The woman paused briefly, taking us both in. Her gaze settled on Serafall first. "Leviathan-sama," the blonde woman said curtly, adjusting her glasses with a practiced gesture. Her voice was stern and formal. "You have paperwork that requires your attention. Quite a large amount, actually. Since you disappeared all day yesterday and this morning..." she grumbled before looking at me more closely. "And who is this young man? A cousin of yours? He has Sitri features," she pointed out.
Serafall immediately perked up at the question. "Hi, Behe-tan!" she greeted the woman happily. "Let me introduce you. This handsome young man beside me is my super awesome and cool wonderful son, Harry!" Serafall said. "And Harry, this is my queen Behe-tan!" she said happily to me.
The sexy, stern woman stared at Serafall, her mouth hanging open slightly in shock. "You have a son? Since when!? And he's actually yours? This isn't some weird new gimmick for your show, is it...?"
Serafall pouted. "Of course not!" she replied indignantly. Then her expression softened, and she glanced sideways at me, an eager smile spreading across her face. "Though, honestly, I would absolutely love having Harry appear in my show! He'd definitely be an instant hit with the fans. He's got my good looks after all!"
I felt my cheeks grow warm at the idea, quickly shaking my head in embarrassment. "Uh, Mom, I'd really rather not," I said quickly. "I'm not exactly keen on the idea of acting out full-on sex scenes for a TV show."
Serafall chuckled softly, reaching out to pat my shoulder reassuringly. "Oh, that's perfectly fine, Harry," she said lightly. "All of the sex scenes are actually fake anyways. We just fabricate them with high-level illusion magic." She leaned closer, lowering her voice to a playful whisper. "Just don't tell the fans about that, okay? They'd be incredibly disappointed to learn the truth." She finished with a playful wink.
It was all fake? My eyes glanced over to her half nude poster once again. That was a bit of a relief-
"Oh, that was a real photo shoot though! Those are my real titties!" Serafall declared playfully, making me blush once again.
Behe-tan cleared her throat pointedly, interrupting our conversation and bringing us back on topic. She straightened her posture, adjusting her tight black business suit, and then gave me a respectful bow. "Allow me to introduce myself properly," she began in a formal tone, her eyes locking firmly onto mine. "I am Lady Serafall Leviathan's Queen-the Behemoth. I've served your mother loyally for hundreds of years now, and it's my honor to finally meet you, Lord Harry."
My eyes widened slightly in surprise at the number she casually mentioned. Hundreds of years? Right...
I kept forgetting about the immortality thing. It felt completely surreal, trying to wrap my head around the idea that I might actually live forever. How exactly was someone even supposed to deal with information like that?
Before I could fully absorb that revelation, Serafall clapped her hands together excitedly, bouncing slightly on her heels. "Anyway," she continued enthusiastically, "I brought Harry here specifically because I want him to receive the Sitri magic crest immediately. He needs it so he can start properly learning devil magic and building up his magical reserves!"
I glanced toward Behe-tan, catching the way her blue eyes tightened slightly behind her glasses, and noticed how she reached up, rubbing her temples slowly as though suddenly struck by a headache.
Clearly, I wasn't the only one feeling overwhelmed by my mother's whirlwind energy.
But Serafall wasn't finished. She grinned widely at her Queen before continuing, her tone growing even more enthusiastic. "Also, Behe-tan, I want you to contact Ajuka-tan right away. Harry will need a set of Evil Pieces-custom-made, obviously, because absolutely nothing but the best is acceptable for my precious son!"
— Gabrielle Delacour —
Gabrielle Delacour sat on the comfortable wicker chair on the back porch of her family's large mansion, her eyes fixed irritably on the British newspaper clutched in her manicured hands.
Around her, household servants quietly set their breakfast out on the table. Fresh croissants, jam, pastries, and various fruits lined polished porcelain plates. Another servant poured fresh juice into two tall crystal glasses, placing them carefully beside the sisters.
Gabrielle hardly noticed any of it.
Her attention was completely on the moving picture splashed across the front page. It showed Harry Potter sitting across a table, drinking tea with some frizzy-haired British girl. He leaned forward slightly in the picture, smiling warmly and occasionally laughing at something the girl was saying.
Gabrielle's fingers tightened around the edges of the newspaper. "Zat should 'ave been me wiz 'im," she muttered bitterly, glaring at the image.
Her sister Fleur, seated opposite her, glanced up from buttering a croissant, raising an elegant eyebrow. Fleur wore a pale-blue sundress that perfectly complemented her flawless pale skin and shimmering silvery-blonde hair. Fleur's blue eyes sparkled with amusement as she watched her younger sister pout.
Gabrielle huffed, slapping the newspaper onto the table and crossing her arms stubbornly. "I'm so annoyed zat our charms wore off so quickly yesterday. We barely got to spend any time wiz 'im," Gabrielle complained. "It was supposed to last all afternoon, and we ended up 'aving to leave early."
"You really 'ave eet bad for 'im, don't you?" Fleur teased lightly, biting delicately into her croissant.
Gabrielle narrowed her eyes at her sister, her face growing hot. "Don't pretend you weren't totally into 'im as well, big sister," she shot back immediately. "I saw you kiss ze corner of 'is lips yesterday. You can't deny zat."
Fleur paused, her cheeks flushing slightly as she swallowed a piece of pastry. She cleared her throat, clearly uncomfortable with Gabrielle's accusation. After a moment, she shrugged gracefully, her embarrassment quickly fading into a playful expression. "I didn't deny eet, did I?" Fleur replied lightly, picking up her glass and sipping her juice calmly. "Anyway, we're Delacours and Veelas. If zere's a man we want, getting 'im shouldn't be any trouble at all."
Gabrielle glanced away, briefly considering her sister's words. Fleur did have a point. Their Veela heritage gave them an edge in matters of attraction, but even so, Gabrielle didn't want Harry Potter interested in her only because of Veela charms.
She wanted him to actually like her!
Fleur leaned forward, placing her glass back down gently and giving Gabrielle a thoughtful look. "Why don't you just send 'im a letter?" Fleur suggested. "Invite 'im to zat Quidditch game in a few weeks. You said 'e mentioned liking sports, right?"
Gabrielle sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. Fleur really had no appreciation for Quidditch at all. "Eet's not just some Quidditch game, Fleur," Gabrielle said impatiently. "Eet's ze World freaking Cup! You know, ze single most important event in ze wizarding sports world!"
Fleur waved her hand dismissively, unimpressed. "Fine, ze World Cup zen," Fleur conceded easily. "But if eet's as exciting as you claim, wouldn't zat make eet ze perfect event to invite 'im to? Papa would definitely agree to get us ze best box seats available."
Gabrielle brightened immediately at the suggestion. Inviting Harry Potter to the Quidditch World Cup was actually a great idea.
They'd met him by chance at the football match yesterday, thanks mostly to Fleur's obsession with the muggle sport for some reason.
Getting seats next to Harry had felt like FATE!
...Even if their charms to hide their allure had fizzled out prematurely.
"Yes, you're right," Gabrielle agreed finally, her mood instantly lifting. "I'll bully Papa into securing us ze absolute best box seats. 'Arry will 'ave to accept an invitation like zat."
Fleur smiled knowingly at her sister's determination. She leaned back comfortably in her chair. "Good, zen zat's settled," Fleur said with satisfaction. "But before we can even zink about watching Quidditch, we 'ave somezing more important we need to deal wiz."
"And what exactly would zat be?" Gabrielle asked cautiously.
"Our training for ze Triwizard Tournament, of course," Fleur stated clearly. "You 'aven't forgotten about our plan, 'ave you? Each participating school will select two champions. Our goal is for both of zose champions to be us!"
Gabrielle felt a wave of nervousness rise inside her. Fleur was incredibly skilled with magic, her wandwork quick and precise, far ahead of most witches in the world. Gabrielle, on the other hand, often felt self-conscious and awkward with her spellwork in comparison.
The tournament wasn't going to be easy, and Fleur's intensity during practice made Gabrielle uneasy.
Gabrielle shifted nervously in her seat, running her fingers anxiously along the smooth wooden edge of the table. "I 'aven't forgotten," Gabrielle muttered hesitantly. "But Fleur, you're way better at zis zan I am. Maybe-maybe I'm not good enough yet."
Fleur immediately shook her head firmly, fixing Gabrielle with an encouraging stare.
"Gabrielle, you're plenty good enough," Fleur told her clearly, her voice softer now, more understanding. "You just need to practice more seriously. If we train togezer properly, I 'ave no doubt you'll be ready!"
— Sirius Black —
Sirens blared around Sirius, shrill and relentless, they sent sharp waves of pain through his sensitive canine ears. Despite the discomfort, he forced himself forward, determined and steady as he padded quickly along the cold stone corridor.
The hallways of Azkaban were narrow and damp, lit only by faint torches spaced far apart along grimy stone walls. Beneath his paws, the stones felt slick and rough, still wet from the constant moisture that seeped down from cracks in the prison's ceiling. The stale, musty smell was overpowering, mixed unpleasantly with decay and despair.
Dementors drifted silently through the halls around him. Their dark cloaks fluttered softly as they moved, hunting for him but not seeing him. Whenever one passed, a deep chill seeped through his fur, prickling his skin painfully beneath. Sirius's body shivered involuntarily each time, and he had to fight the instinctive urge to cower away from the creatures. Yet despite their oppressive presence, the Dementors paid him no attention. They floated on silently, ignoring the black dog entirely.
Dementors hungered exclusively for human souls, showing no interest in animals at all.
Sirius wondered briefly why he hadn't attempted escape like this years earlier. The route was painfully straightforward now that he was finally doing it. He'd spent 18 miserable, lonely years confined to a tiny, filthy cell, haunted by bitter memories and overwhelming guilt. At some point, he'd convinced himself he deserved punishment for his stupidity, trusting that disgusting traitor, Peter Pettigrew, and indirectly causing James and Lily's deaths.
Regret gnawed at him deeply as he moved forward through the hallways. He'd loved James like a brother. Lily, too, had been one of his closest friends after she finally warmed up to him.
Then, only a few days ago, everything changed by complete accident. Minister Fudge had visited Azkaban to inspect the cells. Sirius remembered clearly the portly man strolling carelessly past, before accidentally dropping a newspaper onto the filthy floor outside his cell. Desperate for something-anything-to distract from the crushing boredom and depression, Sirius had reached through the rusty bars, grabbed the newspaper with his shaking fingers, and pulled it inside.
The photo printed prominently on the front page had made Sirius's blood run cold with shock, and then boil instantly with fury.
It was the rat. Sitting on the shoulder of one of the Weasleys in the middle of Egypt.
In that single instant, all the guilt, shame, and despair that had kept Sirius imprisoned for years suddenly transformed into cold, focused rage.
He was going to escape Azkaban, find Pettigrew, and rip him apart piece by piece!
The sirens continued blaring around him, painfully loud and shrill. Sirius pressed on steadily, picking up his pace until he reached the main exit corridor that led to the prison's outer gates. After that, it was nothing but a mile of doggy paddling in near freezing waters to freedom.
Sirius's thoughts weren't completely focused on revenge though. Part of him also wondered how James' son Harry was doing. Harry should be around 19 now right, a young man in the middle of his Hogwarts years. Sirius should make sure Harry was safe too, after all he was James' son!
Oh, and he supposed he should check up on the girl as well while he was at it. James had secretly made Sirius her godfather.
— Amelia Bones —
Amelia Bones sat behind her wide oak desk, the surface scattered with parchment, quills, and ink bottles. She leaned back heavily in her chair, letting out an exhausted sigh. Her head pounded, throbbing with irritation and stress. She felt close to yanking out strands of her own graying hair. It was barely noon, and today had already turned into an absolute disaster!
Earlier that morning, Amelia had been sitting in the kitchen of her comfortable home, sipping on her first cup of strong coffee. She'd received good news. A penned letter from Albus Dumbledore himself, confirming that Harry would be attending Hogwarts in the upcoming school year! Amelia knew immediately what it meant-good publicity.
Possibly even excellent publicity for magical Britain, especially given the circumstances.
This year Minister Cornelius Fudge had insisted on hosting the infamous Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts. Amelia personally considered it one of the worst decisions the Ministry had ever made. The Triwizard Tournament had a grisly reputation, champions had died horribly in past tournaments.
But Fudge seemed convinced that hosting the dangerous event would portray him as a thrilling and dynamic minister, somehow improving his chances at reelection.
Amelia considered him an incompetent fool.
But Harry Potter returning from the dead, showing up unexpectedly to attend Hogwarts-that was something even Fudge couldn't ruin. It would draw positive international attention, potentially salvaging the situation.
Or so she'd hoped.
Unfortunately, her optimism had been short-lived.
Less than an hour ago, Amelia had been in her large Department of Magical Law Enforcement office, quietly reviewing a stack of recent Auror case files, when the Minister had stormed inside, completely unannounced.
"Amelia! Amelia! You need to listen to me right now!" Fudge had practically shrieked, flailing his pudgy hands dramatically. He stomped his feet across her polished floor, heading straight for her desk. "We have a massive disaster on our hands-absolutely terrible!"
