"I'll be very cross with me too," I said. "So I'll try not to."
She stepped in close again and reached up, cupping my cheek in her palm. Then she leaned up on her toes and placed a soft, quick kiss at the corner of my mouth. Not the full-on kiss she'd clearly wanted earlier. Just a small, light touch. "Good luck, Harry Sitri," she whispered.
— Lilja —
They landed at the bottom of the disgusting stone slide with a bone-jarring thump. Lilja barely managed to stay upright, her boots skidding on the slippery layer of filth and grime covering the floor. It smelled awful down here-like something rotten had crawled into this cave and exploded everywhere.
Lilja wrinkled her nose and glanced around. Bones-human bones, animal bones, and bones she couldn't even identify-littered the cave floor in uneven piles. The silence of the place pressed on her ears, thick and heavy, broken only by the echo of dripping water somewhere deeper in the cavern.
"Great," Lilja muttered under her breath, stepping carefully over a cracked human skull. "Because of course we couldn't land somewhere remotely clean."
Lilja drew a deep breath, steeling herself. The air down here felt clammy against her skin, slick and uncomfortable beneath her robes. Screw it, she decided-there was no point fighting in heavy, restrictive Hogwarts robes when she had a perfectly good suit of Valkyrie armor available.
With a small burst of power, she willed away her bulky school robes. The thick layers vanished immediately into the ether.
For a few heartbeats, Lilja stood completely naked in the dark cave, pale skin fully exposed to the cool, damp air.
In that brief moment of exposure, Lilja's green eyes snapped instinctively toward Harry-and her breath caught. His piercing blue eyes were glued to her body, widening slightly as he took in the vision of her nude form with his devilish nightvision. His gaze traveled unapologetically down her shoulders, lingered openly on the heavy curves of her breasts, the delicate pink nipples stiffening from the cool air. His stare drifted lower, roaming the toned curve of her abdomen, sliding appreciatively down the flare of her hips and across her naked thighs.
Lilja felt a flush of heat curl deep in her belly. She might have felt self-conscious once, but not now. No, the look on Harry's face-open desire, raw admiration-filled her with fierce satisfaction. For just that second, he was seeing no one else but her.
With another flicker of magic, Lilja summoned her silver Valkyrie armor, the metal plating sliding into place over her body. The form-fitting armor hugged her curves tightly, accentuating every line and plane of her figure in shining silver. Her crimson hair spilled freely across her armored shoulders, flowing in fiery waves down her back.
Harry blinked, snapping his gaze back up to her face, cheeks slightly flushed. He opened his mouth to speak, paused, then cleared his throat awkwardly. "You, uh... armor looks good," he mumbled, visibly embarrassed to have been caught staring.
Lilja raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smug, confident smirk. She shifted her weight deliberately, letting the armor hug her figure just so. "I know," she said bluntly. "You made it pretty obvious you approve."
Harry laughed softly, looking a teensy bit embarrassed. "Guilty."
Lilja allowed herself a moment of private triumph before seriousness returned, her smile fading. She needed to focus. Jasmine was somewhere in this cursed place, and Jasmine was Marlene McKinnon's daughter. Marlene-who was Lily's best friend for all those years at Hogwarts. And even occasional lovers, when all the "men" in the castle were too disappointing to interest the two beautiful witches.
But then Marlene went and betrayed Lily by sleeping with her husband and even getting pregnant and the two of them never spoke again before Lily was killed. She regretted that, and would do everything she could to help Harry rescue Jasmine!
But first-there was a tradition when a Nord was going to go into battle!
Turning sharply to Harry, she caught him off guard by stepping directly into his personal space. Her fingers wrapped firmly around the front of his shirt, tugging him forward roughly. His eyes widened in surprise, but before he could say a word, Lilja's lips crashed down hard onto his in a fierce, possessive kiss!
The kiss wasn't gentle-it was hot, aggressive, and unapologetically sexual. Lilja pressed herself flush against him, her mouth moved heatedly against his, tongue sliding forward to trace firmly over his bottom lip before plunging decisively past his parted lips, exploring deeply and confidently.
Harry stiffened briefly, clearly startled by her sudden aggressiveness, but recovered quickly, his strong arms immediately winding around her waist, gripping tightly. He kissed her back fiercely, meeting her passion with equal intensity. She felt him shifting, hips unconsciously pressing forward into her armored thigh, making no effort to hide the way his body responded eagerly.
After a long, charged moment, Lilja finally broke the kiss, pulling away just enough to look into his wide, dazed eyes.
His breath came quick and ragged, chest rising and falling rapidly beneath her palms. "What..." Harry panted, slightly stunned. "Lilja... what was that for?"
She smiled smugly, fingers smoothing lightly along his jaw, enjoying the way he shivered slightly at her touch. "For good luck," she told him bluntly, her voice low and husky.
Harry swallowed audibly, eyes locked onto hers, a hot, yearning gaze that sent another delicious thrill racing down her spine. "Yeah. Good luck. Right," he mumbled breathlessly, clearly still reeling from the intensity of the kiss.
— Dumbledore —
The air in the headmaster's office crackled with tension. Madame Maxime, the statuesque Headmistress of Beauxbatons, was currently towering over his desk.
"You assured me zat zis school was secure, Albus! Zat Hogwarts was ze safest place for my students to visit! And now I am to believe your British Dark Lord-your Voldemort-is alive and snatching children from ze corridors? Sacre bleu!" She gestured passionately with one enormous, manicured hand.
Across the room, Headmaster Igor Karkaroff paced anxiously, his heavily accented voice edged with panic and fear, eyes darting nervously about as though the Dark Lord might spring from behind Dumbledore's phoenix perch at any moment.
"Voldemort-" Dumbledore began patiently, only to be cut off by an immediate, exaggerated flinch from Karkaroff.
"Please! Do not keep saying his name!" Karkaroff hissed desperately. His pallid face was ashen beneath his neatly trimmed goatee, and his hands visibly trembled. "You have no idea-no idea at all-of the horrors that name conjures. He is the devil incarnate, Albus!"
A devil? As if...
Dumbledore raised one silver eyebrow slightly, a faintly sardonic smile tugging at the corners of his lips beneath his long, white beard. "I say his name, Igor, because the man you fear is merely a foolish, angry boy who became twisted by arrogance and hatred. I never feared Tom Riddle-not when he walked these halls as a sullen young Slytherin, nor when he proclaimed himself the Dark Lord Voldemort." His calm, steady voice resonated firmly, echoing off the stone walls of the office. "And I certainly do not fear him now."
Karkaroff flinched yet again, visibly disturbed, shoulders hunching defensively as if Dumbledore's words physically struck him. Madame Maxime shook her head, throwing her hands upward in exasperation and muttering angrily in rapid French about stubborn British men and their ridiculous bravado.
In the far corner of the room, Professors Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape stood silently. Minerva's usually sharp gaze was shadowed with worry, thin lips pressed into a tight line. Her posture was rigid, shoulders tensed, her slender fingers gripping tightly at the edges of her dark green robes. Beside her, Severus Snape was quieter still, his black eyes fixed pointedly downward at his left forearm.
Dumbledore's piercing gaze caught sight of the Dark Mark etched onto Snape's pale skin-the hateful symbol had grown darker lately. Not quite the stark, vivid black it once was at Voldemort's peak-but dangerously close. Dumbledore knew exactly what that meant. Voldemort was indeed gathering strength once more, though perhaps not fully restored yet.
Still, now was not the time for absolute honesty.
Albus despised deception-it sat heavy in his chest, tasted bitter in his mouth-but at this moment, a reassuring falsehood was infinitely preferable to mass panic and international scandal. He lifted his gaze calmly, his voice projecting serene authority as he addressed the agitated Headmistress and Headmaster directly.
"Madame, Igor-let me clarify matters immediately," Dumbledore spoke, smoothly maintaining his composed, reassuring tone. "This intruder is not Lord Voldemort himself."
Karkaroff let out an audible sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging visibly.
"He is merely an imposter," Dumbledore continued firmly. "A deranged fanatic who has chosen this exact moment, during our prestigious tournament, to terrorize us by appropriating Voldemort's name and methods. This is, of course, an unfortunate and serious breach for which I take full responsibility." He inclined his head respectfully. "You have my sincerest apologies."
Maxime was clearly skeptical, narrowing her eyes at him. "You are sure of zis?"
"Completely," Dumbledore lied calmly, his twinkling eyes radiating confidence. "In fact, I've already dispatched Hogwarts' most capable students-those whom I trust implicitly-to confront this imposter and retrieve the kidnapped student, Jasmine Potter McKinnon. They will not fail."
For a brief moment, silence descended. McGonagall exhaled softly, still visibly troubled. Snape's gaze lifted momentarily, his dark eyes narrowing slightly, suspicious and wary, but wisely keeping silent.
"Zis 'imposter' better be apprehended swiftly, Albus!" Madame Maxime insisted sternly, wagging one large finger pointedly. "Or I will take my students and leave immediately! I will not place zem at risk!"
Karkaroff quickly nodded emphatically. "Nor shall I! Durmstrang's reputation-my reputation-is already tarnished enough!"
Dumbledore nodded calmly, absorbing their fury without visible reaction. "Understood," he agreed softly. "Please trust me when I say everything possible is being done. You have my solemn word."
Karkaroff looked only mildly reassured, still twitching at every shadow. Madame Maxime glowered darkly at Dumbledore before turning away, muttering under her breath again.
As their visitors finally exited, the door clicking shut behind them, McGonagall stepped forward anxiously. "Albus, are you absolutely certain that sending Harry Sitri himself after this threat was wise? He is... talented, yes, but he has a tendency to get distracted-"
"Harry Sitri may be a touch reckless and rather... lustful, at times," Dumbledore admitted with a dry chuckle. "But believe me, Hogwarts has weathered far worse." He paused. "He is brave, fiercely protective, surprisingly powerful-and he has already demonstrated he will put himself in harm's way without hesitation to protect his friends. Jasmine could ask for no better champion tonight!"
Snape made a low noise of mild irritation, finally looking up from his arm. "Sitri is a complicated young man," Snape murmured. From him, that was practically high praise!
"Oh, I am aware," Dumbledore acknowledged cryptically, eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles. He didn't need to elaborate on the precise reason why Harry was indeed complicated-the truth was, he'd discovered Harry's true nature weeks ago-a half-devil, a literal creature of the underworld.
Yet, oddly enough, this revelation hadn't bothered Dumbledore. Witches and wizards were hardly devout Christians-in fact, their kind had historically been burned alive all the same by those so-called devoted followers of God.
Having a half-devil walking Hogwarts' halls hardly seemed scandalous in comparison. Besides, devil or not, Harry Sitri had proven himself loyal, courageous, and kindhearted-a far better student, in fact, than many pureblood wizards Albus had encountered over his many long years.
No, Dumbledore mused privately, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes momentarily-Harry Sitri was exactly the sort of hero Hogwarts needed tonight. He had faith in the half-devil, a quiet confidence that Harry and the new transfer students Lilja-who was also much more than met the eye-would fight fiercely and successfully rescue Jasmine Potter McKinnon from whatever horrors awaited beneath Hogwarts.
He didn't know if Voldemort was actually waiting down there or something else, but he had faith in his students.
— Harry —
I slipped my hand into my magical pocket space and focused. My fingers brushed smooth, strange fabric and I grabbed it and pulled it out into the stale air of the tunnel. The silvery cloth spilled over my hand in soft folds. It didn't shine much, but it had that weird not-quite-there shimmer that always messed with my eyes.
Lilja's breath caught. Her green eyes locked on the cloak. She reached out slowly and pinched the edge between her fingers, rubbing it with her thumb. "Is that what I think it is...?"
"It's an invisibility cloak," I said, holding it out to her. "Figured you'd be better with stealth than me. I'm not exactly subtle no matter how hard I try to be."
Her head snapped up. "Not just an invisibility cloak," she said sharply. Her voice had a hard edge that hadn't been there a second ago. "Harry, this cloak belonged to James Potter. It is one of the three Deathly Hallows."
I paused. "Oh. So it really is one of those Hallow things Hermione went on about when she taught me all about the magical world months ago?"
"Yes, it is one of those Hallow things," she shot back with a small playful eye roll. She stared at the cloak again, then at me. "How do you have this? You are not James' son." She said it like a fact that refused to line up in her head.
I shrugged. "Lyra and Lyna stole it."
Lilja blinked and then sighed. "Of course they did," she muttered. "From who?"
"Ron weasley," I said. "Back when that piece of shit rat was mindfucking Ron, he tried to sneak into the kitchen with this cloak to poison me."
"Pettigrew!" she spat the name, like she personally hated the rat as well for some reason. Lilja stared hard at me. "And how did Ron Weasley end up with one of the Deathly Hallows in the first place?"
"He stole it," I said. "From Neville Longbottom. Maybe James left it with the Longbottoms. Maybe Dumbledore gave it to him? I don't know. I just know Lyra took it from ron it, brought it to me"
