"Is that truly all you've learned after so many wasted decades?" Tom mocked, striking back viciously with bolts of lethal dark lightning...
He would win this battle, and take all of the knowledge he needed to succeed for his future plans, resurrection and REVENGE!
— Harry —
I watched Ron shuffle back into the Great Hall, visibly more relaxed after our talk. He'd spent most of the second half of our conversation predictably warning me not to break Ginny's heart, acting out the role of protective older brother.
I indulged him patiently, nodding along and assuring him I cared deeply for his sister. Honestly, the entire conversation was rather pointless from my perspective.
Ron didn't understand that I was a devil, and devils-even half-devils like myself-operated very differently than humans when it came to love and desire. We devils felt emotions far more fiercely and intensely, with bonds so powerful and permanent that boredom or wandering eyes rarely became an issue, so long as our partners didn't actively mistreat us. It was the main reason many devil marriages lasted centuries-often millennia-without fading passion or resentment. Most devil women even accepted harems without jealousy or bitterness, knowing their partners' love never diminished or faded because of multiple lovers.
Of course, Ginny was still fully human at the moment. But I wasn't concerned about that, because witches and wizards practiced their own form of polygamy anyway. More importantly, Ginny had already experienced precisely what she was signing up for when she'd surrendered her virginity to me earlier today.
The memory sent a satisfied smirk across my lips. She certainly hadn't seemed to have any regrets then, screaming my name in absolute ecstasy.
I shook off those distracting thoughts, turning toward an empty stretch of corridor wall nearby. Raising my voice slightly, I spoke clearly and directly toward the seemingly unoccupied stone surface.
"So tell me, Professor-what did you think of that delightful conversation?"
For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then a faint, familiar chuckle echoed softly from thin air. I watched calmly as the air shimmered slightly, and Albus Dumbledore himself appeared, stepping out of his invisibility charm as if materializing from thin air.
The old man looked amused but slightly sheepish at being caught.
"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said warmly, smoothing his long white beard as he gave me an approving glance. "Did you truly know I was here the entire time?"
I nodded easily, returning his gaze without blinking. "Of course I did, Professor. I assumed you'd feel the need to supervise in case Ron and I started fighting or somehting...?"
Dumbledore chuckled quietly once more. "My apologies if you found my presence intrusive, my boy. I simply wanted to ensure that two of Hogwarts' promising students had no lingering hostility between them. With Ronald's recent circumstances, and your...unique position, I'm sure you understand my concern."
I waved off his worries with a dismissive hand, adopting a casual stance as I leaned comfortably against the stone wall. "There's nothing to forgive, Professor. Ron and I are fine now. Don't get me wrong-I seriously doubt the two of us will suddenly become best friends any time soon. But we're definitely not enemies either. Let's just call it neutral territory."
Dumbledore smiled approvingly, clearly relieved at my words. "Neutral territory, indeed. That sounds perfectly acceptable, Harry. You continue to impress me with your maturity and insight."
"Was there anything else you needed, Professor?"
"No, I will let you get back to tonight's dinner and-" Suddenly, Dumbledore stopped mid-sentence, his entire body going abruptly rigid. His face drained of all color in an instant, a stark look of dread and shock rapidly replacing his previously amused expression. He staggered, one aged hand pressing tightly against the stone wall as if to steady himself, breathing raggedly.
"Professor? What's wrong?" I asked sharply, alarmed at his sudden shift in demeanor. I stepped forward quickly, gripping his thin shoulder firmly in an attempt to help him steady himself. He felt suddenly frail beneath my grasp, and I could sense the old man's magical aura flaring wildly around him-something very bad had clearly just happened.
Dumbledore met my gaze directly, his eyes haunted with profound sorrow. His voice came out faintly, trembling with deep anguish as he spoke. "The Hogwarts wards...I just felt it, Harry." His tone was strained, barely more than a whisper as he explained, "One of our students has just died within the castle."
A Hogwarts student was dead...?
My mind raced immediately with possibilities. Was this caused by the Heir of Slytherin? Or something else? Did a student maybe slip and fall down the dangerous moving stairs? No, I remembered finding out from Hermione that the castle was borderline sentient and would never actually let a student die like that...
"Are you sure?" I asked the old man. "There's no mistake?"
Dumbledore nodded grimly, eyes darkened with absolute certainty. "Yes, I'm afraid there's no doubt. A student has died just now."
"Can the wards tell you who it was, Professor?"
Dumbledore shook his head slowly, appearing deeply troubled as he straightened himself, regaining some composure with visible effort. "No, unfortunately. The wards only inform me of the tragedy-not the victim's identity or precise location. We'll need to find the body ourselves."
The Sitri clan magic circle on the back of my right hand suddenly flared to life-a brilliant, icy-blue glow spreading swiftly across my skin, illuminating the dim corridor. I raised my hand decisively, my voice steady and authoritative as I clearly invoked their names:
"Lyra! Lyna!"
Immediately, the air around me rippled with shimmering sapphire light.
Albus Dumbledore stepped back a pace in surprise as the distinctive Sitri teleportation sigil expanded across the stone floor beneath our feet. The Hogwarts wards were specifically designed to prohibit unauthorized apparition or teleportation into or out of the castle, yet they yielded effortlessly-as always-to my family's magic. Serafall, my mother, regularly teleported freely through Hogwarts despite Dumbledore's best attempts at fortification, so his surprise lasted only a moment, quickly fading into acceptance.
In a dazzling flash of rich, blue-tinted demonic light, my two beautiful peerage members-my personal maids Lyra and Lyna-appeared directly before me. Both women were immaculate as ever in their distinctive Sitri maid uniforms-form-fitting, scandalously short dresses trimmed with delicate white lace, sheer thigh-high stockings accentuating their long, slender legs, and polished black heels. Honestly, I was never going to grow tired of seeing these two gorgeous women materialize obediently at my side.
The second they saw me standing there, both maids immediately stepped forward, smiling flirtatiously as they looped their arms affectionately around mine. Lyra pressed her generous breasts tightly against my left side, and Lyna mirrored her twin sister, leaning sensually against my right arm. The warm softness of their bodies, the silky-smooth fabric of their uniforms, and their intoxicating scent-something sweetly delicious, like fresh pastry cream and cinnamon-flooded my senses.
Clearly, they'd just come straight from cooking dinner in Hogwarts' kitchen. They'd essentially taken over meal preparation, bossing the house-elves around as if born to the task. The elves surprisingly seemed to love being ordered about by two such attractive and demanding mistresses.
"Master Harry," Lyra purred softly, her eyes sparkling playfully up at me, "you summoned us at such an unexpected moment. Did you miss us already?"
Beside her, Lyna leaned in even closer, nuzzling her cheek against my shoulder affectionately as she added sweetly, "We've barely been gone from your side for half a day. Did our dear master perhaps become lonely without us?"
Normally, their suggestive teasing would've drawn an amused response or a teasing retort from me. However, today there was no time for playful banter.
My expression clearly reflected my grim mood. Lyra and Lyna both noticed immediately. Their flirtatious smiles faded away instantly, replaced by genuine concern.
"Master? What's wrong?" Lyna asked softly as she studied my face closely. Lyra stood tensely beside her sister, clearly sensing the shift in mood as well.
Taking a deep breath, I nodded briefly toward Dumbledore. "There's been an incident in the castle. Listen carefully and do exactly as Professor Dumbledore instructs. Until this crisis is resolved, consider yourselves fully at his disposal," I told the two of them.
Dumbledore inclined his head gratefully toward me, his expression deeply appreciative. "Thank you, Harry," the old wizard acknowledged solemnly, his voice steady but strained with worry. "I greatly appreciate your willingness to place such powerful and capable servants temporarily under my command during this troubling situation."
Both maids tensed slightly, clearly uncertain exactly what was happening, their sharp eyes flickering rapidly between myself and Dumbledore. Lyra finally spoke up, addressing me carefully but firmly, "Master, what exactly has happened? What incident could be so serious that you'd allow us to serve under someone else?"
I sighed heavily, keeping my voice deliberately low, even though we were alone in this deserted hallway. "Just a few minutes ago, Professor Dumbledore sensed through the Hogwarts wards that a student has been murdered somewhere inside the castle grounds."
Their eyes widened dramatically in shock, twin gasps escaping from their full, glossy lips.
Lyra stepped forward quickly, her voice thick with barely-contained fury, "Master! Could it be that damned rat again? Has Pettigrew returned here to cause more chaos?"
Beside her, Lyna's fists clenched tightly at her sides, eyes burning fiercely with hatred. "If it's that filthy creature, we'll hunt him down ourselves and tear him limb from limb!"
Dumbledore quickly interjected, lifting one aged hand in a gentle gesture of caution. "It's certainly a possibility we cannot yet discount, but as of now we have no clear evidence. We don't yet know who-or what-is responsible, only that a student has tragically died. At this moment, it's vital we maintain discretion. Panic and hysteria among the student body could prove disastrous." He studied both women closely. "Your unique magic should be able to solve this problem quickly, I hope..."
I watched the old wizard carefully, wondering-not for the first time-just how much he truly knew about my nature and that of my peerage. Had Dumbledore finally realized we were devils?
Ultimately, it hardly mattered. If Dumbledore didn't care to voice it out loud, then he didn't mind.
For now, I simply nodded encouragingly at Lyra and Lyna, instructing them clearly, "Search the castle discreetly. Use your abilities subtly, and find the victim's body before anyone else does."
Lyra and Lyna exchanged a swift, decisive glance with one another before turning their gazes firmly back toward me. They stepped back respectfully, clasping their delicate hands neatly in front of their maid uniforms as they gave me twin, serious nods.
"Of course, Master Harry," Lyra promised calmly, her tone firm with steely determination. "We'll locate the victim quickly and quietly."
Lyna spoke with equal resolve, her eyes gleaming sharply with focused intent. "Leave everything to us, Master. We won't fail you or Professor Dumbledore."
I felt a rush of pride and confidence in my loyal maids and peerage members. They'd proven their competence and loyalty countless times before. I trusted them implicitly. "I know you won't," I assured them warmly, meeting each of their gazes briefly in turn. "Be careful, both of you. Whoever is responsible may still be lurking somewhere nearby."
They both nodded gravely once more before turning swiftly toward Dumbledore, awaiting his instructions.
— Tom —
Tom Riddle slowly opened his eyes, breathing deeply as he stared down at his trembling hands. Well not his actual hands, but close enough.
He had won. The other fragment of his soul-the older, corrupted, pitiful shard-had been utterly devoured by him. The once-cursed Ravenclaw Diadem, stripped of its soul fragment, crumbled instantly into dust.
Tom allowed himself a small, triumphant smirk-but the sensation of victory lasted only a fleeting moment. He quickly realized something had gone very wrong. The student he had possessed was completely unresponsive, no trace of active thought or conscious reaction remaining within their brain. Tom experimentally withdrew his spiritual control just slightly, expecting the usual weak but functional consciousness beneath.
Instead, there was... nothing.
Alarmed, Tom sharply plunged his spiritual essence back into full control of the mortal body, instinctively holding onto it, unwilling to let it collapse. He cursed loudly under his breath, shaking his borrowed head in bitter frustration.
"Damn it all," Tom snarled, his voice hoarse and filled with irritation. "This worthless fool's mind is completely gone."
Tom hadn't anticipated such a catastrophic outcome. He'd expected mild brain damage, perhaps some memory loss or reduced cognitive function-minor side effects he could easily manage or ignore. But this was far worse than any scenario he'd considered.
The student was now utterly brain-dead. Tom could continue inhabiting and puppeteering the empty vessel far longer than previously possible, since there was now no living consciousness to strain or resist him. But the moment he relinquished control, the body would become nothing more than a vacant husk-a breathing, worthless corpse incapable of even basic thought or movement. It would serve no further purpose to his long-term goals.
"Damn you!" Tom hissed, frustration boiling violently within him. "Even in death, you manage to sabotage me, you useless old fool!"
The only positive outcome from this entire disastrous ordeal was the knowledge he'd gained. As the older, damaged shard had been absorbed into his own essence, a wealth of shocking and profoundly disturbing memories and secrets had come flooding into Tom's awareness.
Most significant of these revelations was the confirmation that supernatural beings-entities Tom had previously considered nothing more than fanciful myth-were very real, undeniably powerful, and terrifyingly dangerous.
He stood frozen, his borrowed heart pounding rapidly, his mind racing as he absorbed the shocking truth. Demons, Gods, angels, fallen angels, devils-they were all real, hidden just beyond the veil of wizarding knowledge and carefully disguised from mundane human eyes. Even more terrifying, these creatures were unimaginably powerful, far surpassing even the greatest witches and wizards ever recorded. The strongest among these supernatural beings could manipulate reality itself in ways that wizardkind could scarcely begin to comprehend.
