emptying myself all over Fleur and Gabrielle's flushed, cum-splattered faces. Fleur's eyes met mine as she gracefully rose to her feet, tugging Gabrielle gently upward beside her.

"Come, Harry," Fleur purred seductively, eyes glinting mischievously. "I want you inside me! I want to feel you stretch me wide!"

My breathing grew ragged again at her filthy words, and I eagerly followed the two alluring sisters to the expansive, plush bed dominating the suite. My heart pounded fiercely as I watched them lie down side by side atop the silk sheets, their incredible, naked bodies pressing intimately together. 

Fleur reached out, cupping Gabrielle's flushed, cum-covered face tenderly in her delicate hands. Their lips met in an erotic, open-mouthed kiss, moaning softly as they shared my thick, hot cum between their exploring tongues. 

Watching them swap my seed with such hungry enthusiasm sent fire rushing through my veins, my cock stiffening to an almost painful hardness again.

"Holy fuck," I groaned appreciatively.

Fleur broke their kiss momentarily, running her tongue slowly across Gabrielle's cheek, licking away more of my sticky essence. Gabrielle giggled shyly, blushing adorably yet eagerly reciprocating, her small tongue flicking out to lap at the droplets of cum on Fleur’s plush lips.

"Mon dieu, you taste divine, Harry," Gabrielle moaned softly, shooting me a shy, sultry look.

“It is quite delicious!” Gabrielle added while running her tongue across her lower lip.

Fleur smirked seductively up at me, reclining back against the silk pillows and deliberately spreading her toned thighs wide apart, shamelessly exposing her glistening, soaked pink pussy to my hungry gaze. "Do you like the show, Harry?" Fleur teased breathlessly, fingers trailing invitingly over her wet folds. "Why don't you come and claim what's yours?"

Her explicit invitation snapped whatever thin thread of restraint I had left. With a primal growl, I climbed onto the bed, settling comfortably between Fleur’s invitingly parted thighs. My cock pulsed excitedly at the sight of her slick, dripping cunt, flushed bright pink with arousal, her juices soaking the bed beneath her.

Glancing briefly at Gabrielle, I noticed the younger sister watching wide-eyed with eager curiosity, lying beside Fleur, one delicate hand gently massaging her own untouched pussy in anticipation.

Focusing back on Fleur, I gripped her soft, toned thighs firmly, spreading her even wider, aligning my thick cockhead against her slick entrance. 

Secretly, I felt a brief pang of disappointment, knowing Fleur wasn’t a virgin like Gabrielle would be, but as I pressed slowly forward, burying the first inch of my cock into Fleur’s impossibly tight, gripping walls, that petty thought evaporated instantly!

"Fuck!" I hissed sharply, eyes widening in shock and amazement as Fleur’s supernatural pussy squeezed deliciously around me, massaging every sensitive nerve ending, dragging me deeper into her incredible warmth. It was like nothing I'd ever imagined possible—the tight, silken heat molding perfectly around my cock, seemingly designed specifically to bring me unparalleled pleasure.

"Oh, fuck yes, Harry!" Fleur gasped loudly beneath me, her elegant back arching off the bed, platinum hair spilling messily across the sheets as I sank deeper and deeper into her perfect cunt. "You're so big— Oui! So thick!—Fill me up, stretch me wide!"

"Your pussy feels fucking amazing, Fleur," I groaned honestly, gripping her hips tighter as I bottomed out fully inside her, savoring the breathtaking sensation of her slick inner muscles rhythmically squeezing and milking my cock. "So fucking tight, this pussy is like fucking magic."

Gabrielle watched avidly beside us, cheeks flushed beautifully with excitement and anticipation as her fingers slowly circled her own glistening folds. "Oui, Harry," Gabrielle murmured softly, eyes wide with awe. "Take Fleur—fuck her hard. Show me how you'll claim me next."

I started moving—slowly at first—deliberately savoring every perfect inch of Fleur’s incredible pussy gripping me tightly. She wrapped her long, slender legs around my waist, heels digging insistently into my lower back, urging me deeper, harder.

"Fuck, yes!" Fleur cried desperately, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure as I increased my pace, sliding my cock rapidly in and out of her tight, supernatural cunt. "Yes, Harry—fuck me harder, take me like I'm yours!"

"Mine," I growled possessively, thrusting forcefully into her, watching her generous tits bounce enticingly with each powerful movement. "You're both mine—these perfect pussies belong to me now!"

"Oui, Harry—yours!" Gabrielle whispered breathlessly, eagerly caressing her slick folds, her gaze locked intently onto my cock pistoning relentlessly into Fleur.

"Then kiss your sister again," I commanded Gabrielle roughly, dominance surging hotly through my veins. "Show me how much you both love my cum."

Gabrielle obeyed instantly, leaning forward to passionately kiss Fleur, their tongues tangling obscenely, sharing lingering traces of my seed. Watching them make out hungrily beneath me while Fleur’s tight pussy squeezed rhythmically around my cock sent me soaring toward orgasm again.

"You're both so fucking sexy," I rasped roughly, thrusts becoming increasingly urgent and frantic. "Fleur—Maou, your pussy is incredible."

“Fuck me harder, Harry,” Fleur gasped breathlessly beneath me. Her delicate fingers clawed desperately at my back, nails scraping pleasantly across my skin as she rolled her hips urgently upwards, impaling herself further onto my cock. “Don’t hold back! Veela are made for passionate sex. I can take everything you have to give.”

I growled possessively, gripping her creamy, slender thighs tightly, forcing her legs open until her knees pressed back almost to her chest.

“You want it harder, Fleur?” I rasped roughly. I drew my hips back slowly, savoring the tight, delicious friction of her soaked, supernatural pussy clinging desperately to every inch of my throbbing shaft. “You want me to fuck this tight, perfect Veela cunt like it deserves?”

“Yes—please,” Fleur begged shamelessly, arching her back enticingly, thrusting her incredible breasts upward, rosy nipples swollen and taut with arousal. “Fuck me hard—use me—take me however you want, Harry. I’m yours.”

Gabrielle moaned softly beside us, eyes wide and entranced as she watched, her delicate fingers working furiously over her untouched pussy, hips grinding slowly into her hand. The sight of the younger sister pleasuring herself shamelessly while witnessing my cock plunging deeply into Fleur only heightened my lust further.

Gripping Fleur’s thighs tighter, I thrust forward savagely, burying my cock fully to the hilt in one powerful stroke!

Fleur’s head fell back with a loud, wanton cry, her pussy spasming rhythmically around me, as though determined to squeeze every drop of pleasure from my cock.

“Fuck, Fleur! You’re incredible,” I groaned, immediately setting a punishing, relentless pace, hammering into her tight, silken depths with long, deep strokes. Her tight cunt made obscene, wet sounds with every brutal thrust, echoing lewdly in the lavish suite. Sweat began to drip from my forehead onto her flushed, beautiful face.

“Yes, just like that, Harry!” Fleur screamed, her voice rising in a passionate crescendo of pure ecstasy. Her thighs quivered violently under my fingers, muscles tensing beautifully as she bucked her hips up to meet my punishing thrusts. “Fuck me—fuck me harder—oh god—yes, yes!”

I winced at her use of the G-word, but that didn’t stop my thrusting! 

Gabrielle whimpered audibly, clearly enraptured by her sister’s uninhibited passion. Her soft, innocent voice cut through the sounds of our fucking, adding an extra layer of filth to the scene. “Oui, Harry—take her, claim her. Fuck her until she can’t even think straight!”

I was more than eager to fulfill her filthy request. Growling darkly, I increased my pace once more, my cock slamming brutally into her sister’s soaked cunt over and over, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room along with our passionate cries. Gabrielle watched intently beside us, her slender fingers working rapidly over her virgin pussy as she trembled on the verge of orgasm herself.

“Oui, Harry—claim my sister,” Gabrielle whimpered shyly, voice shaking with desire and awe. “I can’t wait for my turn—watching you fuck Fleur so passionately is driving me insane!”

Fleur’s eyes fluttered open briefly, locking onto Gabrielle’s flushed face as a smirk curled wickedly on her lips. “Do you see, Gabrielle?” she panted breathlessly, voice dripping with sinful pride. “This—this is how a real man fucks his Veela. Oh, fuck—Harry, keep going—don’t stop! I’m close!”

“I’m going to fill you with my cum, Fleur,” I rasped harshly, feeling the intense pressure rapidly building deep within my balls once again. 

“Yes! Cum inside me—fill me up! Make me yours!” Fleur screamed wantonly, her pussy clenching almost painfully around my cock, urging me to finish inside her, to claim her completely. “Do it! Cum for me, Harry!”

I slammed deeply into Fleur one final time, my cock erupting deep inside her tight, supernatural pussy. Hot, thick ropes of cum shot powerfully into her depths, filling her utterly as her pussy spasmed around me, greedily milking every last drop from my cock.

“Fuck yes, Fleur! Take it all!” I growled possessively, hips bucking erratically as I emptied myself fully inside her. 

Fleur trembled beneath me, her own orgasm ripping powerfully through her flawless body, her muscles clenching and releasing rhythmically around my cock as she screamed my name. “Harry—oh god—yes, Harry!” Fleur sobbed breathlessly, holding onto me tightly, her nails digging pleasantly into my back as her own orgasm continued crashing over her in intense, euphoric waves.

Finally spent, I collapsed forward onto Fleur, breathing harshly against her neck as our sweat-slicked bodies tangled together. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had…” I groaned.

Fleur kissed my temple tenderly, a soft laugh bubbling sweetly from her lips as she lovingly stroked my hair. “Mon dieu, Harry,” Fleur murmured breathlessly, voice filled with tender awe. “You were magnificent. Perfect.”

I groaned contentedly, raising myself slightly to gaze deeply into Fleur’s radiant eyes, satisfaction swelling warmly in my chest. “No, Fleur,” I whispered hoarsely, gently cupping her flushed cheek, a slow smile spreading across my lips. “You are perfection given form.”

She blushed beautifully, eyes shining with affection and happiness, before her mischievous gaze shifted playfully toward Gabrielle. Fleur smirked wickedly. “Now, dear sister,” she teased sultrily, voice still breathless. “I believe it’s your turn to experience the passion of a true man.”

She was right about that! Thank the Maou devils like me had supernatural stamina, because I wasn’t ready to quit even after cumming twice now!

I slowly withdrew my still-throbbing cock from Fleur’s perfect, cum-filled pussy, watching with satisfaction as some of my seed leaked out onto the silk sheets beneath us. She whimpered softly beneath me, her eyes hazy and full of bliss as she watched me shift my attention fully to her eager younger sister.

Gabrielle was staring at me wide-eyed, her flushed cheeks glowing with a combination of shyness, nervousness, and intense, barely restrained desire. She was panting softly, her slender, beautiful body trembling visibly as I crawled toward her, eyes locked intently on her untouched, glistening pussy. 

I felt my devil instincts roar in satisfaction at the knowledge that I was about to claim Gabrielle’s precious virginity.

Gabrielle spread her long, shapely legs wider, offering herself fully to me. She shyly met my gaze, biting her lower lip before timidly reaching two delicate fingers down to her pussy. I watched, utterly enthralled, as she slowly spread her slick, pink folds open for me, exposing her tight, virginal entrance.

“Harry,” Gabrielle whispered breathlessly. “My virginity…it’s yours. Please, take it. Make me yours, just like Fleur.”

“Gabrielle…” I settled myself between her spread thighs, positioning my throbbing shaft mere inches from her inviting core. “You have no idea how badly I've wanted to hear you say that.”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath me, her breasts bouncing gently with each breath she took. 

Fleur shifted gracefully beside her sister, reaching out lovingly to caress Gabrielle’s flushed cheek, offering gentle reassurance. “This will be a beautiful moment, ma petite sœur,” Fleur murmured softly, kissing Gabrielle’s cheek tenderly. “Relax and enjoy every second.”

Gabrielle smiled shyly, her confidence bolstered by Fleur’s gentle encouragement. 

I slowly placed one hand possessively upon Gabrielle’s smooth, flat stomach, feeling the rapid fluttering of her pulse beneath my palm as I guided my cock closer, pressing the swollen, sensitive head teasingly against her wet, trembling folds.

“Oh god, Harry,” Gabrielle whimpered sweetly, squirming slightly beneath me in desperate anticipation. Her wide eyes gazed trustingly into mine, her vulnerability and excitement driving me nearly mad with desire. “Please don’t make me wait any longer! I need to feel you inside me.”

I smirked wickedly, deliberately teasing the head of my cock up and down her slick entrance, coating myself in her abundant arousal. I savored the way she gasped and trembled beneath me, hips lifting involuntarily, silently begging for more contact. “You’re so wet, Gabrielle,” I purred deeply, deliberately grinding myself lightly against her sensitive clit, making her cry out softly in surprise and pleasure. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? There’s no going back once I take you.”

“Yes, Harry—please!” Gabrielle moaned desperately, her delicate fingers clutching the silk sheets beside her. “I trust you—I want this— I want you.”

Fleur leaned in again. “She’s ready for you, Harry. Show my sweet sister what it truly means to be taken by a powerful man.”

I took a deep breath as I pressed forward slowly, the head of my cock beginning to penetrate Gabrielle’s impossibly tight entrance. She gasped loudly, her entire body tensing briefly beneath me, eyes widening in shock at the unfamiliar sensation.

“Oh—Harry—it feels so…big,” Gabrielle whimpered nervously.

“I’ll go slow,” I assured her gently, leaning down to capture her soft lips in a tender, passionate kiss, coaxing her to relax further beneath me. My tongue explored her mouth lovingly, feeling her gradually melt into me, her thighs relaxing and allowing me to push deeper inside.

“Oui, Gabrielle,” Fleur encouraged softly, stroking her sister’s platinum hair affectionately. “Relax and breathe—you’ll feel incredible soon enough.”

I carefully pressed forward again, feeling Gabrielle’s untouched pussy stretch slowly, exquisitely around my thick cock. She was impossibly tight—almost painfully so—her walls squeezing me desperately, resisting my entry at first before gradually yielding to my insistent pressure. 

Gabrielle whimpered softly into our kiss, her nails gently digging into my shoulders as I slowly worked inch after inch into her virgin core.

“Almost there,” I murmured tenderly against her lips, feeling the undeniable resistance of her hymen pressing snugly against my cockhead. 

Gabrielle’s breath caught sharply, eyes widening slightly as realization dawned upon her. “I’m ready, Harry,” she breathed softly, determination glittering fiercely in her beautiful eyes. My cock surged powerfully at her words, and with a single, firm thrust, I breached the final barrier, claiming Gabrielle’s innocence completely. She gasped sharply beneath me, her body trembling beautifully, a small cry of mingled pain and pleasure escaping her lips. “Oh—oh god—Harry!” Gabrielle whimpered breathlessly, clutching me tightly as I held myself still, allowing her a moment to adjust to the new sensation. 

Fleur immediately began peppering her sister’s face and shoulders with soothing kisses, whispering words of gentle comfort.

“You’re doing wonderfully, Gabrielle,” Fleur murmured sweetly, eyes full of pride and love as she caressed her sister’s flushed cheek. “Soon you’ll feel nothing but pleasure.”

Gabrielle nodded shakily, meeting my gaze once more with determination. “Move, Harry—please. Show me the pleasure Fleur speaks of! I want it so badly.”

I groaned deeply at her innocent plea, pulling back slowly before thrusting carefully forward again, repeating the motion gradually, allowing her tight, velvety walls to accommodate my size fully. Gabrielle’s initial discomfort quickly began fading into raw pleasure, her soft cries of pain turning swiftly into gasps and moans of pure bliss.

“Harry—oh god—it feels so good!” Gabrielle gasped, hips instinctively beginning to rise and fall beneath me, eagerly matching my steady rhythm. “I never imagined it would feel like this—please don’t stop!”

“I won’t stop, Gabrielle,” I growled possessively, increasing my pace as her pussy relaxed fully around me, allowing my cock to slide smoothly, deeply inside her exquisite heat. “Your perfect little pussy belongs to me now—I’m going to fuck you until you can barely breathe.”

“Yes—oui, Harry—fuck me!” Gabrielle cried passionately, her slender arms wrapping around my neck, pulling me down for another desperate, heated kiss. Her hips bucked insistently beneath me, taking my cock even deeper with each thrust.

Fleur watched with a satisfied, approving smile, her fingers lightly circling her still-dripping pussy as she whispered filthy encouragement to both of us.

I slowed my pace slightly as I thrust into Gabrielle’s impossibly tight pussy, determined to be more gentle and careful than I had been with Fleur. Gabrielle’s tight channel squeezed and pulsed around my cock in a grip that was nearly painful, yet felt incredibly good. It was tighter than anything I'd felt before—even tighter than Fleur's—which I previously thought impossible.

Her pussy was so incredibly snug around me that every slow, shallow thrust required effort to restrain myself from ravishing her too harshly. 

“Oui, Harry,” she gasped sweetly, fingers weaving tighter into my hair as I lowered my head to gently suckle at one of her beautiful breasts. They weren’t quite as large as Fleur’s, but still exquisitely shaped, firm and supple, and tipped with perfect rosy nipples that tightened instantly beneath my mouth. “That feels… so good.” I alternated soft kisses with gentle nips, swirling my tongue around her hardened peaks and sucking gently until Gabrielle’s hips bucked upward with need. “Harry, please… more,” she begged breathlessly, her hips lifting to meet each gentle stroke.

Fleur smiled approvingly beside us, still lazily touching herself as she observed the tender yet passionate way I took her sister. “See, Gabrielle? Didn’t I promise he’d take good care of you?” Fleur purred, her sultry voice thick with desire. She reached out, brushing stray strands of blonde hair from Gabrielle’s flushed face lovingly. “You look so beautiful beneath him, ma petite sœur. Tell Harry exactly how it feels.”

Gabrielle gazed at me with hazy, lust-filled eyes, her lips parted as soft, eager moans slipped forth. “It’s… it’s incredible,” she confessed shyly, her cheeks coloring deeper even as she rocked herself onto my shaft, driving me deeper inside her snug warmth. “I never imagined it would be so… full… so deep.”

“You’re perfect, Gabrielle,” I murmured, trailing my mouth lower, leaving a blazing trail of kisses down the smooth expanse of her stomach. 

Her thighs parted wider around my hips. I thrust in and out with slow, deliberate care. I shifted my angle slightly, deliberately grinding my pelvis against Gabrielle’s sensitive clit each time I bottomed out fully inside her. Her eyes widened instantly, a startled cry of pleasure escaping her lips.

“Oh! Harry! Right there—please do that again!” she pleaded desperately, her hips now eagerly rising to meet every thrust.

“You like that, Gabrielle?” I teased gently, repeating the motion, rolling my hips against her aching bundle of nerves as I sank deeply inside her perfect, clenching pussy. “Do you like feeling my cock stretch you wide?”

“Yes! I love it!” Gabrielle whimpered shamelessly, her innocence fading into pure, carnal need. Her eyes locked onto mine fiercely, demanding more. “Please don’t be gentle anymore! I want to feel everything.”

I groaned deeply at her explicit request, beginning to move a bit faster, a bit harder, unable to fully hold back any longer. Her pussy was still impossibly tight but now slick with arousal, pulling me deeper, demanding that I fill her again and again. “You asked for it,” I growled playfully, gripping her hips firmly and thrusting deeply. “I’m going to ruin you for anyone else, Gabrielle—you’re mine now.”

“Yes, Harry—ruin me,” Gabrielle sobbed passionately, clutching tightly at me as I fucked her with increasing fervor. “I’m yours—only yours—forever.”

The raw emotion and desperation in her voice pushed me closer to the edge, and I leaned down again, capturing her lips in a fierce, heated kiss, our tongues dancing wildly as I fucked her harder into the mattress. Her cries grew louder, hips matching mine thrust-for-thrust, driving herself onto my cock as if desperate to take me even deeper.

I reached between us, rubbing her clit in rapid circles as my cock hammered into her, determined to send her over the edge before my own climax overwhelmed me. “Cum for me, Gabrielle,” I commanded roughly, biting gently at her lower lip. “Show me how good my cock makes you feel.”

Pleasure surged fiercely through my body, rapidly building in intensity, coiling tight and hot at the base of my spine. My hips pistoned powerfully into Gabrielle’s impossibly tight pussy, every deep, rough stroke sending jolts of raw ecstasy radiating outward through every nerve ending. My cock felt painfully swollen, throbbing uncontrollably as her tight walls milked me with every thrust. 

Gabrielle gasped desperately beneath me, her delicate fingers clawing insistently at my back, nails digging sharply into my skin as her hips bucked eagerly upward to meet my increasingly savage pace. "Don’t stop—please don't stop—I'm almost there!" she cried out.

Suddenly Fleur leaned in beside us, her naked body pressing warmly against my side. Her delicate fingers cupped Gabrielle’s bouncing breasts possessively, and she lowered her mouth hungrily, her tongue flicking teasingly across Gabrielle’s sensitive nipples. Gabrielle's moans spiked sharply, her eyes fluttering closed, a look of sheer ecstasy spreading across her flushed, sweat-slicked face.

"Let me help," Fleur purred wickedly before she trailed one hand sensually downward, effortlessly replacing my fingers between Gabrielle’s quivering thighs. She began rubbing rapid, tight circles around Gabrielle’s swollen, aching clit, instantly driving her younger sister wild with renewed intensity.

"Oh fuck, Fleur!" Gabrielle cried sharply, her body jerking beautifully beneath me, her inner walls convulsing rhythmically around my thick cock. Her eyes flew open, glazed with lust and surprise, locking helplessly onto mine as she gasped desperately. "Harry—she's touching me—Fleur's rubbing my clit—it feels so good!"

I growled approvingly, focusing entirely on fucking her now, trusting Fleur’s talented fingers to increase Gabrielle’s pleasure perfectly. My thrusts became deeper and harder. Her flesh rippled each time our bodies met.

"That’s it, Gabrielle," Fleur cooed sultrily against her sister’s breast, her fingertips working expertly over Gabrielle’s throbbing clit, teasing and circling relentlessly. "Feel Harry’s cock stretch you, filling you deep while I rub your tight little clit. You're going to cum so hard for us."

Gabrielle trembled violently beneath me, her muscles tightening and spasming as Fleur’s filthy words drove her swiftly to the edge. Her hips rising urgently, desperately grinding herself onto my cock and Fleur’s relentless touch. "Harry! Fleur! Mon dieu! I'm cumming!" Gabrielle shrieked breathlessly, her voice breaking into desperate sobs of ecstasy as her orgasm suddenly exploded through her, her body arching beautifully off the bed.

Her tight, inexperienced pussy clenched around my shaft, squeezing me in rhythmic pulses, milking me tightly. I hissed sharply, feeling my own climax roar up fiercely, overwhelming all my senses. "Yes, Gabrielle—cum on my cock!" I shouted possessively, slamming brutally into her spasming depths. "Take every drop of my cum inside this perfect little pussy!"

I erupted violently deep inside her, thick ropes of hot cum pumping powerfully into Gabrielle’s convulsing core, flooding her virgin pussy utterly. She gasped and shuddered beneath me, clutching desperately at my body, sobbing my name again and again as she experienced wave after wave of blissful climax.

"Yes! Yes, Harry! Fill me up!" Gabrielle cried passionately, trembling beneath my body, eyes wide and awestruck. 

Fleur purred approvingly, still teasing Gabrielle’s clit gently, guiding her younger sister through the final throes of orgasm. "Good girl, Gabrielle. Such a beautiful climax. Do you feel it? Do you feel Harry claiming you completely?"

"Oui, Fleur," Gabrielle whimpered breathlessly.

I collapsed atop Gabrielle, utterly spent for the next few minutes. My cock remained buried deeply inside her flooded, still-quivering pussy, relishing the sensation of our combined juices leaking slowly around my shaft. "You were incredible, Gabrielle," I murmured tenderly against her flushed skin, pressing soft kisses gently along her collarbone and throat. 

Gabrielle sighed softly beneath me, a radiant smile blossoming beautifully across her flushed face. She wrapped her slender arms tightly around me, pulling me closer and peppering soft, affectionate kisses along my shoulder and neck. "Merci, Harry," Gabrielle whispered lovingly, her blue eyes glittering brightly with happiness and contentment. "You made my first time more perfect than I ever imagined possible."

Fleur smiled warmly beside us, leaning over to gently kiss Gabrielle’s cheek before smiling at me. "And yet, mon amour," Fleur purred teasingly, "the night is still young, and I’m sure the three of us can find even more ways to enjoy each other… non?"

(R - 18 End)

Chapter 8.5:

– Harry –

…After an entire night of incredibly passionate, sweaty sex, I found myself comfortably cuddled up beneath the soft, luxurious sheets with Fleur and Gabrielle. Warm morning sunlight was gently peeking through the curtains, lighting up their beautiful platinum-blonde hair and flawless skin. Our bodies were tangled together, their soft curves pressed lovingly against me, and I couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

Gabrielle lay on my right side, her head resting sweetly on my chest. Her fingers lazily traced slow, comforting circles on my stomach. Fleur was pressed up against my left side, holding onto me as if I might disappear if she loosened her grip. Her fingertips moved gently across my chest, slowly stroking me and clearly telling me she didn't want me getting out of bed anytime soon.

Gabrielle looked up at me with big, playful eyes. "Harry," she said softly, giving me an adorable pout, "you're not thinking of leaving us already, are you? I'm not ready to let you go yet."

Fleur giggled quietly, leaning closer and kissing my shoulder. "Oui, Harry. We’re keeping you here with us a while longer."

I chuckled softly and wrapped my arms around them tighter, enjoying the closeness. "Believe me, ladies, I wasn't planning on going anywhere."

We enjoyed a peaceful moment, quietly savoring each other's warmth. Eventually Fleur looked up at me with curious, gentle eyes. "Harry," she began carefully, "Last night you showed us your wings and your amazing magic…but you didn't tell us before that you're not completely human. Why?"

Gabrielle nodded quickly, looking up at me with understanding eyes. "Yes, Harry. You can trust us with anything. We want to know everything about you."

I took a slow breath, feeling a little nervous, but their loving, encouraging looks helped me relax. "Honestly, I only learned about all this myself recently. Actually, it was the very same day I met the two of you."

Their eyes widened in surprise, encouraging me to continue.

"I actually have two mothers," I explained gently. "My human mother, Lily Potter, died protecting me when I was still just a baby. My other mother, Serafall, is a powerful devil. For most of my life, I had no idea I was half-devil. I didn't even know magic existed until recently."

Fleur and Gabrielle both softened their expressions, their hands squeezing me gently to show their support.

I sighed quietly and continued, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Part of me worried about how you'd feel about it, knowing I wasn't fully human. I was scared you might think differently about me."

Gabrielle immediately shook her head, her expression sweet and caring. "Harry, you didn't need to be nervous about that! We would never turn away from you just because you're different."

"That's right," Fleur agreed, gently touching my face with a loving smile. "Besides, Harry, we're not exactly human either."

I looked at them in surprise. Fleur smiled and leaned closer. "Gabrielle and I aren't quarter-Veela like everyone believes. Actually, we're fully Veela—just like our mother."

"Fully Veela? But…how?"

Gabrielle giggled softly, looking a little shy. "Veela are actually an all-female race, Harry. There aren't any male Veela at all. I imagine we’re a bit like Succubi in that regard… If they are even real," she added with a shrug.

I knew for a fact they are real, but let them continue.

Fleur nodded seriously. "We've always pretended to be only part-Veela because it's safer and easier. Wizards don't usually accept full non-human beings in their midst, so we keep our true nature hidden. The Veela community has no idea how long we can keep the ruse going, but its worked for the past hundred years at the very least. Even our own Papa thinks we are only a quarter Veela…" she seemed a bit sad to admit that.

Gabrielle added her mother Apolline loves their father but he only married her because he thought she was half-veela and not full.

I didn’t really think a relationship built on lies like that was a good idea, but I’m glad it happened because otherwise these two amazing french sisters wouldn't exist, cuddling up naked in this hotel bed with me.

I also felt warmth and understanding spread through my heart. I'd been worried they'd judge me, when in reality they'd dealt with the same kind of worries their whole lives. It made me feel even closer to them. Smiling warmly, I hugged them both tighter. "You're both amazing and beautiful, and nothing could ever change how much I care about you."

Fleur smiled brightly, looking relieved as she leaned forward and kissed me deeply. Her soft lips moved lovingly against mine, her tongue brushing mine gently before she finally pulled back.

Gabrielle immediately followed, leaning up and kissing me sweetly. Her gentle kiss felt full of love and warmth. She slowly pulled away, looking at me with shining eyes and a happy smile. "We've found the perfect man," Gabrielle sighed happily, resting her head back on my chest.

"Yes, and we're not letting him go," Fleur said softly, kissing my neck gently.

I felt warmth spreading through my body again, my cock twitching beneath the soft covers as the beautiful girls pressed even closer against me. Fleur’s smooth thigh gently rubbed against my leg, and Gabrielle sighed happily, her fingers tracing slow, teasing circles lower and lower down my stomach.

I groaned softly, unable to hide my excitement as their wandering hands finally found my rapidly hardening shaft beneath the sheets.

“Oh? It seems our Harry is already eager for more,” Fleur purred playfully, her eyes sparkling mischievously as she gently stroked her fingertips along my cock, teasing me.

Gabrielle giggled sweetly, her smaller, delicate hand slowly wrapping around me and squeezing lightly, sending waves of pleasure racing through my body. “Well, can you blame him? Last night was simply amazing—of course he’d want more…”

Just as Fleur moved lower, clearly intent on sliding beneath the sheets to continue our intimate morning, a sudden bright glow lit up the room, making us all jump.

“What the—?” Fleur gasped, pulling back slightly in surprise.

In the middle of the floor at the foot of our bed, a shimmering blue circle appeared. Before we could react further, Lyra suddenly popped into existence right there, dressed in her usual provocative maid uniform that barely contained her stunning curves. Her deep sapphire eyes swept hungrily over my naked body, lingering shamelessly on my obvious arousal beneath the sheets, before narrowing in annoyance at the two equally nude Veela sisters pressed intimately against me.

Lyra crossed her arms beneath her generous breasts, pushing them up enticingly as she pouted dramatically at me. “Young Master, I’m so very jealous right now,” she whined petulantly. “You left Lyna and me behind last night while you ran off to enjoy these two!”

Gabrielle blushed brightly at being caught in such a compromising situation but didn't let go of me, instead holding my cock protectively in her grip, her cheeks red as she shot Lyra an embarrassed yet defiant look. Fleur openly glared at Lyra, clearly unhappy about the interruption, even as her hand stayed possessively wrapped around my shaft.

I sighed, a little disappointed we’d been interrupted when things were just getting good again. But my attention quickly shifted as I noticed something rather odd: Lyra was clutching a strange-looking little creature by its skinny neck, holding it casually as if it were a misbehaving kitten.

“Lyra, why are you strangling a house elf?” I asked curiously, frowning slightly as the small creature struggled weakly in her grip.

Lyra blinked in confusion, glancing down as if she’d completely forgotten she was holding the elf. “Oh, right!” She shrugged lightly and simply dropped the poor creature onto the carpet. “This annoying thing was snooping around the hotel, trying to steal your mail, Master Harry. I caught him, of course.”

The elf coughed and rubbed its neck, glancing up at me with large, watery eyes. He wore a ragged pillowcase for clothing, his long ears drooping pathetically. “T-that’s not true, great Harry Potter sir!” he squeaked desperately, his voice high-pitched and shaking. “Dobby would never steal from Harry Potter! Dobby only wants to help, sir!”

I raised an eyebrow, utterly confused at whatever was going on. “Wait, who exactly are you? What do you mean, you’re trying to help?”

“Dobby is Dobby, sir! Dobby is a house elf, and he is here to warn the great Harry Potter! Harry Potter must not go to Hogwarts this year, sir! Terrible, dangerous things await him there!” The elf looked terrified as he stared at me pleadingly.

I stared down at the strange little elf named Dobby, feeling utterly confused and more than a bit irritated at the unexpected interruption. Fleur and Gabrielle, though clearly annoyed at the disruption as well, kept their soft hands possessively wrapped around my still-hard cock beneath the sheets. 

It was an odd situation, to say the least.

“Hold on,” I said carefully, narrowing my eyes at the trembling elf on the floor. “Why are you even talking about Hogwarts? I haven't publicly announced that I'm going to attend yet. How did you know?”

Dobby nervously shuffled his oversized feet, his enormous eyes watery and apologetic as he looked up at me. "B-because of the Daily Prophet, great Harry Potter sir! It came out this morning with an article about Harry Potter finally attending Hogwarts! Dobby read it and knew he must warn you!"

I frowned deeply. Someone must have leaked that information. I hadn’t exactly hidden my plans but it wasn't supposed to be common knowledge just yet.

Lyra stepped forward aggressively, her deep blue eyes blazing with suspicion. "If you know something dangerous, little elf, you'd better tell Master Harry right this instant," she demanded harshly, sparks of vivid blue magic crackling menacingly around her fingertips.

Dobby whimpered pitifully, shaking his head as tears streamed down his cheeks. "No, Dobby cannot! Dobby is forbidden! Dobby's master said Dobby must not tell, not anyone!"

Lyra’s eyes narrowed dangerously, her voice turning colder. "I don't really care what your master said—”

"Wait!" Gabrielle interrupted suddenly, her voice gentle but firm. She shot Lyra a chastising look before explaining kindly, "House elves are magically bound to obey their masters. It's not Dobby's fault—he physically can't disobey direct orders. Clearly, whoever owns him is the one plotting against Harry."

Fleur scowled unhappily, her fingers tightening around my cock protectively as she leaned closer to me. "This isn't good news, Harry. Remember, Hogwarts is hosting the Triwizard Tournament this year. It could be dangerous if someone is plotting something against you."

I sighed, knowing Fleur was right but still annoyed at the lack of useful information. Turning back to the trembling elf, I tried a different approach. "Okay Dobby, maybe you can't tell us exactly what's going to happen—but can you at least tell us who your master is?"

Dobby’s eyes grew even wider in panic, and before I could react he started violently banging his head against the nearby bedside table.

"Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby! Mustn't betray Master's secrets!"

"Hey! Stop that!" I shouted quickly, alarmed. Fleur and Gabrielle gasped in surprise, their grips on me momentarily loosening as they stared at the elf’s bizarre self-punishment.

Lyra rolled her eyes, clearly fed up with this nonsense, and with a flick of her hand magically restrained Dobby from hurting himself further. The little elf whimpered softly, still trying uselessly to struggle.

I felt genuine pity for the poor creature. He clearly wasn’t completely right in the head, but his warning did seem sincere, if vague. "Listen, Dobby. I appreciate that you tried to warn me. But seriously—why did you try to steal my mail earlier? Did you really think that would stop me from going to Hogwarts?"

Dobby sniffled sadly, looking miserable. "Dobby thought… Dobby hoped… If Harry Potter believed his friends had forgotten him, Harry Potter might decide not to go to school there…"

I shook my head slightly, feeling even sorrier for the confused little elf. He meant well, even if he was terribly misguided. "Look, Dobby," I said softly, giving him a gentle smile, "thanks for trying to help. Even though you can't tell me exactly what's going on, I still appreciate the warning."

Dobby’s giant eyes filled with wonder and disbelief, his mouth hanging open comically. "Great Harry Potter… thanks Dobby? N-no wizard has ever thanked Dobby before!"

I shrugged awkwardly, unsure how to respond to his awe. "Well, I guess there's a first time for everything."

The elf's whole body seemed to vibrate with emotion as he clenched his tiny fists determinedly. "The great Harry Potter is truly kind and magnificent! Dobby will protect Harry Potter no matter what!" he declared with passionate conviction.

Before anyone could say another word, Dobby vanished suddenly with a loud crack, teleporting away before Lyra could react to stop him. Lyra stared blankly at the now-empty spot, her mouth open slightly in surprise before she huffed irritably, clearly annoyed at being outsmarted by a house elf. "Dammit," she muttered in frustration, turning her attention back to me. "Little bugger got away." She gave me a sulky pout before reluctantly flicking her wrist. A folded letter suddenly flew across the room, landing neatly on the sheets in front of me. "Here, Master Harry. The mail that strange elf was trying to intercept," Lyra said, trying to regain her composure. "It's from Miss Hermione."

I glanced at the letter curiously before suddenly remembering the very pleasant distractions lying pressed warmly against me. Fleur and Gabrielle were still cuddled up close on either side, their hands lightly grasping my shaft beneath the sheets, causing my cock to twitch again eagerly.

"You should probably read your letter," Fleur murmured softly into my ear, though her seductive voice suggested reading the letter was the last thing she truly cared about.

Gabrielle giggled sweetly, giving my cock a gentle squeeze that sent pleasure racing up my spine. "Oui, but perhaps we can continue taking care of Harry while he reads it? He seems rather excited again…"

Lyra scowled jealously, crossing her arms beneath her impressive breasts, though I noticed her gaze lingering hungrily on my aroused form. "Lucky witches…" she muttered enviously.

I chuckled, opening the letter with one hand while thoroughly enjoying the soft caresses from Fleur and Gabrielle beneath the sheets. 

After all, there was no reason I couldn't multitask…

…

Hermione’s letter was exactly as expected—long, detailed, and brimming with her unmistakable concern. As I scanned the neat, tidy handwriting, I couldn't help smiling softly at her obvious worry. 

She wrote that she'd managed to escape safely after the chaos following the World Cup, joining up with some of her school friends before eventually meeting back with the Weasley family. They'd all apparated away safely and she was currently back home. Hermione urged me to send word immediately, letting her know that I was alright. I couldn't help but feel warmth at her genuine worry, deciding that perhaps visiting her in person later would be better than a simple letter.

After spending a few more blissful, lazy hours in bed with Fleur and Gabrielle–where I told Lyra to leave when she wanted to stick around and watch—I reluctantly got dressed and ready to go. Before I left, both sisters wrapped their arms around me warmly, pressing soft, lingering kisses to each of my cheeks.

"Take care of yourself, Harry," Fleur murmured sweetly, stroking my face gently. "We'll miss you terribly until school starts."

Gabrielle hugged me tightly, her body pressing intimately against mine as she sighed softly against my neck. "Write to us often, oui? I'll be counting the days until I can be by your side again."

I smiled warmly at them both, savoring their affectionate embraces. "Don't worry, I'll write whenever I can. And I'll see you both at Hogwarts soon."

Gabrielle’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she glanced shyly up at me, biting her lip softly. "Actually, Harry… I've been thinking about permanently transferring to Hogwarts after this year. That way, I could always be close to you."

Her shy confession sent a delighted thrill through me. Fleur chuckled softly, clearly approving of her sister's idea. I cupped Gabrielle's lovely face in my hands, pressing a tender kiss to her lips. "I'd like that very much."

…I found myself wandering through Diagon Alley a little while later, deciding not to return to the Underworld immediately. Instead, I pulled on a simple black hat and a pair of sunglasses to conceal my identity. 

The last thing I needed was another celebration— riot —of wizards practically worshipping the ground I walked on.

The alley was lively as ever, filled with wizards and witches eagerly going about their business. The cobblestone street was lined with brightly decorated shop windows displaying strange and wonderful magical items. Delicious smells drifted through the air from various restaurants, making my stomach rumble slightly, even though I’d had a nice breakfast at the hotel earlier.

With Hermione's letter in mind, I thought it might be nice to bring her a small gift when I visited. I wandered leisurely from shop to shop, searching for anything that caught my eye. Flourish and Blotts was packed with eager students grabbing their textbooks last minute, so I quickly passed it by—I'd already picked up all my required reading materials.

However, I realized with a slight frown that I'd yet to acquire any potions supplies or equipment for Herbology and Astronomy. Deciding it best to get that out of the way first, I stepped into the apothecary, the strong scent of herbs and potions ingredients immediately filling my nostrils. The shelves were stacked high with jars containing everything from manticore eyes to unicorn horns. 

Things I would have only considered fantasy not long ago.

I quickly gathered up the basics listed in my acceptance letter, along with a few extras Hermione had recommended for advanced potion-making since I had a lot of extra learning to catch up on. The elderly shopkeeper gave me a curious look over his spectacles, clearly wondering who I was beneath my disguise. Thankfully, he didn't pry, and soon enough, I was back out on the crowded street again. All my supplies tucked in a pocket space spell that Sona had taught me.

Next was Astronomy supplies. I entered a small, cozy shop labeled “Starry Night Supplies” that was noticeably less crowded than most places. Inside, shelves were lined with gleaming brass telescopes, star charts, and glittering astrolabes. The ceiling above mimicked the night sky, shimmering softly with magical stars and constellations slowly shifting positions. It was mesmerizing.

A kind young witch with curly brown hair greeted me warmly. "Welcome! Shopping for Hogwarts, are you?" She smiled cheerfully, not recognizing me beneath the hat and sunglasses.

I nodded, smiling back politely. "Yes, I'm looking for a telescope suitable for my classes."

She eagerly led me to several different options, enthusiastically explaining the differences between models. Eventually, I chose a sleek brass telescope engraved with tiny constellations. 

Satisfied, I left the shop feeling pleased at how easy this shopping trip was going, enjoying the friendly anonymity my disguise provided.

I stopped suddenly, my ears catching an angry female voice ringing out clearly from a narrow, shadowed alley branching off Diagon Alley.

“FUCK OFF, MALFOY! I’M NOT INTERESTED!”

I hesitated for a moment, looking towards the source of the shout. It would've been simple to just keep walking, mind my own business, and ignore whatever mess someone else had gotten themselves into. But the raw frustration in the girl's voice resonated with me, tugging at something deep inside.

Besides, I'd never been good at turning a blind eye to bullies or arrogant pricks harassing women. With a small sigh, I adjusted my hat and sunglasses, then strode purposely towards the alley, prepared to intervene if necessary.

The narrow path quickly led me around a corner, revealing the source of the commotion. 

Three young women were cornered against the rough brick wall, confronted by three sneering young men—one clearly the leader, with slick blond hair and an expensive, custom-tailored set of robes. Two larger, brutish-looking thugs stood just behind him, obviously acting as muscle. All of them appeared around my own age, somewhere around nineteen or twenty.

The blond prat was currently focused entirely on the girl standing defiantly in the middle—a cute brunette with wildly messy brown hair that framed a rather lovely face. Her sky-blue eyes glared daggers at the arrogant young man through her round glasses. Even beneath her loose sweater and jeans, it was clear she had an enticingly curvy figure, soft in all the right places. 

It was obvious why she was the one getting harassed, not that her friends weren’t cute either. Just not on this girl's level.

At least her two friends stood protectively at her sides, fists clenched and anger radiating off them.

"Come on, McKinnon," the blond snob drawled smugly, taking a step closer to the brunette as his eyes leered appreciatively at her curves. "We're both purebloods from powerful, ancient families. Stop wasting your time with these pathetic mudblood-loving whores and accept my offer. After all, you wouldn't want to end up like your dear old grandparents, would you?" The threat in his voice was clear.

His two oafish cronies snickered stupidly behind him, their beady eyes roaming shamelessly over the girls’ bodies. 

The cute brunette—McKinnon, apparently—lifted her chin defiantly, refusing to be intimidated. "Fuck off, Malfoy! I'd rather hex my own tits off than spend even five seconds alone with Death Eater spawn like you. For all I know, it was probably your evil father that murdered my grandparents!"

Malfoy laughed coldly, clearly unbothered by her outburst. "Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. But let’s face reality—they chose the losing side. And the way things are going to change at Hogwarts this year, you'll want to ensure you're on the right side, sweet little Jasmine. I might not be so generous later with my next offer…"

I'd heard enough.

"Funny," I drawled loudly, stepping smoothly into view and interrupting Malfoy's pathetic attempt at intimidation. "From where I'm standing, the only one on the wrong side here is you, blondie."

All six heads snapped around instantly, eyes widening as they registered my sudden appearance. Malfoy scowled arrogantly, clearly irritated by the interruption. His eyes narrowed disdainfully at me, running judgmentally over my simple disguise, clearly dismissing me as someone unimportant. "And just who the hell are you supposed to be?" he sneered contemptuously. "Can't you see we're busy here? Fuck off, filthy mudlood!"

…

"Why don't you make me fuck off, weasel face?" I shot back, chuckling lightly at his furious expression.

Malfoy's pale face twisted into an ugly sneer, and his eyes flashed dangerously. Beside him, the two hulking goons cracked their knuckles, attempting—and failing—to look intimidating. Their sheer size was laughable compared to the devils I'd trained with back home when I wasn’t practicing with Sona. 

These guys were just big, dumb humans.

"You insolent little prick!" Malfoy hissed venomously, whipping out his wand. "Do you even know who my father is, mudblood? I'll have him destroy you for daring to insult a true pureblood heir like myself!"

I laughed openly at his pathetic threat, tilting my hat mockingly. "And how exactly are you gonna do that when you don't even know who I am?"

Malfoy's pale cheeks flushed an ugly red. "Then I'll fucking find out after I teach you your place!" He snapped his wand forward furiously, shouting out an incantation, "Furnunculus!"

A streak of bright red magic hurtled towards me, sizzling through the air.

I pulled out my fake wand, casually flicking it upwards just as the spell nearly reached me. Using my imagination powers, I reflected the spell, redirecting it at the giant oaf standing to Malfoy's right.

The big guy didn't even have time to blink. The spell hit him squarely in the chest, instantly dropping him to the ground as he howled in agony. Disgusting boils erupted violently all over his body, bubbling up rapidly and oozing unpleasantly.

I let out a low whistle, genuinely impressed. 

Damn, wizard magic could be disturbingly creative. 

My mother Serafall usually just froze people solid when she got angry, and Sona and I preferred blasting enemies with razor-sharp torrents of pressurized water. 

But festering and popping painful boils? Wizards definitely had some nasty imaginations… I could honestly respect that.

"Crabbe!" Malfoy shouted in shock, staring in horror at his friend writhing painfully on the ground. Rage took over his features again as he jabbed his wand violently towards me. "Goyle, get him! You'll pay dearly for that, you bastard!" he shouted at me, gripping his wand but not using magic again.

Goyle charged at me with all the finesse of a rampaging troll. His huge arms opened wide, clearly attempting to tackle me into submission. 

I almost laughed aloud at the absurdity of it.

Rather than waste magic on this guy, I decided to show off a little of my devil-enhanced strength. With a bored expression, I raised one hand calmly, effortlessly stopping his charge dead in its tracks by catching his shoulder. He gaped at me in confusion, sweat dripping down his round face as he pushed uselessly against my unyielding grip.

"What kind of wizard tries to tackle someone…?" I sighed mockingly.

Before he could respond, I tightened my grip and easily flipped his heavy frame upward, his massive body spinning briefly in midair before slamming brutally onto the ground with a loud crash. The impact sent dust flying around us, and he groaned loudly before falling limp, clearly knocked out cold.

The alley fell silent for a brief moment as everyone gaped at me in shocked disbelief. The three girls pressed against the wall stared, open-mouthed, eyes wide with awe.

"Holy shit," whispered the girl standing to McKinnon's left, she had pretty dark skin, obviously of Indian descent. "This guy's a total badass!"

"Dibs," immediately whispered the other friend, a brunette with a playful smirk.

"You can't just call dibs every time, Lavender, you absolute slut!" snapped the first girl with a mock-annoyed glare.

Lavender tossed her shiny dark hair back, giving Parvati a teasing wink. "I absolutely can, Parvarti! And I just did! He's gonna be mine! That’s what dibs means…"

Jasmine McKinnon groaned softly between them, her face flushed with embarrassment. "Will you two knock it off already?" she hissed. "Malfoy looks seriously pissed now!"

She was right. Malfoy looked ready to explode. His face was nearly purple with rage, and his wand hand trembled uncontrollably as he aimed it directly at my chest. I could sense desperation rolling off him in waves. "You… you'll regret this humiliation, mudblood!" he spat furiously, voice shaking with rage. "You don't even know the depths of trouble you're in now! Crucio!”

I narrowed my eyes, watching carefully as Malfoy's wand flashed with that same sickly yellow curse I'd seen last night. It was one of those unforgivable spells—the same one the Death Eaters had tried and failed to ambush me and the girls with last night. 

I was caught off guard then, forced to dodge. But this time, I was ready.

"Get out of the way!" Jasmine shouted desperately, her eyes wide with fear. "That spell can't be blocked!"

"Move!" Lavender screamed urgently beside her, panic clear in her voice.

But I ignored their warnings, standing my ground. A part of me wanted to see if my imagination-based demonic magic was powerful enough to stop even something like this. 

Time to find out. And yes I knew this was stupid and mom and Sona would both scold me if they found out. Which they would because I’m sure Lyra or Lyna—or both—were definitely stalking me and watching all this right now.

With absolute focus, I raised my fake wand, funneling all my concentration and willpower into the tip. The unforgivable spell raced towards me, crackling with violent energy as if desperate to cause pain.

To everyone's shock the curse suddenly froze just inches from the tip of my wand. It hovered there, trembling with dark magic, completely trapped by my sheer force of will. I grit my teeth, feeling sweat trickle down my forehead from the sheer mental effort of channeling my imagination powers into stopping such a dark spell. My muscles tensed, every nerve on edge, but I held steady, refusing to budge.

I could understand why wizards and witches couldn’t block this spell. It was taking A LOT of power even for a Mid Class devil like me.

Malfoy's jaw dropped open, eyes bulging with disbelief. "What… how is that possible?" he stammered weakly, all arrogance draining from his face.

Jasmine and her friends gasped sharply, eyes wide in stunned amazement. I knew I had to act quickly before my control wavered. I could already feel the strain starting to get to me.

"Here," I growled darkly, my voice cold as mum’s ice magic. "I think this belongs to you!" With a powerful mental shove, I hurled the cruciatus curse straight back at Malfoy. It happened so fast, he didn't even have a chance to move out of the way. 

The spell slammed into him full force, enveloping him in that same awful, sickly yellow glow.

Malfoy instantly collapsed, screaming in absolute agony as his body writhed uncontrollably on the dirty alley floor. The scream was blood-curdling, raw, and filled with the worst pain imaginable. It echoed off the walls, chilling even me. 

The girls shrank back slightly, pressing closer to each other as they watched Malfoy thrash violently on the ground.

Thankfully, since I hadn't cast the spell directly myself, the torture didn't last long—only a few horrifying seconds.

But apparently, even a couple of seconds was more than enough. Malfoy's screams abruptly cut off as his body went limp, twitching slightly. I grimaced slightly, noticing with mild disgust that he'd pissed himself, the stain rapidly spreading across the expensive looking fabric of his robes.

Silence filled the alley for a tense moment as everyone stared in stunned disbelief. I let out a slow breath. I had to admit, even I wasn't completely sure I'd been able to pull that off, but I'd done it.

"Holy shit," Jasmine breathed softly, breaking the stunned silence. Her bright blue eyes stared at me, both fearful and amazed. "You… you just did the impossible… you stopped an Unforgivable Curse."

Lavender stood frozen in shock for several seconds, eyes round with awe, before she finally spoke in a breathless whisper. "Oh…my…god. I am officially calling double dibs now!" Her cheeks flushed deeply. "That was literally the sexiest, most incredible thing I've ever witnessed. My panties are completely soaked!"

Parvati gave Lavender a scandalized glare, elbowing her sharply. "Lavender! Seriously? That’s what you’re going with in this situation!"

Lavender merely grinned shamelessly, shrugging as if she didn't have a care in the world. "Hey, can you blame me? Did you see how badass and hot that was?"

I couldn't help but chuckle softly at their playful bickering, shaking my head slightly as I walked slowly toward the three of them. I tucked away my fake wand, making it clear I wasn't any threat. 

The girls relaxed visibly as I approached, looking up at me with wide, appreciative eyes.

Stopping right in front of Jasmine, I offered a gentle smile. "Are you ladies alright?" I asked quietly, genuinely concerned. "Sorry you had to see something like that—I hope I didn't scare you."

Jasmine immediately shook her head, stepping closer. Her lovely cheeks were bright pink, eyes locked onto mine with clear gratitude and attraction. "No, not at all," she said quickly. "That was... absolutely incredible. But—who are you, really? I've never seen anyone do anything like that before," she asked gently.

I figured there wasn't any harm in revealing myself—especially after what they'd just witnessed. Smiling gently, I slowly reached up and slipped off my sunglasses, letting them clearly see my handsome face.

All three girls gasped loudly in shock, their eyes widening dramatically as recognition instantly flashed across their faces.

"Holy shit," Lavender breathed, looking absolutely stunned. "You’re—you're Harry Potter!"

"Impossible!" Parvati squeaked, covering her mouth in surprise. Her gaze darted frantically over my features, clearly searching for evidence to confirm what she was seeing.

But Jasmine McKinnon looked utterly speechless. Her eyes went impossibly wide behind her cute round glasses, lips parting even more in disbelief. "Is... is it really you?" she whispered softly, stepping closer without even seeming to realize it. "Are you really Harry Potter?"

"...Something like that," I replied vaguely. "I just couldn't stand by and watch a cute girl and her friends being harassed." Realizing it was probably best I didn’t linger too much longer, I smiled warmly at the trio. "It was really lovely meeting you three, but you should probably avoid creepy dark alleys from now on. Unfortunately, I won't always be around to rescue you from assholes like Malfoy."

Then, without thinking much about it, I reached out and gently took Jasmine’s small, soft hand in mine. Her eyes widened adorably as I brought it up to my lips and placed a slow, tender kiss on the back of her delicate skin. Her warm hand trembled slightly in mine, her breathing hitching softly.

As I lifted my gaze again, Jasmine stared at me in stunned silence, her face now an even brighter shade of crimson. “Y—You just—” she seemed too embarrassed to say anything.

With one last gentle squeeze of Jasmine's warm hand, I slowly released her. "Take care, Jasmine," I said softly, savoring the cute little gasp that escaped her lips.

Then I smoothly slipped my sunglasses back on, adjusted my hat, and casually turned to walk away—stepping over the three unconscious guys—leaving the three lovely girls staring after me in astonished silence.

I still needed to get a gift for Hermione. This would probably be the last time I would meet up with Hermione before we were off to Hogwarts.

– Jasmine McKinnon -Potter –

A bit later…

Jasmine sat quietly on one of the worn wooden benches in the peaceful muggle park, her fingers nervously twisting together as her heart continued to pound wildly in her chest. Her two closest friends, Lavender and Parvati, sat beside her, both girls still buzzing excitedly from the incredible events earlier in the alleyway.

Lavender giggled loudly, leaning back casually and flashing a teasing grin at Jasmine. "Oh my god, Jazz, I still can't believe your secret half-brother just swooped in out of nowhere, totally kicked Malfoy's pompous ass, and then kissed your hand like some dashing prince from a romance novel!"

Parvati covered her mouth, giggling as she joined Lavender’s teasing. "Seriously! Talk about a plot twist! You must've felt like you were living in a fairytale!"

Jasmine blushed furiously, her cheeks burning bright red as she desperately tried to ignore the lingering warmth that still tingled pleasantly across the back of her hand. She shot Lavender an embarrassed glare. "Stop it! It’s not funny! And Harry clearly has no idea who I really am! If he knew, he never would've... k-kissed my hand like that," she stammered shyly, her cheeks growing even hotter as she remembered the way Harry’s soft, warm lips had gently brushed against her skin.

Lavender rolled her eyes playfully, smirking mischievously at Jasmine’s embarrassment. "Oh please! He seemed pretty into you, Jazz. Secret brother or not, he was obviously checking you out. Besides," she added with a dramatic sigh, "I called dibs already, remember? So no stealing him from me!"

Parvati nudged Lavender sharply, grinning at Jasmine. "Don't mind her, Jazz. Lav's just jealous because Harry clearly only had eyes for you back there."

Lavender gasped dramatically, clutching her chest in mock-offense. "How dare you, Parv! I claimed dibs fair and square!"

Jasmine groaned softly, hiding her bright red face in her hands. Her friends were impossible, but she adored them anyway. "Can you two please stop teasing me? This is already awkward enough as it is."

But as embarrassed as Jasmine felt, she couldn't deny the fluttering feeling deep in her belly whenever she thought about Harry. 

She bit her lip shyly, her pulse quickening again as she secretly admitted to herself just how incredibly attractive he was—those mesmerizing eyes, strong jawline, and muscular build beneath his simple disguise. Lavender might be shamelessly honest about it, but Jasmine would never openly confess how damp her panties had gotten watching Harry’s incredible display of power and dominance against Malfoy and his goons Crabbe and Goyle.

He’d been her hero today, rescuing her like something out of a fairytale—an impossibly sexy hero, at that.

But the reality of her complicated connection with Harry quickly sobered Jasmine’s dreamy thoughts. 

Her mother, Marlene McKinnon, had once been best friends with Lily Potter, Harry’s human mother, back during their Hogwarts years. A night of drunken mistakes and poor choices had led James Potter— Lily's husband —to have a brief affair with Marlene, resulting in Jasmine’s unexpected birth.

That painful betrayal had utterly destroyed Lily and Marlene's friendship, though ironically, it ended up saving Jasmine and her mother's lives. Marlene had fled to a remote, hidden location with baby Jasmine during the First Wizarding War. 

Jasmine knew she'd probably owe her entire life to that difficult decision, as shortly after, the McKinnon family estate had been brutally attacked and destroyed by Death Eaters, killing Jasmine’s grandparents in the process.

Growing up, Jasmine had always believed she and her mother were the last surviving members of their broken family, especially since everyone thought Harry Potter—the famed Boy-Who-Lived—had died defeating Voldemort as a baby. Her entire world flipped upside down mere weeks ago when the shocking news had spread across the wizarding world like wildfire, revealing that Harry Potter was actually alive!

And now she'd finally met him in the most unexpected way possible, with Harry swooping in heroically and rescuing her from Malfoy’s harassment. Jasmine knew she'd have to tell Harry the truth about their complicated relationship eventually, but right now, the very thought made her cheeks flame even hotter!

Lavender leaned forward eagerly, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "So what are you gonna do now, Jazz? I mean, Hogwarts starts soon, and Harry's gonna be there too according to the Daily Prophet!”

Parvati nodded encouragingly. "Yeah, you should probably tell him sooner rather than later, right…?"

Jasmine groaned softly, dropping her face into her hands again as her stomach churned anxiously. "I know, I know," she muttered miserably. "I'll obviously have to have a talk with Harry at Hogwarts… and make sure he understands the appropriate way he should behave around me—his sister. He can't just go around doing things like kissing my hand!"

Lavender smirked wickedly, elbowing Jasmine playfully in the ribs. "Oh please, Jazz. Don't even pretend you didn't love every single second of it."

"Stop it!" Jasmine hissed, trying unsuccessfully to hide her flustered smile. "I'm serious! He's my half-brother—it's just not right!"

Parvati giggled knowingly, leaning closer. "Right or not, you're definitely attracted to him, Jazz. Admit it!"

"I am not!" Jasmine protested, blushing furiously again.

Lavender scoffed dramatically. "Liar! I saw how you looked at him. And considering how wet my panties got watching him kick Malfoy's ass, I guarantee yours were even worse!"

"Ugh!" Jasmine buried her burning face in her palms, trying not to smile despite herself. "You two are the absolute worst!"

Her friends merely laughed louder, enjoying her embarrassment far too much.

As their laughter subsided, Jasmine let out a soft sigh, finally admitting the truth quietly. "Fine, maybe I thought he was attractive. Okay, really attractive. But nothing can ever happen between us—he's my half-brother! Besides, I'm sure Harry has more than enough girls throwing themselves at him already."

Lavender giggled again, tossing her hair back confidently. "Well, he'll soon find out that none of them are nearly as interesting as us! Especially me, of course!"

Parvati rolled her eyes playfully. "Seriously, Lav, you're absolutely shameless."

"Thank you!" Lavender replied cheerfully, clearly proud of herself.

Jasmine smiled softly, shaking her head fondly at her best friends' antics.

…

…Unknown to the three witches, an emaciated black dog was hiding nearby in a bush, listening in on the entire conversation. Sirius Black’s tail was wagging, happy that his secret god daughter was doing well after all these years, but at the same time, his paws were covering his doggy ears as he tried to not listen in to the three girls all gossiping about how sexy Harry Potter was…

At least now that he was sure “both of James’ kids” were doing alright, he could focus entirely on tracking down the rat!

XXX

Thanks for reading!!! You can check out more of my stories on my profile.

If you want to see more of my work ahead of time feel free to check out: 

https://www. /blog/somestarwaves  

Here is the list of Current Advanced Chapters on there:

The Fallen Gamer ch 346-350 The Finale! 

That’s not wizard magic 14

A systematic tale the hero 36

The Fox Hole 115

That’s not wizard magic 13

That’s not wizard magic 12

The Fox Hole 114

That’s not wizard magic 11

That’s not wizard magic 10

Thats not wizard magic 9

The Blood Queen 64

The Fox Hole 113

Thunder and Black Wings 41

Thunder and Black Wings 41

The Fox Hole 112

The Blood Queen 63

The Blood Queen 62

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 35

The Fox Hole 112

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 34

The Blood Queen 61

Thunder and Black Wings 40

Chapter Text

Chapter 9:

– Sona –

Sona sat comfortably on the soft sofa of Rias’s spacious clubroom, carefully eyeing the chessboard between herself and her second closest friend, Rias Gremory. Sona pushed up her glasses slightly, her pink eyes sharply focused as she contemplated her next move.

Across from her, Rias leaned back gracefully with her bright crimson hair cascaded freely over her shoulders. Beside them, Akeno—Rias’s elegant and beautiful Queen—silently poured hot tea into delicate porcelain cups.

"Here you go, Sona," Akeno said softly, placing the steaming cup gracefully in front of her.

Sona nodded, giving her a polite but reserved smile. "Thanks, Akeno."

She picked up her tea, appreciating its soothing aroma. As Sona sipped, Rias made her next chess move with deliberate care, sliding her queen forward confidently. Sona raised an eyebrow—typical boldness from Rias, but she was already forming a careful counter-strategy in her mind.

"You know, Sona," Rias suddenly began, her voice playful and mischievous, "I heard an interesting rumor the other day..."

Sona glanced up briefly, wary of the playful glint in Rias’s eyes. She knew that tone. "And what’s that?" Sona asked calmly, placing her tea cup gently back on the saucer.

Rias leaned forward eagerly, elbows resting casually on her knees. Her lips curled into a teasing smile as her blue eyes sparkled with excitement. "Apparently your dear sister, Serafall, had a secret love child with a human woman…?"

Akeno gasped softly, her hand lightly covering her mouth in exaggerated surprise. She obviously already knew of course.

Sona rolled her eyes dramatically, letting out a long-suffering sigh. "Honestly, Rias, at this point you can't really call it a secret anymore. Serafall's been bragging nonstop to anyone who'd listen."

Rias giggled softly, tilting her head curiously. "Oh? So it's true? My, my, how scandalous. And what's this boy’s name, hmm?"

Sona felt her cheeks warm immediately, a subtle yet noticeable flush spreading across her usually composed face. "His name is Harry," she mumbled, instantly annoyed at how quickly her blush gave away her embarrassment.

Rias caught the blush immediately, her smile widening wickedly. "Oh, Harry, is it? Interesting. Is there something you’d like to tell us, Sona dear?"

Sona huffed indignantly, adjusting her glasses again in a failed attempt at composure. "There's nothing to tell..."

"Funny," Rias replied teasingly, her voice full of playful suspicion, "because it seems your cheeks got very pink very quickly."

Akeno, sensing her friend's playful attack, immediately chimed in softly, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Ara ara, she’s right, Sona. That blush looks rather telling."

Sona shifted uncomfortably on the plush sofa, cursing internally as her cheeks grew hotter by the second. Damn Rias and her perceptiveness. Damn Akeno and her polite yet relentless teasing. Her heart sped up slightly, memories of brief yet charged interactions with Harry quickly flooding her mind.

"Honestly," Sona protested, clearing her throat to steady herself, "nothing happened between us!"

Rias let out a soft, knowing chuckle, leaning back gracefully and exchanging a conspiratorial glance with Akeno. "Well, I didn't even ask if anything happened, did I? Did I, Akeno?"

Akeno shook her head lightly, her voice dripping sweetly with feigned innocence. "Ara ara, no you didn’t, Rias."

Sona groaned softly, her cheeks burning crimson now. She felt cornered, and it annoyed her greatly how Rias always managed to do that so effortlessly. She glanced away, nervously playing with a lock of her sleek, short black hair, silently scolding herself for falling into their gossip trap.

Rias leaned closer again, her voice lowering to a teasing whisper. "Come on, Sona. You're usually so composed and careful. I’ve never seen you blush like this. Harry must be quite special. And also, you've been away from Kuoh for weeks now, Sona. Did something perhaps happen between you and this mysterious Harry during that time…?"

Sona felt her heart jolt slightly, immediately sensing the dangerous waters she had wandered into. She glanced away quickly, but it was too late. Rias had already caught the subtle blush that was creeping onto her cheeks.

Before she could respond, Akeno leaned gracefully over the table, her smile innocent but her tone entirely too teasing. "Ara, ara, Sona. Were you perhaps doing something scandalous with this handsome boy back home in the underworld?"

"Nothing scandalous happened," she mumbled quietly, lowering her gaze slightly to avoid their intense stares. "I was merely busy training Harry. And when we weren’t training…" She hesitated for a brief moment, memories of their peaceful strolls flooding her mind. "We simply spent time together on walks around the estate gardens, or sometimes explored the nearby devil towns. Going to restaurants or getting ice cream together."

She expected perhaps a soft chuckle or an amused remark, but instead, there was a lengthy silence. Frowning slightly, she dared to glance back up and immediately wished she hadn’t. Both Rias and Akeno were openly gaping at her, eyes wide and expressions full of disbelief.

"You…" Rias began slowly, a delighted smile forming on her lips, "you mean to tell me, Sona Sitri, that you've essentially been going on dates with this Harry guy for the past two weeks?"

Sona’s eyes widened, her throat drying instantly at Rias’s accusation. "Dating?" she spluttered quickly. "We weren’t—no, it wasn’t like—"

"Oh my," Akeno interrupted sweetly, placing one slender hand over her lips in mock surprise. Her violet eyes gleamed mischievously as she glanced knowingly at Rias. "How bold of our dear Sona, quietly nurturing a romantic relationship without telling anyone. So naughty!"

Sona shifted uncomfortably, struggling desperately to regain control of the situation. Her fingers clenched nervously around the hem of her skirt beneath the table, heart pounding madly. "You’re misunderstanding," she protested weakly, her voice betraying the uncertainty she felt. "There’s nothing like that between Harry and me."

But Rias simply grinned knowingly, reclining comfortably against her chair as she exchanged amused looks with Akeno. "So tell us," Rias continued slyly, eyes twinkling. "How far exactly have you and Harry gone? Did you kiss?"

Sona’s blush intensified, feeling impossibly warm beneath their scrutinizing gazes. "Of course not," she muttered defensively, voice almost a whisper.

Rias leaned in further, lowering her voice to a sultry murmur that made Sona’s cheeks flame brighter. "Did you perhaps…take it further?" She paused dramatically, eyes glittering with mischief as she whispered the last word in a hushed, seductive tone, "Did you two fuck?"

Sona’s eyes widened in shock at Rias’s blatant question, her breath hitching sharply. "R-Rias!" she gasped, utterly scandalized by her friend’s frankness.

"Ara, Ara," Akeno teased softly, her eyes dancing in amusement as she regarded Sona’s bright red cheeks. "Judging by her adorable reaction, perhaps they truly did something naughty."

"We didn’t!" Sona insisted desperately, glancing nervously toward the door to ensure no one overheard their teasing. "Nothing inappropriate happened between us."

Rias chuckled softly, shaking her head gently in amusement. "Really, Sona? So innocent? Are we to believe you spent two entire weeks together without any physical affection at all?"

Sona bit her lip hesitantly, feeling her resistance crumble under their expectant stares. "Well," she admitted softly, fidgeting nervously with her fingers, "we did hold hands…a few times."

Akeno raised an eyebrow, leaning forward eagerly, her smile dangerously sweet. "And…?"

"And…" Sona hesitated again, memories of Harry’s warm embrace flashing vividly in her mind. She took a deep breath, her cheeks still flushed as she whispered quietly, "We hugged a few times as well."

Akeno placed a hand over her chest dramatically, feigning shock. "My goodness! Holding hands and hugging! How incredibly lewd of you, Sona!"

Rias giggled lightly, amusement clear in her eyes as she teased further, "Truly scandalous! Who knew you were such a dirty little devil heiress, So-tan!”

"Don’t call me that," Sona retorted. “And who cares about my romantic life anyway. We all know that none of us have been very successful in that department!”

"Ah," Akeno sighed wistfully, leaning her chin lightly onto her palm. Her violet eyes glanced toward the ceiling in playful longing. "I'm so jealous. Where are all the good men for us? All we seem to get here in Kuoh Academy are peeping perverts and boys who can barely hold a mature conversation."

Rias groaned softly in agreement, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Exactly! It's really not fair. Sona finds a charming, handsome gentleman, and all we have are troublemakers constantly trying to catch glimpses up our skirts."

"...Still," Rias continued thoughtfully, "it seems to me that you really have it bad for your dear nephew, Harry. I don't think I've ever seen you blush this much before."

Sona sighed heavily, shaking her head slightly in embarrassment. "Maybe you're right," she whispered softly. "I didn't realize until I came back here how much I already miss him. It's… confusing." Her smile slowly faded into a troubled expression, and she grew quiet, staring at the polished surface of the chessboard in thoughtful silence.

Rias noticed the abrupt change and immediately frowned with concern. "Sona, what's wrong?" she asked gently, her voice softening.

Sona hesitated, biting her lip anxiously as she tried to gather the courage to express the troubling thoughts she'd been having recently. Finally, after a few tense seconds, she spoke quietly.

"Actually," she began softly, her voice barely above a whisper, "I've been having some regrets lately. These past few days… I've been thinking I really messed up."

Rias exchanged a quick glance with Akeno, both of them now clearly concerned. "Messed up?" Rias echoed gently. "What do you mean?"

Sona took a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. "Well, you and Akeno, you're both really close to your peerage members. They're more than just servants to you, Rias—they're like your family. You all genuinely care about each other."

Rias smiled softly, nodding in agreement. "Of course we do! That’s how it’s supposed to be!"

Akeno smiled warmly as well. "We truly cherish each other. Even Koneko when she finishes all the snacks," she added with a giggle.

Sona felt a pang of sadness as she saw their genuine happiness. It only made her realize even more clearly the difference between their bonds and hers. She slowly shook her head, voice trembling faintly as she confessed her true feelings. "But it's not like that with me," she whispered quietly, almost ashamed. "Other than Tsubaki, I don’t really feel close to anyone in my peerage. To be honest, I barely spend any personal time with them. It's all strictly business in the student council." She paused for a second. "Lately, I've been considering severing ties completely..."

Rias gasped softly, eyes widening in shock. Beside her, Akeno's eyes widened as well, a hand rising slowly to her mouth in disbelief. "Sona…" Rias breathed, her voice filled with sudden sorrow. "Are you sure you really want that?"

Sona nodded slowly, her gaze focused on the chessboard, not daring to meet her friends' eyes. Most low-class devils don't know this fact, but the first year after reincarnation isn’t permanent. The transformation into becoming a devil—the process can still be reversed. She could technically reclaim all of her evil pieces and return her peerage members to being human again…

All of them had been acquired in this past year.

Rias stared at her in stunned silence, waiting for Sona to continue.

"I've been thinking about it seriously, especially after how Saji acted toward Harry in our home in the underworld," Sona admitted softly, her voice filled with frustration and disappointment. "He was jealous, petty, and belligerent—nothing like family. And the others… I'm realizing they're all just individuals following orders. There's no real bond between me and them either. In fact, I’m pretty sure half my peerage are more interested in spending time with Saji than me."

Akeno shook her head slowly, looking deeply saddened by Sona's words. "But, Sona, surely you can build those bonds in time…?"

Sona sighed heavily, her eyes filling with quiet resignation. "I don't know. I've tried, Akeno, I truly have. But it never feels genuine. It feels forced. The bond Rias shares with her peerage is something I simply don’t have."

Rias was quiet for a moment, absorbing Sona’s words. Eventually, she spoke again, carefully and gently, her voice thick with genuine concern. "Have you spoken to them about this? Perhaps they'd surprise you."

Sona shook her head slowly, pressing her fingertips anxiously together. "No, but at the end of the day it's ultimately my decision. I shouldn’t spend the next 10,000 years miserable with people that don’t share my interests.” 

Not when the process can be reversed. On top of that, Sona realized that spending time in the underworld with Harry these past two weeks had been the happiest time she’d consistently had in years. Even when Serafall had forced her to play dress-up, Sona hadn’t really minded at all. Or maybe that’s because they were dressing up for Harry.

Either way, Sona was starting to realize that Kuoh wasn’t her “home.” She knew Rias would be upset to hear that she had been thinking about packing up and leaving for the past few days as well. And by thinking—she had pretty much already come to a decision. 

Saying it all out loud just made it feel more real.

– Harry –

I walked through the bustling Muggle side of King's Cross Station, excitement bubbling in my chest as I navigated between families and busy travelers. The chatter and noise of the crowd surrounded me, and I took a moment to absorb it all, smiling broadly. Today was finally here. 

I was going to be attending Hogwarts.

It had been an absolutely insane month. Sometimes I still couldn't believe everything I'd discovered and learned in such a short period.

First, the magical world. My whole life had flipped upside down upon learning that magic wasn't just real, but something that existed inside of me too. My days at my Aunt’s home seemed so distant now. 

Good riddance to that. Although, I did miss Dudley from time to time…

And then the revelation that I wasn't even human, at least not completely. Finding out I was a devil had been shocking but thrilling. 

Most importantly, I had a living mother—Serafall. Meeting her was perhaps the most surprising and wonderful thing of all. Thinking of my mother instantly brought a warm flush to my cheeks. She was incredibly affectionate, beautiful, lively, and yes—clingy. 

But I adored her for it, especially after growing up starved for love.

Thinking back just a few minutes, I lifted my fingers gently to my neck and smiled sheepishly. I was sure anyone who looked closely could spot the faint purple marks dotting my skin. Before teleporting to London, Serafall had decided she needed to “send me off properly.” Her goodbye had been quite memorable, involving a tight embrace, and a few lingering, passionate kisses along my neck.

Was any of that behavior normal from a human family perspective? Obviously not—but we were devils. So actually, our farewell was considered pretty tame…?

I think…?

Shaking my head lightly to clear away those thoughts, I refocused my attention on the station around me. Platform 9¾ awaited, hidden somewhere within this bustling, confusing maze of trains, ticket booths, and hurried Muggles. 

I could've easily asked Hermione to guide me, but I'd insisted on finding it myself. I wanted to enjoy the thrill of discovering it on my own terms.

I carefully examined the station, trying to spot something out of the ordinary. All I saw were brick walls, train platforms, benches filled with waiting passengers, and various shops selling food and magazines. 

How was I supposed to find a secret magical platform here? 

Then I noticed something. A family ahead of me dressed a bit differently. The parents wore oddly mismatched clothing, and the teenage boy pushed a trolley laden with a heavy trunk, an owl hooting softly from its cage. 

Definitely wizarding folk.

Curious, I quietly followed behind, hoping they might lead me to the hidden entrance. As I watched, the boy–teenager–approached a brick barrier between platforms nine and ten. He casually walked straight into the solid wall and vanished.

“Whoa…” I muttered softly, my eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Smiling, I approached the same wall, heart beating faster with anticipation. Okay, Harry, you got this. Just walk through the wall. Simple.

Taking a steadying breath, I passed smoothly through. The world shimmered around me momentarily, and then my vision cleared. 

I emerged onto a new platform, bustling with witches and wizards, steam billowing dramatically from a massive crimson train waiting patiently along the tracks. Hogwarts Express, the sign read clearly in polished gold lettering. 

Excited voices echoed everywhere, teenage and adult students greeting old friends or saying tearful goodbyes to their families. Owls screeched softly, trunks rolled noisily, and magical energy filled the air, almost tangible. 

I stood frozen for a second, overwhelmed by the sight. My new life was really beginning now!

"Harry!" a cheerful, familiar voice called from nearby.

I turned quickly, a wide smile spreading across my face as I spotted Hermione approaching quickly through the crowd. She looked beautiful, curly hair bouncing softly around her face.

"There you are," she said breathlessly, hugging me tightly. Her body pressed warmly against mine, and I couldn't help noticing the enticing fragrance of her perfume. She stepped back, her eyes flicking briefly toward my neck. “Looks like someone gave you quite the send-off…”

My cheeks warmed instantly, but I grinned shamelessly. "Yeah, mom can be a bit affectionate."

Hermione raised an amused eyebrow, lips twitching into a playful smirk. "A bit? You forget I met the woman and watched her grind on your lap the first time she ever met you!"

I chuckled, running a hand sheepishly through my straight black hair. "Maybe more than a bit…"

Hermione laughed gently, linking her arm comfortably through mine. "Well, you're here now. Ready for Hogwarts?" Before Hermione and I moved toward the Hogwarts Express, she suddenly paused, her chocolate-brown eyes twinkling mischievously as she glanced up at me. "Wait," she said softly, pulling me closer with gentle insistence. "There’s something I need to do first."

"What is it?" I asked curiously, eyebrows raised slightly. The platform around us buzzed noisily with conversations and laughter, but nobody seemed to be paying attention to us yet. It was oddly peaceful standing here with her amid the chaos.

She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she leaned upward, rising slightly on her tiptoes as she brought her lips toward the unmarked side of my neck. My heart skipped a beat as I felt the softness of her lips against my skin, her breath warm and inviting. My eyes widened in surprise, but I quickly relaxed into the pleasurable sensation of her tender touch.

Hermione’s mouth moved slowly, deliberately, pressing warm kisses along my neck, gradually turning them deeper, more intimate. She parted her lips slightly, and I felt her tongue tease gently against my skin. It sent a shiver down my spine, warm tingles spreading throughout my body as her kisses turned into soft, sensuous suckling.

My breathing grew quicker, my hands instinctively sliding around her waist as I pulled her closer. I was vaguely aware of the bustling station, the whistles, and the chatter, but all of that seemed far away. The only thing I could focus on now was Hermione’s warm, sensual mouth leaving its mark on me.

"Mmm," she murmured softly, voice vibrating against my sensitive skin, "now everyone can see my mark, too."

I chuckled softly, cheeks heating up as a blush spread across my face. It felt surprisingly thrilling to have her openly claim me, just like Serafall had earlier. Still, I hadn’t expected Hermione—usually composed and reserved—to be this openly bold in public.

She finally pulled back slowly, her lips gently breaking contact with my neck, leaving behind a pleasantly warm spot on my skin. Her eyes sparkled playfully as she gazed up at me, clearly pleased with herself. However, within seconds, the reality of what she'd done dawned upon her, and her cheeks flushed deeply. "Oh my gosh," she murmured, hands immediately rising to her own face in embarrassment. "I can't believe I just did that right here!"

I grinned, enjoying her flustered state, finding her sudden bashfulness adorable. "I didn’t expect you to be so daring," I teased gently, brushing a loose curl softly from her reddening face. "Especially in the middle of King's Cross."

She glanced around nervously, cheeks still a bright shade of pink, before letting out a relieved breath. "Well, luckily nobody seems to have noticed. They’re too busy with their own goodbyes."

I leaned in closer, whispering playfully against her ear, "Still, I'm surprised you're comfortable leaving visible proof of your naughty side out here in public."

Hermione groaned softly, hiding her flushed face against my chest for a moment. "Oh, shut up, Harry. You're enjoying this way too much."

"Maybe," I admitted with a soft chuckle, gently rubbing her back. "But it's okay. I like your naughty side."

She lifted her head slowly, eyes meeting mine shyly yet eagerly. "Just don't tease me too much, alright?"

"Promise," I smiled, leaning down to press a quick, tender kiss to her forehead. "But seriously, Hermione, is there anything else I should know about? Any more surprise attacks planned?"

She laughed lightly, relaxing visibly under my gentle teasing. "Not right now, but I reserve the right to surprise you whenever I want."

"Deal," I agreed, smiling warmly.

Her eyes suddenly grew more serious, glancing nervously toward the train. "By the way, Harry, there's already a bunch of press and photographers swarming around the main entrance to the train."

"Really?" I asked, slightly annoyed. I'd hoped for a quiet arrival at Hogwarts. "I guess my fame precedes me."

Hermione nodded sympathetically. "You can say that again. Fortunately, there’s another entrance to the train, closer to the back. It's hidden behind some of those luggage carts, so no one’s paying attention there. We can easily slip in unnoticed."

"I'd rather not deal with reporters today." I breathed a sigh of relief. 

She smiled reassuringly, taking my hand firmly in hers. Her fingers intertwined with mine comfortably. "Don’t worry, Harry. I've got you. Just follow me."

I grinned, squeezing her hand affectionately. "Gladly. Lead the way, my beautiful girlfriend."

She blushed again at the word "girlfriend," a small but delighted smile forming on her lips. "Come on, you flirt," she said shyly, tugging me gently through the crowded platform.

We carefully navigated around families and students, weaving between piles of trunks, owl cages, and trolley carts, until finally spotting the hidden entrance Hermione mentioned. It was mostly obscured by tall stacks of luggage, allowing us to approach without drawing any unwanted attention

…The Hogwarts Express gently lurched into motion, steam billowing past the windows as the station slowly disappeared from sight. I settled comfortably into my seat, stretching my legs out a bit as I glanced across the compartment at Hermione.

She sat quietly, her beautiful brown eyes firmly fixed on the thick book in her lap. Her legs were neatly crossed, and one hand gently flipped the pages while the other absently twirled a loose curl of hair around her finger. 

Watching her read, completely lost in her own world, was strangely relaxing. I admired how dedicated Hermione was to always bettering herself—she was intelligent, determined, and beautiful. 

I didn't need to constantly hold her hand or talk to her every second we were together to feel connected to her. That's not what a healthy relationship was about.

Turning my head slightly, I watched the green countryside passing swiftly by outside the window. My thoughts began to drift pleasantly when suddenly the compartment door slid open with a loud clatter.

“There you are, oh great stealer of women’s hearts!” called one of the familiar redheaded twins cheerfully, leaning casually against the open door frame.

“You, sir, are a man amongst men!” chimed in the other, giving a dramatic bow.

I laughed softly, shaking my head at their theatrics. "Fred, George—what did I do to earn such praise today?"

Fred grinned mischievously, exchanging a knowing look with his twin brother. “Well, George and I saw you strolling around the fairgrounds at the Quidditch World Cup, arm-in-arm with not one, but two stunningly gorgeous blonde Veela girls! TWO!”

I guess they saw Fleur and Gabrielle then. I wondered what they’d think if I told them about the passionate night I had with the two gorgeous sisters afterwards?

George raised his hand dramatically, as though pledging an oath. “And though we were tempted to come congratulate you right then and there, we resisted. It would’ve violated the sacred bro-code!”

“Oh, of course, the sacred bro-code,” I chuckled. “Thanks for respecting that.”

Standing behind them was Ginny Weasley, arms crossed beneath her chest, causing her figure to become even more noticeable. She rolled her eyes dramatically, releasing a soft huff of exasperation. Then her cheeks reddened slightly, and her eyes softened shyly as she looked directly at me. Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “Um… Harry, would you mind if I sat here with you? I usually sit with my best friend Luna, but she seems to have wandered off somewhere on the train.”

“Sure, Ginny, there's plenty of room,” I said warmly, gesturing toward the empty spot next to me. 

Hermione glanced up briefly from her book but didn’t say no either.

Ginny grinned triumphantly, though Hermione missed the sly smirk that flickered briefly across the redhead's face. Without hesitation, Ginny stepped in and smoothly slid down next to me, deliberately scooting so close that our thighs pressed gently together. 

I raised an eyebrow slightly, offering Ginny an amused smile. She met my gaze boldly.

I turned my attention back to the twins, trying to ignore Ginny's obvious proximity. “Are you two joining us as well?” I asked curiously, gesturing at the empty spaces.

Fred shook his head. “Nah, Harry. We have… pressing business elsewhere.”

“Pressing business with our lovely girlfriend!” George winked playfully, leaning slightly into the compartment. “However, would you mind terribly if we stored our trunk in here? We might have some, shall we say… contraband… that we'd rather keep out of the prefects' prying eyes.”

I chuckled softly, nodding easily. “Sure thing. Just don't blame me if Hermione decides to inspect it later.”

Hermione snorted quietly from behind her book, clearly amused but not looking up. “As long as nothing explodes, I won’t be inspecting anything,” she said calmly, flipping another page.

Fred and George gave matching grins of appreciation, simultaneously drawing their wands and levitating their heavy trunks neatly up onto the luggage racks above.

“Much appreciated, mates,” George said.

“Enjoy your company!” Fred added, giving a knowing glance toward Ginny before they swiftly retreated down the corridor.

…Ginny and I chatted casually as the Hogwarts Express rumbled steadily along its tracks. The green countryside zipped by outside the window, creating a relaxing background to our conversation. Ginny had gradually moved even closer, her thigh pressed warmly against mine, giving me occasional shy glances and playful smiles.

"So, Harry," Ginny began curiously. "Have you thought about which Hogwarts house you'd like to join?"

I grinned mischievously at her question, my gaze flickering playfully over to Hermione as well. Hermione sat comfortably opposite us, still absorbed in her thick book, but I noticed her eyes subtly glance up at Ginny's question. Perfect timing.

"Well," I began thoughtfully, leaning back in my seat comfortably, "I already know two very beautiful girls who happen to be in Gryffindor, so honestly, why would I even consider another house?"

Ginny's cheeks immediately flushed a bright red, matching perfectly with her fiery hair, and a delighted, shy smile spread across her lips. 

Hermione's reaction was less obvious—her face stayed mostly hidden behind her book—but her leg reached across to kick me playfully in the shin. Her foot lingered just a second longer than necessary, sliding slowly down my leg before pulling back.

I chuckled softly, enjoying the teasing interactions from both girls. Ginny's voice pulled me from my thoughts again, sounding playful yet genuinely interested. "I guess you'll fit in Gryffindor just fine then. You're definitely brave enough to openly flirt like this in public."

"I can't help it," I joked lightly, giving Ginny a charming smile that made her blush deepen even more. "When I see someone cute, I just have to let them know."

Ginny giggled softly, lightly pushing her shoulder into mine. "Careful, Harry. Keep flirting and Hermione might kick you harder next time."

I glanced toward Hermione again, noticing her lips twitch slightly upward behind her book, clearly amused but determined not to give me the satisfaction of openly smiling.

"So," Ginny continued, clearly trying to move on from the teasing before her cheeks permanently stained red, "have you thought about electives yet? There are some really interesting options."

"Oh?" I asked, genuinely curious. "Which ones are you taking?"

She smiled excitedly, leaning forward slightly as she spoke. "I picked Care of Magical Creatures and Divination. Creatures because I love animals, and Divination because… well, honestly, it just seemed like a fun, easy class to pass. What about you?" Ginny looked up at me expectantly as she waited for my answer.

“Well,” I started casually, “obviously, I'll take all the basic classes—Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Charms, and stuff like that.” She nodded attentively. “But I'm also planning to take Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures.”

Ginny’s eyes brightened immediately at that last class. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and she shifted even closer, pressing her thigh firmly against mine. “You’re taking Care of Magical Creatures too? That’s amazing!” she said enthusiastically. “I bet you’ll love it. Maybe we'll even get to compare notes and stuff.”

I chuckled warmly at her excitement, meeting her eager gaze. “Definitely. We can be monster-taming buddies together! Although, you might have to protect me if any big scary creatures try to bite my head off.”

Ginny giggled playfully, leaning her head closer. Her voice dropped slightly, sounding teasing and flirtatious. “Oh, I don’t know, Harry. You look more than capable of handling yourself against dangerous beasts. I've read all the Harry Potter children’s books!”

I smirked back. “Those books? You shouldn’t believe everything you read about me. Although, yes I can admit I have been slaying XXXXX monsters and rescuing pureblood princesses since I was 5 years old. I’m afraid I’m just built different and amazing like that compared to lesser wizards…” I finished with a teasing wink.

“Hmm, we’ll see if that all turns out to be true,” she purred lightly. “Although, I suppose it’s a shame we’ll be in different years. We might not get much chance to play hero together.”

“True,” I admitted with a mock sigh, “Guess I'll just have to find other ways to impress you.”

She laughed softly again, the warm sound filling our compartment, before her expression turned thoughtful. “And Ancient Runes, too, Harry? You’re brave. I heard that class is super difficult. Really complicated runes and symbols you need to memorize. Good luck with that…Ugh.”

“Yeah, thanks for the warning. I heard it was tricky too,” I said, grimacing slightly. “But I wanted something challenging. And I heard Arithmacy was basically math magic and I’m not about that…” So Ancient Runes was my only option.

Ginny giggled in agreement, leaning back comfortably against the seat, eyes glancing over at Hermione with a playful smirk. “Arithmacy. You’re taking that one right Hermione?”

I wasn’t aware of all the classes Hermione was taking, but that seemed like something she’d enjoy. “You know, you and Sona would really get along if you two ever met, Hermione.” 

The second Sona’s name slipped from my lips, I felt Ginny tense slightly beside me. Her playful smile faltered just a tiny bit, with a noticeable twitch at the corner of her eye. “Sona?” she asked carefully. “Who’s that?”

Hermione, apparently sensing the sudden tension, set her book down fully in her lap, wearing an amused expression as she met Ginny's eyes. “Sona’s Harry’s aunt,” she explained for me. “Though she's actually only a couple of months older than Harry is. I hear they are very close…”

Ginny slowly turned toward me, a strange gleam entering her gaze. “Your aunt, huh? Let me guess—is this Sona also a beautiful young woman?”

Hermione snorted softly in amusement, shooting me a sideways glance full of mischief. “Oh, you have no idea. From everything I've heard and seen, she’s definitely gorgeous.”

Ginny let out a dramatic sigh, looking back at me with feigned exasperation. “Honestly, Harry, do beautiful women just seem to flock to you everywhere you go?”

I laughed openly at her playful accusation, shrugging casually. “Well, let’s see. Hermione’s here, you're sitting right next to me—so I guess maybe you're onto something?”

Ginny’s eyes widened, cheeks turning scarlet in an instant. But instead of shying away, she leaned over quickly, smacking my arm in mock annoyance. Hermione’s foot immediately kicked my shin again, playfully harder this time. The sting made me chuckle even more, rubbing my leg exaggeratedly.

“Ouch! Okay, okay,” I laughed, raising my hands in surrender. “I deserved that one.”

“Definitely,” Hermione said firmly, rolling her eyes dramatically. She was clearly fighting a smile as she picked up her book again, giving us both a teasing glare before returning to her reading. “Honestly, Harry, flirting shamelessly right in front of me?”

I flashed her a playful grin. “It’s hard not to, with such good company.”

…The compartment door slid open again, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled around us. I glanced up in mild curiosity, only to see a pretty blonde girl standing in the doorway. Her platinum hair cascaded softly down her back, framing an attractive face that wore a dreamy, slightly distracted expression. Her eyes, a startling shade of silvery-blue, seemed to stare right through us. She had curves in all the right places, accentuated nicely by the snug fit of her Hogwarts uniform, giving Ginny a run for her money. 

"There you are, Ginny," the blonde girl said softly, her voice airy and musical, yet somehow firm and direct. "I've been looking all over the train for you."

Ginny rolled her eyes dramatically, though her lips tugged up into an amused smile. "That's funny, Luna, because I went straight to our usual compartment, and you weren't there!"

Luna blinked slowly, seemingly processing Ginny's words for a moment. "...Oh, I did go there first," she finally replied. "But unfortunately, it was full of Wrackspurts…"

"Wrackspurts?" I asked.

Luna's silvery eyes drifted over to me, and she smiled sweetly, tilting her head slightly as though puzzled by my confusion. "Yes, Wrackspurts. They're tiny magical creatures that float around your head and cause your brain to feel fuzzy. Very troublesome."

Ok… Was she actually serious? I couldn’t tell…?

Ginny giggled lightly, nudging me gently with her elbow. "Don't even bother trying to figure it out, Harry. Trust me."

Luna continued, either not hearing or simply choosing to ignore Ginny's words. "I decided it would be better to explore the train a bit instead. I spent the last few minutes chatting with the conductor, and luckily, this compartment seems free of any distracting creatures." Without waiting for an invitation, Luna stepped inside and sat herself right down next to Hermione. She settled comfortably, brushing her long blonde hair casually over one shoulder. 

Hermione glanced up briefly from her book, clearly bemused by Luna's sudden appearance, though she didn't seem bothered by the intrusion.

Luna's silvery-blue eyes immediately locked onto mine again, and a soft, gentle smile spread across her pretty face. "It's nice to finally meet you, Harry Sitri," she said softly.

I froze immediately, my heart jolting in shock. How the hell did this girl know my true family name? 

"Don't bother asking," Ginny said with an amused smirk, clearly guessing my thoughts. "Luna just always seems to know things. It’s one of her many mysteries."

Luna's smile grew slightly wider, seemingly pleased by Ginny's explanation. "It's not that mysterious," she explained serenely, her eyes drifting dreamily across the compartment. "People's secrets sometimes just whisper themselves to me, like little birds singing in my ear…"

…We continued chatting comfortably for around an hour as the Hogwarts Express moved smoothly along the tracks, lush countryside scenery gliding past outside the windows. Ginny and Luna had an easy, familiar rhythm in their conversations, clearly close friends. Ginny would frequently burst into laughter at Luna's odd and often completely nonsensical observations, while Hermione seemed content quietly observing the two younger girls' antics over the edge of her book.

I leaned back comfortably in my seat, feeling pleasantly relaxed with Hermione’s foot occasionally brushing against mine. Ginny continued pressing warmly into my side, her thigh snug against my own. I couldn’t help noticing the gentle rise and fall of her chest whenever she laughed, or the way her hand would lightly rest against my leg in casual intimacy. 

My devil instincts were keenly aware of the soft warmth of the girls around me, and I smiled, savoring this peaceful, enjoyable moment.

Our peaceful bubble was suddenly interrupted by the compartment door sliding loudly open again. 

I looked up, immediately noticing the tall figure standing there—definitely not a student. He was older, perhaps in his early thirties, with flowing golden-blond hair styled dramatically. His brightly colored robes were impeccably clean, every fold precisely arranged.

"Woah… are you Gilderoy Lockhart?" Ginny asked in surprise. “What are you doing here?” she then turned to me and whispered her mom was a big fan of this guy. He was a famous author, although Ginny also whispered his books were a bit gaudy for her tastes. “I prefer erotic romance…” she winked before we turned back to the man at the compartment door.

The man’s lips curled upwards into a cocky smirk when we turned back to him. "Indeed I am, young lady," he replied confidently.

Lockhart's eyes drifted slowly over each of the girls, lingering particularly long on Ginny’s figure pressed close to mine, then roaming appreciatively over Hermione’s crossed legs, and even Luna’s soft curves. 

His gaze made me bristle instantly. I could practically feel him mentally undressing them. My possessive devil instincts roared to life…

Finally, Lockhart’s wandering eyes landed on me, his expression shifting to exaggerated enthusiasm. "Ah, there he is!" he declared dramatically, stepping boldly into our compartment without invitation. "The famous Mr. Harry Potter himself! I've been searching all over this train for you!"

"You have?" I asked dryly, my voice distinctly lacking enthusiasm. I already disliked the man immensely. I didn’t need some strange teacher ogling my girlfriend and barging into my private space. 

I was about to tell him to fuck off—

But Hermione shot me a look—clearly urging me to behave. I grumbled silently, biting my tongue for now.

Lockhart didn’t notice or care about my obvious irritation. He simply flashed me another dazzling, fake-looking smile and leaned dramatically against the compartment wall. "Of course! Allow me to introduce myself properly—though I'm sure introductions aren't truly necessary. I'm Gilderoy Lockhart! World-famous novelist, adventurer, wizarding celebrity, and—most excitingly—your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts!"

Hermione raised an eyebrow slightly behind her book, and Luna simply gazed dreamily out the window, seemingly uninterested. Ginny looked a bit confused and muttered, “why is an author going to be a Professor?”

Lockhart continued on grandly, clearly loving the sound of his own voice. "In fact, Headmaster Dumbledore actually offered me this prestigious teaching position two years ago. But alas, I simply had to decline. I was off exploring a hidden island filled with incredibly dangerous and thrilling magical creatures, after all. Couldn't deny my fans another best-selling novel, you see?"

He chuckled indulgently at his own words, smiling smugly as though he expected me to thank him for finally taking the job now.

"Yet," Lockhart continued dramatically, "when I heard Harry Potter—the legendary Boy Who Lived himself was alive after eighteen long years presumed dead, and finally attending Hogwarts…well, I simply had no choice but to accept the offer at last!"

My jaw tightened immediately at the hated nickname.

Lockhart's entire demeanor grated sharply against my nerves, his self-important tone, the intrusive way he'd barged in here, his blatant ogling of the girls, all of it rubbed me completely the wrong way. 

I mean—yeah, as a devil my eye would naturally wander towards beautiful women as well, but I was never blatantly trying to be a creep about it! 

"Well, Harry," Lockhart continued breezily, oblivious to the tension radiating from me, "I thought it would be a truly brilliant idea for you and me to become close friends this year. I could even mentor you personally! I can teach you all my exciting secrets, share my wisdom… the wizarding world's two most famous heroes united! Imagine the possibilities!"

I was just about to tell Lockhart exactly where he could shove his "mentorship" in the most “polite” way I could muster, when something strange happened. My words caught sharply in my throat as a sudden chill filled the compartment. 

I could literally see my breath as the temperature plummeted around us, frosting over the glass window beside me. My instincts immediately screamed danger, a feeling I was quickly learning to trust.

Hermione reacted instantly. Her book fell forgotten to the floor, and she had her wand out in a flash, brown eyes wide with fear as she stared past Lockhart's shoulder.

I followed her gaze, and my heart skipped a beat in shock. 

Right there behind an oblivious Lockhart hovered a pitch-black figure draped in tattered, flowing robes—a literal fucking demon. Its presence was pure darkness, radiating coldness and dread like a physical force.

How did I know exactly what it was? Simple—my mother, Serafall, had warned me thoroughly. As devils, we naturally had enemies, but surprisingly, the fiercest hatred didn’t come from angels. No, our oldest, most bitter enemies were demons themselves.

Thousands of years ago, when Lucifer was cast down from heaven, the underworld had already been crawling with demons. Naturally, Lucifer didn’t want to share, so he'd slaughtered most of them and banished the survivors to distant dimensions. 

Ever since, demons had occasionally returned, consumed by vengeance and determined to kill every devil they found!

And now, incredibly, here one was, staring directly at me.

Ginny’s voice trembled beside me, breaking the stunned silence. “H-Holy fuck, that’s a Dementor!”

Lockhart blinked, finally registering Ginny's panicked voice. “A Dementor? Young lady, whatever are you going on about—” He turned around slowly, still smirking confidently, only to immediately lose all color in his face. 

The demon had drifted closer, its dark hood tilted downward, and beneath that fabric, I glimpsed an eerie, malicious grin.

“—Oh,” Lockhart squeaked pathetically, eyes rolling back into his skull. He collapsed instantly, hitting the floor with an embarrassingly loud thud. A dark, wet stain spread rapidly across the front of his flamboyant robes. 

Wow, and this guy was going to be our Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor…? 

The demon ignored Lockhart’s unconscious body entirely, drifting past him, moving straight toward me, ice crystallizing along the compartment walls.

“Sirius Black isn't in here!” Ginny shouted shakily, clutching tightly onto my arm. She was trembling violently, pressing even closer to me, her warmth suddenly all the more noticeable against our skin.

“I don’t think this demon’s here for some escaped convict,” I said grimly, watching the demon carefully. 

It’s here for me.

Hermione's eyes widened further, and she took a defensive stance next to me. “Harry, be careful!”

The demon paused slightly, seeming to savor the rising panic. Then, beneath its shadowy hood, that twisted grin widened even more.

I felt my blood ignite at the sight. Fuck this! If this demon wanted to fuck around, then it was about to find out!

“You messed with the wrong devil today!” I growled, raising my right hand in front of me. A surge of energy built rapidly inside me, like a swelling tide, begging to be unleashed. 

Instantly, a glowing blue magical circle flared brilliantly in front of me, intricately detailed with the proud symbols of my mother's lineage. 

“Amazing!” Ginny gasped sharply at my blatant display of magic, staring in awe as the demon drew even closer, its gnarled fingers outstretched hungrily.

“Get fucked!” I unleashed the full force of my magic. A torrent of water burst from the circle, erupting forward violently. It struck the demon with overwhelming force, sending it spiraling backwards out of the compartment.

The monster shrieked angrily, a terrible, haunting sound, as it clawed desperately to cling to the edge of the doorway. But I wasn’t letting up! I poured even more of my devilish strength into the attack, the roaring waters surging powerfully forward. The demon screeched again, overwhelmed by the violent waves crashing mercilessly against its twisted form.

With a final explosive burst, my magic punched straight through the compartment wall, splintering metal and wood into jagged fragments. Cold wind screamed loudly into our compartment, whipping through our hair and clothing.

The demon tumbled helplessly through the opening, shrieking its fury even as it was blasted out into the countryside beyond. I watched it vanish into the distance, its figure fading rapidly from view.

I finally lowered my hand, feeling slightly drained but deeply satisfied. That thing had no clue who it was fucking with.

I turned back slowly, instantly noticing the shocked and amazed expressions on the faces of the girls in the compartment.

“Bloody hell, Harry!” Ginny gasped breathlessly. “That was incredible!”

"...You certainly live up to your name, Harry Sitri," Luna said dreamily, her silvery-blue eyes staring thoughtfully at the damaged wall of the compartment. Her voice was calm, soft like she was commenting on the weather, but I noticed the subtle tremble in her fingers. Luna was trying very hard to act unbothered by what just happened, even though it was clear the encounter had shaken her.

Still holding Ginny tightly against my right side, I reached my left arm out toward Luna without thinking. Her eyes widened in surprise when she felt my touch, and she let out a soft, startled squeak that was so utterly adorable I nearly forgot the gravity of the situation.

"Come here," I murmured softly, gently tugging Luna closer until she was pressed against my other side. She resisted only for a second before she relaxed into my embrace, her tense shoulders easing slightly as my warmth seeped into her trembling form. Her head rested against my shoulder lightly, blonde hair tickling my cheek. Ginny pressed even tighter against me, clearly appreciating the close contact too. I heard her soft sigh of relief as she melted into me further.

At least together, we could warm each other back up.

Across from me, Hermione let out a long, exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes at my blatant display of affection. But even her slight scolding couldn’t hide the amused twitch at the corners of her lips. I knew she was secretly glad that I was comforting the others.

The temperature in the compartment suddenly shifted, a comforting warmth spreading through the icy air. Before I could question it, a brilliant white glow poured through the damaged wall, manifesting into a majestic wolf made of glowing silver-white energy. Its ethereal body moved fluidly as it circled briefly around us, radiating peace and strength.

"That's a Patronus," Hermione said breathlessly, her eyes wide with awe as she admired the magical construct. The wolf seemed to study us briefly, then gracefully leaped back toward the damaged doorway.

As if summoned by the Patronus, footsteps sounded in the corridor, quick and purposeful. Seconds later, a tall man hurried into view. His face was deeply lined, and his short brown hair flecked with gray. He wore shabby robes that looked worn and patched, his appearance rough around the edges but undeniably strong. His eyes were warm, concerned, yet sharp as they swiftly scanned each of us.

"Is everyone alright?" he asked urgently, his voice low and reassuring. He held a wand that glowed with faint residual magic, indicating he'd been the one to conjure the Patronus. "I felt dark magic here and rushed over. Sorry I didn't arrive sooner. I was checking the front compartments first."

Was the dark magic he sensed from the dementor or was it from me? Obviously, it was better to make him think it was from the demon. 

"We're fine," I assured him quietly, still holding both Luna and Ginny close against my sides. "A Dementor attacked our compartment, but I managed to repel it."

“Repel it…? That’s very impressive.” The man's gaze shifted to me directly at my words, recognition sparking instantly in his amber eyes. "Oh!" he gasped softly, clearly startled to see me. "Hello there, Harry," he said, his voice filled with gentle surprise and warmth, almost like we were old friends rather than complete strangers. 

Something about his presence felt oddly familiar, though I had no clue who this man was.

"Sorry, have we met before?" I asked curiously, my eyes narrowing slightly as I studied him closely.

He hesitated, smiling slightly before replying. "Ah, forgive me. I'm Remus Lupin, your new Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts." There was clearly more behind his eyes, but he quickly moved past it, shifting his attention toward the rest of the compartment.

Before I could question him further, Lupin’s eyes fell to the floor, landing squarely upon the unconscious form of Gilderoy Lockhart. The flamboyant professor lay sprawled awkwardly across the floor, his bright robes stained embarrassingly dark between his legs.

Lupin’s eyebrows shot up in genuine confusion. "Um…" He trailed off uncertainly, clearly baffled. "What exactly happened to him?"

Ginny giggled softly into my shoulder, her body shaking slightly as she suppressed her laughter. Luna smiled dreamily as well, the tension in her figure easing further at the comical sight. Hermione, though clearly amused, at least tried to keep a straight face, coughing politely into her hand to hide her smile.

"He fainted," Hermione supplied dryly. "When he saw the Dementor."

Lupin blinked, looking thoroughly unimpressed by Lockhart’s lack of bravery. "Ah. I see…" 

XXX

Thanks for reading!!! You can check out more of my stories on my profile.

If you want to see more of my work ahead of time feel free to check out: 

https://www. /blog/somestarwaves

Here is the list of Current Advanced Chapters on there:

The Fallen Gamer ch 347-350 The Finale! 

–

Thunder and Black Wings 42

Thunder and Black Wings 41

–

Thats not wizard magic 15

That’s not wizard magic 14

That’s not wizard magic 13

That’s not wizard magic 12

That’s not wizard magic 11

That’s not wizard magic 10

–

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 36

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 35

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 34

–

The Fox Hole 115

The Fox Hole 114

The Fox Hole 113

The Fox Hole 112

–

The Blood Queen 65

The Blood Queen 64

The Blood Queen 63

The Blood Queen 62

The Blood Queen 61

Chapter Text

Chapter 10 (~9400 words)

– Harry –

The train slowed down with a gentle jerk, and I rose from my seat, stretching my stiff legs and adjusting my new Hogwarts robes. The material felt strange but comfortable, hanging loosely over my shoulders. It was finally happening. I was here at Hogwarts.

Hermione stood up beside me, smoothing her robes and glancing out the window. Her hand reached out and softly grabbed mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Come on, Harry. You’ll love this,” she whispered, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

We stepped off the Hogwarts Express onto the crowded platform. My eyes immediately widened as I looked up, completely astonished. The castle was right there, stretching toward the darkening sky, magnificent and even bigger than the sprawling Sitri mansion back in the underworld.

“Wow,” I breathed out. It looked alive, magical, and strangely welcoming.

Hermione tugged gently on my hand again, pulling me from my daze. “Pretty impressive, right?”

I nodded slowly. “Way more than I imagined.”

She leaned closer, her body pressing lightly against mine, and looked up at me with a warm, affectionate smile. Her soft hair brushed my cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here, Harry. It just wouldn’t feel right without you.”

I squeezed her hand in return, smiling down into those warm, familiar eyes. “I’m glad I’m here too, Hermione. I don’t know how I got so lucky meeting you in that bookstore. You're beautiful.”

She blushed and looked away, biting her bottom lip as she fought a shy grin. “Don’t say things like that in front of everyone,” she whispered, though her eyes gleamed happily.

Nearby, Ginny cleared her throat loudly and rolled her eyes at us. Luna stood beside her, smiling dreamily. Ginny smirked at me and Hermione and said, “If you two lovebirds don’t mind, Luna and I will go ahead and pick a carriage.”

Luna nodded eagerly, her silvery eyes drifting somewhere over our heads. “I want to find one with the prettiest thestrals tonight,” she murmured softly.

Thestrals?

She and Luna turned away and disappeared into the crowd heading toward a line of black carriages.

A sudden booming voice nearby grabbed my attention. I saw an enormous man standing head and shoulders above the crowd. He had to be at least twelve feet tall, covered in a shaggy brown coat and bushy hair.

“Alright, first-years, this way! Come on now, line up!” he shouted cheerfully, waving his giant hands in the air.

All the 16 year old first years lined up to follow the man.

“Who’s the big guy?”

Hermione smiled fondly at the huge man. “That's Hagrid. He’s the groundskeeper here, but he started teaching Care of Magical Creatures last year too. He’s a good man, Harry. You’ll like him.”

Despite his intimidating size, he seemed gentle, friendly even to all the teenagers following him. 

Hermione gently tugged on my hand again, pulling me toward the waiting carriages. The closer we got, the more I noticed the strange creatures harnessed to them—black, skeletal horses with leathery wings. 

They were oddly beautiful, graceful in a haunting sort of way.

“They’re… amazing,” I said quietly, reaching out toward one. It tilted its head, regarding me with empty, curious eyes.

“You can see them, then?” Hermione said softly, her voice filled with gentle understanding. “I expected that to be the case after what you told me happened at the world cup.”

Hermione explained thestrals could only be seen by people who had seen death. She could not see them yet herself. She hadn’t actually seen anyone die, even though the paper said there had been casualties with all the fire during the world cup attack.

… Hermione and I hopped into the carriage, squeezing into the soft seats together. I felt Hermione's warmth against my side, her hand still holding mine tightly. Across from us, Ginny sat beside Luna, already settled in, Luna gazing around dreamily as usual.

Luna's soft, airy voice floated across to us. “Are you two going to make out now?”

Hermione choked, her eyes wide, while Ginny sputtered loudly, a flush of surprise rising on her cheeks. “Luna! Why would you ask that?” Ginny gasped.

Luna turned her big silvery eyes innocently toward Ginny, her expression serene as always. “Well, isn’t that what boys and girls usually do when they sit together in carriages…? My daddy always said so…”

I chuckled softly, not entirely sure if Luna was joking or serious. Her dreamy expression was unreadable, but a mischievous sparkle danced subtly in her gaze. 

Yeah, she was definitely teasing them.

“You’re trolling us, Luna,” I said with a grin, leaning back comfortably against the plush carriage seat.

She tilted her head slightly, a playful smile forming on her lips. “Oh, am I?”

Ginny sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes with mock exasperation. “Honestly, Luna, why are you like this?”

Luna ignored Ginny’s amused irritation, leaning forward slightly toward me. Her eyes were bright with innocent curiosity. “You know, Harry, if Hermione doesn't feel up to kissing right now, I'd be quite happy to kiss you instead. After all, you were very warm when you hugged me earlier on the train. It felt nice.”

Hermione immediately stiffened next to me, her grip on my hand tightening just a bit possessively. She glared pointedly at the blonde witch. “Really, Luna?”

I bit my lip, trying and failing to hide my growing amusement. Ginny watched the exchange with her arms crossed, a look of both annoyance and fascination on her face.

I glanced at Hermione, giving her a reassuring squeeze. Her eyes met mine, softening a little when she saw my teasing expression. With a huff, she rolled her eyes and leaned toward me, pressing a gentle kiss against my cheek. Her breath was warm on my ear as she whispered quietly, “Oh, fine. Go ahead then.”

“You know,” I said, turning my attention back to Luna, giving her a playful smirk, “you really should be careful when teasing a guy like that, Luna.”

She blinked slowly, lips parted slightly, curiosity coloring her expression. Before she could reply, I leaned forward, crossing the small distance between us. Her eyes widened in surprise just as my lips softly captured hers.

Her lips were soft, delicate, warm, and tasted faintly sweet. I cupped her pale cheek gently with my hand, stroking the smooth skin as the kiss lingered for just a few seconds longer than intended. Luna squeaked softly in surprise against my mouth, the small sound causing me to smile against her lips. Her dreamy composure vanished briefly as she stared at me, eyes glazed, clearly surprised and a little overwhelmed.

Ginny, meanwhile, stared at me with open envy, sputtering jealously from her spot beside Luna. Feeling bold, I turned toward her next, raising an eyebrow with a playful challenge. “Well, we can't leave you out now, can we, Ginny?”

Her eyes widened in shock, cheeks flushed crimson as I leaned forward again, gently taking her chin in my hand. Ginny was momentarily stunned, but as my lips brushed hers softly, I felt her relax, pressing herself eagerly closer. Her lips parted willingly under mine, her enthusiasm obvious as she sighed softly into the kiss.

My hand slipped down to her neck, my fingers grazing her heated skin. Feeling mischievous, I gave her lower lip a playful bite before pulling back. Ginny's breath hitched sharply, her eyes darkening with desire, cheeks flushed as she stared at me in shocked delight.

I leaned back into my seat beside Hermione, who was watching everything with a mixture of amused annoyance and mild exasperation. “Happy now?” she murmured, quirking an eyebrow at me.

I chuckled lightly, sliding an arm around her waist. “Very.”

“That's enough kissing until after the feast,” Hermione declared firmly, though a playful smile danced at the corner of her mouth.

Ginny huffed quietly, licking her lips as if tasting the kiss again, looking both delighted and thoroughly embarrassed at how much she'd enjoyed it. Luna sat quietly beside her, still looking dazed and lost in the sensation, her fingers lightly brushing over her lips, eyes half-lidded and dreamy.

The carriage bumped gently over the uneven road, jostling us slightly closer together. I let my hand slowly rub Hermione’s back, feeling her relax under my touch. Her body was warm and comforting beside me, and as our eyes met, she leaned closer, resting her head gently on my shoulder.

“Merlin, Harry,” she murmured softly. “You’re a naughty devil aren't you...” Hermione had two sides to her. Her normal bookish self that lusted after all knowledge. And then there was her bold self, that whenever she let loose always seemed to surprise me. 

…Second to seventh-year students steadily made their way toward the Great Hall, chatting noisily as they headed in for the feast. I was about to follow Hermione when I suddenly felt someone grab my sleeve, gently pulling me aside. Surprised, I paused and turned around.

Hermione stopped as well, turning to stare curiously at whoever was holding onto my arm.

It was Jasmine McKinnon—one of the girls I rescued a few days ago in Diagon Alley. She looked nervous, with her slightly messy brown hair tumbling adorably around her shoulders and her round glasses framing a pair of large, expressive eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, and she looked up at me shyly, biting at her bottom lip as she gently squeezed my sleeve again.

“Hey, Jasmine,” I said, smiling at her warmly. “Good to see you again. Did you need something?”

Jasmine glanced briefly at Hermione, her cheeks darkening slightly as if suddenly aware that we weren't alone. “You're not supposed to go into the hall yet,” she said softly, her voice slightly nervous. “I mean—you’re not a first year, obviously, but Professor McGonagall wants you to be sorted with them and the other transfer students. I’m a prefect now, so she gave me instructions ahead of time.”

Other transfer students? That took me by surprise. Dumbledore had made it seem incredibly rare when we'd spoken earlier. 

I nodded, gently placing my hand reassuringly on Hermione's lower back. “You go ahead,” I told her softly. “I'll find you in Gryffindor after I’m sorted, okay?”

She smiled at me warmly, her gaze briefly flickering toward Jasmine before giving me an affectionate squeeze of my hand. “Alright, Harry. Don’t keep us waiting too long,” she teased gently, turning to hurry after Ginny and Luna.

The noise of the students slowly faded away as Jasmine and I stood together, suddenly alone in the empty hallway. There was a comfortable silence as we waited for the first-years to arrive from their boat ride. Jasmine still hadn't let go of my sleeve, her fingers gently gripping the fabric. 

After a few seconds, she seemed to realize what she was doing and quickly released my arm, blushing deeper. "Sorry," she mumbled, clearly embarrassed. Her eyes darted to the floor shyly. "Bad Jasmine," she whispered to herself, "Stop thinking those thoughts!"

I raised an eyebrow, feeling both amused and curious. “What thoughts would those be?” I asked softly, leaning a little closer.

She flushed even more brightly, her eyes widening. "N-nothing," she stammered. "Just silly things. Ignore me."

I laughed softly, shaking my head. "You mentioned you're a prefect. Isn't that usually a fifth-year thing?"

She lifted her chin proudly, her embarrassment momentarily forgotten as she smiled mischievously at me. "Usually, yes. But Professor McGonagall said I'm 'exceptionally mature and responsible,'" she mimicked dramatically, clearly amused. "I got it a year early. Can you believe it? Malfoy will absolutely livid. Can't wait to rub it in the little weasel's face. I'm going to dock SO MANY points from him this year!"

I chuckled. Despite her awkwardness, Jasmine was definitely cute, and there was something uniquely charming about her enthusiasm.

Her expression suddenly shifted, becoming serious and slightly worried again. She shuffled nervously, twisting her fingers together as though debating something deeply personal.

“What’s wrong?” I asked gently, placing a reassuring hand lightly on her shoulder. 

She jumped slightly at the contact but didn't pull away. Taking a shaky breath, she finally met my eyes, a conflicted look on her face. “Harry, I have something important to tell you,” she began quietly, biting her lip. “Something very personal, actually.”

“Okay… you can tell me.”

She looked up at me again, determination blazing in her eyes now, though the nervousness never fully faded. “I’m your sister, Harry,” she said clearly and firmly.

For a moment, my mind simply blanked. “...Huh?” I said dumbly, staring at her in confusion.

She nodded eagerly, stepping a bit closer. "My father was James Potter," she said hurriedly, clearly eager to explain herself fully, "and my mother is Marlene McKinnon. She was your mother Lily’s best friend. That makes us half-siblings. My real name is Jasmine Potter-McKinnon."

Ah, now it clicked. This must have been the girl Dumbledore had hinted about to me earlier. Except clearly, Jasmine still mistakenly believed James Potter was my biological father…

She stared at me expectantly, anxiety beginning to creep back into her expression as I took a moment to process it. Her large, expressive eyes were filled with so much hope and nervous anticipation that I felt a pang of sympathy for her confusion.

“Jasmine,” I started gently, touching her shoulder again softly to reassure her, “Thank you for trusting me with this, truly. But—um, James Potter wasn't my father…”

Jasmine stared at me, mouth slightly open, eyes wide with shock and confusion. Her expression was almost comical in how utterly stunned she looked. "Huh?" was all she managed to say, blinking rapidly as though trying to reset her thoughts.

I nodded slowly, offering a gentle smile. She looked so baffled that I almost felt bad for dropping such a bombshell on her. Gently, I placed a comforting hand back on her shoulder, trying to reassure her as best I could. "Sorry, Jasmine. I know it's probably not what you expected to hear," I said softly. "The truth is, Lily Evans—well, Lily Potter—was furious after discovering James's affair. In her anger, she went out looking for some form of revenge, I suppose. That's when she ended up having a one-night stand with my other mother named Serafall. And well... Serafall knocked Lily up."

Which was pretty amazing considering how shitty devil fertility was. But I guess I was just so awesome that nothing was going to stop me from being born.

Jasmine blinked several more times, still utterly flabbergasted, her cheeks now tinged faintly pink as my words sunk in. "Huh…?" she repeated weakly, clearly overwhelmed by the information I'd just shared.

I chuckled softly, shaking my head at her bewildered reaction. "Wow, I'm really sorry if I ruined your dreams of having a super awesome big brother."

Her expression immediately shifted into a pout, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest. "Excuse me," she huffed. "I happen to be the older one here, I'll have you know."

Technically, given the timeline, she was right. 

Her pout dissolved into an even deeper blush. Jasmine quickly glanced away from me, embarrassment clearly flooding her delicate features. "Oh Merlin, this is so embarrassing," she muttered to herself, covering her face briefly with her hands. "I can't believe I just blurted all that out to you! I should have done more research first, or maybe I should have asked my mom what really happened back then! I wonder if she already knew all this? But then why did she never tell me? Harry, please forget everything I just told you, alright!?" She rambled at me adorably. 

It definitely wasn't Jasmine's fault, if anything it was Lily's considering she never told anyone. I'd like to consider that James Potter knew, and maybe they chose to forgive each other over both of their infidelities. But given the fact that they were both long gone and dead no one would ever really know. 

"Hey, it's okay. I'm the one who should probably apologize here. I mean, everyone calls me Harry Potter. It almost feels like I'm stealing something that should rightfully be yours," I told Jasmine.

She quickly shook her head, turning to face me again, her large eyes filled with surprising warmth and sincerity. "No, Harry. Really. I never even knew James Potter anyway, and honestly, my mum is amazing! I love her, and I prefer just being known as Jasmine McKinnon." Her lips curved into a mischievous grin. "Though, I suppose it's not all bad news for me. If you're not actually related to James Potter, then technically the entire Potter fortune might come straight to me, right!?"

“At least there's that,” I said while giving her a smile. “But you don't have to worry about me, money is something my family is not lacking.” 

My expression must have given me away instantly, as Jasmine's eyes widened dramatically, lips forming a perfect little 'O' of surprise and curiosity. "Wait... seriously? How rich are we talking here, Harry?"

Grinning cheekily, I lightly booped her nose with a fingertip, making her scrunch it up cutely. "Sorry, Jasmine. That's a family secret."

…Our conversation drew to a close when the large wooden doors at the castle entrance swung open abruptly, and the massive form of Hagrid filled the doorway. He held both doors wide, allowing a wave of eager, wide-eyed sixteen-year-olds to flow into the hallway. They flooded around us.

Jasmine glanced around quickly, noticing the students filing into a disorderly line beside us. She gave me an apologetic smile, her cheeks still slightly flushed from our earlier conversation. “I guess our talk will have to wait until later.”

I nodded, offering her a gentle smile. “You’re in Gryffindor, right? Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of chances to talk. I'll be sitting at your table soon enough.”

Her lips curled into a smirk, and she tilted her head at me, those round glasses sliding slightly down her nose. “How do you know that?” she asked, teasing me. “You haven’t even been sorted yet.”

I grinned at her, leaning just a little closer. “Because Gryffindor is full of the cutest girls,” I said confidently. “Of course that’s where I’m going to end up.”

Jasmine rolled her eyes dramatically behind her round glasses, though I didn't miss the subtle blush on her cheeks as she stepped back, turning towards the Great Hall entrance with a huff. "You're impossible, Harry…whatever your real last name is," she muttered playfully as she disappeared into the noisy crowd streaming forward.

I watched her go, amused, when suddenly a few of the first-years noticed me standing to the side. Their eyes widened with awe as whispers spread quickly. 

"Is that really him?"

"It's actually Harry Potter!"

"No way! He really came to Hogwarts!"

Unable to resist, I smiled and gave a small, casual wave. 

"Harry! Can I have your autograph?" a bold blonde girl asked eagerly, practically bouncing on her feet. Her friends giggled and encouraged her, watching me shyly.

"Or maybe just a quick photo?" another boy added hopefully.

I shook my head apologetically. "Sorry, not right now. But I'll make sure to do it next time, okay?"

Disappointment flashed briefly across their faces before it turned back into shy giggles.

As the first-year students began lining up, I glanced casually over the crowd once more. My eyes caught on two particular figures among them—both curvy and undeniably feminine, even beneath the cloaks that concealed their features. Their hoods were drawn low, hiding their faces, but something about them sparked a vague yet distinctly familiar feeling in my chest. 

My instincts stirred as I studied them more closely. Who were they? Why did they feel so familiar?

I tried to take a step forward for a better look, when suddenly the doors to the Great Hall swung open wide. I reluctantly tore my gaze away from the mysterious figures as an imposing witch with stern features stood at the doorway. 

She adjusted her glasses, her voice loud and firm, echoing clearly through the crowded hallway. "Attention, everyone! It's time for the sorting ceremony. Form a neat line, please, and follow me."

The gathered students quickly complied, hurriedly forming a somewhat organized line. I joined the end of it, still glancing occasionally towards the two mysterious, voluptuous girls. Yet, every time I caught sight of them, a flash of excitement and confusion rippled through me.

However, before I could give them further thought, I was swept forward along with the others, moving into the massive and breathtaking expanse of the Great Hall. 

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she announced calmly, her voice echoing through the hall. "Shortly, the Sorting Hat will determine your houses. When your name is called, please step forward to be sorted."

Professor McGonagall began calling out names, but I wasn't really paying attention. My thoughts drifted elsewhere as I stood there, feeling hundreds of eyes fixed on me from all around the Great Hall. To be fair, it didn't seem like many people were actually paying attention to the sorting ceremony itself either.

Everyone at the house tables seemed far more interested in staring at me. A lot of the students were openly pointing, whispering excitedly among themselves, clearly eager to get their first real glimpse of the famous "Harry Potter."

I let my gaze wander casually around the hall, taking in the curious stares from the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs. They all seemed friendly enough, intrigued rather than hostile.

But then I looked at the Slytherin table and almost laughed at the dramatically different reception. Around half of the students at that table were openly glaring at me, hostility clear on their faces. 

I raised an eyebrow slightly and smirked back at them, letting them know I didn't care in the slightest.

From the front of the room, I saw Dumbledore sitting at the staff table. He gave me a knowing nod, and I returned it casually. Beside him sat Lockhart, looking pale and jumpy, and he was also wearing different robes after he pissed his last ones.

Further along sat Professor Lupin, who caught my eye and gave me a supportive smile and nod. Lupin had been genuinely cool earlier—coming to help us—even if we hadn't really needed his help against that demon.

The damn thing survived getting flung off the train, but next time—I was going to kill it.

Then my eyes landed on another professor, a pale, dark-haired man with a long nose and cold black eyes that bored into mine with undisguised contempt. I'd never even seen this guy before, yet he looked at me like I'd personally offended him. 

The fuck was this about?

I narrowed my eyes slightly at him, silently challenging his glare with my own indifferent smirk.

My quiet battle of wills with the sour-faced professor was interrupted when Professor McGonagall finally reached my name on the list. But her voice stumbled slightly as she read it aloud.

"Sitri… Harry?" she said uncertainly, squinting at the parchment like she assumed there must have been a mistake.

Instantly, confused whispers spread around the hall, the students' murmurs growing louder.

Ignoring their shocked voices, I strode casually forward, moving up to where McGonagall stood beside the stool. She glanced at me apologetically, clearly flustered by the apparent mistake.

"I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Potter," she started, flustered. "There seems to be a clerical error. I'll correct your surname—"

I raised my hand gently, stopping her mid-sentence. "Actually, Professor, that's right," I said loudly, calmly enough for my voice to carry clearly through the Great Hall. "My name is Harry Sitri. My mom cheated on James Potter."

McGonagall stared at me in absolute horror, eyes wide. "WHAT!?" she shrieked. “LILY DID WHAT!?”

Her voice wasn’t quiet in the least.

Instantly, the hall erupted into chaos! Voices rose, echoing shock, confusion, and scandal. I could hear gasps and cries of disbelief as the news spread instantly through the entire student body.

Kind of the reaction I was expecting to be honest…

Paying them no attention, I simply sat down casually on the sorting stool, picking up the Sorting Hat and placing it lightly on my head. The old hat chuckled softly in my mind, clearly amused by my antics.

"Hmm... are you absolutely sure you're not James Potter's son?" it asked in a teasing voice. "He was just as much trouble as you are turning out to be, boy."

"Very sure," I replied mentally, smirking. "My mom is a million times cooler than James Potter ever could've been. Now, hurry up and put me in Gryffindor already."

The hat grumbled slightly, hesitating for a moment. "Perhaps Gryffindor might not be the best idea after all," it muttered skeptically. "With your... unique talents, I fear all the young witches—and probably some older ones too—might wind up pregnant before the end of the school year!"

I snorted softly in amusement, mentally rolling my eyes. "That's exactly what contraceptive potions are for, isn't it?"

The Sorting Hat sighed dramatically, clearly giving up. "I suppose you’re right. And besides, no other house would suit you anyway. Very well... better be—GRYFFINDOR!" It shouted the last word aloud, loud enough to echo clearly over the still-stunned hall.

Most of the students were still too shocked by my announcement to react immediately, so only a small cluster at first cheered my sorting. Fred and George Weasley stood up, hollering with delight. Hermione was grinning brightly, clapping enthusiastically along with Ginny beside her. Over at the Ravenclaw table, Luna smiled dreamily, clapping politely and giving me a soft, amused wink.

The rest of the hall remained in various states of stunned disbelief.

Removing the hat from my head, I stood up casually, nodding politely to a still-gaping Professor McGonagall before strolling over confidently to the Gryffindor table. Hermione immediately scooted over, making space for me to sit right next to her.

Fred and George sat across the table, roaring with laughter. Fred slammed his fist onto the wooden surface, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Harry, mate, that prank was bloody legendary!"

George snickered beside him, leaning forward and shaking his head. "Honestly, I didn't know you had it in you. Brilliant stuff!"

I laughed softly, shaking my head and glancing around the table. "Guys, believe it or not, it wasn't even a prank," I said with a chuckle, casually grabbing a glass of pumpkin juice and taking a long sip. Ugh, that was nasty! I choked a bit before speaking again. "...All I did was tell the truth. It was about time everyone knew."

Should have listened to Hermione’s warnings about the pumpkin juice…

The laughter slowly faded into silence, confusion replacing amusement on many of my new housemates' faces. Voices quickly rose up again, flooding me with questions.

"Wait, so you're actually not Harry Potter?" asked a curvy brunette—Lavender if I remembered right.

"Are you not really the Boy Who Lived?" said Parvarti next to her.

I grimaced slightly at the title and sighed. "Ugh, I really hate that stupid nickname," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "Yes, I'm still technically the Boy Who Lived—unfortunately—and yeah, I did kick Voldemort's sorry ass! Turning his murdering ass to dust that probably ended up getting vacuumed off the floor…"

Several gasps erupted around me, eyes widening in horror as the name Voldemort left my lips. A girl across from me visibly flinched.

"Merlin's beard, Harry! Don't say his name out loud!" someone whispered urgently.

I shrugged carelessly. "What? He's a pile of ash—he won't magically appear if I say his stupid name."

I got a couple comments about how brave I was—or as expected of the Boy-Who-Lived! Not everyone was happy to have me in their house though.

Ron Weasley was glaring daggers at me, his freckled face twisted into a scowl. On his shoulder perched the disgusting, fat rat. Ron was actually feeding the nasty creature, letting it nibble crumbs from his fingers.

"Eww," Hermione whispered quietly, having followed my gaze. "I still can't believe he's keeping that thing as a pet. He’s had it with him since first year and all the girls hate it!"

I grimaced, eyes locked onto Ron’s angry expression. What the hell was his problem anyway? He hated me the first day he met me when I visited the Weasley home. His brother’s and his sister were way cooler!

Before I could dwell on it further, McGonagall cleared her throat loudly at the front of the room, and I turned my attention back toward the sorting ceremony. The noise level dropped significantly as she called the next name.

"Sitri… Sona?"

My eyebrows shot upward, my mouth parting slightly in shock. No way.

I immediately focused on the two cloaked figures standing with the other new students, heart hammering with anticipation. One of the girls stepped forward, her cloak falling away from her head and to reveal my beautiful Aunt Sona. The other girl dropped her cloak and I saw it was her Queen Tsubaki!

“Did she say Sitri?”

“Isn’t that Potter’s last name?”

“Are they secretly related?”

There were a bunch more whispers starting up of course. 

“Damn, Hermione, you were right. She absolutely is gorgeous,” Ginny muttered, maybe sounding a bit jealous.

I could still hear the loud whispers and gossiping around me, but my eyes were fixed firmly on Sona. She approached the stool. As she sat down, her cloak slid slightly off her shoulders, revealing the elegant curve of her neck and highlighting her flawless porcelain skin. The entire hall seemed to collectively hold its breath as she carefully picked up the Sorting Hat and placed it lightly upon her silky hair.

Sona closed her pink eyes, her soft lips pressing into a thin line of concentration as she presumably spoke with the hat. I watched her intently, studying every subtle shift of her expression. Her delicate eyebrows furrowed slightly after a moment, clearly irritated with whatever the old hat was saying inside her mind.

Maybe she wanted to go into a certain house but it wasn't letting her? 

After another moment, she let out a faint sigh. 

"Better be—RAVENCLAW!" The Sorting Hat finally shouted, startling many students who had been staring transfixed at her beauty.

Sona opened her eyes slowly, an unreadable expression on her perfect face as she stood up gracefully and removed the hat, placing it back down gently. Her gaze flicked briefly toward me, a small but affectionate smirk tugging at the corner of her lips before she confidently strode over toward the Ravenclaw table. I caught the subtle sway of her hips, immediately feeling disappointed that she wouldn't be sharing the Gryffindor common room with me.

But it made sense. Ravenclaw described Sona almost perfectly.

"Tsubaki Shinra," Professor McGonagall called next.

She barely had a chance to sit down before the hat called out firmly, "RAVENCLAW!"

Tsubaki smiled gently, nodding politely toward Professor McGonagall before quickly joining Sona at the Ravenclaw table. The two sat close together, immediately drawing curious, admiring stares from their new housemates. It made sense. Tsubaki was Sona's Queen, she wouldn’t be sorted anywhere else.

I was still just shocked that they were here in the first place.

So… Sona and Tsubaki were the transfer students Jasmine had hinted about earlier? 

I spotted Jasmine sitting farther down the Gryffindor table. She was squeezed between Lavender and Parvati, listening to something Lavender was saying. As if sensing my gaze, Jasmine turned her head, looking directly at me.

I smiled mischievously and gave her a playful wink. “Told you I would end up in Gryffindor,” I mouthed to her.

With the Sorting finally complete, Dumbledore rose from his seat at the staff table, instantly silencing the lingering chatter around the Great Hall.

"Welcome, students, both new and returning," he announced warmly, his voice echoing clearly through the massive room. "I believe enough excitement has occurred already this evening, so I shall not keep you from your feast. Enjoy!"

Dumbledore clapped his hands together sharply once, the sound reverberating through the hall. Instantly, the trays of appetizer biscuits and crackers vanished from the table before us, replaced by an extravagant feast of steaming dishes.

Roast turkey with crispy golden-brown skin. Platters of succulent roast duck and tender rib roast sent savory aromas wafting through the air, making my stomach growl impatiently. Bowls filled with buttery mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables glazed with honey, and fresh, crusty loaves of bread completed the feast.

Hermione's eyes lit up beside me, and she reached eagerly for the serving spoon, piling a generous helping of vegetables onto her plate. She smiled happily at me, clearly pleased by the delicious options laid out before us.

"This is one of the best parts about Hogwarts," she said cheerfully, her voice filled with genuine delight. "The food here is always amazing!"

…I had to admit, Hermione was absolutely right. Even though this was just my first meal at Hogwarts, the food was incredible. I piled my plate high with slices of roast turkey, thick slabs of tender duck, mashed potatoes dripping with gravy, and buttered bread rolls that practically melted in my mouth.

As I ate, the cheerful noise of my new friends talking around me filled the air. Fred and George told me more about their pranks as they leaned in close, their voices dipping low whenever Professor McGonagall glanced suspiciously in their direction. Ginny sat next to Hermione, quietly laughing at the twins' antics and giving me playful and flirtatious glances, her cheeks still faintly pink from earlier.

Hermione's shoulder brushed comfortably against mine as she listened to Fred and George, her face lighting up when something particularly funny was said. Occasionally, she turned to look at me, our eyes meeting briefly, a warm smile passing between us before she returned to the conversation.

Everything felt perfect—until I glanced further down the table and saw Ron Weasley again. My appetite took an immediate nosedive.

He was actually letting that disgusting, bloated rat of his sit directly on his dinner plate, casually feeding it bits of roast beef right from his own hand. Its tail was slathered in mashed potatoes. I watched with barely contained disgust as the fat, ugly creature greedily nibbled at the meat, crumbs scattering everywhere, its beady eyes staring around as though daring anyone to complain to Ron.

Next to me, Hermione followed my gaze and let out a gagging noise, quickly placing a hand over her mouth. Ginny mirrored her, groaning quietly in disgust.

Fred grimaced, shaking his head in embarrassment at his younger brother's antics. "Honestly," he muttered, "Ron has the most unhealthy relationship with that blasted rat."

George snorted in agreement, glaring down the table. "You don't know the half of it, Harry. Fred and I tried getting rid of that furry menace at least twice. Set it loose in the woods, miles away from the house! We weren't trying to kill it or anything, just setting it free!"

Fred nodded grimly. "Thought we'd finally be free of the little blighter, but somehow it always finds its way back to Ron."

"That's because he won't stop overfeeding it," Ginny chimed in, sighing heavily. "If he didn't keep giving it treats all the time, it probably would have wandered off years ago."

I snorted and looked away from Ron and his pet. I really hoped I wouldn't end up sharing a dormitory with him…

Instead, I started scanning the Gryffindor table, looking around to see if there were other potential friends I could make—particularly among the guys. Fred and George were cool, but they had each other already as best bros. 

Unfortunately, every other guy I noticed seemed already locked into their tight-knit friend groups. Sure, they'd smile politely when I looked their way and clearly enjoyed chatting briefly with the famous Boy-Who-Lived, but none made any moves to invite me further into their conversations. 

Not that I minded too much—I was more than happy sitting next to a beautiful girl like Hermione. And then there was Ginny shooting me looks. Further down the table I noticed that whatever Jasmine, Lavender and Parvarti’s conversation had been—it had now shifted and the three of them were shooting me glances and giggling to each other. Well, most of the giggling was Lavender and Parvart, while Jasmine just looked mortified.

Maybe she told them about her confessing to me about being my sister? 

…The feast went on for a full half-hour, but it felt like it stretched for ages, the tables overflowing with delicious food. And just when I thought we were finished, dessert magically appeared. Mountains of creamy chocolate mousse, thick slices of rich pumpkin pie, towers of sticky treacle tarts, and ice cream in every flavor imaginable. Beside me, Hermione eagerly served herself a large scoop of strawberry ice cream topped with chocolate syrup, humming happily as she licked a small drip from her spoon. Her soft tongue traced the edge, and for a moment, my attention lingered on her lips.

I quickly shook off the distraction and grabbed a bowl of ice cream myself. 

Just as everyone was finishing dessert and chatting happily, Dumbledore stood again. His smile didn't fully reach his eyes this time. As his gaze moved across the hall, silence gradually fell. “It is wonderful to see so many new faces here at Hogwarts this year,” Dumbledore began gently. “And equally delightful to welcome back all our returning students.” Then his expression became serious, voice lowering slightly. “However, I must warn you—this year, Hogwarts faces certain challenges.”

Whispers broke out around us, worried murmurs rippling through the crowd.

“First, as many of you are aware, Sirius Black remains at large, having evaded capture for quite some time now,” Dumbledore explained gravely. “The Minister of Magic has therefore deemed it necessary to place a contingent of Dementors around Hogwarts grounds, for the protection of certain students.” His eyes drifted toward me briefly, holding my gaze meaningfully. 

I clenched my jaw in disbelief. The fuck!? Dementors? Dementors were literal fucking demons!. Did these humans honestly have no idea what they were dealing with? And why the hell would Sirius Black, a wizard imprisoned for eighteen years, come looking for me? I mean yeah—he supposedly worked for the Dark Wanker and all that, maybe?—but you’d think Sirius Black would be on an island filled with topless women in Fiji by now after escaping a prison run by demons. I sure as fuck would have!

Muttering broke out again, unease flickering across many students’ faces, and Dumbledore raised a hand for silence.

“Secondly,” he continued solemnly, “I'm afraid we must announce that Quidditch will be canceled for this entire academic year.”

Instantly, chaos erupted. Cries of disbelief and outrage filled the hall, students moaning and loudly protesting. Fred and George beside me both jumped to their feet, dramatically clutching their hearts.

“No! Anything but Quidditch!” Fred cried out dramatically.

“Headmaster, how could you?” George shouted, grabbing his brother's shoulder for support. 

Ginny leaned in closer to whisper in my ear. “They’re both beaters for the Gryffindor Quidditch team,” she explained softly. “It’s pretty much their whole personality outside of pulling pranks.”

I gave the devastated twins a sympathetic nod after she explained that. Honestly, though, Quidditch wasn't exactly my thing. Gabrielle gushed about the sport, but I sided more with Fleur, we both preferred football.

Dumbledore held up both hands this time, his deep voice booming over the protests. “Please, everyone, settle down! There is a very good reason for the Quidditch cancellation this year.” Eventually, the hall quieted again, though several disgruntled faces remained. Dumbledore then smiled, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “I am delighted to announce that this year, Hogwarts will proudly host—the Triwizard Tournament!” The entire hall erupted again, this time in cheers and excited chatter. The earlier disappointment forgotten, students eagerly leaned forward, hanging on his every word. Even Fred and George looked intrigued now. “The Triwizard Tournament,” Dumbledore continued, “is a prestigious and historically significant event held periodically between the magical schools. It will allow our bravest and brightest students to compete in extraordinary magical trials, each more challenging and dangerous than the last.” He paused dramatically as students murmured eagerly amongst themselves. “However, I must stress this is not something to enter lightly,” he warned sternly. “Many champions have died competing throughout history. Should you participate, you will face your challenges alone. No teacher or friend may assist you.”

I wondered if Dumbledore realized how incredibly hyped his warnings were making everyone. Students were already whispering excitedly, expressions filled with determination and thrill at the thought of competing.

My own pulse quickened as I considered it. An intense tournament full of magical dangers sounded pretty fun and a great way to test myself. Of course, I wanted in.

I glanced across the Great Hall toward the Ravenclaw table, and my eyes locked instantly with Sona's pretty pink gaze behind her glasses. She gave me a small, confident smirk, clearly knowing exactly what I was thinking. I knew one thing about my beautiful aunt. Sona was fiercely competitive, there was no doubt she'd be entering as well. 

I returned her smirk with a playful grin, silently letting her know I wouldn't go easy on her. She raised a delicate eyebrow challengingly.

Hermione leaned closer, her soft shoulder pressing warmly against mine. “You're going to enter, aren't you?” she whispered softly.

“Of course,” I answered confidently, smiling down at her. “It sounds like exactly my kind of fun.”

“I suppose we shouldn't be surprised,” Ginny teased gently. “You're clearly the type who likes trouble.”

Fred and George leaned in. “Ha! Sorry, Mr Sitri, but if there’s two open spots for our school, then I’m afraid those just got filled by my brother and I! Better luck next time,” one of them told me playfully.

I cocked an eyebrow at them both. “Im sure we’ll see about that…”

“Indeed we shall!” “Quite right my handsome brother!”

…Dumbledore dismissed us shortly afterward, and the students began to rise from their tables, excited chatter filling the Great Hall. I glanced toward the Ravenclaw table, hoping to catch Sona before she left, but she and Tsubaki were already moving with their new housemates out the door.

Where was the rest of Sona’s peerage, anyway? Could she really leave them behind for nearly an entire year? That didn't sound right. Well, I'd have plenty of time to ask her tomorrow.

I sighed and followed the other Gryffindors as they filed out of the hall and headed up a winding set of stairs. We moved through torch-lit corridors and grand staircases until finally, we reached a large portrait of a rather plump woman wearing a pink dress. She smiled down at us, gently waving a fan in her hand.

"Password?" she asked cheerily.

"Flibbertigibbet," one of the Gryffindor prefects called out.

What!? How the fuck was I supposed to remember THAT!?

The painting swung open, revealing an entrance that led into a cozy, warm common room. The atmosphere inside was inviting, the fire crackling merrily in a large stone fireplace. Plush chairs, sofas, and tables filled the space, giving it a comfy and home-like feel.

I was just stepping into the room, ready to relax after a very eventful day before bed, when suddenly two familiar, delighted voices echoed through the common room.

"Young Master! There you are!"

"We've been waiting forever for you!"

My eyes widened as I instantly recognized the sultry, playful tones. 

Standing right in the middle of the common room were my personal maids, Lyra and Lyna, grinning brightly and waving energetically at me. They wore their usual maid uniforms—the black-and-white dresses incredibly skimpy, hugging their curves tightly, barely containing their ample breasts. The skirts were scandalously short, teasingly revealing long, smooth thighs covered only by sheer thigh-high stockings and high-heeled shoes.

"What the...?" a shocked voice gasped from somewhere behind me.

I could practically feel every eye in the room snap toward Lyra and Lyna, stunned silence quickly giving way to low whispers and murmurs. 

Fred and George stood with their mouths hanging open, looking utterly dumbstruck. Fred elbowed George, his eyes never leaving the twins as he muttered in a dazed voice, "Those twins are absolutely gorgeous! I think I'm in love."

“Me too, brother…”

"Oh, really?" snapped a sharp, annoyed voice from behind the twins. Fred and George jumped slightly, spinning around quickly. Angelina Johnson, their beautiful, dark-skinned girlfriend, stood glaring with her hands planted firmly on her hips. "Care to repeat that, boys?"

They both flushed bright red, sputtering desperately and denying everything they just said. 

Lyra and Lyna giggled softly, completely ignoring the chaos they had caused as they closed the distance between us. In an instant, the twins were pressed against my sides, their warm, plush bodies molding perfectly against me. Their arms slipped lovingly around mine, pushing their breasts against my chest and arms.

"Young Master," Lyna purred into my ear softly, her hot breath tickling my skin, "we're here to serve and take care of you—completely."

Lyra giggled seductively from my other side, adding with mischievous enthusiasm, "And we've already prepared your own private bedroom upstairs. You won't have to share with anyone!"

I groaned softly, shaking my head but feeling myself smile despite the mild embarrassment. These two were always managing to stir up trouble. "How did you two even get in here?" I asked curiously, though I had a sneaking suspicion I already knew.

"Oh, that's easy!" Lyra said proudly, leaning even closer against me, her soft curves making it hard to concentrate. "Your mother gave Hogwarts a rather generous donation!"

I rolled my eyes. “Figures. Nepotism at its finest.” Yet, deep down, I couldn’t complain. After a month spent living with them in the underworld—having two beautiful, devoted maids ready to fulfill my every whim was…nice.

Yeah, that was one word for it. Ok, these two were growing on me.

Lyna nodded eagerly, her lips brushing against my cheek as she whispered playfully, "Dumbledore was more than happy to accept, as long as we didn't cause too much trouble."

“But some trouble is perfectly fine, right Lyra?”

“Indeed it is my lovely sister!”

Fred and George were still staring enviously, though they were carefully avoiding Angelina’s sharp gaze now. "Bloody hell," Fred muttered, awe evident in his voice.

From somewhere behind me, someone muttered jealously, “Damn, Harry Potter—I mean, Harry Sitri—is so fucking cool!” The envy in his voice was unmistakable.

Meanwhile, Hermione and Ginny stood to the side, glaring daggers at Lyra and Lyna and practically hissing with annoyance. Hermione especially looked like she was barely restraining herself from hexing them right then and there.

I sighed softly again, trying not to laugh at everyone's reactions. I was getting used to this. "Alright, alright," I finally said gently to the twins, giving their shapely hips an affectionate squeeze. "You two are causing enough of a scene. Can we at least try to keep the drama to a minimum?"

Lyra and Lyna pouted dramatically, pressing even closer. "But Young Master," Lyra whimpered teasingly, "we’re just so happy to see you!"

"We couldn’t bear to be separated from you for months…" Lyna purred mischievously

Hermione and Ginny were still glaring at Lyra and Lyna, their eyes narrowed sharply, clearly disapproving of the sudden, dramatic entrance of my two maids. Lyra and Lyna either didn't notice or didn't care about the intense stares, completely focused on me instead. Their soft hands wrapped around my arms as they guided me toward one of the plush, comfortable couches by the roaring fireplace.

Lyra giggled softly, settling gracefully next to me on my right, her slender fingers delicately brushing along my arm and down to my thigh, lingering teasingly. “Young Master, you've been away from us for far too long,” she cooed.

It had barely been half a day...

“Yes,” Lyna agreed, her voice just as enticing as she slid onto my left side, pressing herself intimately close. “We've missed pampering you. You seem tense—maybe we should help you relax?”

Before I could respond, I caught sight of Hermione and Ginny stepping deliberately into my line of sight. They stood with arms crossed, faces stern, clearly demanding attention and an introduction. Hermione's usually gentle brown eyes were sharp with annoyance, and Ginny's expression bordered on a fierce glare.

I chuckled nervously, realizing I should quickly defuse this tension before it escalated. “Uh, right—girls, this is Lyra and Lyna, my... personal maids from home. Lyra, Lyna, these are Hermione and Ginny.”

“Are you friends with our young master? Or are you something more...?” Lyra asked teasingly, her soft lips curving into a playful smirk. Her hand slid up my thigh again, causing me to tense slightly from the tantalizing touch.

Ginny’s cheeks turned a deep crimson, her eyes widening in shock, clearly caught off guard by the maid's boldness. "Yes, I'm his friend... for now."

Hermione, however, appeared more assertive, stepping forward and placing her hands firmly on her hips. “I'm his girlfriend,” she said confidently, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth despite her obvious irritation.

Lyra and Lyna exchanged amused glances, their matching smiles growing wider. “How interesting,” Lyna murmured softly, her lips brushing enticingly against my ear as she whispered, “I think these girls might be a bit jealous, Young Master. Shall we show them exactly why they should be of us?”

Taking a deep breath, I firmly pushed Lyra and Lyna away, fighting past the softness of their bodies. They immediately pouted at me, their full lips forming adorable little frowns as they leaned forward to plead with their eyes.

“Alright, you two have had your fun,” I said sternly, trying to hide my amusement behind a serious tone. "Do you have your own room? Because I think it might be time for my very naughty, troublemaking maids to go to bed."

Hermione and Ginny nodded eagerly, exchanging vindictive smirks, clearly pleased I was finally stepping in.

Lyra let out a dramatic sigh, crossing her arms under her ample chest, unintentionally accentuating her curves even more. “Well, technically, Young Master, we do have our own room,” she admitted reluctantly, a disappointed look crossing her beautiful face.

Lyna moved closer, gently resting a hand on my chest and looking up at me with hopeful, pleading eyes. Her voice was soft, sultry, and filled with longing. “But we were really, really hoping we could share yours, Young Master. We promise we'd behave...."

Before I could respond to their blatant suggestion, Jasmine McKinnon finally approached after finishing up her prefect duties with the first years. She stopped next to us, hands on her hips, glasses sliding slightly down her nose as she eyed the twins with disbelief and frustration. “I'm not exactly sure what's going on here,” she said with a sigh, clearly fighting to keep her voice calm, “but at Hogwarts, men and women do not share rooms.”

Lyra and Lyna both turned to glare at her, their matching expressions full of defiance and disappointment. But Jasmine met their stares head-on, not backing down even a little. “And if you two don't comply, I'll have no choice but to report you both to Professor McGonagall—and have you thrown out. Honestly, you both should've been sent away already!” Her gaze turned to me, lips pursed in irritation, though her cheeks were tinged faintly pink from her frustration. “Really, Harry? You mentioned your mom was rich, but how rich does someone have to be to blatantly violate the rules and even manage to bribe a man as upstanding as Dumbledore?”

Lyra giggled softly, her eyes twinkling mischievously as she stepped forward and wrapped an arm around my waist possessively. “Oh, that's an easy one,” she said sweetly, her voice clear and ringing through the suddenly silent room. “Our mistress donated one million Galleons to Hogwarts.”

Immediately, gasps erupted from the students who had gathered around us, their mouths dropping open in shock at hearing such an incredible sum. Whispers quickly filled the air, the news spreading like wildfire through the common room.

“One million Galleons?” Ginny echoed incredulously, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Jasmine simply stared, completely dumbstruck. Her gaze flickered between me and the twins, struggling to process this outrageous revelation. "One million Galleons..." she repeated quietly to herself, shaking her head in disbelief. "That's utterly ridiculous!"

I chuckled softly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Welcome to my life," I murmured. "Now, if we can settle this matter, let's all head to bed and save the drama for tomorrow, alright? I'm sorry for the scene these two caused..."

– Draco –

Draco Malfoy lounged in the dimly lit Slytherin common room, legs sprawled out lazily over the luxurious green velvet couch. Crabbe and Goyle sat nearby, quietly discussing something mundane while occasionally glancing toward Draco for approval.

On his lap perched his girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson, who showered him with praise and soft murmurs of adoration as she ran her manicured nails delicately along his chest. "You're just so powerful, Draco," Pansy purred, leaning in to gently kiss his neck, her dark hair cascading over his shoulder. "None of these fools at Hogwarts compare to you. You're destined for greatness."

Draco gave her a lazy, half-hearted smirk, only mildly paying attention. Her touch was pleasant, but his mind was preoccupied with other, more pressing matters.

Foremost on his thoughts was Jasmine McKinnon, that insufferable Gryffindor who seemed to be at the center of so many of his recent frustrations. Draco’s jaw tightened at the memory of their last encounter. He could still feel the burning shame of that day vividly—the humiliation, the helplessness, and especially that damn Mudblood who dared use the Cruciatus Curse on him!

Who cares if Draco had cast the curse himself or not!

Draco’s father had exploded in fury when he'd learned about the incident, demanding the identity of the attacker, but without a face or name, they had nothing to go on.

Draco clenched his fists bitterly, vowing silently that McKinnon and her friends would pay dearly for their insolence. He would make sure of it.

But revenge wasn't his only triumph. Draco had successfully completed his father’s mission, slipping that mysterious black book into the belongings of some unsuspecting, ignorant student. A smirk tugged at his lips as he wondered eagerly what chaos would unfold from his actions.

Whatever the outcome, it was sure to be spectacularly entertaining.

Yet even as schemes and revenge played in his mind, something else stirred within Draco—a desire more immediate and tantalizing than mere plotting.

Draco Malfoy prided himself on acquiring things others could only dream about. He was named after a dragon, a proud, powerful symbol, and he carried that legacy with arrogant satisfaction. His gaze drifted momentarily up to Pansy, who smiled adoringly up at him. She was certainly attractive enough in a simplistic way, and Draco appreciated the way she eagerly spread her legs without question or hesitation.

Still, she paled in comparison to the real prizes that had recently caught his attention.

A wicked smile crossed Draco’s face as vivid images of the two captivating Ravenclaw transfer students filled his mind. Sona Sitri and Tsubaki Shinra—two extraordinary beauties. Draco had barely been able to take his eyes off them during the Sorting Ceremony, captivated by their stunning appearances. Their gorgeous black hair, graceful poise, and intoxicating confidence had immediately marked them as the most desirable women Draco had ever laid eyes upon.

Pansy leaned in closer, her lips brushing his ear softly, breaking him from his fantasies. "Draco, you're distracted," she whispered sulkily, her tone slightly annoyed.

Draco smiled coldly, his attention slowly returning to her. "Just thinking, Pansy," he replied dismissively, reaching up to caress her cheek gently, though his gaze was distant. "Don't trouble yourself over it."

She pouted slightly, clearly sensing his disinterest, and pressed herself more firmly against him, eager to regain his attention. "Maybe I can distract you better," she murmured suggestively, tracing slow, teasing circles on his chest.

Draco chuckled softly, finally allowing himself to enjoy her eagerness. "Perhaps you can," he admitted coolly, tilting her chin up to look into her eyes. As she smiled brightly, pleased by his attention, Draco’s mind lingered briefly once more on Sona and Tsubaki. Tonight when he fucked Pansy, he'd be thinking of them...

XXX

Thanks for reading!!! You can check out more of my stories on my profile.

If you want to see more of my work ahead of time feel free to check out: 

https://www. /blog/somestarwaves

Here is the list of Current Advanced Chapters on there:

The Fallen Gamer ch 348-350 The Finale! 

–

Thunder and Black Wings 42

Thunder and Black Wings 41

–

Thats not wizard magic 16

Thats not wizard magic 15

That’s not wizard magic 14

That’s not wizard magic 13

That’s not wizard magic 12

That’s not wizard magic 11

–

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 37

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 36

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 35

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 34

–

The Fox Hole 115

The Fox Hole 114

The Fox Hole 113

The Fox Hole 112

–

The Blood Queen 65

The Blood Queen 64

The Blood Queen 63

The Blood Queen 62

The Blood Queen 61

Chapter Text

We're back with another chapter! The first short section in this chapter was actually supposed to go at the end of the last chapter, but I forgot to add it… This chapter also has an R-18 section.

Chapter 11 (~10500 words):

– Snape –

After the feast…

Severus Snape sat alone in his dimly lit office, a nearly empty bottle of Firewhisky resting precariously on the edge of his cluttered desk. His dark eyes were fixed on nothing in particular, glazed over with disbelief and shock. He took another long swig, savoring the burning sensation as the alcohol slid down his throat, trying to numb the chaotic whirl of emotions inside him.

All these years, he'd firmly believed the famous Harry Potter was James Potter’s son—the physical embodiment of everything he loathed about his old rival. He had spent countless nights imagining James and Lily together, bitter jealousy and anger simmering in his heart.

Yet today, his reality had been violently shattered by Harry's unexpected confession in the Great Hall. Lily, sweet, beautiful Lily, had cheated on James. The legendary Harry Potter wasn't even James Potter's son at all...

Snape let out a bitter laugh, dark and humorless, echoing off the stone walls of his office. How ironic, how utterly devastating. He’d been so prepared to hate the boy, to see nothing but James’s arrogance reflected in Harry’s features.

But now…what was he supposed to do with this revelation?

He leaned forward, pressing his elbows against the rough surface of the desk, running shaking fingers through his greasy black hair. Images of Lily filled his mind—the vibrant emerald of her eyes, the captivating smile that always melted his heart, her infectious laughter. The thought that she'd betrayed James—a part of him—felt oddly satisfied.

His thoughts wandered reluctantly to Harry again, and Snape felt uncertainty. He supposed there was nothing he could do but see how Harry acted in his class. Whether the Boy-Who-Lived was a fool or not. Although, the 19 year old certainly didn't seem to have a problem with women. 

That annoying trait honestly reminded Snape of Sirius Black…?

– Harry –

(R-18)

The first day of school...

I woke up the next morning in my new bed at Hogwarts. I had my own private room, and that small luxury felt incredible. I had actually slept pretty well despite all the excitement.

I noticed something strange. The sheets around my waist shifted, moving in a way that didn’t match my own movements. Two shapes wriggled under the blanket.

My grogginess evaporated instantly.

I pulled the sheets up slowly and my eyes widened. There, nestled between my legs, were Lyra and Lyna—my twin Devil maids. Pale, beautiful, with long black hair tumbling over their shoulders, they looked up at me with identical wicked smiles. They were wearing those skimpy maid costumes that were tight enough to look painted on, fabric straining to contain their curves, lace edges barely covering the swell of their breasts. The stockings clung to their pale thighs.

At that moment, both of them had their pink tongues sliding eagerly up and down my cock, their lips glistening as they took turns tasting every inch. Lyra looked up first, her tongue dragging from base to tip before she paused to give me a smile that was pure lust. “Good morning, Master,” she purred, her voice thick with need. She licked her lips deliberately before sinking back down.

Beside her, Lyna blushed faintly but kept her mouth busy, her tongue circling my balls with soft, wet strokes. Her voice came out muffled against me, awkward but still obedient. “Good morning,” she mumbled, her words vibrating against my skin as she continued licking.

My hips twitched on their own, betraying just how much I was enjoying waking up like this.

Their tongues worked in tandem—Lyra stroking me with long, deliberate licks while Lyna pressed kisses against my sack, sucking gently between laps. 

I groaned in pure pleasure as Lyra sank her lips all the way down my cock, taking me to the base until her nose pressed into my stomach. Her throat tightened and relaxed as she bobbed her head, gagging slightly but refusing to stop. The wet sound of her sucking filled the room, obscene and loud. I gripped the sheets under me, my hips jerking slightly at the feeling. “Bloody hell…” I muttered under my breath, barely able to think.

I managed to gasp out a question, “What the hell are you two doing in my room?” My voice cracked from the pressure building in my chest.

Lyna’s delicate fingers massaged my balls, slow and careful, her touch soft but teasing. She looked up at me with those big dark eyes and gave a tiny smile. “We wanted to give you a proper good morning at long last,” she said sweetly, her voice low but firm. Her fingers squeezed just right, making me twitch helplessly. Then she tilted her head and asked in a quiet but confident tone, “Do you like it, Master?”

As if on cue, Lyra moaned around my shaft and started sucking harder, her head bobbing faster, her cheeks hollowing as she pulled back and slammed down again. Spit dripped from her lips and down my length, making everything slick and messy. I gasped out loud, my back arching off the bed. “Fuck—Lyra!” I couldn’t help saying her name as her tongue flicked over the tip again and again, sending sparks racing up my spine.

Of course I liked it. I loved it. The way Lyna’s fingers rubbed me while her sister swallowed me whole was enough to make me see stars. Lyra’s rhythm quickened, her throat squeezing tighter with every drop, while Lyna leaned in close and pressed soft kisses against my balls before giving one a playful lick. The mix of their attention drove me wild. My cock throbbed hard in Lyra’s mouth, and the heat rising in my chest made my breathing ragged.

“Good… Maou… you two…” I groaned, my voice rough and blunt. I could barely form words, lost between the filthy sight of Lyra choking herself on me and the gentle, teasing care of Lyna’s hand and tongue. My body trembled under the waves of pleasure as I realized this was one of the most intense wake‑up calls of my life!

Lyna then switched with her sister, sliding up eagerly to take Lyra’s place. Her lips parted, and she swallowed me down in one smooth motion, her throat squeezing tight as she worked me with wet, sloppy gulps. My eyes rolled back, and I couldn’t hold back a deep grunt as her tongue pressed flat against me between her pouty lips.

Lyra wiped her mouth slowly, licking her lips with a grin that was both smug and wicked as she looked me dead in the eyes. “You know, Master,” she purred, her voice low and teasing, “you could have had this wake-up every single morning if you hadn’t kept pushing us away all those times. You really made us wait for too long.” She leaned closer, her hot breath brushing my skin, and began planting kisses across my bare stomach and chest. Her lips dragged against my skin, leaving a trail of kisses.

“Bloody hell…” I hissed under my breath, my fingers digging into the sheets as Lyna gagged slightly but pushed herself deeper, her throat stretching to take me all the way down. The wet, choking sounds were obscene, filling the room with lewd noise that only made me throb harder. I glanced down and nearly lost it at the sight—Lyna’s cheeks flushed and eyes watering while her sister’s tongue traced lazy patterns across my chest.

Lyra teased against my skin, her tongue darting up until she reached my collarbone. She nipped me there lightly before trailing higher. “So tempting, every single night… we’ve had to behave for so long.” Her voice turned husky with need. Then her lips met mine, and she kissed me hard—intensely, almost angrily—her tongue forcing its way into my mouth while her sister kept deep-throating me below.

I moaned into Lyra’s mouth, caught between the suffocating heat of her kiss and the tight, wet pull of Lyna’s throat around me. The mix of sensations made my body tremble, and I broke the kiss only to gasp out, “Fuck… you two are going to kill me.”

Lyra chuckled softly, licking my lips before kissing me again.

I was sucking on Lyra’s tongue, our mouths messy and hot as we kissed like animals. My hands were full of her tits, squeezing and groping through the thin fabric of her maid outfit until she moaned right into my mouth. The sound was filthy, needy, and it only made me grab at her harder. Her tongue rolled against mine, slippery and wet, while her hips ground down against my thigh like she couldn’t help herself. I felt her body shiver against me, her chest rising and falling fast as she panted into our kiss.

Down below, Lyna pulled her lips back just slightly, letting my shaft slide free of her mouth with a wet pop. She immediately wrapped both of her small hands around me, pumping me quickly, her tongue flicking over the sensitive head with little licks that made me twitch hard in her grip. The mix of her hands and tongue sent sparks shooting up my spine. My thighs trembled, my abs tightening as the pressure built.

I groaned roughly, breaking the kiss with Lyra just long enough to gasp, “I’m gonna cum—fuck—I’m right there.”

Lyra’s lips curled into a grin, her eyes flashing with wicked delight. “Good,” she purred, scooting down to join her sister. “Cum for us, Master!.” Her voice was thick with lust, and hearing her call me that nearly made me explode on the spot.

Both girls worked me together now, their soft hands sliding over my slick shaft in perfect rhythm. Their tongues brushed against each other as they licked up and down my length, messy and desperate. The sight was unreal—two beautiful twin devils fighting over my cock, moaning as they begged for my cum. Lyra pressed her tongue flat against the underside while Lyna circled the tip, their lips brushing as they both fought to taste me first.

“Please, Master,” Lyna whispered breathlessly, stroking me faster. “Cum all over our faces.”

Lyra giggled, licking along my shaft before leaning close to her twin, their tongues tangling against me. “Yes… cover us. We want it so bad.” Their voices blended together, begging, pleading, demanding, while their mouths and hands never stopped moving.

I gritted my teeth, every muscle in my body tight, my vision going white around the edges. The heat in my gut surged higher, my cock throbbing violently between them. My voice came out hoarse, blunt, “I’m fucking cumming!”

Both girls gasped in excitement, opening their mouths wide and stroking me even faster, their eyes locked on me with pure hunger as they braced for what they wanted most.

My whole body was shuddering, every nerve burning hot as I groaned out their names over and over, my voice breaking with how good it felt.

My cock jerked violently one last time and then I lost it completely, spurting thick, hot cum all over Lyra and Lyna’s identical, perfect faces. The first ropes splashed across Lyra’s cheek and lips, dripping into the corner of her mouth. The next streak painted across Lyna’s nose and chin, trailing into her open mouth as she moaned like it was the sweetest taste in the world. More kept pouring out of me in heavy pulses, streaking across their foreheads, their eyelashes, and streaking through the silky black of their hair until strands clumped together with white.

Neither of them cared—no, they loved it.

They moaned in raw excitement, eyes half‑lidded with lust, tongues slipping out to catch what they could as I rode out my orgasm. They looked hungry for every drop, smiling even as they were painted in it. My hips bucked weakly, milking out every last spurt, until I finally collapsed back against the bed, gasping for breath.

When the last twitch faded and I was left panting heavily, chest heaving, I looked down to see the most obscene and intoxicating sight of my life. Lyra and Lyna turned to each other, faces dripping, and without hesitation they pressed their lips together. Their mouths opened, tongues meeting as they began to kiss passionately, swapping my cum between them. I watched with wide eyes as strings of white stretched between their mouths, glistening as they moaned into each other. They licked at each other’s faces, cleaning one another slowly, deliberately, like it was a ritual meant only for me to see.

Lyra pulled back for a second, her lips shiny and her chest rising fast. She glanced up at me with a wicked grin. “Mmm… Master tastes perfect,” she said bluntly, licking the last of me from Lyna’s cheek before diving back into another wet kiss with her twin. Lyna giggled softly, muffled by Lyra’s mouth, before turning her head slightly to add, “We could get addicted to this…” Her voice trembled with need as she pressed herself closer to her sister, their tongues tangling again while their faces were still messy with my cum.

The twin sisters then pulled down both of their tops, their skimpy maid outfits falling away to expose identical, perfect pairs of huge tits. Their pale skin flushed faintly pink as their hands immediately went to work—squeezing, groping, and playing with each other’s breasts in front of me like they were putting on a show just to keep me hard. Their nipples were already stiff, poking proudly as they rolled them between their fingers, tugging and pinching while moaning softly. White streaks of my cum still smeared across their faces, dripping down onto their chests, and they leaned in to lick it up from each other’s skin.

Watching them lap it off each other’s nipples made my cock twitch all over again.

“Do you want to keep going, young master?” they purred together, their voices dripping with lust as they stared into my eyes with identical hunger.

Fuck yes, I wanted to, my whole body screamed for it!

My cock was still half‑hard, twitching as their tits bounced in their hands. My mouth went dry just from the sight. Lyra leaned forward, pressing her messy chest together, smearing cum between her tits like she was offering them to me. Lyna copied her, biting her lip as she pinched her own nipple harder. The wet sound of them licking and sucking on each other’s breasts nearly made me forget the world outside this bed.

But then my eyes darted to the clock on the nightstand. Fifteen minutes until I was supposed to meet Hermione in the Great Hall. Fifteen fucking minutes, and now I needed a shower on top of it. My gut twisted with frustration. I wanted nothing more than to bury myself between those tits until I forgot my own name, but I didn’t have the time.

When I told them we had to take a rain check, both of them instantly pouted, lips trembling, eyes wide and wet with fake tears. I sat up and grabbed them both by the chest, squeezing their tits hard, my thumbs rolling over their stiff nipples until they gasped and moaned like I had shocked them. Their bodies arched toward me, hungry for more, but I forced myself to stop, dragging my hands away even as my cock throbbed angrily in protest.

“We will hold you to that, young master,” they whispered together, their voices husky with need. Lyra dragged a finger across her cum‑stained lips and sucked it clean with a lewd pop while Lyna cupped her tits proudly, still rubbing her sore nipples as she smirked at me. “Please have a good day at your classes… and don’t keep us waiting too long...”

– Sona –

The first day of school...

Wasn't this house supposed to be for the academics and essentially the nerds of this magic school? Sona wondered with mild irritation. 

Why, then, had three Ravenclaws already asked her out since the sorting feast? She huffed inwardly, barely suppressing her annoyance as she stared down at the trembling young man standing nervously before her. He was clearly an underclassman, probably around seventeen or eighteen, with messy brown hair and wide, hopeful eyes behind thick-rimmed glasses. He awkwardly held out a bouquet of conjured blue and silver roses, his cheeks flushed deep crimson.

"P-please, Miss Sitri," he stammered, his voice quivering as he struggled to maintain eye contact, "will you be my girlfriend?"

Sona forced herself not to roll her eyes openly. Instead, she arched an elegant eyebrow, her gaze sharp yet politely disinterested. "I'm sorry," she responded evenly, keeping her tone civil yet firm. "I'm not interested in dating right now. Besides, you're not exactly my type."

Nearby, her supposedly loyal queen Tsubaki covered her mouth with her hand, unsuccessfully hiding a soft laugh at Sona's predicament. Her violet eyes twinkled mischievously behind her glasses, clearly enjoying her master's discomfort far too much.

Just then, Tsubaki's amusement abruptly died when another student approached her from behind, clearing his throat nervously. "Excuse me, Miss Shinra," he began shyly, extending another bouquet of conjured roses toward her, his face even redder than the first boy's. "Would you do me the honor of becoming my girlfriend?"

Now it was Tsubaki’s turn to sputter and flush in embarrassment, her composure slipping slightly. She glanced helplessly at Sona, who gave her a dry, triumphant smirk in return. "Sorry," Tsubaki managed to say diplomatically, regaining her composure with a small, polite smile. "I'm flattered, but I'm not looking for a relationship right now either."

The boy deflated visibly, his hopeful expression crumbling as he quickly turned and rushed away, trying not to let his tears show. Around them, other Ravenclaw students snickered quietly, amused by the constant attempts and predictable rejections.

Sona sighed softly, brushing back a strand of silky black hair behind her ear, feeling slightly guilty despite herself. The boys here were almost as relentless as the ones back in Kuoh. She glanced back at Tsubaki, who was now politely yet firmly rejecting another boy's stammering advances, her expression carefully neutral but her patience obviously wearing thin.

She preferred confident and handsome young men, watching the scene with detached amusement.

Her mind involuntarily drifted to a certain nephew of hers, whose face often surfaced in her thoughts. Yes, someone like Harry would be far more interesting and appealing.

However, she kept that particular thought strictly to herself, fully aware of the scandal it would cause if voiced aloud in a school full of humans. In the underworld, of course, no one would bat an eye. Then again, weren't a whole bunch of the purebloods in this school related to each other? Maybe she could be a bit more open in her affections for her dearest nephew then? She'd have to do some research first, she supposed...

And that mindset was definitely why she was put in Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor like she asked that dumb dirty hat! She wanted to be with her nephew Harry.

"How many more do you think we'll have to reject before they finally give up?" Tsubaki asked, moving closer once she'd managed to deter her latest admirer. Her voice held a hint of amusement mixed with exasperation.

Sona glanced around the common room, noting the curious, hopeful eyes still occasionally darting in their direction. "Hopefully not too many," she replied dryly, crossing her arms elegantly. "Although, knowing our luck, this might become a daily occurrence..."

Tsubaki sighed dramatically, adjusting her glasses with a delicate touch. "I don't know why I expected anything different, honestly..." 

Just as Sona and Tsubaki were preparing to finally leave the Ravenclaw common room, eager to escape further embarrassing propositions, a soft, dreamy voice called out gently from behind them, catching Sona's attention. Curious, she turned gracefully to face the voice, finding herself eye-to-eye with a petite blonde girl she recognized from earlier. The girl's long, messy blonde hair framed a heart-shaped face that bore a faraway yet pleasant expression. Her silvery-blue eyes gazed at Sona serenely, as if seeing things others couldn't.

"Hello," the girl said in an airy, whimsical tone. "My name is Luna Lovegood. We haven’t officially met. Would you two like some company? The castle can be quite confusing at first, and people often get lost."

Sona paused, evaluating the gentle sincerity in Luna's expression. Though she didn't really need help—her memory was practically perfect—there was something genuinely endearing about Luna’s dreamy mannerisms that made her nod her consent. "That sounds nice," Sona replied warmly. "Thank you, Luna."

As Luna moved closer to join them, Sona's keen hearing picked up quiet, malicious whispers from several other students nearby. Words like "Looney Lovegood" drifted to her ears, making her frown deeply. Her pink eyes narrowed into a cold, displeased glare.

Bullying was completely unacceptable, especially in HER new house! She silently promised herself that she would address that issue firmly as soon as she could. No one would harass another student under her watch!

Tsubaki watched the exchange curiously, her expression shifting subtly as she caught the whispers as well, giving her master a knowing glance. Sona gave a small nod in return—yes, they would handle this together soon.

The trio began walking toward the exit, Luna easily falling into step beside them with a gentle sway to her stride, seemingly lost in her own pleasant thoughts. The common room’s murmurs gradually faded behind them, replaced by the peaceful silence of the corridor outside.

Just as they reached the end of the hallway, Luna spoke again in that casual, dreamy tone, abruptly shattering the calm. "Have either of you kissed Harry yet?" she asked conversationally, as if asking about the weather.

Sona almost tripped over her own feet, her usually graceful stride faltering badly. She reached out instinctively to steady herself against the stone wall. Tsubaki's eyes widened slightly in surprise, glancing quickly to her.

Luna continued without missing a beat, her serene expression unchanged, entirely unaffected by the stunned reaction she'd caused. "He's a very nice kisser, you know. It was my first kiss with a boy, and it was lovely—quite gentle and warm."

Sona's cheeks warmed despite her efforts to remain composed, utterly taken aback by Luna's frank, open confession. "Y-you kissed Harry?" she asked, voice faltering slightly as she tried to regain her composure.

"Oh yes," Luna affirmed, her smile gentle and innocent. "Ginny and I used to practice kissing when we were younger, but Harry was my first real kiss. It's very different with a boy, don't you think? More exciting, somehow!"

Sona struggled to suppress the flush climbing rapidly up her neck.

"...Well, Harry certainly is quite popular, isn't he?" Tsubaki remarked lightly, shooting Sona a teasing look.

"He is," Luna agreed dreamily, nodding slowly. "Though I suppose he would have to be, with looks and charm like his. It makes sense many would want to kiss him. Have you thought about it, Sona...?"

Sona sputtered slightly, her usually composed demeanor briefly slipping as heat rushed to her cheeks. She shot a piercing glare toward Tsubaki, whose amused expression had broken into a broad, teasing grin.

“Tsubaki, control yourself,” Sona said through gritted teeth, smoothing her uniform in an attempt to recover her dignity. Her queen merely nodded, still biting her lip to suppress further laughter.

Luna tilted her head curiously, apparently unaware of the discomfort she had caused. Her expression was serene, innocent even, as if asking about Sona's nephew had been the most natural question in the world.

Sona quickly cleared her throat and forced a polite smile. “Why don’t we talk about something else?” she suggested firmly, meeting Luna's eyes with gentle insistence. “Tell us more about Hogwarts. What are your favorite classes?”

Luna brightened visibly at the change of topic, her silvery-blue eyes gleaming with quiet excitement. "Oh, I absolutely adore Care of Magical Creatures!" she began dreamily. "It's such a fascinating class. The magical creatures here have the most wonderful secrets, you know. They’re often misunderstood, just like people..." Luna sounded a bit sadder when adding that part.

“That’s an interesting way to look at it,” Tsubaki chimed in, obviously trying to cheer the girl back up. “Are there particular creatures you especially enjoy working with?”

“Thestrals,” Luna answered immediately, her voice gentle and reverent. "They appear rather intimidating at first, but they are truly beautiful once you get to know them. They have a kindness many people overlook because they seem scary! I love feeding them."

Sona nodded thoughtfully. “I’d love to see one someday,” she admitted, genuinely curious. She didn't actually know that much about magical creatures not from the underworld. “What else do you do when you're not attending class?”

Luna smiled softly, her gaze turning dreamy again. "I enjoy wandering through the Forbidden Forest or exploring hidden parts of the castle. There’s always something new to discover, some hidden secret or a forgotten corridor."

“You’re quite brave, exploring by yourself,” Tsubaki remarked.

Luna gave a quiet laugh, the sound melodic and calming. “Not brave exactly, just curious. Though I suppose bravery helps..."

They reached the Great Hall early, the enormous room quiet except for the soft hum of magic in the air and the gentle clinking of breakfast dishes appearing on the tables. Sona paused briefly in the doorway, her sharp eyes instinctively seeking out her nephew Harry. A small, involuntary smile formed on her lips when she found him sitting comfortably at the Gryffindor table, deeply engrossed in conversation with a pretty brunette whose frizzy hair fell messily around her shoulders.

There was something undeniably charming about the way he leaned closer, giving his companion his full attention.

“That’s Hermione Granger,” Luna informed her in that same dreamy voice, seeming to sense exactly who had caught Sona's attention.

Sona nodded thoughtfully, recalling how Harry had exchanged numerous letters with a girl named Hermione while they had been staying in the Underworld. The vivid image of him meticulously composing messages, his brow furrowed in concentration, suddenly felt far more significant now that she could see exactly who he'd been writing to. Hermione was attractive, intelligent, and by the look on her face, clearly very fond of Harry. Sona felt a strange flutter of something she refused to name, briefly clenching her delicate fists at her sides.

Luna glanced up at her with an innocent smile, clearly perceptive despite her whimsical demeanor. "It’s perfectly alright to sit with him if you want, you know," she assured her gently. "At breakfast, you can sit anywhere you'd like. It's only dinner when we're required to stick strictly to our house tables."

“Thanks for letting me know, Luna,” Sona replied gratefully, relieved by Luna’s supportive nature. Taking a slow, steadying breath, she squared her shoulders and led Luna and Tsubaki across the polished stone floor toward Harry’s table.

She hadn’t made it halfway across the hall before Harry’s head turned suddenly, as though he instinctively sensed her presence approaching. The bright, welcoming smile that immediately lit up his handsome face made her heart skip a beat. She felt her cheeks warm slightly and cursed herself silently for the blush she couldn't control. Damn him for being so effortlessly charming, she thought with fond irritation.

“Good morning, Harry,” she greeted warmly, taking a seat directly across from him. She glanced briefly at Hermione, nodding politely in acknowledgment. "Hello, Hermione. I'm Sona Sitri, Harry's aunt."

Hermione looked startled for a moment, clearly surprised by the introduction. She quickly recovered though, a friendly smile crossing her lips. “Oh! It’s lovely to finally meet you, Sona. Harry’s mentioned you quite a bit."

"All good things, I hope," Sona teased, enjoying how Harry's cheeks reddened slightly in embarrassment.

"Mostly," Hermione replied with a playful glint in her eyes. "Although he did mention your intimidating chess skills."

"Chess is hardly intimidating," Sona laughed gently, feeling herself relaxing around the other girl. "Though, I suppose some might find my style a bit ruthless."

Harry chuckled quietly. "‘Ruthless’ is definitely the right word."

She had never let him win a game yet…

– Harry –

Sona settled down gracefully beside me, and Tsubaki slid in next to her. I couldn’t deny the warmth and happiness I felt having her close. But still, I couldn't hide my confusion over why she had suddenly shown up at Hogwarts with me. I opened my mouth to ask, but before I could get a single word out, Sona raised her hand slightly, her eyes meeting mine with gentle understanding.

"I already know what you're going to ask, Harry," she said quietly.

Glancing around, she noticed Luna chatting comfortably with Hermione at the other end of the table. Hermione seemed to sense the need for privacy and kept Luna engaged.

With a small sigh, Sona began, "The truth is, things haven't been going well with my peerage for a very long time. Tsubaki is the only one who truly understood and supported me. I finally decided it was best for everyone if I took back my evil pieces and made them all human again. I even erased their memories of their time serving me and being devils."

She sounded upset, but determined.

I stared at her, completely shocked by her words. "Even Saji?" I asked carefully.

Sona’s jaw tightened noticeably, and beside her, Tsubaki visibly cringed. "Especially Saji," Tsubaki murmured bitterly, her voice tight with anger.

That tone she used did not sound good. I leaned forward, curious yet slightly apprehensive. "What happened?"

Tsubaki glanced at Sona, silently seeking permission to explain. When Sona gave her a stiff nod, Tsubaki took a breath and continued grimly. "We went to Saji's house last, planning to maybe keep him in the peerage because he had a Sacred Gear, which was valuable. But when we arrived, he wasn’t home yet, so we looked around a bit—and found his room." Her expression darkened further, her tone dripping with disgust. "His walls, every inch of them, were plastered with pictures of Sona. Private photos, Harry. Some of them were from inside her own bedroom, some from the locker rooms at school. Photos of her in her underwear, and even a few where she was topless. That bastard had been stalking her for months, sneaking cameras into private areas!"

My fists clenched tightly beneath the table, my blood boiling with rage at hearing that. I gritted my teeth, furious and disgusted. I should have beaten that creep's face in harder back when we fought in the Underworld!

Sona reached out, gently placing a calming hand on my arm, her fingers soft yet reassuring. "Harry, it's alright. I took care of it."

My anger lessened slightly under her touch, though it still simmered dangerously beneath the surface. "What exactly did you do?" I asked carefully, searching her eyes for answers.

A small, cold smile formed on Sona’s lips. "I took care of it..."

I shivered slightly at Sona's chilling tone, deciding wisely not to push the matter any further.

Still, I couldn't help but smile genuinely at her, feeling relieved and honestly thrilled to have her here beside me at Hogwarts. “I really am happy you're here, Sona,” I repeated softly.

She gave me a warm, the coldness in her pink eyes melting away entirely as she leaned slightly closer. “Me too, Harry. It's comforting being near you,” she admitted quietly, causing a pleasant warmth to spread through my chest.

After a moment, curiosity struck me again. “So, is Rias going to be alright managing Kuoh all alone?”

At my question, Sona visibly cringed, clearly uncomfortable at the thought. “Honestly? Probably not,” she sighed, shaking her head slightly in mild exasperation. “Rias is very sweet and genuinely cares deeply for those around her, but she's never exactly been the most responsible or organized person. Leaving her to handle everything on her own might end up in chaos." Her eyes clouded over slightly in worry, though she quickly continued, trying to reassure both herself and me. “But knowing her brother, he'll probably step in quickly. I'm sure he'll appoint another young devil heiress to co-manage the territory with her—someone like Seekvaira Agares or perhaps Ravel Phenex. Both are incredibly competent and disciplined."

I blinked blankly at her mention of unfamiliar names, my ignorance probably showing clearly on my face. “I have no clue who those two are, but I'll take your word for it,” I said with a small shrug, giving her a playful grin. “Japan is literally on the other side of the world, after all. Whatever happens, it's not our problem..."

Sona chuckled lightly, "Indeed. It will be nice not having to clean up her messes for a few months..."

“Are you excited about your first day of classes here?” I asked her.

Her eyes instantly lit up, and an adorable, almost shy smile graced her lips. “Yes, very much so,” she confessed excitedly. “There are so many fascinating things to learn here, completely different from the magic in the Underworld!"

“You really are a beautiful magical nerd,” I teased gently, earning myself a playful smack on the arm from her and a suppressed giggle from Tsubaki beside her. "Though, unfortunately, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor don't share many core classes. But we'll still have Runes and Care of Magical Creatures together. And I'm sure we'll find plenty of excuses to spend time together outside class as well.”

Sona smiled warmly at my promise, her pink eyes shining softly as they met mine. “I’ll hold you to that,” she whispered and touched my hand, sending a pleasant shiver down my spine.

By this time, the Great Hall was filling up steadily as more students shuffled in, sleepily taking their places at their tables. Sona, Tsubaki, Hermione, Luna, and I settled comfortably, and ate our breakfast.

Sitting comfortably between Sona and Hermione, I was thoroughly enjoying breakfast.

I felt incredibly lucky.

Hermione eagerly discussed magical theory, while Sona added thoughtful insights. I had a feeling they shared similar interests.

I occasionally glanced around the Great Hall, amused by how many jealous looks I was receiving. After all, being squeezed between two stunningly beautiful and intelligent women was definitely turning this into an incredible morning.

Just as I was relaxing further, savoring my good fortune, I heard heavy, arrogant footsteps echoing behind me.

Jasmine, seated directly across the table, suddenly stiffened, her pretty face twisting in irritation.

Hermione and Sona turned simultaneously, their cheerful expressions fading quickly. I turned around as well, dread pooling in my gut at the unwelcome sight of Draco Malfoy approaching---the guy I took down in Diagon Alley when he was trying to assault Jasmine and her friends. He was flanked by his two hulking bodyguards whose names I neither cared nor bothered to recall.

My eyes immediately narrowed in suspicion when I saw Draco arrogantly clutching two large bouquets of red roses.

"Oh my Maou! Not again!" Sona groaned dramatically from beside me, sounding genuinely annoyed.

"....Several boys from Ravenclaw already tried to ask Sona and Tsubaki out this morning," Luna's dreamy voice drifted across the table. "It was very fun to watch them fail..."

Annoyance bubbled inside me at the thought of other guys trying to approach Sona, even though it hardly surprised me. She was beyond gorgeous and captivating—a complete package that would naturally attract attention.

Malfoy stopped dramatically in front of us, holding out the roses and raised his chin arrogantly. His voice carried clearly, filled with a nauseating confidence. "Hello, lovely ladies," Draco purred smugly, his eyes shining greedily as they roamed over both Sona and Tsubaki with barely concealed lust. "My name is Draco Malfoy, heir of House Malfoy! Might I have the honor of courting both of you? You'll find being a mistress of House Malfoy comes with numerous benefits—wealth, influence, and pleasure," he finished suggestively, waggling his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner.

An abrupt, shocked silence fell over the Great Hall. Every head turned, eyes wide, mouths agape, a collective gasp rising around us. Some students murmured in disbelief, others openly whispered their disappointment, assuming that Sona and Tsubaki might actually consider Draco's shameless offer simply because of his wealth and social status.

A few girls, particularly from Slytherin, hissed jealously under their breath, glaring venomously in our direction.

I seriously regretted not just killing that arrogant baby death eater when I had the chance a few days ago. At the time, I'd hesitated, unwilling to traumatize the girls I’d just rescued.

But now, seeing Draco's smug face as he kept babbling on like some entitled brat about making Sona and Tsubaki his mistresses, I felt pure rage boil inside me.

Draco seemed completely oblivious to the disgusted expressions on both Sona and Tsubaki’s faces. He just kept droning on shamelessly, listing out the so-called 'perks' of being mistresses of House Malfoy. He bluntly demanded they be ready to warm his bed every single night, crudely emphasizing exactly what that would entail with a lecherous wink. He even had the nerve to casually declare that they would eventually be expected to carry his children—several 'spares,' as he obnoxiously put it—to secure the future prosperity of his damned family.

"But don't worry," Draco drawled smugly, a disgusting grin spreading across his pale, slimy face, "my mistresses will be very well taken care of, both in and out of the bedroom. Trust me, you'll soon be begging for more."

The crude insinuation was too much. Sona snapped. Behind her glasses, her beautiful pink eyes flashed with a dangerous fury, nearly glowing red with rage. I could feel the air around her turning suddenly frigid, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Draco, still oblivious to the threat before him, smirked arrogantly and opened his mouth again to spew more disgusting nonsense. But before another vile word could leave his lips, there was a sudden, sharp crack, and an enormous block of clear ice instantly enveloped him, freezing his stupid, sneering face mid-sentence. He stood there trapped, completely immobilized, eyes wide with shocked disbelief!

The nearby students leaped back, shrieking in panic and shock, while Fred and George exploded with laughter. “Malfoy makes a great popsicle!” Fred shouted gleefully.

“Looks like he finally found his calling!” George added with a wicked grin, clearly delighted at Draco's misfortune.

Draco’s two brainless bodyguards began frantically pounding on the ice with their fists, futilely trying to free him. As if punching magic ice would break it.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes in disbelief, wondering if these idiots were even capable of basic magic...?

Beside me, Sona was still shaking slightly with restrained fury, her fists clenched tight enough to whiten her knuckles. Tsubaki, however, recovered quickly, clearly amused now that Draco had been literally silenced.

She gently clapped, smiling cheerfully at her king. “Congratulations, Mistress Sona,” Tsubaki said sweetly, her voice rich with pride and a hint of playful teasing. “It looks like you've finally awakened your ability to control ice, just like your big sister Serafall! And all it took was an insufferable fool to push you over the edge!" She giggled softly, covering her mouth politely to hide more smirks.

Sona grabbed a muffin off the table and started chomping on it hard. She looked furious, but calm at the same time. “He can stay frozen till the bloody sun explodes,” she muttered with a growl, her words muffled by the muffin. Her eyes cut sharp toward his frozen face, and I swear her glare alone could have cracked the block in half. She was still seething about the audacity of arrogant human boys, cursing under her breath about spoiled brats who thought women were toys.

I kept quiet, because honestly I agreed with her completely.

Then we all heard the slap of frantic footsteps rushing across the hall floor. I turned with the others and saw two figures cutting through the sea of gawking students. First was Professor McGonagall. Next to her stalked the tall, black‑cloaked man I’d noticed glaring holes into me during the feast last night. His hooked nose, greasy curtain of hair, and predatory frown made him look like a pissed‑off bat about to swoop down.

Hermione had already told me his name—Professor Snape—and right now he looked ready to hang someone by their guts for breakfast.

They stopped a few feet away, both staring at the giant block of ice with Draco’s pale, shocked face stuck inside it. Snape’s voice came out like venom. “What the hell happened here? Why is Malfoy entombed like a damned ice statue?”

That’s when one of Draco’s slab‑faced goons finally gave up trying to punch the block with his fat fists. Breathing heavy, red‑faced, he jabbed a thick finger straight at Sona like a little boy tattling. “She did it! I saw her! She froze him solid!”

The taller goon barked next, “She attacked Draco out of nowhere!” His sausage‑like finger jabbed toward Sona.

The Great Hall had gone quiet. Everyone’s eyes locked on Sona.

Professor McGonagall’s lips tightened. She stared at Sona with that heavy, disappointed glare that could make even grown men wilt. “Miss Sitri,” she said, her voice crisp, controlled, and laced with anger. “Is this true? You are a transfer student, new to this castle, and yet you would attack a fellow Hogwarts student on your very first day?” The words dripped with disapproval, and for a brief moment, I thought even Sona’s usual calm might falter.

But before Sona could open her mouth, Hermione burst in at my side. “That’s not true at all, Professor!” she declared. “Sona didn’t attack Draco! She never once raised her wand. You can ask anyone standing near us. They’ll all say the same!”

My lips curled into a smug grin. Hermione was right. Sona froze Draco solid without so much as flicking her fingers, let alone her wand.

The bodyguards turned red, puffing up like fat balloons ready to pop. “That’s not true!” the shorter one blurted, spit flying as he pointed with both hands now. “It was her! She did it!”

Snape’s low growl cut across them like a whip. His eyes narrowed into dark slits, venom glistening in his tone. “Tell me,” he sneered, “did either of you actually see her use a wand?”

The question hung heavy in the air. The two idiots shuffled on their feet, cheeks blotchy, before muttering a pathetic, “...no...”

Snape’s lip curled in disgust, and he turned away, robes swishing dramatically as if the stupidity of their answer was beneath him. The students nearby whispered, their disbelief turning into snickers.

McGonagall, though, wasn’t done. She pulled out her wand with a sharp flick. Her voice rang loud and clear. “Accio Sona Sitri’s wand!” The command sliced through the room.

Silence followed. Nothing happened. No wand came flying through the air.

“Miss Sitri,” she said slowly, “where is your wand?”

That was a good question. Did Sona even realize she was supposed to carry around a fake wand? Did Tsubaki? I glanced at both of them, searching their faces. And then I saw it—blank, frozen expressions.

They hadn’t thought of it.

Sona, though, was sharp as hell and managed to spin a lie without even blinking. She lifted her chin, folded her hands neatly in front of her, and said in the calmest voice, “I must’ve left my wand in my dorm this morning. I didn’t think I’d need it just for breakfast.”

McGonagall exhaled hard through her nose. She rubbed her temple and muttered something about reckless behavior. “A witch must always have her wand, Miss Sitri. At all times. Even at breakfast. You cannot predict when danger may strike.”

Sona gave a little fake smile, and answered, “I’ll keep that in mind, ma’am.” She was playing the game, but not actually apologizing.

McGonagall pursed her lips tight, then turned her attention back to Draco’s frozen body. “Clearly, this must be the result of some prank spell gone wrong,” she said sharply. “Perhaps some rune trap placed on the floor...?” Her gaze snapped suddenly to the Weasley twins, who were leaning back with smug little smirks plastered across their freckled faces. “Fred. George. Did you have anything to do with this?”

The twins instantly threw their hands high. “Not guilty!” Fred chirped.

“Utterly innocent, Professor,” George added, grinning. "If we had done it, we would have made it a lot flashier. We would have planned a whole theme about it and everything!"

“Yeah,” Fred snorted, “Malfoy’s more like a popsicle right now. Or should we call him a Malfoy-sicle?”

“Maybe a Drake-sicle,” George mused, tapping his chin.

“...We’re still perfecting the terminology. I'm sure we'll figure something out,” Fred finished.

The Great Hall rippled with laughter, muffled giggles spreading like fire. Even some of the other staff looked like they wanted to smirk.

McGonagall’s face went so tight I thought she might pop a vein. “Minus five points to Gryffindor, for your lack of compassion for a fellow student...”

“Totally worth it,” the twins muttered together, still smirking like devils. They even turned to give me and Sona proud thumbs-ups, like we were partners in crime. 

Fred and George were practically bouncing in their seats, eyes glittering with mischief, desperate to know exactly how Sona had managed to freeze Draco like that. They kept leaning forward, whispering quick questions to each other, throwing glances at us like they were trying to figure out the trick.

I knew sooner or later we’d have to invent some half‑plausible lie—at least until I trusted them enough to share the truth. I was half‑devil, and Sona wasn’t just some sharp transfer student, she was a devil heiress with more power than anyone in this castle could handle.

Professor Snape clearly wanted the mess gone before more chaos could break out. His black eyes swept the hall like knives before locking onto a pair of Slytherin students who looked half-competent compared to the rest. “You two. Now,” he barked, his tone venomous.

They jumped like frightened rabbits. Their wands shook in sweaty hands as they levitated Draco’s frozen, stiff body off the ground, shuffling awkwardly under the weight of the block.

Snape sneered, voice dripping with disdain. “Get him into the sun. Let him thaw before someone decides to carve their initials into him.” A few nervous chuckles rippled through the hall at the biting remark, though everyone quickly looked away when Snape’s glare turned their way.

I leaned closer to Sona, lowering my voice so only she could hear. “Is he going to suffocate in there…?” Sona just got here and I'd rather she not be tossed out for a murder on her first day. 

She shook her head. “Unfortunately not, since my magical intent was only to cause him agony..." As opposed to death.

I turned toward Hermione with a grin, lowering my voice just enough that it sounded teasing but still loud enough for people nearby to catch pieces of it. “I'm impressed that you were able to lie to two professors like that on the spot!” 

Hermione’s cheeks flushed pink instantly, and she ducked her head a little, trying to hide it behind her frizzy hair. “Well, someone had to say something before they dragged your aunt off in chains,” she muttered. Then she looked me in the eye, a little spark in her voice even though she was embarrassed. “But I really hope this doesn’t become a habit, Harry. Knowing you though…” She gave a soft sigh, but the corners of her mouth curved up anyway. “…I suppose it will be one.”

She was prepared to lie for me and my family anytime? What an amazing girlfriend!

Hermione leaned in close. Her lips pressed against my cheek, warm and deliberate, lingering just long enough to make my skin burn pleasantly. 

The sounds that followed were giggles, whistles, and even a few bitter groans from girls sitting further down the table who clearly wished they were in her place.

On my other side, I felt Sona’s delicate fingers tighten against my arm. It wasn’t much—just a small squeeze—but the message was clear. I glanced at her from the corner of my eye. Her face was calm, carefully composed, but her grip told the real story. There was a flicker of jealousy hidden under that practiced control, and honestly, that only made my stomach twist with excitement.

Suddenly, the whole hall seemed to forget Draco Malfoy even existed. The noise of shocked whispers was drowned out as a huge storm of wings filled the air. Dozens—no, hundreds—of owls poured through the enchanted windows, swooping down in a wild cloud of feathers and hoots. The sound was deafening, and a few girls squealed when talons scraped too close to their heads.

Students ducked as parchment and newspapers rained down onto the tables.

One of the larger tawny owls swooped low and dropped a rolled‑up copy of the Daily Prophet right into Hermione’s lap. I leaned in to see.

THE BOY WHO LIED!

Breaking News! Harry Potter is not a Potter at all. Lily Potter cheated on James Potter. Full story inside!

A groan slipped out of me… Damn, this was already my second scandal in the paper. I’m sure my mother Serafall had gotten a copy as well already.

…

Hermione and I were standing outside the big oak door of our very first class of the year, one of the core ones, and of course it had to be Defense Against the Dark Arts with bloody Gilderoy Lockhart. I couldn’t believe our luck. Out of all the professors we could’ve started with, we got the same idiot who fainted and pissed himself on the train like a scared child.

Honestly, I wished we could have kicked off the school year with anyone else, but life never gave me what I wanted.

At least my morning has been anything but boring so far. Especially with how it started with Lyra and Lyna!

Considering the whole school already knew by now that James Potter wasn’t my father because it came out last night—by the time breakfast was over, the shock had dulled, and most of the students were already treating it like old news even if it was in today's paper.

Still, I could feel eyes on me everywhere I went, whispers trailing behind me in the corridors. Hermione held my hand firmly as we waited in the hall, her thumb brushing across my skin in quiet reassurance.

The Gryffindor girls nearby were busy either giggling behind their hands about us being the newest “it couple” in the castle or glaring daggers at Hermione with obvious jealousy. I wasn’t blind to it. Hermione noticed too, her grip tightening on my hand like she was staking her claim. I smirked a little at that.

Then I glanced at the Gryffindor boys and almost stumbled from the shock. Every one of them was glaring at me like I’d pissed in their pumpkin juice. Their expressions were bitter, or downright loathing. 

What the hell had I done to them? 

They’d all been friendly enough last night in the common room, but now it looked like they wanted to hex me if they thought they could get away with it.

And then my eyes found Ron Weasley in the middle of the group. He wasn’t glaring like the others. No—he was smirking. That smug little twist of his mouth said everything. Had he been talking shit about me all night, poisoning the others against me?

Was rat boy that fucking petty?

I kind of wished Ginny wasn’t in the year below us, because she would’ve gone straight for her brother and smacked some sense into him. She wasn’t the type to let Ron’s bullshit slide. But instead, it was just Hermione and me stuck dealing with the tension outside that big oak door.

And it wasn’t just Gryffindors waiting—we shared core classes with Slytherins too.

Funny thing was, a lot of them were missing. I figured they were probably still trying to thaw out Draco from Sona’s ice magic. Good luck with that. Her spell was no joke, even if it had been an accident, it was fueled by raw devil magic.

None of those pampered brats had the power to break it. Best they could do was wait until it wore off naturally.

Two Slytherins who had shown up caught my eye. They peeled away from the wall and walked toward Hermione and me. Both were gorgeous—because of course they were. I was starting to notice a damn pattern, every supernatural girl I met looked like she belonged on the cover of a magazine. The first girl had long blonde hair that literally shimmered, and sharp green eyes that studied me like she was measuring me up. Her posture screamed upper-class, every movement elegant and calculated. The other was shorter, with soft brunette hair and a curvier figure.

The blonde spoke first, her voice dripping with aristocratic polish. “Hello, I am Daphne Greengrass. It’s an honor to finally meet the famous Boy-Who-Lived.”

I groaned openly, dragging a hand down my face. Hermione spoke up sharply for me. “Harry hates that nickname,” she said firmly. "Just call him by his name please."

Daphne blinked, then actually inclined her head slightly in apology. “My mistake. Harry, then.” 

The brunette leaned forward. “And I’m Tracey Davis, Daphne’s best friend. Don’t mind her stiff manners—she can’t help sounding like she swallowed a silver spoon.” She nudged Daphne playfully with her elbow.

I raised an eyebrow. “Alright… so why are you two talking to us? Doesn’t look like you came over here to flirt.”

Tracey chuckled, covering her mouth half-heartedly while Daphne rolled her eyes like she’d been expecting that question. “We came to apologize on behalf of our house. Not all Slytherins worship the ground Draco Malfoy walks on, or his father’s gold.”

Tracey snorted loudly, crossing her arms under her chest in a way that drew my eyes for a second. “Yeah, Malfoy’s a douchebag asshole. Always has been, always will be. He struts around like the castle owes him something, and half the time I want to hex his smug face off. So, don’t lump us all in with him!”

That made me blink. I wasn’t expecting honesty out of two Slytherin girls, let alone them trashing Draco so openly. Hermione arched an eyebrow too, clearly curious where this was going.

Daphne explained in blunt detail that Draco represented the absolute worst side of Slytherin—entitled, arrogant, and stupid. She said she had been waiting years to watch him crash and burn, and the moment he got frozen stiff in front of the whole school, she figured his downfall had finally started. Her lips twitched with amusement, like she enjoyed the memory of him stuck in ice a little too much. Then she lifted her chin proudly and told me she wanted to take his place—not as a bratty king, but as the new queen of Slytherin. She said she wanted to make the house feared and respected again, turning it into something clever and honorable instead of a nest of spoiled idiots.

“Instead of spiteful and stupid,” Tracey added with a laugh, clearly enjoying taking shots at Draco too. She crossed her arms under her chest, smirking, and leaned in closer like she wanted to be sure I heard every word. “You’d be surprised how many of us are sick of his voice. The prat acts like he’s Salazar’s gift to the world when really he’s just a whiny little boy with too much money.”

Daphne nodded and gave me a cool look. “It’s too soon for us to be friends,” she admitted, “but perhaps we could start as acquaintances. We can get to know each other better.” Her tone shifted smug as she added, “I happen to be the second best student in our year academically, right behind your girlfriend Hermione.” She said it with pride, like she wanted me to recognize her value. “So being friends with me wouldn’t exactly be a bad move.”

I leaned back slightly, my eyes flicking between the two of them. They were both gorgeous, confident, and clearly smart. Being friends with two more beautiful girls would never be a bad thing, but I wasn’t ready to commit to anything yet. Hermione had poisoned me against Slytherin from day one, drilling it into my head that she’d never had a single good experience with anyone from that house. And I didn't like that. She was my girlfriend and no one was allowed to disrespect her.

And honestly, after dealing with Draco and his goons in Diagon Alley, I didn’t trust the snakes either.

So I kept my tone neutral and said, “Maybe. I’ll wait and see how you act.”

Daphne’s eyes narrowed a little, but she nodded. Tracey gave a small shrug, her smirk fading into something softer. “That’s a start at least,” they both agreed.

Hermione squeezed my hand, like she approved of me keeping my guard up.

Then, right on cue, the oak doors slammed open. Gilderoy Lockhart came striding out in the halls with his ridiculous blond curls shining like he’d drowned himself in hair gel, his pearly teeth flashing in what he probably thought was a dazzling smile. His arms stretched wide as he boomed, “Welcome to the first day of MY class!” His voice echoed dramatically through the hall, but his expression slipped when he noticed half the Slytherins weren’t there. “Although…” his eyes scanned the room, disappointed, “…where are all the Slytherin students...?”

Everyone else filed into the classroom first. Just as I was about to step through the doorway, the man himself suddenly blocked my path, his fake smile twitching nervously at the corners.

“Harry—er,” he stammered, his voice a touch too high, “you… you haven’t told anyone about that little unpleasantness on the train, have you?” His eyes darted left and right like he was terrified someone might overhear.

I raised an eyebrow at him and shook my head. “Of course not, sir. Neither me nor any of the girls said a word to the staff.”

He didn’t need to know that Lupin had been right there to see the whole pathetic show anyway. So I'm pretty sure all the staff knew...

Lockhart’s shoulders sagged in relief, his fake confidence sliding back into place as he plastered on a bright grin. “Good, good! Let’s just keep that little hiccup between us, eh? I knew you were a good lad, Harry Potter.”

“It’s Harry Sitri, sir,” I corrected him blandly.

“Oh—right you are, Harry,” he said quickly, brushing it off like it didn’t matter. He gestured dramatically toward the room. “Now, come in! I have big plans for this first class. Second years, they get Cornish Pixies—dangerous, noisy things. But you, my lucky fourth years…” He leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was letting me in on a secret. “…you’re in for something extra special!”

I slipped into the classroom, already dreading whatever he thought “special” meant. Hermione had snagged us a seat near the middle, and I slid in beside her just in time to see Lockhart prance up to the front like he was on stage.

With a dramatic flourish, he yanked a dusty tarp off the iron cage set in the middle of the room. The sound of claws scraping against metal rang out, sharp and ugly. Inside was a squat, vicious-looking creature. Its skin was grayish and stretched tight over wiry muscles, its teeth sharp and yellow. A filthy red cap sat crookedly on its head, stained darker in spots that I was pretty sure were old blood. In one clawed hand it clutched a jagged, rusty cleaver, banging it against the bars like it was eager to sink it into flesh!

First of all, terrifying...

Second of all, Magic School is officially fucking awesome! What the hell was this little monster!? I leaned forwards.

A couple of girls gasped in fright.

“Behold!” Lockhart declared proudly, puffing out his chest. “The dangerous Red Cap! A truly deadly creature known to lurk in old battlefields, waiting for travelers to bleed so it may soak its hat in fresh blood!” 

The red cap slammed its claws against the bars so hard the metal rattled! The ugly bastard bared its teeth, that rusty cleaver glinting as it hacked at the air. A few of the girls yelped and ducked back, chairs scraping loudly, but Lockhart only gave his trademark fake smile and waved his hand like it was nothing.

“Don’t worry, everyone,” he said smugly. “I made sure to lock the cage thoroughly with magic. This little chap won’t be getting out.” He puffed his chest, clearly proud of himself.

The creature snarled again, eyes glowing with hate. 

Lockhart, of course, didn’t notice. He launched into a ridiculous story. “Why, this reminds me of the time I was crossing an ancient battlefield, hunting a savage werewolf. Out of nowhere, I was set upon by twenty—yes, twenty!—of these bloodthirsty red-capped beasts. The clever little devils thought they had me surrounded, but I fought them all off valiantly!” He mimed swinging a sword, twirling dramatically at the front of the room.

I rolled my eyes. The only thing he’d fought was probably a mirror while practicing that dumb grin.

Hermione raised her hand, frowning nervously. Lockhart froze mid-swing, looking irritated that anyone dared interrupt his performance. “Yes, Miss Granger, what is it?”

Hermione pointed past him, her face pale. “The red cap got out of its cage, sir.”

The room went dead quiet. 

Lockhart stiffened, slowly turning his head. Sure enough, the red cap was standing right behind him, free as hell, its claws wrapped tight around that jagged cleaver. Its lips peeled back in a hateful snarl, eyes locked on him with murderous hunger.

For a second, Lockhart just stood there frozen. 

Then the creature lunged with a scream, leaping straight onto him! Lockhart shrieked like a banshee, flailing as they crashed to the ground together. The red cap slashed down wildly, the rusty blade cutting the air inches from his face. Lockhart tried to block with his arms, squealing in panic as the two of them rolled across the floor like some pathetic brawl.

Chairs screeched as half the class scrambled back, gasps and shouts filling the room. The monster’s snarls mixed with Lockhart’s girlish screams, the whole scene so chaotic it almost felt unreal. His shiny blond curls got tangled, his fancy robes ripping as the red cap clawed at him again and again!

“SOMEBODY HELP ME!”

Damn… Magic school was fucking awesome!

XXX

Thanks for reading!!! You can check out more of my stories on my profile.

If you want to see more of my work ahead of time feel free to check out: 

https://www. /blog/somestarwaves

Here is the list of Current Advanced Chapters on there:

–

Thunder and Black Wings 42

Thunder and Black Wings 41

–

Thats not wizard magic 17

Thats not wizard magic 16

Thats not wizard magic 15

That’s not wizard magic 14

That’s not wizard magic 13

That’s not wizard magic 12

–

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 38

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 37

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 36

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 35

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 34

–

The Fox Hole 116

The Fox Hole 115

The Fox Hole 114

The Fox Hole 113

The Fox Hole 112

–

The Blood Queen 65

The Blood Queen 64

The Blood Queen 63

The Blood Queen 62

The Blood Queen 61

Chapter Text

Chapter 12:

– Harry –

Classes were over for the first day.

I had a huge grin on my face as I darted through the Forbidden Forest, my heart pounding with excitement. Our Hogwarts robes were abandoned back in our dorms, replaced by something far lighter and easier to move in. Sona and I had our devil wings out, gliding swiftly around trees and diving low across the forest floor. It was thrilling, the wind rushing past my face as I dodged tree trunks and branches.

"You're gonna have to do better than that!" Sona teased as she effortlessly avoided a blast of water I aimed at her.

The challenge was simple. Sona was wearing a tight, white tank top and, very noticeably, no bra beneath it. If I managed to hit her, I'd get to see her breasts through the soaked fabric.

"Oh, I'll get you soon enough," I shouted back. Water surged powerfully from the devil crest on my palm, narrowly missing her again as she twisted gracefully.

She was a lot better at flying and aerial combat than I was, but I was getting better.

It was finally the end of a long first day, and we'd just left Ancient Runes, our last class, and one of the few Sona shared with me. Having skipped the entire first year of the elective, the teacher might as well have been speaking another language—I didn't understand a single damn word she'd said in the whole class. Sona apparently did though because she was a genius. 

She and Hermione would be taking turns tutoring me in the future. This wasn't that though, this was just magic training.

A rush of freezing air whooshed past me, sending chills down my spine and making me shiver. "Damn, that's cold!" I shouted, moving awkwardly out of the way as another icy blast narrowly missed my chest. "Are you trying to freeze me solid, Sona?"

"Maybe," she teased as she launched yet another icy attack. Her brand-new ice magic was scary, even more so when it was aimed directly at me.

Of course, I wasn't about to let myself get hit by one of Sona’s freezing blasts. Every healthy guy had an instinctive fear of cold—it was the natural enemy of manhood itself, after all. Shrinkage was the enemy!

I noticed Sona rolling her eyes. She always seemed to know when my mind was wandering into dirty territory.

“Focus, Harry! Stop thinking weird stuff,” she yelled at me.

I grinned sheepishly but quickly snapped back to attention as Sona spread her hands in front of her, concentrating hard. A fierce glint flashed in her pink eyes behind her glasses, and suddenly, a massive wave of ice surged forward, crackling and freezing everything it touched.

My heart jumped as my eyes widened. Instinctively, I mirrored her stance, pouring all my focus into my devil crest. A powerful rush of boiling water shot from my palms, glowing bright blue as it met her icy spell head-on.

Our magic clashed violently between us, steam erupting as hot met cold, filling the clearing with mist. Despite my best effort, I felt my energy quickly draining, the force of her magic easily overpowering mine. She was going to win this round for sure. Just as the wave of ice edged dangerously close, she relented, pulling back her magic and letting the ice crumble harmlessly to the ground.

"Not bad," she complimented me and waved her hand, a lot of the mist dissapearing.

I noticed immediately that despite our intense magical clash, Sona’s tank top remained completely dry. Still, two unmistakably stiff nipples were clearly outlined beneath the thin white fabric. My heart skipped a beat, heat flushing my cheeks. Magic had a strong effect on devils, and moments of intense magical exertion often heightened our senses and emotions, making us more sensitive and excited.

I quickly adjusted myself, hoping Sona wouldn’t catch me trying to hide my obvious reaction. But when I glanced up, her eyes were already locked onto mine, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She began walking towards me slowly, deliberately swaying her hips, making her movements graceful and enticing. My breath quickened with each step she took, feeling the anticipation rise within me.

Stopping right in front of me, she tilted her head up slightly to meet my gaze. My heart hammered even faster as she placed one delicate hand on my chest, and gently bit her bottom lip.

I pretty much knew this was bound to happen eventually. Ever since that first moment I saw her beautiful face back in the underworld, I couldn't get her out of my head. All the time we'd spent together—training, laughing, joking around—it had built this undeniable connection between us.

I found myself slowly leaning down towards her. Her face was glowing bright red, her eyes wide but not scared, just surprised and excited. Like I was...

It was pretty obvious she had come to Hogwarts for me after all.

She didn't move away, in fact, she tilted her chin slightly upward, meeting me halfway. Our lips brushed lightly, sending a thrill down my spine. But just as the kiss was about to deepen, the loud sound of galloping hooves shattered the peaceful moment, making us both jump away abruptly.

Turning quickly, I saw a large centaur burst into the clearing, and honestly, it looked far less majestic than the stories I'd read made them sound.

Its features were exaggerated, awkwardly merging human and horse in a way that made my skin crawl—the uncanny valley effect was definitely real here. The centaur skidded to a stop, kicking up dirt and leaves, its dark eyes narrowing suspiciously as it took in the chaos we'd caused in our training session. It reached back and swiftly drew out a bow, the sharp tip of an arrow aimed at us.

"What have you two done to this forest?" the centaur demanded harshly, its deep voice filled with irritation and accusation, instantly killing any romantic tension left in the air. "You are not welcome here, demonic abominations!"

Sona stepped angrily in front of me, her pink eyes blazing with fury at us being interrupted.

She raised her chin defiantly, glaring straight at the centaur without an ounce of fear. "What gives you the right to threaten two students from Hogwarts?" she demanded sharply.

The centaur stamped its hooves aggressively, sneering down at us with undisguised disdain. "Students? You're both demons! Being at Hogwarts doesn't change what you are. This forest belongs to the centaurs, and we won't tolerate evil trespassers!" it declared, pulling its bowstring taut.

Sona let out a scoffing laugh, clearly unimpressed by the centaur's assertion. "You're wrong," she stated firmly, her voice cold and clear. "I've read the Hogwarts Charter thoroughly. The Founders clearly owned not only the castle and lake but this entire surrounding forest too. They deliberately filled it with magical plants and peaceful creatures, specifically intended to aid future generations of students. You centaurs are nothing but aggressive invaders trying to lay claim to territory that doesn't rightfully belong to you!"

Wow, I wonder if Hermione knew any of that? Did Dumbledore?

The centaur's eyes flashed with anger at Sona’s words.

"Filthy lies!" Without another word, it abruptly released its arrow, the projectile slicing through the air toward us!

Sona reacted with lightning-fast precision. She swung her hand up effortlessly, striking the arrow aside with the back of her palm, the arrow clattering uselessly to the ground.

Without any hesitation, she quickly lifted her other hand, forming a sharp icicle in an instant. The air chilled noticeably as the deadly shard of ice shot forward, piercing the centaur directly through its heart. It gave a startled, anguished scream before collapsing lifelessly onto the forest floor.

I immediately praised Sona's quick reflexes, genuinely impressed by how effortlessly she had handled the centaur. I wasn't upset about what she'd done—far from it. My chest tightened with anger at the thought of anyone daring to threaten my family!

"That was amazing, Sona," I said earnestly, placing my hand gently on her shoulder. "You reacted so fast."

Her cheeks flushed a soft shade of red, and she glanced away shyly, though a pleased smile tugged at her lips. "Thanks, Harry," she said quietly, looking up at me again. "But honestly, you could've handled it just as well. You've improved a lot. You're really close to being high-class in power now."

Just as we started to relax, a sudden rustling sound from the treetops above caught our attention. Sona immediately looked up. "Show yourselves!" she demanded loudly.

With unsettling, clicking noises, several enormous spiders suddenly descended from the thick canopy, landing heavily around us. But to my surprise, instead of attacking, they quickly lowered themselves into respectful bows.

I didn't know spiders could bow.

"We obey the dark mistress and dark master," one of them rasped in a deep, creepy voice.

I moved closer to Sona, leaning in and whispering nervously, "These must be Acromantulas. I've read about them. They're not supposed to be native to Scotland though..."

What the fuck was the school doing when it came to this forest!?

Sona nodded, before whispering back, "They must've been experiments created by a devil during the Great War. And they obviously escaped the underworld afterwards. They're likely gentically programmed to obey devils by default. They shouldn't attack us, but we should make sure your human friends avoid this area."

Sona spoke confidently to the spiders. "Clean up that centaur's body immediately. Leave nothing behind."

The spiders eagerly moved forward, their large, hairy bodies shifting eagerly as they dragged the fallen centaur away, immediately beginning their gruesome feast. The wet crunching and tearing sounds made my stomach churn slightly, but I quickly turned my attention back to Sona, slipping my arm comfortably around her waist.

As we walked back toward Hogwarts, she leaned into my side. I glanced down at her, feeling a grin spread across my face as I noticed her relaxed expression and slightly flushed cheeks.

"What are you smiling about?" she teased softly, looking up at me with playful curiosity.

"Just thinking," I admitted with a small laugh. "This feels exactly like our walks back in the underworld, doesn't it? You know, minus my mum constantly spying on us."

Sona giggled. "True, but are you sure she isn’t watching us right now? Knowing Serafall, she probably has hidden familiars somewhere nearby."

I instinctively glanced around the treetops, suddenly suspicious and a little paranoid. I wouldn't put it past my mum to keep tabs on us even here, and I tried not to feel too annoyed by the thought.

Sona noticed my wary glances and sighed. Telling me not to bother because she's learned the hard way that Serafall just does whatever she wants.

...

The next day...

It was my first ever potions class, and the dungeon classroom felt just as cold and gloomy as I'd heard it would be. I settled down beside Hermione, my girlfriend, whose presence immediately made things a bit brighter. She already had her notebook out, neatly organized, ready to soak up whatever our professor said. 

I couldn't help but smile fondly at her.

Across from us, Malfoy was making a spectacle of himself, finally thawed out from the icy punishment he'd received the day before. He was red-faced, practically shouting at everyone around him, “Stop laughing! My father will hear about this! Just you wait!” His furious threats only seemed to amuse the Gryffindor guys even more, their laughter echoing through the classroom as Malfoy grew more livid by the second. "Shut up, all of you! You're all going to regret this!" Malfoy snapped angrily, pointing a shaking finger at the group that was led by Ron Weasley.

"Yeah, Malfoy, what's he gonna do? Cry about it to the Headmaster?"

Malfoy’s pale face flushed an even deeper shade of red. "Laugh all you want now, but you won't be laughing when you're expelled!"

"Expelled for laughing?" another Gryffindor mocked loudly.

Malfoy glared daggers at them, clearly picturing every painful scenario he could inflict on them, his eyes blazing with uncontrollable fury.

Not like the piece of shit didn't deserve getting "iced" by Sona yesterday. I wasn't exactly rooting for either him or Ron though. When I glanced over, Ron's group stopped laughing and glared at me next. 

"Fuck off, Potter!" Ron shouted. "Keep your eyes to yourself and your bitch girlfriend!"

"Yeah, you're a damn fraud!" A guy named Seamus added with a sneer.

Hermione gasped softly beside me, her eyes wide with shock and hurt at the harsh words being thrown our way. My temper flared immediately, a hot rush of anger making my hands clench into tight fists beneath the desk. I could feel my demonic magic bubbling just beneath my skin, ready to burst out. I was seconds away from pulling out my fake wand and showing these bastards exactly who they were dealing with.

Drowning them suddenly seemed like a perfectly reasonable response.

"Just ignore them, Harry," Hermione whispered quickly, grabbing onto my arm to hold me back. "They're not worth it."

"Maybe not," I muttered back fiercely, unable to hide my rage, "but someone needs to teach them some damn manners."

The room's atmosphere thickened dangerously, and just as I was about to stand up and confront Ron and his little gang directly, the heavy dungeon door swung open abruptly. Everyone's attention snapped to the entrance as Professor Snape strode in, his black robes billowing dramatically behind him.

"Enough," Snape barked coldly, his dark eyes sweeping over the room with clear annoyance. "I expect silence in my classroom. Whatever childish drama you've brought in from the halls ends now."

His piercing gaze lingered momentarily on Ron’s group, then shifted pointedly to Malfoy and finally me.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, our newest celebrity," Snape sneered sarcastically, his voice dripping with obvious dislike.

Hermione immediately spoke up from beside me, her voice steady but clearly irritated. "Actually, Professor—Harry’s last name is Sitri, not Potter!"

Snape didn’t even look at her, dismissing her without a second glance. "Minus five points for interrupting a professor, Miss Granger," he said coldly, his dark eyes locked intensely onto mine. I felt Hermione shrink back slightly, frustrated and embarrassed at losing points so quickly.

Snape stepped closer, towering over me as if trying to intimidate me. "If Mr. Potter isn't correct, then perhaps Mr. Black would be more fitting," he said, his tone nasty and mocking.

I stared at him, genuinely confused. "What?" I asked bluntly, not even bothering to hide my confusion.

His lips curled into a twisted sneer, eyes narrowing dangerously. "It’s obvious, isn’t it? That worthless troublemaker Sirius Black was always around James Potter and Lily Evans. It’s clear enough—your mother must have betrayed James Potter with him. You're Black's illegitimate child, aren't you? Just another bastard hiding behind a fake name!"

The entire class fell silent, stunned by Snape's accusation.

Hermione gripped my arm tightly, sensing my rapidly escalating anger.

"Professor, that's completely inappropriate!" Hermione protested, her voice shaking slightly with fury.

Snape didn’t acknowledge her at all, simply staring at me with an icy glare. "You can't hide the truth forever, Mr. Black," he spat out venomously. "Not in my classroom!"

Before I could reply or react, Snape abruptly turned away, flicking his wand sharply at the blackboard. Instructions appeared instantly, neatly scrawled in his handwriting. "Start your assignment now," he barked harshly, stalking toward his desk.

I sat there, utterly bewildered, anger and confusion swirling inside me. What the actual fuck had just happened? Was Professor Snape completely insane?

"No, that's impossible! The Black fortune should be mine! A bastard better not get any of it!" Malfoy hissed.

Across the room, Ron muttered loud enough for me to hear. "I knew he was rotten! Just another no-good dark wizard, just like Sirius Black! His dad probably escaped to recruit him, not kill him!" he sneered bitterly, prompting his cronies to nod eagerly in agreement.

I turned to Hermione, genuinely confused and frustrated. My voice was a bit louder than intended when I asked, "Hermione, seriously, is there something in the magical water here that turns some magical people into complete retards?"

Hermione sighed deeply, clearly just as fed up as I was. "Honestly, Harry, I have no idea.."

From nearby, Daphne Greengrass leaned toward us, her blonde hair falling smoothly over her shoulder as she gave us a small smirk. "Trust me, Mr. Sitri," she drawled. "Us snake girls have been asking ourselves that exact same question for years now."

I raised an eyebrow at her, surprised she'd even joined our conversation. "Glad to know it’s not just me," I replied bluntly, shaking my head. "You’d think being at a prestigious magical school would filter out the idiots, but clearly, that’s not the case here."

With a casual shrug, I pulled out my fake wand and pointed it at the empty cauldron in front of me. Demonic Sitri water flowed from its tip, rapidly filling the cauldron with a faint glow that shimmered slightly in the dungeon’s dim lighting. I glanced over at Hermione, who was staring at me curiously, clearly wondering what I was doing.

Next, I effortlessly levitated all of today’s potion ingredients off the table in front of me. They floated in mid-air, neatly aligned, while everyone nearby stopped their preparations, turning to stare openly at the unusual display. Hermione gasped loudly as, without hesitation, I dropped every ingredient simultaneously into the cauldron!

"Harry! You can’t—" she started anxiously, clearly about to warn me that I was doing everything wrong.

"Mr. Black, what in Merlin’s name are you doing?!" Snape shouted from his desk, suddenly standing with a furious glare in my direction. "Are you trying to kill yourself?"

Ignoring the stunned silence from the rest of the class, I smirked confidently, slipping the fake wand back into my robe. "Potion’s done," I announced bluntly, folding my arms and meeting Snape’s glare with defiance.

It had taken less than five seconds.

"What absolute nonsense are you talking about?" Snape snapped irritably, storming across the classroom toward my workstation. "There's no way—"

His angry words cut off abruptly when his eyes landed on the cauldron, where a flawless purple sleeping potion was simmering gently, emitting a sweet, calming scent into the air.

His expression shifted rapidly from anger to complete disbelief. He whipped out his wand and cast several rapid analysis spells, his movements growing increasingly frantic as each spell confirmed the impossible perfection of my potion.

"This...this is impossible!" he stammered, openly gaping at me, his composure completely shattered. "How did you do this, Mr. Black? Explain yourself immediately!"

"My last name is Sitri..." I told him with a glare.

"Answer me, Mr Black!" he glared right back. Not only was he stupid, but he was a stupid dick. It was a good thing his class was one thing I didn't need to take seriously.

Around us, students had stopped pretending to work, openly muttering and whispering in shock. Some stared at me with awe, others with suspicion or outright jealousy. Ron’s face was a fascinating mix of anger and disbelief, while Hermione was simply wide-eyed and utterly speechless.

"I used magic," I replied sarcastically, before I stood up and Hermione automatically joined. "I'll see you next class... professor." I said as I walked out of the room with her.

Of course, as soon as we stepped into the hallway, Hermione grabbed my arm and spun me around to face her, her brown eyes wide and demanding answers. "Harry, what exactly did you do back there?" she asked urgently. "That was supposed to be impossible!"

I chuckled, trying to look casual about it even though part of me was still a bit amused by Snape's shocked reaction. Dickhead deserved it.

"It's not actually that complicated," I began, glancing down at her earnest expression. "Sona explained it to me earlier. Our clan, the Sitris, are masters of water magic, right? But it goes deeper than just being good at blasting water spells around."

Hermione tilted her head slightly, clearly intrigued but still waiting for me to clarify further. "What do you mean, deeper?"

"Well," I continued patiently, "there’s a reason our clan manages all the hospitals back in the underworld. Our affinity for water doesn't just let us control it, we can also use it to instantly create any water-based potion as long as we have the right ingredients. And pretty much every single potion at Hogwarts, or at least everything Snape teaches, uses water as its base. So basically, I don't even need to try hard in potions class—it's almost automatic."

Hermione stared at me, her eyes narrowing slightly in mock irritation as she absorbed what I said. After a moment of silence, she crossed her arms and pouted her cute lips, giving me a slightly accusatory glare. "Harry, that is so unfair!" she complained, though I could hear the amusement creeping into her tone despite herself.

I smirked and took a small step closer to her, placing one hand gently on her waist as I leaned in, lowering my voice teasingly. "What can I say? Your boyfriend is just too awesome for that fake dungeon bat’s pathetic excuse for a class."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a soft giggle, her cheeks flushing a lovely shade of pink. "You're ridiculous," she whispered, though her gaze had softened considerably.

Unable to resist, I tilted my head down and captured her lips with mine, feeling her smile against me as we kissed. Her hands rested gently against my chest, and I pulled back slightly, smiling down at her affectionately.

"Ridiculously awesome, you mean," I corrected teasingly, earning another playful eye roll from her. "Come on, let’s spend some time together before our next class."

– Snape –

Professor Snape stormed down the corridor, his black robes swirling dramatically behind him. His pale face was twisted in a deep scowl, fury blazing in his eyes as he approached Dumbledore’s office. That arrogant brat—how dare he make a mockery of his class?

And using that ridiculous fake name Sitri, no less! Snape’s fists clenched tightly, nails digging painfully into his palms as he quickened his pace.

He practically snarled the password at the gargoyle, which hastily jumped aside, sensing the professor's seething anger. Snape didn't even pause, throwing open the heavy oak door so violently that it slammed against the stone wall.

"Headmaster, I must speak with you immediately!" Snape barked, storming inside without waiting for an invitation.

Dumbledore sat calmly behind his ornate desk, eyes twinkling with their usual annoying calmness. But Snape barely registered him, for sitting opposite the Headmaster was a woman he had never seen before. She was strikingly beautiful, with long, flowing black hair, vibrant eyes, and an undeniably voluptuous figure that made even Snape momentarily falter. Her outfit, however, was completely bizarre—sparkling with an intensity that hurt his eyes if he started to long.

But Snape's irritation swiftly returned, overwhelming his momentary distraction. Ignoring the strange visitor entirely, he spun to face Dumbledore directly, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "There is something incredibly strange going on with Mr. Black!" Snape spat out the words, barely keeping his voice steady through his rising anger.

Dumbledore tilted his head slightly, looking genuinely puzzled. "Mr. Black, Severus? I’m afraid we have no student enrolled here by that surname, unless of course you mean Sirius—"

"Not Sirius Black!" Snape snapped impatiently, cutting Dumbledore off mid-sentence. His frustration was mounting rapidly. "I’m referring to Potter—Harry Potter! Or should I say, Harry Black. It’s blatantly obvious. That arrogant attitude, that long black hair! The boy's real father must have been Sirius Black! You can't expect me to believe your pathetic attempt at hiding his true parentage behind some ridiculous made-up surname like Sitri."

The room fell into a tense silence, and Snape finally noticed the woman slowly rising to her feet, eyes blazing with fury.  "Fake? My last name is Sitri," she said coldly, her piercing gaze locked firmly on Snape's face. "I am Serafall Sitri. And who the hell do you think you are, accusing my darling Harry of not being MY son?"

Snape suddenly felt the temperature plummet dramatically, an icy chill spreading rapidly through the air. He involuntarily shivered.

"Explain yourself, Professor Snape," Dumbledore's calm voice held a firm edge now, clearly displeased with his accusations.

Snape swallowed thickly, realizing too late that he might have made a terrible mistake. 

Snape shifted nervously, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable under the intense gazes from both Dumbledore and the stunning woman named Serafall. He cleared his throat awkwardly, looking down at the floor as he muttered, "I... I figured it out last night. It just became clear to me after thinking it over carefully."

Dumbledore gave a long, weary sigh, looking at Snape with an expression that bordered on pity. "And were you perhaps drinking when you reached this rather unique conclusion, Severus?"

Snape sputtered indignantly, heat rising to his pale cheeks. "That—that has nothing to do with it!" he protested weakly. But as he spoke, he realized with sinking embarrassment that yes, he had been drinking—quite heavily, in fact.

He quickly diverted his gaze from Dumbledore’s knowing eyes, turning instead to face the strangely dressed yet undeniably attractive woman who was still glaring at him.

Snape scowled slightly, his voice sharp with suspicion as he finally addressed her directly. "And who exactly are you? How in Merlin's name could you possibly be Harry’s mother? Lily Evans was obviously his mother!"

For a moment, the fierce anger on Serafall’s beautiful face seemed to pause. "Magic makes all things possible, dear professor," she said with a playful lilt in her voice, leaning forward slightly with an enticing smirk. "One of my very favorite spells, for example, allows me to grow a certain delightful tool between my legs, making all sorts of fun activities possible. You see, Lily discovered she rather enjoyed when I—"

"Please stop!" Dumbledore interrupted hastily, holding up a hand in a desperate bid for decorum. "We do not need any graphic explanations!"

Serafall pouted adorably at the interruption, crossing her arms beneath her ample chest with a disappointed sigh. "Spoilsports," she muttered playfully, sticking her tongue out briefly at the Headmaster.

Snape felt his face heat even further, thoroughly mortified and astonished by this revelation. "I—I had no idea Lily was... inclined towards women like that," he mumbled weakly, his voice faint with a mix of embarrassment and disbelief. His heart twisted painfully at the thought of Lily keeping such an important part of herself hidden from him for so long. "How did the two of you even meet?" Snape finally demanded, bitterness seeping into his tone as he asked the question that gnawed unpleasantly at his mind.

Serafall shrugged lightly, her expression carefree yet teasing. "It was just a one-night stand, honestly," she explained casually. "But from what Lily told me that night, she’d been secretly involved with a girl named Marlene during her school years, long before she ended up marrying that cheating husband of hers, James Potter."

Snape felt as though he'd been punched squarely in the gut. The room seemed to spin around him, his mind struggling to accept the painful truth of what he'd just heard. Lily had been in a long-term relationship with someone else all those years at school, and she'd never trusted him enough to confide in him. Or perhaps, a darker part of his mind whispered bitterly, she'd always known he was hopelessly in love with her and had deliberately kept him at arm’s length, afraid to hurt him even further.

Dumbledore cleared his throat pointedly, clearly uncomfortable with the current topic, and swiftly changed the subject. "Now, Severus, what exactly is the issue you mentioned regarding young Harry Sitri? Did something unusual occur in potions class today?"

Snape scowled, feeling the sting of humiliation again as he recalled the incident clearly.

He took a deep breath, struggling to regain some composure before responding. "Yes, Headmaster," he muttered bitterly, his voice strained with disbelief. "Mr. Sitri did something completely impossible. He managed to produce today's assigned potion—a perfect sleeping draught—in less than five seconds. All he did was fill his cauldron with water and then carelessly dump in every single ingredient at once. No cutting, no stirring, no precise timing—nothing. Yet somehow, the potion came out flawless!"

It was impossible!

Dumbledore's face showed genuine intrigue. Slowly, he turned toward Serafall, whose confident smirk deepened, clearly pleased at the astonished reactions.

"Do you perhaps have an explanation for this remarkable phenomenon, Miss Sitri?" Dumbledore asked, carefully studying her expression.

Serafall lifted her chin slightly, her vivid blue eyes sparkling with pride. "That's simply the magic of the Sitri family at work," she said confidently. "We've always been master potion makers, able to effortlessly do what others deem impossible. Our affinity with water magic grants us a natural control and instinctive understanding of all water-based potions!"

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully, nodding in apparent understanding. "Family magic can indeed be both fascinating and extraordinary," he remarked. "Throughout wizarding history, there have been many such cases of unique inherited abilities."

Snape felt a bitter jealousy rising within him. As Hogwarts' potions master, the idea of someone performing effortlessly what he had spent DECADES painstakingly perfecting was deeply unsettling and irritating.

Yet he knew family magic was undeniably real. His mind flashed briefly to the Black family—particularly the irritatingly gifted Nymphadora Tonks, who had attended Hogwarts only a few years prior. Tonks' complete control over her appearance had been a constant source of annoyance, particularly when she used her ability for childish pranks.

Snape suddenly realized something else. His eyes narrowed as he turned sharply toward Serafall. "Wait a moment—there’s another new student here named Sitri. Sona Sitri, isn't she?" he asked accusingly, his tone edged with dread and irritation. "Will she have the same ridiculous, unfair ability as Harry?"

Serafall grinned even wider, clearly amused by his obvious discomfort. She nodded proudly, leaning forward with an annoyingly cheerful expression. "Absolutely! Sona is my adorable younger sister! Naturally, she shares the same wonderful family talent!"

Snape groaned internally. He remembered Sona Sitri was a Ravenclaw student. He would have her in his afternoon potions class, meaning he would once again be forced to watch as another Sitri effortlessly mocked his carefully crafted curriculum.

Snape narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Serafall, finally pushing aside his shock and discomfort to confront the unexpected visitor directly. He squared his shoulders. "If I might ask, Miss Sitri, what exactly brings you here?"

Dumbledore gently cleared his throat, nodding in agreement as he fixed his curious gaze on Serafall. "Indeed, Miss Sitri, we were just about to discuss the reason for your visit before Professor Snape's rather dramatic entrance..."

Snape felt a hot flush rise in his cheeks once more and quickly turned his head slightly away, scowling fiercely in embarrassment at the Headmaster’s gentle rebuke.

Serafall, however, stood confidently with a dazzling smile on her lips. "I'm here to discuss the upcoming school tournament!" she announced cheerfully, clasping her hands excitedly in front of her.

Dumbledore looked mildly puzzled, stroking his long white beard thoughtfully. "Ah, yes, the Triwizard Tournament. Did you perhaps have any concerns about its arrangements? Would you prefer we reconsider or perhaps stop the tournament altogether?"

Serafall shook her head quickly, her eyes wide and horrified at the mere suggestion. "Of course not! A year-long school tournament sounds super-duper fun! I’m absolutely certain that my beloved son Harry and my darling sister Sona will have an amazing time participating!"

Snape inwardly groaned again, wondering how many more headaches these two particular students were going to cause him. And why was she so CERTAIN that her family members were going to be picked as Hogwarts' champions?

"My main issue, though," she declared pointedly, her voice firm but still cheerful, "is that the tournament ONLY has three events spread out over the whole year! That sounds incredibly BORING, don't you think? And worse yet, it doesn't even start for another whole month! Completely unacceptable! I want to cheer for my Harry-kun and So-tan NOW!" She leaned forward dramatically, pointing directly at Dumbledore, clearly serious. "You need to start the tournament sooner. Tomorrow, if possible! Get all the schools here immediately. And announce that there will be many more thrilling and fun events throughout the entire year!"

Dumbledore exhaled slowly, clearly struggling with how to address Serafall’s enthusiasm diplomatically. "Miss Sitri, while your excitement and your incredibly generous donation to Hogwarts are both deeply appreciated, I'm afraid we simply don't have the resources to—"

"No!" Serafall interrupted swiftly. Leaving no room for argument. "If the problem is money, then let's solve that! I will gladly donate another ten million Galleons to Hogwarts today, right now!"

Snape’s jaw dropped open, his eyes widening in disbelief at the staggering sum she casually mentioned. The sheer absurdity of donating what was essentially equivalent to a hundred million British pounds was completely overwhelming. Even Dumbledore momentarily lost his composure, coughing and sputtering in shocked disbelief before hastily composing himself.

Quickly regaining his poise, Dumbledore straightened in his chair, his expression shifting shamelessly to eager enthusiasm. "Well, you know what? Starting the tournament earlier certainly sounds like an absolutely fantastic idea!" he declared, nodding his head vigorously. "And I believe our students would genuinely enjoy having a variety of exciting new events throughout the year! Yes, indeed, a splendid idea! You are truly a woman of innovation and great ideas, Lady Serafall!"

"Muahahah! Of course I am!" she cheered happily alongside him.

Snape stood silently, struggling not to openly roll his eyes at Dumbledore's absolute shamelessness! But at the same time, he wondered if he could finally ask for a raise? Fuck it, he might even consider openly apologizing to the arrogant Harry Sitri if he got one!

– Sona –

Sona could admit that she had been incredibly distracted all day, her mind constantly wandering back to yesterday’s events in the Forbidden Forest.

Her heart still fluttered wildly every time she thought about the soft, electrifying moment when she had leaned up and kissed Harry! It wasn't just a simple kiss either right in every way imaginable.

Internally, she was squealing and bouncing around with giddy excitement, exactly like one of those overly dramatic protagonists in the shoujo manga her friend Rias always shoved at her. Externally, however, she had merely been staring blankly into space, cheeks flushed pink and eyes distant, replaying the scene over and over again in her head.

She had barely touched her lunch, pushing food around aimlessly on her plate as her mind vividly replayed the gentle brush of Harry's lips.

"Okay, Sona, seriously," came Tsubaki’s amused voice, breaking through her dreamy haze. Her best friend and queen nudged her playfully with an elbow, leaning closer. "You've been in another world since this morning. Did something happen yesterday? Did you and Harry finally have sex—?"

Sona's face immediately heated up even further, and she turned sharply toward Tsubaki, eyes widening slightly. "Tsubaki!" she hissed quietly, glancing around quickly to make sure no one else had overheard. "Do you always have to be so blunt? And of course not!"

Tsubaki merely raised an eyebrow, smirking knowingly. "I know, I was just teasing. I know you, my king is too shy to go all the way so fast. But you still have that dreamy, love-struck look you usually mock Rias for having. Did you two finally kiss or what?"

Sona hesitated briefly, biting her lower lip nervously, before finally letting out a soft sigh and nodding slowly. "Yes," she admitted quietly, feeling her heartbeat spike as she said it aloud. "We kissed, Tsubaki. It was… amazing."

"Finally!" Tsubaki whispered excitedly, clapping her hands softly. Her eyes were twinkling with playful amusement as she leaned closer, her voice teasing. "Honestly, I thought you'd never get around to it. You've been pining after him for weeks."

"Oh, shut up," Sona muttered, though a smile tugged at her lips despite herself. She glanced back down at her plate, her heart still racing. "But yeah, it happened. And now, I can't stop thinking about it..."

"I told you kissing Harry Sitri was very nice," Luna Lovegood chimed in dreamily from nearby.

Sona tensed up, immediately feeling a sharp pang of jealousy surge through her chest. She quickly swallowed it down, though she couldn't fully suppress the irritated sigh that escaped her lips. As much as she disliked admitting it, Luna was right—kissing Harry had been wonderful, but the fact that Luna had experienced it first rankled her nerves. 

But at the same time, Luna was a nice girl, and Sona could see her future self getting along with the blonde much better than she had any of the girls in her old peerage. That is, unless Harry wanted to claim the girl for himself first. They hadn't discussed any of that yet. Sona wondered if Harry even remembered the fact that he had been gifted a set of evil pieces?

A flurry of curious whispers and excited murmurs broke out around their section of the Ravenclaw table. Luna’s soft voice, had clearly carried further than she intended.

"Wait, did someone kiss Harry Sitri?" one girl asked eagerly, leaning forward so abruptly she nearly toppled over her plate.

Luna’s usually distant gaze sharpened slightly. "I did," she announced.

Several Ravenclaw girls gasped dramatically, their expressions shifting quickly from surprise to admiration. "You're seriously lucky, Luna! Harry’s so handsome," one girl gushed excitedly. 

"When did Loony Lovegood suddenly get so cool?" another girl exclaimed, looking genuinely impressed.

Hearing the insulting nickname, Sona immediately straightened, her eyes flashing dangerously. She fixed the group of girls with an icy glare. The common room had been abuzz the previous night after she had bluntly stated that bullying or insults toward fellow housemates would not be tolerated, reinforcing her words with a clear display of her intimidating aura. According to Tsubaki, Sona could be quite intimidating when she wanted to be.

Under her intimidating stare, the girls quickly quieted down, looking slightly uncomfortable and shifting nervously in their seats. Satisfied, Sona was about to return to her thoughts when one girl hesitantly cleared her throat.

"Um, excuse me, Miss Sona, you're Harry Sitri's aunt, aren't you?" she asked timidly.

"That's right," Sona confirmed coolly, raising a questioning eyebrow as she wondered where this was heading.

The girl fidgeted slightly, avoiding Sona's intense gaze before finally gathering her courage. "Is it true that Harry’s real father is Sirius Black?"

Sona’s jaw nearly dropped at the sheer absurdity of the question. "Absolutely not!" she snapped bluntly, shaking her head sharply. "Harry doesn’t have a father at all. My older sister Serafall sired him with Lily Evans."

"Oh," the girl replied, relief evident on her face as she nodded eagerly alongside her friends. "That actually makes much more sense."

"Why on earth would you even ask something so ridiculous in the first place?"

The girl looked uncomfortable, glancing around for support before one of her friends spoke up bravely. "Well, it's that Gryffindor boy Ron Weasley, and a bunch of his friends. They’ve been spreading that rumor all morning. They say Draco Malfoy started it first, but they’re making sure everyone hears it. Honestly, we all thought it was nonsense, just jealous guys acting out. Obviously, because no girls are going to want to date either of them."

"They're obviously just bitter and jealous. We were going to spread the word that it's all nonsense anyway!" Another girl added. "By dinnertime, both of their reputations will be ruined, because they're obviously liars!"

If there was one thing in this world that moved faster than light speed, it was the gossiping of schoolgirls.

"I'd deeply appreciate that," Sona responded gratefully.

Her gaze hardened as it shifted across the bustling Great Hall, zeroing in on the redheaded Gryffindor with a rat perched on his shoulder. Her expression darkened further, a fierce protectiveness rising sharply within her. She had no idea why that filthy troublemaker was determined to slander her beloved nephew with such vile rumors, but she was absolutely certain of one thing. Ron Weasley was going to regret spreading his hateful lies.

Sona would personally see to it.

Sona had been so utterly distracted by the ridiculous gossip and her growing irritation at the rumors being spread about Harry, that she didn't notice the familiar, exuberant presence quickly approaching her from behind.

Not until her queen Tsubaki suddenly let out a startled squeak and quickly dove out the way! 

Before Sona could react, a sudden force collided into her, sending her sprawling backward off the bench. She gasped in surprise, her arms flailing instinctively as she fell onto something impossibly soft and bouncy. Her face was immediately smothered by a pair of warm, ample breasts, leaving her momentarily stunned and breathless.

"So-Tan! My adorable little sister!" a cheerful, unmistakable voice cried happily, wrapping enthusiastic arms around Sona in a crushingly affectionate embrace.

Sona sighed deeply, her annoyance mingling with resigned fondness as she recognized the voice of her older sister, Serafall. She squirmed slightly beneath her sibling's overly enthusiastic hug, her cheeks flushing bright red from embarrassment and mild frustration. "Serafall, honestly! Must you always make such an entrance?" Sona muttered, her voice muffled by the warm softness of her sister’s chest. She pushed gently but firmly at Serafall’s shoulders, trying to regain at least a small bit of dignity.

Ignoring her sister’s protests completely, Serafall simply squeezed tighter. "I missed you soooo much, So-Tan! I just had to come and see how my precious little sister was doing at her new school Hogwarts!" she exclaimed loudly, attracting curious stares from nearby students who had stopped eating to watch the scene unfold with wide eyes and amused grins.

Sona already knew that so many weird rumors were about to start up because of this moment!