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

Chapter 1:

– Harry –

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn, I looked good… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did Dudley figure something out?

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

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

He did not know... That was good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy shit, those French accents were amazing…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was a strange sounding term.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Magic.

Real magic?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was my cue to leave.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Diagon Alley. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Devil? I frowned slightly, confused. 

What was he talking about?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I blinked at him in confusion. 

Clan? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn, this little ugly guy worked in style.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So what does the blade do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

My eyes widened in disbelief as the names formed clearly.

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

I stared blankly, reading the names again. 

What the actual fuck? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was alone.

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

That must be a metric fuckton of money…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

– Serafall –

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Someone was actually summoning her! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

XXX

Chapter Text

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

Chapter 2:

– Harry –

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It sounded bad though. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some began running towards us, shouting my name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

– Serafall –

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

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

Absolutely not. 

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

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

She had a son.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Harry Potter is alive!"

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

"The Boy-Who-Lived is back!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her emotions immediately influenced the weather. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the Fu—!”

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

— Dumbledore —

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The possibility haunted him constantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Voldemort had vanished once again, forced back into hiding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wouldn’t fail again…

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

XXX

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

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

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/somestarwaves

Here is the list of Current Advanced Chapters:

The Fallen Gamer ch 345-349

Thunder and Black Wings 41

That’s not wizard magic 8

That’s not wizard magic 7

That’s not wizard magic 6

Thunder and Black Wings 41

The Fox Hole 112

The Blood Queen 63

The Blood Queen 62

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 35

That’s not wizard magic 5

That’s not wizard magic 4

The Fox Hole 112

That’s not wizard magic 3

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 34

The Blood Queen 61

The Fox Hole 111

The Fox Hole 110

Thunder and Black Wings 40

A systematic tale the hero 33

Thunder and black wings 39

The Fox Hole 109

Chapter Text

Chapter 3:

– Harry –

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hermione froze just inside the door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My brain froze. “What?”

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

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

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

“What?!” Hermione shrieked.

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

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

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

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

Serafall— my mother? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the actual fuck was going on right now?

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

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

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

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

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

“Y–Yes…?” Hermione replied hesitantly. 

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

I cleared my throat awkwardly.

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

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

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

I imagined they would not take it well…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes…? I kind of did? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

No wonder she found me so fast…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Magical blocker? What exactly do you mean?"

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

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

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

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

– Serafall –

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn!

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

– Albus –

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

XXX

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

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

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/somestarwaves  

Here is the list of Current Advanced Chapters:

The Fallen Gamer ch 345-349

Thats not wizard magic 9

The Blood Queen 64

The Fox Hole 113

Thunder and Black Wings 41

That’s not wizard magic 8

That’s not wizard magic 7

That’s not wizard magic 6

Thunder and Black Wings 41

The Fox Hole 112

The Blood Queen 63

The Blood Queen 62

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 35

That’s not wizard magic 5

That’s not wizard magic 4

The Fox Hole 112

A Systematic Tale: The Hero 34

The Blood Queen 61

The Fox Hole 111

The Fox Hole 110

Thunder and Black Wings 40

A systematic tale the hero 33

Thunder and black wings 39