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…
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