Chapter 53:
– Harry –
Woosh!
We touched down in a small clearing of grass outside of Hogsmeade. The air was much chillier than it was in Shanghai but also much cleaner. I couldn't help but glance around the Scottish countryside and be glad to be back after being away for weeks.
I stumbled a couple of steps before Lilja's hand reached out and steadied me. Or it was more like we were currently steadying each other.
"Oh God, I might hurl," Jasmine groaned and covered her mouth with both hands. "Oh, sorry," she added when she saw Lilja and I both flinch because she used the G word.
Green light filled the clearing as Asia used her Sacred Gear while rubbing Jasmine's back. Jasmine took a couple more deep breaths. "I'm okay, I'm not gonna vomit."
"Good, because I just might. Ugh, you would think our people would invent a better form of long range teleportation by now, darling." Marlene added next to her daughter.
I shook my head a few times to clear away the last of the dizziness. The whole trip had felt like being yanked through space itself at insane speeds while spinning in endless corkscrews. "That was not a very pleasant experience..." Even as a High class devil, it felt like the room was spinning after that international portkey sent us travelling across a large chunk of the world back to Britain.
"Bluuuurgh!"
Oh...
It seemed like one of us couldn't hold it in because Sirius Black was currently yakking his guts out on top of his own shoes.
"Bugger me sideways. I always hated portkeys and international ones are the absolute worst..." he said as he wiped away the last of his sick from his lips with the back of his hand. Then he noticed the mess he'd made on his own black boots and frowned. "A little help, someone?"
I didn't make fun of the guy because we'd learned in the Chinese sewers that he really had lost the knowledge on how to cast most spells besides combat spells from all his years in Azkaban. I waved my hand and cast a basic cleaning charm to vanish the mess.
"Thank you... Harry," Sirius said with only a slight pause this time. He looked out over the green grass and smiled at the castle in the distance. "It's good to be back home after so long away chasing down that filthy rat! But I got him." He said and then went a bit quiet. "We got him, James..." he whispered that part mostly to himself. Everyone nearby pretended not to have noticed.
"I guess we should head up to the castle then, right?" Jasmine suggested.
"I won't be going, love." Marlene stretched her arms over her head and rolled her neck with a series of audible pops that made Asia wince. "It was a fun vacation. I really enjoyed our time in Japan but it's over now. I need to check on the estate and make sure our house elves haven't burned the place to the ground while we've been gone a month. Last time I left them unsupervised for more than a fortnight, they redecorated the entire east wing in tartan wallpaper because they thought it would 'please the mistress.' I am Scottish, but I am not that Scottish."
"Mum, they were trying to be nice," Jasmine said.
"They wallpapered the ceiling, Jasmine. The ceiling."
Before anyone could respond to that, Marlene turned to me, hooked two fingers into the front of my shirt, and pulled me down into a kiss. It was the kind of kiss that made very clear, to anyone with functioning eyes, that Marlene McKinnon and I had seen each other naked on multiple occasions and intended to continue doing so at every available opportunity. Her fingers slid up the back of my neck and into my hair and she pressed her entire body flush against mine with the casual confidence of a woman who had absolutely zero shame about public displays of affection and never had.
When she finally pulled back, her lips were slightly swollen and her blue eyes were bright with amusement at whatever expression was currently on my face. Then she leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear, and whispered so quietly that only I would hear her.
"Take care of my daughter tonight. Make her first time something she'll remember for the rest of her life, Harry. She's been nervous about it for weeks and she trusts you completely." She pressed one last soft kiss just below my ear. "Be gentle with her. She's braver than she thinks she is."
I gave her a small nod, and something in her expression softened.
"Right then!" Marlene announced brightly, turning on her heel as if she hadn't just kissed me senseless in front of a growing audience. "Jasmine, darling, eat something real when you get to the castle, not just treacle tart. You look like you lost a bit of weight on this vacation and skinny might be in, but take it from me, boys like something to hold onto that's not skin and bone."
"Mum!"
"I know my daughter. Asia, sweetheart, make sure she eats some meat."
"I... I will try my best, Ms. McKinnon," Asia said earnestly, which made Marlene laugh.
Marlene winked at me one more time, turned on the spot, and vanished with a sharp crack of Apparition.
The silence that followed lasted approximately two and a half seconds.
"What," Sirius said flatly, "in the name of Merlin's saggy left bollock, was that?"
I turned to find him staring at the spot where Marlene had been standing with an expression that sat somewhere between absolute confusion and the slow, dawning horror of a man who was beginning to piece together something he very much did not want to piece together. Sirius then slowly turned his head toward Jasmine. "Jasmine," Sirius said carefully. "Why was your mum kissing Harry?"
"That is absolutely none of your business," Jasmine said with remarkable composure for someone whose face was the color of a ripe tomato.
"I'm your godfather!"
"And I'm an adult! Come on, Asia, I want to introduce you to all of my friends before dinner." Jasmine grabbed Asia's hand and started walking very quickly toward the castle, her back ramrod straight, her ears burning red at the tips.
"Jasmine! Jasmine, get back here! I have questions!"
"No!"
"I have a lot of questions!"
"Then write them down and I'll ignore them later!" Jasmine called over her shoulder without slowing down, and then she and Asia crested the hill and disappeared from view.
Sirius watched them go. Then he turned back to me with an expression that had shifted from confused to something considerably more dangerous. The brief camaraderie we'd built fighting Jiangshi side by side in the Shanghai sewers seemed to evaporate in real time as the gears in his head continued turning.
"Harry," he said, and his voice had dropped into a low register that I imagined had been quite intimidating before Azkaban stripped most of the weight from his frame. "Is there something going on between you and Marlene McKinnon?"
"Yes."
He blinked. I don't think he'd expected me to just say it.
"And... between you and James's daughter?"
"Maybe… What's it to you?" I couldn't help but taunt him slightly.
His nostrils flared. A muscle in his jaw jumped twice, and I could practically hear the man's thoughts short-circuiting behind his eyes as he tried to reconcile the image of me fighting beside him in a sewer full of Chinese undead with the image of me kissing Marlene McKinnon with my tongue while her daughter stood six feet away turning the color of a fire engine.
I actually had things I wanted to ask him. Important things. Like the black fire spell he'd been casting against the Jiangshi down in those tunnels. I'd been turning it over in my head since Shanghai. It wasn't Fiendfyre. Fiendfyre was a wild orange. What Sirius had been throwing around was something else entirely. Black flames that burned through dark qi like acid through paper when my own pressurized water barely slowed the bastards down. That kind of magic didn't come from a Hogwarts education. It smelled demonic, or close enough to demonic that the distinction didn't matter much.
But before I could open my mouth to ask him about any of it...
Crack.
He was gone. Apparated away in a huff without so much as a goodbye, leaving nothing behind but a faint pop of displaced air and the impression of a man whose indignation had officially exceeded his curiosity.
Well, shit.
I stared at the flattened patch of grass where he'd been standing and let out a slow breath through my nose. Of all the things I'd wanted to discuss with the man, his mysterious combat magic had been near the top of the list. Now I'd have to wait until he stopped being furious long enough to have an actual conversation, which, knowing Sirius, could take anywhere from weeks to months.
Warm lips pressed against my cheek and I turned to find Lilja beside me, one eyebrow raised, her expression caught somewhere between fond exasperation and genuine amusement. "Are you ever going to stop breaking that poor man's brain?"
"I don't know what you're talking about. I was perfectly civil."
"You told him you're sleeping with his dead best friend's baby mama and then smirked when he asked about his goddaughter being involved with you as well."
"I didn't smirk."
"Harry, you absolutely smirked. I was watching your face. It did the thing."
"What thing?"
"The thing where one corner of your mouth goes up and your eyes get this look like you know exactly what you're doing and you're enjoying every second of it. That thing."
"That sounds like something a person who's projecting would say."
"That sounds like something a person who knows he's guilty would deflect with." But she was smiling now, the kind of small, reluctant smile she wore when she wanted to be stern but couldn't quite manage it because I'd made her laugh on the inside.
I reached for her hand. She gave it without hesitation, her fingers sliding between mine and settling there like they'd found the only place in the world they were meant to be.
We started the walk up toward the castle.
The Scottish countryside stretched out around us in rolling green hills. The air was cool and clean and tasted like absolutely nothing, which after breathing Shanghai smog and rotten sewer stink was as close to a religious experience as a half devil would ever get.
I filled my lungs with it.
"You know they've all been worried sick," Lilja said as we walked, her thumb tracing a slow circle on the back of my hand. "You're peerage is going to be very clingy for the next few days. Along with your fiances Rias and Sona. I expect Serafall will sneak herself back into the castle somewhere along the way as well," Lilja listed off. She then glanced at me sideways. "And Hermione is going to scold you within an inch of your life."
I couldn't help but smile as the faces of all the women in my life cycled through my mind. "A lecture from Hermione? I'm looking forward to it, honestly."
"You say that now. Wait until she pulls out the color-coded notes she's inevitably been compiling about every reckless decision you made in order as that plane was going down..."
I laughed and lifted her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles as we crested a hill and the full view of Hogwarts opened up before us. The castle looked just as amazing as the first time I ever laid on eyes on. Possibly even better because I could spot more than a few generous upgrades that I'm sure the Sitri and Gremory Clans had no problems paying for. My eyes drifted. My favorite training grounds—the Forbidden Forest—was sprawled out in the distance. Smoke rose from Hagrid's chimney on the outskirts.
I was glad to be home. The castle grew larger with every step we took, and so did the feeling in my chest, the warm, heavy, almost unbearable feeling of walking toward the people who mattered most.
Lilja squeezed my hand a little tighter and walked a little closer, her shoulder pressed against mine, and the two of us made our way up the winding path toward home.
…We crossed the long stone bridge side by side, Lilja's fingers still laced through mine, and the moment Hogwarts' front courtyard came into view I saw them.
All of them.
They were all waiting for me.
Something turned over in my chest that I didn't have a word for. Something too big and too warm to fit neatly into language.
Tonks saw us first. Her head snapped up, her eyes locked onto me with the trained precision of a former Auror, and her hair flared bright pink in a single pulse.
"He's back!" she shouted, and the courtyard erupted.
Tonks hit me like a freight train. She covered the distance between the pillar and the bridge in seconds flat, launched herself at me, and wrapped both arms around my neck with enough force to rock me back a full step. She was wearing a tight black tank top that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, the thin fabric stretched across her generous chest and riding up just enough to show a strip of toned stomach above her low-slung jeans. Her body was all soft curves and lean muscle pressed flush against mine, warm and solid and very deliberately close. "You absolute bastard," she murmured against my neck, and then she kissed me. Not a quick peck. A proper kiss, her lips firm and hungry against mine, one hand tangling in my hair while her hips pressed forward into me. She tasted like the strawberry lip gloss she always wore and something sharper underneath, relief maybe, or just Tonks.
Before I could catch my breath, two identical weights latched onto me from either side.
"Master!" Lyra cried, clamping onto my right arm. Her maid uniform was the same as always, which meant it was designed to be looked at rather than practical. The black dress was cut criminally short, ending high on her pale thighs, with a white apron cinched tight at her narrow waist that only emphasized the swell of her hips and the generous curve of her chest straining against the fitted bodice. She pressed her lips to my jaw, then my cheek, then the corner of my mouth, each kiss landing quick and desperate.
"Master, you're home!" Lyna echoed from my left, her face buried against my sleeve. She was Lyra's mirror in every way: the same long dark hair, the same porcelain skin, the same sinfully short uniform with black thigh-high stockings that drew the eye up the smooth expanse of her legs to where the hem of her skirt barely preserved her modesty. She rose onto her toes and caught my earlobe between her lips, nipping gently before pressing a lingering kiss to the pulse point below my ear that sent a shiver straight down my spine. "We missed you so much," she breathed against my skin.
Then Fleur was there, materializing in front of me as if the space between us had simply ceased to exist. She took my face in both hands and tilted it left, then right, her blue eyes scanning every inch of me with clinical intensity. "You are hurt? You are thin. You are not eating enough. I can see it in your face, 'Arry. Your cheekbones are too sharp."
"My cheekbones are the same as they were when I left, Fleur. I didn't miss any meals…"
"Non. They are sharper. I would know. I 'ave kissed zis face many times and I know every angle."
Gabrielle didn't bother with an inspection. She simply pressed herself against my chest, wrapped her arms around my midsection, hooked her chin over my collarbone, and settled in with the clear intention of never moving again. "You smell like foreign soap," she murmured. "I don't like it. You should smell like us."
I was now supporting the weight of approximately five women and could barely see over the tangle of hair and limbs surrounding me. Somewhere behind the wall of bodies, I could hear a voice that had been going nonstop since the moment Tonks first shouted.
"...and I want to be very clear, Harry, that a few days with virtually no communication is not acceptable by any standard. One text! That is what I received! One. Text. With four sentences. 'Shanghai went fine. Caught Pettigrew. Tell everyone I'm okay. Miss you.' That is what you sent me. That is what you considered adequate after disappearing to fight an underground army of Chinese undead on another continent!"
"Hi, Hermione," I managed from somewhere inside the pile.
"Do not 'hi Hermione' me! I am not finished!"
Tonks pulled back just far enough to look at me. "She's been going over her talking points since yesterday," she whispered. "I think she has bullet points."
"I heard that, Nymphadora!"
Tonks winced and ducked back against my shoulder.
The dogpile loosened gradually, mostly because Fleur physically peeled Tonks off me so she could take her place, and the bodies slowly rearranged themselves into something resembling a semicircle with me at the center. As the crowd parted, the quieter greetings found their way through.
Sona approached with measured steps, her hands clasped in front of her, her posture as precise and controlled as everything else about her. She stopped at arm's length, adjusted her glasses with one finger, and looked up at me with violet eyes that were doing a poor job of hiding the relief behind them. "You're late," she said.
"My plane hit a giant bird"
"Unacceptable. I'll have Grandmother Selene look into establishing a private airline network with warded aircraft so no Sitri ever has to fly like that again."
I was kind of surprised we didn't already have something like that, but then again, Devils could fly with their own wings or just teleport places when they needed to. I was the weird one travelling with my human lovers to keep them safe. And I was very glad that I did because losing Jasmine or Marlene would have been devastating.
Rias was next. She didn't say anything at first. She just walked up to me, reached out, and straightened the collar of my shirt with both hands, smoothing the fabric down with slow, deliberate care, her fingers lingering against my chest. The way a woman does for her fiance when she was obviously worried about him.
"I'm glad you're back," she said softly. "I can't wait til classes start again tomorrow. It's going to be great, and maybe a bit more normal without that tournament. Or whatever passes for normal at magic school…"
"I'm glad to be back here with you Rias," I told her before she was the next woman to kiss me.
Narcissa waited until the initial chaos had settled before approaching, which was very Narcissa. She never competed for attention. She was wearing a fitted black dress that hugged every curve of her body with the kind of quiet elegance that only came from someone who understood exactly what she had and exactly how to present it. The neckline dipped just low enough to showcase the pale swell of her cleavage, and the fabric clung to the flare of her hips and the long line of her legs like it had been sewn directly onto her. At forty-something years old, Narcissa Black had a body and face that women half her age would have killed for and she dressed like she knew it.
"You look good for a plane crash survivor," she said, but her grey eyes were warm and her lips were curved into a small, private smile that was only ever meant for me.
"Missed you too, Cissa."
"I was told there were undead involved in your adventure afterwards?" she said. "Hundreds of them."
"Bit of an exaggeration. Maybe a couple hundred."
"That is not the reassurance you seem to think it is." She stepped closer and pressed her lips to mine in a slow, deliberate kiss that tasted like wine and expensive lipstick. When she pulled back, her hand stayed on my jaw and her eyes held mine. "Don't disappear on me like that again," she said quietly.
"Yes ma'am."
"Good boy." She patted my cheek once.
Through all of this, Lilja had been standing a few paces behind me with her arms folded, watching the reunion unfold with the quiet, satisfied expression of a Queen who had delivered her King home safely.
Hermione noticed her. "And you!" Hermione rounded on Lilja. "You were supposed to keep him safe! Instead, you decided to chase down Peter Pettegrew—and you both ended up fighting an entire Jiangshi court!"
Lilja raised one eyebrow. "We did and it was a magnificent battle. My sister and the other Valkyries will be jealous when they hear tales of the battle and the fact that my vengeance was delivered. The rat is finally dead."
"That is not the point!"
"It's a little bit the point."
Hermione's mouth opened, closed, and then she turned back to me. The irritation was still there, but something else was muscling past it now. Her expression shifted, the hard edges softening, and her brown eyes went bright in a way that had nothing to do with anger. "You were gone for days," she said, and her voice was quieter now. "And all I got was one stupid message."
"I know. I'm sorry, Hermione."
She crossed the distance between us and hugged me hard enough to make something in my spine pop. Her face pressed into my chest and her fingers dug into the back of my shirt and she held on tight. "I'm still annoyed with you," she said against my sternum.
"I know."
"This hug doesn't mean I've forgiven you."
"I know."
"I have more to say."
"I would be disappointed if you didn't."
She tightened her grip. I wrapped my arms around her and rested my chin on top of her head and let her hold me as long as she needed.
Over her shoulder, I could see the rest of them. My peerage. My family. My Fiances. And the gates of the school behind all of them.
I'm home.
…As it turned out, our timing was almost suspiciously perfect.
Hermione mentioned as we crossed the entrance hall that the castle was throwing a welcome back feast tonight before classes restarted tomorrow, and we had apparently arrived with less than twenty minutes to spare. The corridors leading to the Great Hall were already alive with the sounds of hundreds of students making their way to dinner, laughter and chatter bouncing off stone walls that looked different from when I'd left.
I noticed it in small details as we walked. Fresh mortar between stones that had been cracked—not during the invasion—but just from years of the castle lacking general maintenance. And underneath all of it, humming so faintly I could only feel it with my devil senses, the unmistakable resonance of freshly laid ward stones. Layers upon layers of new protective enchantments woven into the castle's bones.
Lilja's eyes tracked the same details I was seeing. Her gaze lingered on the ward signatures embedded in the stonework and the corner of her mouth twitched with professional approval. "Someone's been busy," she murmured. "These wards are significantly more robust than what was here before. Gremory runic architecture layered over the existing Hogwarts foundations. Clever."
"Rias mentioned her brother sent specialists," I said.
"He sent good ones."
We reached the doors to the Great Hall. The massive oak panels stood open and the warm golden light of a thousand floating candles spilled out into the corridor along with the roar of conversation from hundreds of students already seated at the four long house tables. The enchanted ceiling above showed a clear Scottish evening sky, deep blue fading into black at the edges, with the first stars beginning to appear.
I stepped through the doors.
The noise died.
It happened in a wave, starting from the students closest to the entrance and rippling outward across the hall like a stone dropped into still water. Heads turned. Conversations cut off mid-sentence. For about three seconds, the Great Hall of Hogwarts was so quiet I could hear the candles flickering overhead.
Then the Gryffindor table erupted. It started with a few people clapping, then more, then the whole table was on their feet with their hands together and their voices rising. The Hufflepuffs joined in almost immediately, Rias's peerage leading the charge from their section of the table, and then Ravenclaw followed suit, and suddenly three-quarters of the Great Hall was giving me a standing ovation that I had absolutely not asked for and did not know what to do with.
"Harry! Harry! Harry!" someone started chanting from the Gryffindor end, and it spread.
"The Hero of Hogwarts!"
"He's back! Sitri's back!"
A younger Hufflepuff girl I'd never spoken to in my life stood up on her bench, cupped her hands around her mouth, and screamed, "MARRY ME, HARRY!" at the top of her lungs.
Fleur's head snapped toward the girl so fast her silver-blonde hair whipped across my chest. The look she gave that poor Hufflepuff could have frozen the Black Lake solid. The girl sat back down very quickly.
They wanted their hero and apparently I was it. I could admit a hero's welcome certainly felt nice as I thought back about the crazy battle my mother and I had against Kokabiel—hopped up on his stolen Boosted Gear.
My eyes drifted to the far side of the hall. The Slytherin table had not stood up. They had not clapped. Most of them sat in rigid silence, staring at their plates or murmuring to each other behind raised hands with expressions that ranged from carefully neutral to openly hostile.
Draco Malfoy was the most obvious. He sat near the center of the table with his arms crossed, his pointed face twisted into such a concentrated scowl that it looked physically painful to maintain. His pale eyes burned with a hatred that went beyond rivalry or jealousy into something uglier and more personal.
Further down the Slytherin table, two pairs of eyes met mine and then immediately looked away. Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis. Daphne's jaw was tight and her gaze dropped to her lap the moment I caught it. Tracey managed to hold eye contact for about half a second longer before she turned her head sharply, her dark hair swinging across her face like a curtain being pulled shut. Both of them radiated something that looked a lot like shame.
I filed it away.
The applause gradually died down as I made my way toward the Gryffindor table. The moment I aimed for an open section of bench, the real competition began. Hermione sat down on my left like it was never a question. She simply walked to the spot, placed her book on the table in front of her, and settled onto the bench with the calm territorial confidence of a woman who had staked her claim months ago and saw no reason to negotiate.
On my right, Fleur moved like a Veela with no shame and who never would have any. Gabrielle had been half a step ahead of her, reaching for the bench beside me with her fingers already brushing the wood, when Fleur's hip connected with her younger sister's side in a smooth, deliberate bump that sent Gabrielle stumbling two full steps sideways.
"Fleur!" Gabrielle squawked. "You did zat on purpose!"
"I 'ave no idea what you mean." Fleur slid onto the bench beside me and crossed her long legs beneath the table, her thigh pressing warm against mine. She tossed her silver-blonde hair over one shoulder and gave me a smile so dazzling it probably caused minor traffic accidents in the souls of every straight male within a thirty-foot radius. "Bonsoir, 'Arry. Did you miss me? Its been 3 days too many!"
"Tu es une garce égoïste et je le dirai à Maman!" Gabrielle hissed from where she'd been displaced, her cheeks flushed with indignation.
"Tell 'er. She will agree with me. Ze eldest always sits beside ze mate."
"Zat is not a rule!"
"It is now. I just made it."
Gabrielle let out a string of French that I was fairly certain contained at least three words their mother would not have approved of—or maybe she would considering the things I heard Apolline moan during sex—and then Gabrielle dropped onto the bench across from us next to Lavender Brown, who looked deeply entertained by the entire exchange.
Across the hall, I watched Rias make her way to the Hufflepuff table where Akeno, Kiba, Koneko, and Gasper were already seated. Rias slid in next to Akeno and glanced back at me across the distance between the tables. She gave me a small wave, just her fingers curling once, and the warmth in her blue eyes carried clear across the crowded room. I lifted my chin in acknowledgment and she turned back to her peerage with a private smile.
At the Ravenclaw table, Sona was already seated between Tsubaki and Luna Lovegood. She didn't wave. She didn't smile. She adjusted her glasses with one finger, met my eyes for exactly two seconds, and gave me a single, precise nod that somehow communicated more genuine emotion than the entire standing ovation combined.
I missed you too, Sona.
My attention drifted up to the raised platform at the far end of the hall where the staff table stretched across the width of the room. Tonks and Narcissa were just taking their seats. They sat down on the far side of a woman I didn't recognize.
She was short and squat with a broad, flat face and a wide mouth that immediately made me think of a toad. Not in a mean way. Just in an observational, that woman genuinely looks like an amphibian kind of way. She was wearing a bright pink cardigan over her robes that clashed horribly with everything around her, like a highlighter pen that had gained sentience and dressed itself. A black velvet bow sat on top of her mousy brown hair.
As Narcissa sat down beside her, I caught it.
The toad woman's eyes slid sideways toward Narcissa, and the look that crossed her face was so nakedly jealous it was almost sad. It was that specific brand of feminine bitterness that went beyond dislike into something meaner and more personal, the look of a woman staring at everything she wasn't and hating every inch of it.
Narcissa caught it too. Of course she did. Narcissa Black missed nothing. Her response was magnificent. She didn't acknowledge the toad woman at all. She simply sat a fraction straighter, rolled her shoulders back with a movement so subtle it might have been unconscious but definitely was not, and let a small smug smile settle across her perfect face. The kind of smile that didn't say "I noticed you" so much as "I noticed you noticing me, and I find your suffering delicious."
That's my MILF right there...
I scanned the rest of the head table. Dumbledore in the center in his midnight blue robes. McGonagall to his right, stern and sharp as always. Flitwick perched on his stack of cushions. Sprout with dirt under her fingernails. Snape lurking at the far end like a bat who'd been forced to attend a birthday party.
No Remus…?
I looked again, slower this time, checking every face. Professor Lupin's chair was conspicuously empty. No shabby robes, no scarred face, no tired smile. Just a vacant seat between Flitwick and Sprout with a place setting that hadn't been touched.
Where's Remus? He was here before I left for Japan. Did something happen during the invasion? Did he get hurt? Did he...
I made a mental note to ask someone about it the moment the feast ended.
There were two other empty chairs at the head table as well, spaced apart from each other, with place settings laid out in front of them as if someone was expected but hadn't arrived yet. I didn't know what to make of that so I let it go.
Dumbledore rose to his feet.
The hall went quiet almost immediately, the residual chatter dying away like embers being smothered. The Headmaster stood with his hands resting lightly on the podium, his half-moon spectacles catching the candlelight, and for a moment he just looked out across the room at the hundreds of young faces turned toward him. He looked older than I remembered. Or maybe I was just noticing it for the first time, the weight that sat behind his eyes, the way his shoulders carried something heavier than his robes.
"Welcome back," he said simply. His voice carried through the hall without any amplification charm, filling every corner with the calm, steady warmth that had probably made generations of students feel safe within these walls. "I am profoundly glad to see each and every one of you here tonight. Returning to this school, to these halls, after what we endured is not a small thing. For some of you, the decision to come back was not an easy one. I want you to know that your courage in doing so does not go unnoticed." He paused, and the silence that followed was different from the earlier quiet. Heavier. More deliberate. "Before we begin tonight's feast, I would ask that we observe a moment of silence for those who are not with us tonight. For the students we lost during the attack by the Fallen."
The Fallen. That's what people were calling them. Most of the students in this hall believed the invaders had been some kind of dark wizard cult with enchanted wings and powerful magic. They didn't know the truth. They didn't know that Kokabiel had been a literal Cadre-class Fallen Angel with ten pitch-black wings and enough power to level a city. They didn't know that the soldiers who had stormed the castle were members of an ancient biblical faction in a war that predated human civilization.
They just knew that people with dark wings had attacked their school and some of their classmates had died.
The silence settled over the Great Hall like a heavy blanket. I could hear the candles. I could hear breathing. Somewhere to my left, a younger girl sniffled quietly and the boy next to her put his arm around her shoulders without a word.
The silence held for ten long seconds. Twenty. Thirty.
Then Dumbledore inhaled softly and the tension broke.
"Thank you," he said quietly. Then his expression shifted, the sorrow receding behind something warmer and more familiar, and when he spoke again his voice carried the gentle authority of a headmaster who understood that grief and joy could exist in the same room without diminishing each other. "Now. Before we begin the feast, we have some new additions to our student body who require sorting. Minerva, if you would."
McGonagall stood from her seat and walked to the front of the raised platform carrying the Sorting Hat on its ancient wooden stool. She placed it on the floor in front of the staff table and stepped back with her hands clasped behind her.
Dumbledore smiled.
"Our first transfer students come to us from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. Please welcome Miss Fleur Delacour and Miss Gabrielle Delacour."
Fleur stood up from beside me with a motion that turned every head in the room that wasn't already pointed in her direction. Then she walked toward the stool with the kind of unhurried, hip-swaying stride that belonged on a Paris catwalk and not a Scottish dining hall.
Behind me, I heard a Gryffindor fifth year whisper to his mate, "I think I just found religion…"
Gabrielle bounced up from across the table and followed her sister, considerably less dramatic but no less gorgeous body drawing its own share of stares as she trotted up to the front of the hall.
Fleur sat on the stool first and McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on her head. The hat's brim dropped low over Fleur's forehead, and for a few seconds nothing happened.
Then the rip near the brim opened and the hat spoke, loudly enough for the whole hall to hear.
"Well, well, well. This is a first. I've never sorted a fully grown Veela before. Your mind is... impressively organized, Miss Delacour. Ambition, certainly. Intelligence, without question. Loyalty that would put most Hufflepuffs to shame. And... my word, the sheer volume of thoughts dedicated to a single young man is remarkable. I mean, truly remarkable. Nearly a third of your active mental landscape. That's clinical, that is."
"Just sort me, hat," Fleur said through her teeth while the hall tittered with laughter.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Fleur pulled the hat off, set it back on the stool with a bit more force than was strictly necessary, and walked back to the Gryffindor table to thunderous applause while her cheeks carried the faintest pink tinge. She sat back down beside me and muttered something in French that I was pretty sure translated to "that hat is going into a fireplace. It saw things that were private!"
Gabrielle sat on the stool next. The hat barely grazed her hair before it shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" and Gabrielle skipped back to the table looking thoroughly pleased with herself.
"And finally," Dumbledore continued, "a new student joining us for the first time. Please welcome Miss Asia Argento!"
Down the table, Asia had been sitting between Jasmine and Parvati, and the moment Dumbledore said her name, every drop of color drained from her face before flooding back twice as strong. She went from pale to crimson in about two seconds flat. Jasmine squeezed her arm and whispered something encouraging in her ear. Asia nodded once, swallowed hard, and stood up on legs that were visibly trembling.
She walked toward the stool with the careful, measured steps of someone who was concentrating very hard on not tripping over her own feet in front of several hundred strangers. Her blonde hair fell around her face like she was trying to hide behind it. When she reached the stool, she turned and sat down with her hands clasped together so tightly in her lap that her knuckles had gone white.
McGonagall lowered the hat onto her head.
Silence.
The hat sat there for ten seconds. Fifteen. Twenty. I could see Asia's lips moving slightly, whispering something to the hat that no one else could hear. Her green eyes were wide and a little scared, fixed on some middle distance point across the hall.
Come on, hat. Be nice to her. She's had a rough life and she doesn't need you poking around in the worst parts of it.
Then the rip opened. "An unusual mind. And an unusual heart. You have suffered greatly, child, and emerged kinder for it. That is rarer than you know. I see courage, yes, the kind that doesn't announce itself but shows up when it matters most. GRYFFINDOR!"
Asia's entire body sagged with relief. She pulled the hat off with shaking hands, set it gently on the stool because Asia would be gentle with a sentient hat even while terrified, and hurried back toward the Gryffindor table with her head down and her cheeks burning.
Jasmine was on her feet before Asia reached the table, pulling her into a tight hug. Lavender clapped enthusiastically. Parvati scooted over to make room. Asia sat down between Jasmine and Lavender looking like she might cry from relief, and Jasmine kept one arm around her shoulders and rubbed her back.
The feast appeared on the tables moments later, mountains of food materializing on golden plates, and the Great Hall dissolved into the familiar roar of conversation and clinking silverware.
That's when the commentary started.
"Alright," said a sixth year Gryffindor boy sitting a few seats down, his eyes tracking Fleur as she loaded her plate. "So both Delacours are transferring here. Both of them. Two actual Veela. Living in Gryffindor tower FULL TIME NOW!" He turned to his friend with the haunted expression of a man describing a paradise he would never be allowed to enter. "And they're both his…"
His friend shook his head slowly. "Life isn't fair, mate. It just isn't."
"I mean, did you see Fleur walk up there? I nearly had a heart attack staring at her arse and she's not even doing the allure thing."
"Doesn't need to, does she? That's the worst part. She's just naturally that fit."
"And Gabrielle is just as hot and only a year younger than her sister!"
"And they're both Harry's girls..."
"We established that, Tom."
"I'm just... I need to say it out loud a few more times. For processing."
Then the attention shifted.
"What about the new girl? The blonde one? She's well cute."
"Yeah, sweet looking, isn't she? Nice green eyes. Bit shy."
"Reckon she's single? She looked nervous up there, maybe she'd appreciate someone showing her around the castle, being friendly like..."
"Oh, piss off, Ryan." Jasmine's voice cut through the speculation like a blade. She leaned forward and fixed the boys with a look that was purely learned from her mother Marlene McKinnon, protective and sharp and not remotely interested in hearing counterarguments. "Asia is a sweetheart and a good girl and the last thing she needs is you lot circling her like sharks on her first night. Back. Off."
A good girl…?
I kept my face perfectly neutral and took a sip of pumpkin juice. I then almost spat the pumpkin juice out on reflex, because nope, it has not grown on me after a month apart. My thoughts drifted back to Asia and jasmine.
A good girl who was squirming and whimpering while Jasmine sucked on her tits in the back of an ice boat three days ago somewhere over the Pacific Ocean. Sure. The goodest of girls.
I said nothing. Some thoughts were better left internal.
The boys might have retreated with their dignity mostly intact if Lavender Brown had possessed even the slightest concept of mercy, which she did not and never had. "Oh, and for anyone keeping score," Lavender announced at a volume calibrated to reach maximum ears with minimum effort, "Asia's also part of Harry's group. So, you know." She popped a grape into her mouth and shrugged. "Adjust your expectations accordingly." She didn't say harem. She didn't have to.
Every boy at the Gryffindor table heard it anyway.
The reactions were instant and beautiful.
The sixth year who'd been mourning the Delacour situation dropped his fork onto his plate with a clatter that rang out like a gunshot. His friend actually choked on a piece of chicken and had to be slapped on the back by the boy beside him. Further down the table, Dean Thomas put his head in his hands and stayed there. Seamus Finnigan took a long drink of pumpkin juice, set his goblet down with exaggerated care, and said in a flat, dead voice, "I'm transferring to Durmstrang."
"HEAR, HEAR!"
Fred and George Weasley erupted from their seats three rows down with the synchronized enthusiasm of men who had been waiting for exactly this moment. Fred swept into a deep, theatrical bow so low his nose nearly touched the table. George dropped to one knee in the aisle between tables and extended both hands toward me in a gesture of supplication.
"We are not worthy!" Fred declared.
"Not worthy!" George echoed.
"Once again, the great Harry Sitri has expanded his legendary empire of women!"
"We prostrate ourselves before you, oh chosen one among chosen ones!"
"Teach us your ways, Master Sitri!"
"We offer our services as your squires, your heralds, your humble apprentices in the art of pulling!"
"For a modest fee!"
"Very modest!"
Between them, Angelina Johnson continued eating her shepherd's pie. She didn't look up. She didn't scold them. She didn't sigh or roll her eyes or elbow either of them in the ribs. She simply reached out with one hand, still chewing, patted George on the top of his head the way you'd pat a golden retriever who had just brought you a stick for the fourteenth time, and went back to her dinner.
Those two are perfect for each other. Oh wait, all three of them, actually, now that I remember Angelina was a Witch of culture and had her own Harem. I wonder if I should ever try asking her for advice?
I glanced to my left. Hermione had her book open next to her plate and was very pointedly reading while eating, though the tiny smile tugging at the corner of her mouth told me she was enjoying the chaos more than she'd ever admit.
Fleur leaned into me from the right, her lips brushing my ear. "I love zis school," she murmured, and I could feel her grin against my skin.
…The golden plates cleared themselves as the last of the dessert vanished, and around me the familiar sounds of a feast winding down filled the hall. Benches scraped against stone as students shifted their weight, conversations drifting into that lazy, overfed register that meant everyone was ready to waddle back to their common rooms and collapse into bed.
I was right there with them.
The international portkey, the reunion, the emotional gauntlet of being hugged and kissed and scolded by almost every woman in my life within the span of ten minutes—all of it was catching up to me. My eyelids were getting heavy. Fleur was a warm weight against my right side, her head tilted so her hair spilled across my shoulder, and Hermione had her book propped against a goblet on my left while her free hand rested on my knee beneath the table. I could have fallen asleep right there between them and been perfectly content.
Then Dumbledore stood up again. He didn't dismiss us. Instead he remained at the podium with his hands folded in front of him and that particular gleam behind his half-moon spectacles that I had learned meant something was about to happen that would take everyone by surprise.
"Before I send you all off to your well-deserved rest," Dumbledore said, his voice carrying easily through the hall, "I have one final announcement." He gestured with one hand toward the staff table. Specifically, toward the two chairs that had been empty all evening. "This term, Hogwarts will be introducing a new class to the curriculum. The events of recent weeks have made it abundantly clear that the magical world extends far beyond the borders of Britain, and that our understanding of foreign magical traditions, supernatural cultures, and the broader landscape of power that exists beyond our shores has been, to put it charitably, insufficient."
Hermione's book snapped shut so fast it sounded like a firecracker. I felt her entire body go rigid beside me. Her hand on my knee clenched. I didn't need to look at her to know her eyes had gone wide and bright with the specific intensity of a woman who had just been told a new class existed and would walk through fire to be the first name on the enrollment list.
"This new class," Dumbledore continued, "will be taught by two professors, as one of them maintains a considerable number of responsibilities elsewhere and will not always be available for full-time instruction. They have, however, graciously agreed to share the teaching duties between them."
He paused. The twinkle intensified.
"It is my pleasure to introduce—"
A flash of light exploded from the two empty chairs.
Cascading, sparkling, rainbow-hued eruption of color and light that filled the entire space behind the staff table like someone had detonated a glitter bomb the size of a horse inside a prism factory. Streaks of pink and blue and violet spiraled through the air in shimmering ribbons. Tiny stars, actual tiny glowing stars, popped into existence and fizzled out like magical sparklers. The floating candles above the staff table flickered and changed color temporarily, cycling through pastel shades that had absolutely no business existing in the Great Hall of Hogwarts.
When the light faded, two women were sitting in the previously empty chairs.
The first was my mum…
Serafall Leviathan. She was wearing one of her signature magical girl outfits, this one a deep blue number with silver trim that hugged every curve of her absurdly perfect figure, complete with thigh-high boots and a short cape that had no structural or practical purpose but looked exactly the way she wanted it to look. Her long black hair was done up in her trademark twin tails that fell past her waist, and her deep blue eyes, my eyes, scanned the Great Hall with the unrestrained delight at catching us all off guard.
She stood up from her chair. She put both hands on her hips. She beamed at four hundred students with a smile so bright and so genuine and so completely devoid of self-consciousness that it was almost impossible not to smile back.
"Levia-tan is here as a teacher! Yay!"
She actually did a little spin. A full three-sixty rotation on the ball of one booted foot with her cape flaring out behind her. In front of the entire school. At the staff table. During a formal announcement.
That's my mother. That is my mother, everyone. The woman who rules a quarter of the Underworld….
The hall's reaction was split roughly into thirds. The students who had been present for Serafall's previous dramatic appearances at Hogwarts, which by now was most of the school, responded with the resigned familiarity of people who had already accepted that this extraordinarily beautiful, extraordinarily powerful, extraordinarily loud woman was simply a recurring feature of life at this school. A few Gryffindors actually applauded. Several Hufflepuffs laughed. A pack of Ravenclaw boys who clearly hadn't gotten the memo about Serafall being my mother were openly staring at her body with their mouths hanging open, and I made a mental note of each of their faces for future reference.
In the second chair, Behemoth had appeared with considerably less fanfare. Where Serafall was spectacle and sparkle, her Queen was stillness and composure. Her glasses caught the candlelight as she turned her head to watch Serafall's spin with the expression of a woman who loved Serafall completely, served her without reservation, and had simply accepted, at some point in the distant past, that her King would never stop being like this.
Behemoth stood up from her chair to address the Great Hall. "It is a pleasure to meet you all," she said, and her voice was smooth and calm and carried easily without needing to be raised. "I look forward to our time together this term. I hope we can offer you perspectives on the magical world that will broaden your understanding and serve you well in the years to come."
One of them gives a speech that sounds like it belongs in front of the United Nations. The other one twirled. They're going to be co-teaching a class. This is going to be either the best class in Hogwarts history or the most chaotic, and knowing my mother, it will somehow be both at the same time.
The initial surprise faded and the reality of the situation settled over me.
My mother. Serafall Leviathan. The woman who has zero concept of personal boundaries. The woman who has crawled into my bed on multiple occasions and will absolutely, without question, continue to do so now that she has faculty access to this castle. She is going to be here. Regularly. In the same building where I sleep. Where my girlfriends sleep. Where Sona sleeps.
I looked across the Great Hall toward the Ravenclaw table.
Sona was already looking at me.
She mouthed two words across the crowded hall. "Did you know?"
I shook my head.
Up at the staff table, Serafall had already abandoned her chair and was leaning across Behemoth to wave at someone. It took me a moment to realize she was waving at me. Not subtly. Not a small maternal wave from across a room. She was waving with both hands above her head, bouncing on her toes, her twin tails swinging, mouthing "Harry! Harry! Did you see Mama's entrance? Wasn't it amazing?" with enough enthusiasm to power a small city.
I raised one hand in a small wave back.
Her face lit up like I'd just handed her the moon.
I love you, Mum. You're going to make the rest of this year absolutely insane, and I love you anyway…
Hermione, who had been vibrating beside me this entire time, finally spoke. "A class on foreign magical traditions!" she breathed, and her brown eyes were so bright they were practically luminous. "Harry, do you have any idea how significant this is? Hogwarts hasn't added a new core subject area to its curriculum in over two hundred years. The implications for cross-cultural magical study alone are—"
"Hermione."
"—and if Professor Leviathan is drawing from her own experience, the breadth of knowledge she could share about non-European magical systems would be—"
"Hermione."
"What?"
"My mum is going to be my teacher."
Hermione paused. Looked at the staff table where Serafall was now doing something with sparkles in Behemoth's hair while Behemoth endured it with saintly patience. Looked back at me.
"Oh," she said. "Oh, Harry."
"Yeah."
"That's... going to be something."
"Yeah."
Fleur leaned into my other side. "I like your mozzer," she said. "She 'as excellent fashion sense."
"She's wearing a magical girl costume, Fleur. I promise she will wear that when she teaches."
"Oui. And she is pulling it off. Not many women can say zat. You should go on her show again. Zat was fun to watch…"
I put my face in my hands and Fleur rubbed my back while Hermione patted my shoulder and somewhere up at the staff table my mother blew me a kiss that trailed actual visible sparkles through the air.
Dumbledore, who had been watching the entire spectacle unfold with the serene patience of a man who had clearly known exactly what he was unleashing and had chosen to do it anyway, simply smiled. "I believe that concludes our announcements for the evening. Off to bed, everyone. Classes resume tomorrow morning."
"...Hem Hem!"
XXX
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