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