Tsubaki seemed to find all of their reactions to be hilarious.
Despite their clear jealousy, I couldn't help but chuckle at their reactions. It felt flattering to have such lovely women react possessively about me, even if I knew I was playing with fire here.
I rose to my feet, stretching slowly again to ease the stiffness from sitting too long. "Well, tournament or not, we should probably head down to dinner soon. I'm getting hungry..."
— Voldemort —
The Dark Lord Voldemort, a name so fierce and terrifying it used to send adult witches and wizards trembling in fear, now suffered in a form so humiliating he could barely stand it. Trapped in the pathetic, feeble body of a baby, confined within a cradle in the muggle house he'd once despised-the very home of his hated father whom he'd killed. Voldemort seethed with resentment, hating his vulnerability, his weakness, and most of all, the grotesque limitations of this soft, tiny, helpless form.
His pale, fragile limbs twitched helplessly, devoid of strength, every movement frustratingly difficult. His once mighty hands, hands that had wielded unimaginable dark power, now struggled simply to grasp the edges of the cradle. The degradation was unbearable. His voice was reduced to a pathetic, squeaky cry that grated painfully on his pride.
Yet, humiliation aside, at least events were progressing according to his carefully crafted plan. Three agonizing years ago, he had been so close to claiming the Philosopher's Stone, so close to creating a perfect, immortal body to hold his dark essence forever. But his plans had unraveled disastrously when a random 16-year-old girl had bested him in front of that accursed mirror!
The memory still burned painfully, making his feeble fists clench and tiny jaw tremble with rage.
But fate, cruel and fickle though it was, had thrown him a lifeline when his hated enemy returned!
Harry Potter, or Harry Sitri as he called himself now-Voldemort couldn't care less about his ridiculous name change-had reappeared, and with him came the perfect opportunity for Voldemort's long-awaited resurrection!
Voldemort meticulously devised the entire scheme. During the Triwizard Tournament, scheduled for next month, his most fanatically devoted servant, Barty Crouch Jr., fervently loyal, would sneak into Hogwarts. The plan was simple yet elegant. Replace that fraudulent fool Gilderoy Lockhart as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, manipulate the Goblet of Fire to select Harry Sitri as a competitor, and then abduct him during the tournament's final task!
Harry's precious body and blood would fuel Voldemort's return to a powerful, immortal form.
A wicked satisfaction filled Voldemort. He savored the thought, envisioning Harry's blood dripping from his ceremonial dagger, the boy's desperate screams echoing through the night as Voldemort's perfect body reformed stronger than ever.
The Dark Lord would rise again, and his revenge would be merciless, brutal, absolute.
"Yes, it's all coming together," Voldemort whispered eagerly, the infantile tone of his voice sharply contrasting the sinister words, making him grimace in disgust.
But then, with a loud crash, the decrepit doors of Riddle Manor were violently thrown open, startling him. Voldemort strained to lift his head, his weak body trembling with effort as Barty Crouch Jr. burst into the room.
"Master, it's not good!" Barty gasped breathlessly, dropping to his knees beside the cradle, his hands visibly shaking. "The news just broke in the wizarding press! They've moved up the date of the Triwizard Tournament! I don't have enough time to infiltrate Hogwarts and replace Lockhart!"
Voldemort's tiny eyes widened! "FUCK!"
— Lyra —
Lyra flicked some black hair away from her eyes. She strode confidently through the crowded Hogwarts kitchen in her provocative maid uniform.
She smirked at her twin sister, Lyna, nearby, who was instructing the House Elves on how to create creme brulee.
Tonight, Hogwarts was welcoming two rival schools for a big competition, and everything needed to be perfect. The school had to show off a feast fit for royalty to impress their guests. Lady Serafall had recently given Hogwarts a lot of money, greatly boosting their budget, so expectations were high.
Lyra paced the bustling kitchen, her eyes sharp and commanding as she barked precise instructions to the timid house elves scurrying around. She enjoyed the sensation of authority, the feeling of power as her voice resonated clearly above the clanging pots and sizzling pans.
She knew exactly the effect her figure had on the small creatures around her. She had them pegged down as a bunch of secret little perverts. They could look as much as they wanted, but they knew better than to ever dare touch her.
That privilege was reserved strictly for her darling young master Harry Sitri. Even the thought of Harry made warmth pool invitingly between her toned thighs, her cheeks flushing slightly as she imagined him grabbing her roughly, bending her over right there in the kitchen for everyone to see!
Her lips curled into a sultry grin at the naughty thought, but her attention swiftly returned to the task at hand.
Although neither she nor her twin sister Lyna had any formal employment at Hogwarts, it hardly mattered. Their young master attended this school, as did his aunt, Sona Sitri. This establishment represented their prestigious clan, and anything less than absolute perfection was simply unacceptable!
"Careful with those dishes," she snapped sharply at a trembling elf who nearly dropped a tray laden with roasted meats. "Everything must be flawless tonight. We are representing House Sitri. Do you understand?" That meant this school represented the Sitri clan as a whole. Everything needed to be flawless and perfect.
"Yes, Mistress Lyra," the elf squeaked nervously, eyes downcast as it hurriedly resumed its duties.
Tonight would be perfect, no matter what.
Lyra's sharp gaze flickered to the kitchen entrance as a faint shimmer of magic caught her attention. Her brow furrowed in suspicion when she realized it was Ron Weasley, sneaking carefully beneath an invisibility cloak. The powerful artifact nearly succeeded in concealing him completely, but subtle magical runes had clearly been placed upon the cloak to prevent total invisibility to those experienced enough to detect such enchantments.
Her eyes narrowed, taking in every awkward, nervous movement of his lanky frame beneath the enchanted fabric.
Her lips curled in disgust as she studied his scrawny body; he was clearly ill-suited for stealth, and the cloak's thin material hugged his figure, outlining every awkward angle of his limbs. Anger flaring hot in her chest as she silently observed his next actions, already preparing to deal with whatever stupidity he had planned.
Lyra's piercing eyes tracked Ron's every awkward movement beneath the cloak, her full lips curling with disdain. Her attention sharpened as she saw him raise his wand, his trembling hand thrusting forward as he muttered an incantation. Lyra instantly recognized the Imperius Curse-a dark, forbidden spell that made its target obedient to the caster's commands.
How could such a clumsy fool know a dark wizarding spell that powerful?
She watched carefully as the elf's expression grew dazed, its eyes glassy and unfocused. This bumbling idiot dared to manipulate one of the elves under her watch?
Stepping closer, she observed Ron whisper to the elf and slip a small vial into its hand. Lyra's sharp eyes immediately recognized poison.
Ron clearly thought himself stealthy, smugly turning and stumbling awkwardly toward the exit beneath his cloak.
Lyra inhaled sharply, her ample chest rising dramatically as fury surged through her veins!
Instead of chasing after him immediately, she strode purposefully toward the neatly labeled goblets. An idea forming that was deliciously wicked. She easily identified the poisoned goblet intended for her young master Harry and switched it with Ron's own.
A satisfied sigh escaped her lips as she admired her handiwork. "Pathetic fool. Daring to try and harm, Harry..."
Tonight's feast would be perfect, but Lyra wasn't opposed to adding a dash of scandalous drama to entertain her young master.
Ron would soon learn the consequences of interfering with House Sitri.
Lyra glanced up sharply as her twin sister Lyna gracefully crossed the bustling kitchen toward her. Lyna's eyes flickered with curiosity, her slender eyebrows knitting together slightly as she took in Lyra's visibly agitated state. "What just happened, Lyra? You look like you're about to curse someone into oblivion," she remarked bluntly, placing her hand casually on her hip and tilting her head questioningly.
Lyra took a steadying breath, her ample chest rising and falling visibly beneath the tight fabric of her maid uniform, the brief silence charged with tension. "Ron Weasley," she spat the name venomously, her voice dripping with disdain. "That bumbling idiot just used an Imperius Curse on one of the elves. He tried to poison our young master Harry's drink!"
Lyna's eyes widened in shock, her expression momentarily slipping into one of outrage. "He did what?" she hissed incredulously, eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. "That foolish human brat doesn't realize the consequences of meddling with House Sitri!"
Lyra's lips curled into a sly smirk, a gleam of malicious satisfaction twinkling in her eyes. "No, he certainly doesn't," she purred wickedly, relishing the thought of the impending chaos. "I took care of it though-I switched the poisoned goblet with his own. Ron will be learning a very harsh lesson tonight."
Lyna let out a low, satisfied chuckle, stepping closer and gently squeezing her sister's shoulder in silent approval. "Good," she said firmly, her voice rich with malicious delight. "Anyone who dares to threaten our master deserves nothing less!"
— Harry —
From my seat at the Gryffindor table, I watched curiously as the delegation from Durmstrang strode confidently into the Great Hall. The entire room quieted briefly, everyone turning their attention toward the newcomers. My eyes widened slightly in fascination as the Durmstrang students launched into an impressive display of acrobatics and pyrotechnic magic, sending sparks of crimson and gold blazing through the air.
I liked all kinds of magic, and had an appreciation for magic that was for show and not just violence. Although, as a devil, of course I also liked the violence too.
Once their demonstration concluded, the Durmstrang students moved as a unit toward the Slytherin table, their posture proud and expressions mildly arrogant.
I noticed Ron Weasley sitting farther down the Gryffindor table, slouched over petulantly. His shrill, whiny voice carried easily, drawing unwanted attention as he complained loudly, "Why isn't Krum sitting with us? We're the best house! Is he stupid!?""
I suppressed a grimace, a faint feeling of secondhand embarrassment washing over me. Even Ron's friends, who had eagerly followed him yesterday, now avoided meeting his gaze, their eyes shifting uncomfortably elsewhere.
From my spot at the Gryffindor table, I immediately noticed Hermione and Ginny tense up as the delegation from Beauxbatons gracefully entered the Great Hall. Fleur and Gabrielle Delacour led the elegant procession, their silvery-blonde hair catching the candlelight and shimmering enchantingly. Both sisters moved with an effortless poise, drawing every eye in the room.
My breath caught slightly as Fleur stepped forward, her lithe body swaying hypnotically to an enchanting melody played by an invisible orchestra. Gabrielle followed close behind, matching her sister's elegance perfectly, her own subtle movements just as captivating. Each step of their dance performance was graceful and intentional, their alluring curves accentuated perfectly by their flowing silk gowns, every spin and delicate gesture commanding attention.
I couldn't tear my gaze away, completely enthralled by their stunning performance. My fascination was abruptly interrupted by a loud sigh from beside me, breaking my reverie.
Turning my head slightly, I saw Hermione's lips pressed together in a tight line, her eyes narrowing in irritation. Ginny's expression mirrored Hermione's.
"Harry, seriously?" Ginny whispered sharply, leaning closer with clear annoyance. "You're practically drooling."
"I am not," I protested, unable to hide a small grin.
Hermione raised an eyebrow skeptically, her voice dry and blunt. "Your eyes haven't left the Delacour sisters since they walked in. Maybe try to blink occasionally?"
Despite their clear annoyance, I couldn't help but chuckle softly. "They're amazing dancers," I admitted with a shrug. "Can't blame me for appreciating talent."
Ginny rolled her eyes dramatically, huffing with exaggerated displeasure. "Oh sure, it's their 'talent' you're admiring."
"He admires how talented those Veelas are in more ways than one, I'm sure," Hermione remarked bluntly, a hint of sarcasm sharp in her voice as she rolled her eyes again. "Especially considering he already had firsthand experience with their 'talents.' Both of them at the same time..."
I felt my face flush slightly at her blunt comment, but couldn't suppress the smirk that crept onto my lips. Hermione's eyes narrowed further, clearly noting my reaction.
Ginny shifted uncomfortably beside me, her voice dropping lower, edged with clear jealousy. "Is it true, Harry? Both of them at once?"
"Well, they were very... enthusiastic," I admitted. "It was certainly an unforgettable experience."
Fred and George, who had been shamelessly eavesdropping nearby, erupted into loud, appreciative laughter, their voices carrying clearly through the hall. "Harry, you absolute legend!" Fred declared boisterously, clapping me firmly on the back with a grin wide enough to stretch ear to ear.
"Truly, you're a god among men," George chimed in eagerly, his voice filled with sincere admiration as he offered me a playful salute. Their praise drew amused chuckles and jealous whispers from students nearby.
Despite their enthusiasm, I couldn't help but flinch slightly at their choice of words. The casual mention of the word 'god' always stung a bit.
If only they knew they were praising a devil. Eh, considering I think these two had an actual shrine to Loki, I doubt they'd care...
"Maybe tone it down a notch, guys?" I suggested lightly, feigning casual amusement. "You're going to make everyone start staring."
Fred laughed heartily again, clearly unfazed. "Let them stare, mate! They deserve to bask in the glory of Hogwarts' newest LEGEND!"
