The golden light had barely finished dissipating when two figures stepped through the lingering shimmer of displaced reality with the kind of casual elegance that made dimensional travel look like an afternoon stroll through Hyde Park—if Hyde Park regularly hosted beings capable of restructuring the fundamental laws of physics before teatime.
The first was unmistakably Lucifer Morningstar, and Harry couldn't help but think that his adoptive father had clearly dressed for the occasion. Tall, devastatingly handsome in that way that suggested he'd been personally designed by a committee of Renaissance artists with unlimited budgets and very specific ideas about masculine perfection, Lucifer moved with the fluid grace of someone who had never encountered a room he couldn't command simply by existing in it. His dark hair was styled with the kind of effortless precision that probably required either divine intervention or a very expensive stylist, and his smile carried that distinctive blend of warmth and underlying danger that reminded everyone present they were looking at a being who could restructure reality before breakfast and still look absolutely immaculate doing it.
But it was the second figure that made Harry's breath catch in his throat with an almost physical impact, like being hit by a particularly well-aimed Bludger while simultaneously having his entire worldview tilted sideways on its axis.
The man was tall, aristocratic, with the kind of bone-deep elegance that spoke of centuries spent perfecting the art of looking devastatingly sophisticated under any circumstances. His dark hair was perfectly styled—not a strand out of place despite having just stepped through a dimensional portal—and his jaw was clean-shaven with the precision of someone who took personal grooming as seriously as most people took national security. He wore a beautifully tailored suit that probably cost more than most people's annual salaries, and everything about him radiated the quiet confidence of someone accustomed to being the most intelligent, most composed, and most dangerous person in any given room.
But it was his face that made Harry's world perform what could only be described as a complete gravitational reversal.
Because looking at this man was like looking into a funhouse mirror of every photograph Harry had ever seen of James Potter—if that mirror had been designed by cosmic forces with a sense of dramatic irony and a flair for the impossible. The same strong jawline, the same aristocratic nose, the same intelligent eyes that seemed to take in everything and find most of it either amusing or slightly disappointing. The resemblance was so striking it was almost supernatural, as if someone had taken James Potter's features and refined them through centuries of careful breeding, aristocratic conditioning, and what appeared to be a supernatural skincare regimen.
"Harry," Lucifer said warmly, his voice carrying that distinctive blend of British charm and cosmic authority that made him sound like he could discuss the weather or the fundamental restructuring of reality with equal casual expertise, "I'd like you to meet Elijah Mikaelson. Elijah, this is my son Harry—the one I've told you so much about."
Harry stepped forward automatically, his social training kicking in even as his mind performed what felt like several consecutive somersaults. But as he got closer, something strange happened. The man—Elijah—went very still, his dark eyes widening with an expression that was equal parts recognition and impossible confusion, as if he'd just seen a ghost that was somehow more real than the living world around him.
"God," Elijah murmured, and his voice was cultured, aristocratic, with just a hint of an accent that spoke of centuries spent moving through different countries and social circles. But there was something else there too, something raw and shocked and deeply emotional that made Harry's heart skip several beats in rapid succession. "You... you look exactly like..."
He trailed off, one perfectly manicured hand coming up to his temple as if he was fighting off a sudden headache—or trying to process information that his brain was insisting couldn't possibly be real.
"Like someone you know?" Harry asked carefully, though something deep in his chest was already beginning to understand, a puzzle piece clicking into place with the kind of inevitable certainty that felt like destiny finally getting its act together after centuries of bureaucratic delays.
Elijah's perfectly composed expression flickered, showing glimpses of something raw and confused and desperately hopeful underneath all that aristocratic conditioning. "Like someone I was," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Someone I remember being, even though that's impossible."
Lucifer stepped closer to Elijah, his expression shifting into something protective and infinitely gentle—the kind of look he usually reserved for when Harry had pushed himself too hard with magic and needed careful handling. "The memories are settling," he explained quietly, his voice pitched for Harry's ears but not excluding anyone else from the conversation. "I told you this might happen. The integration process affects everyone differently."
"Integration?" Caroline asked sharply from the doorway, her voice carrying that particular tone she used when supernatural weirdness was happening and she needed immediate clarification before she could properly freak out about it. "What kind of integration? Because in my experience, 'integration' in supernatural contexts usually means something deeply complicated and potentially explosively dangerous."
"The helpful kind," Lucifer assured her with a smile that was probably meant to be reassuring but mostly just reminded everyone that he was the Devil and had very different ideas about what constituted 'helpful' than most people. "Though it is admittedly complicated."
Harry looked between Lucifer and Elijah, his mind working overtime to piece together implications that seemed impossible but were starting to feel inevitable. "Father," he said carefully, using that particular tone he'd perfected for when cosmic weirdness was afoot and he needed straight answers, "what exactly did you do?"
"Nothing dramatic," Lucifer said with the kind of casual air that suggested he considered restructuring fundamental reality to be roughly equivalent to rearranging furniture. "Simply corrected a few temporal and dimensional inconsistencies that were preventing certain soul patterns from achieving their intended alignment."
"In English, please," Alaric interjected dryly, stepping forward with the weary patience of someone who had spent years translating supernatural nonsense into comprehensible concepts. "For those of us who don't speak fluent cosmic intervention."
Elijah cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him, and Harry noticed that his hands were shaking slightly—barely perceptible, but enough to suggest that whatever was happening was affecting even his supernatural composure. "I have memories," he said slowly, his dark eyes never leaving Harry's face. "Memories that feel as real as my own experiences, but of a life I never lived. I remember being James Potter. I remember Hogwarts, and Lily, and fighting Voldemort, and..." His voice cracked slightly. "And holding you when you were barely hours old, thinking that I'd never been happier in my entire existence."
The words hit Harry like a physical blow, and he felt his knees go slightly weak. "You... you have Dad's memories? You remember being my father?"
"I remember being your father," Elijah confirmed, his voice thick with emotion now, all aristocratic composure temporarily abandoned in favor of something far more human and vulnerable. "I remember teaching you to fly a toy broomstick around the living room when you were eight months old, even though Lily kept insisting you were too young. But you laughed so hard you got the hiccups, and I thought my heart was going to burst from pure joy. I remember reading you stories about dragons and brave knights, and you'd always insist that the dragon was just misunderstood and needed someone to be its friend instead of someone to fight it."
Harry felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and for once in his life he didn't try to hide them or maintain his carefully cultivated composure. "I... how is that possible?"
Lucifer cleared his throat gently, drawing their attention back to the bigger picture even as he allowed them this moment of overwhelming emotional recognition. "When I restructured reality to give the Mikaelson family their happy ending," he explained, his voice soft but clear, "I discovered that certain... cosmic alignments had created some unexpected connections. James Potter and Elijah Mikaelson share more than just a physical resemblance. They share what you might call a soul pattern—spiritual DNA, if you will. Different incarnations of the same essential person, separated by centuries and circumstances but fundamentally connected at the deepest possible level."
Caroline, who had been standing frozen in the doorway with an expression that suggested her brain was working overtime to process information that defied several natural laws, finally found her voice. "Are you telling us that Elijah Mikaelson is James Potter? That they're... what, the same person reincarnated?"
"Not exactly reincarnated," Lucifer corrected with the patience of someone explaining complex theoretical physics to particularly bright undergraduates. "More like... parallel expressions of the same soul, living simultaneously in different timelines until certain cosmic events created convergence points. When I restructured things to bring the Mikaelson family together, those convergence points aligned. Elijah now carries James's memories and emotional connections as if they were his own experiences—because in every way that matters, they are."
"Right," Alaric said slowly, in the tone of someone trying very hard to maintain his sanity in the face of cosmic impossibility. "So just to make sure I understand this correctly: James Potter and Elijah Mikaelson are the same person, separated by time and worlds and circumstance, and now they've been... cosmically reunited? In the same body? With shared memories and emotional connections?"
"That's the simplified version, yes," Lucifer confirmed cheerfully. "Though I should mention that this also means Elijah now shares James's protective instincts regarding Harry. Which, given that Elijah was already one of the most fiercely protective people I've ever encountered..." He spread his hands in a gesture that suggested both amusement and mild concern for anyone who might threaten Harry's wellbeing in the future.
Harry stared at Elijah—at this impossible combination of his father and one of the most powerful Original vampires in existence—and felt something shift fundamentally in his chest. It wasn't quite grief and wasn't quite joy, but something larger and more complex that encompassed both and added several emotions he didn't have names for.
"This is..." Harry began, then stopped, not sure how to finish a sentence that was supposed to encompass impossible cosmic interventions and emotional reunions with dead parents who were somehow standing in front of him looking like immortal aristocrats.
"Overwhelming?" Elijah suggested gently, taking a careful step closer with the kind of cautious movements someone might use when approaching a spooked horse or a volatile magical artifact. "Impossible? Completely insane?"
"All of the above," Harry admitted with a shaky laugh that was only slightly hysterical. "Also somehow exactly the kind of thing that would happen in my life. Because apparently I can't just have normal family drama like everyone else. No, I get cosmic soul-pattern alignment and memory integration with Original vampires."
Elijah's mouth twitched into what might have been a smile. "If it helps, I'm fairly certain this is the most unusual Tuesday evening I've experienced in over a thousand years of existence. And I once spent an entire decade in Renaissance Italy, so my standards for unusual are quite high."
"Oh, it gets weirder," Harry said with the kind of cheerful resignation that came from years of supernatural nonsense. "Wait until you meet Hope. She's been trying to exorcise an ancient cosmic horror from her family using research she found in the restricted section of a school library and pure determination. No backup plans, no adult supervision, just teenage tribrid stubbornness and a complete refusal to accept that some problems might be too big for her to solve alone."
Elijah raised an eyebrow, and the expression was so perfectly familiar—so exactly like something James Potter would have done when Harry said something that was equal parts impressive and deeply concerning—that Harry felt his breath catch again. "She sounds like someone else I know. Someone who once decided to take on his toy broomstick with nothing but determination, and an absolute refusal to let anyone else make the hard choices for him."
"That's completely different," Harry protested automatically, though he could feel his cheeks warming with a combination of embarrassment and affection.
"Is it?" Elijah asked mildly, but his eyes were dancing with amusement and something that looked suspiciously like paternal pride. "Because from where I'm standing, it sounds like you and Hope are cut from very similar cloth. Brave, loyal, absolutely terrible at accepting help, and convinced that saving everyone else is more important than your own safety or wellbeing."
"I accept help," Harry said with wounded dignity. "I have an entire support system of people who help me with things."
"After," Lucifer pointed out with the air of someone making an important distinction, "you've already thrown yourself headfirst into whatever dangerous situation has presented itself. You accept help for cleanup and damage control, not for initial problem-solving. There's a difference."
"A significant difference," Alaric agreed dryly. "The difference between 'please help me plan a safe approach to this dangerous situation' and 'please help me explain to the Mystic Falls Sheriff's Department why there are scorch marks in the shape of arcane symbols covering three blocks of downtown.'"
Caroline snorted. "Don't forget 'please help me come up with a cover story for why half the football team thinks they spent last Friday night as dancing tea sets.'"
"That was one time," Harry protested, though his grin was absolutely unrepentant. "And they had excellent reviews of the experience. Very positive feedback about the quality of the Earl Grey service."
"You turned half the football team into dancing tea sets?" Elijah asked, and his tone suggested he was torn between horrified concern and reluctant admiration.
"Only temporarily," Harry said with the kind of casual air that suggested temporarily converting people into anthropomorphic tea service was just another Tuesday in his world. "And only because they were being incredibly rude to some of the younger students. I thought a few hours of being inanimate objects might give them some perspective on treating other people like they're less important."
Elijah stared at him for a long moment, then turned to Lucifer. "He turned bullies into tea sets as a moral lesson?"
"A very effective moral lesson," Lucifer confirmed proudly. "The football team has been remarkably polite to underclassmen ever since. Sometimes creative problem-solving is the most educational approach."
"I cannot," Alaric said slowly, "believe that I have been teaching a student who casually converts people into household objects for entertainment and education purposes, and nobody thought to mention this in his academic file."
"To be fair," Caroline pointed out, "what would you write? 'Student may occasionally restructure local reality when morally outraged. Please provide extra supervision during ethical dilemmas?'"
"That would actually be helpful information to have," Alaric muttered, but he was fighting back a smile. "I could have prepared some guidelines for appropriate use of cosmic abilities in educational settings."
"Guidelines are for people who don't have enough imagination to improvise," Harry said with the kind of supreme confidence that made him sound exactly like a fourteen-year-old who'd been raised by the Devil and thought most rules were more like friendly suggestions.
"Guidelines," Lucifer said firmly, though his tone was amused rather than stern, "are for people who want to avoid having to explain to cosmic authorities why they've been restructuring reality without proper documentation and safety protocols."
"You restructure reality all the time," Harry pointed out with the kind of logic that was absolutely correct and completely missed the point.
"I'm a fallen archangel with several millennia of experience and a comprehensive understanding of cosmic mechanics," Lucifer replied with the patience of someone who'd had this argument before. "You're a fourteen-year-old wizard with a concerning tendency to solve problems through creative applications of magic that technically shouldn't be possible for someone your age."
"Technically shouldn't be possible, but definitely effective," Harry said cheerfully. "Besides, it's not like I'm doing anything dangerous. Just minor reality adjustments for educational and entertainment purposes."
"Minor reality adjustments," Elijah repeated slowly, as if he was testing the phrase to see how it sounded. "Educational and entertainment purposes."
"Very minor," Harry assured him. "Nothing that affects anything important. Just small things like temporarily converting dormitories into pocket dimensions full of dancing teacups, or rearranging gravity in the Quidditch pitch so that everyone could experience flying from different perspectives, or that one time I accidentally turned the entire Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom into a functioning ecosystem where the desks had achieved sentience and formed their own society."
"You what now?" Caroline asked faintly.
"It was educational!" Harry insisted. "The desk society had a fascinating political structure, and everyone learned a lot about conflict resolution and resource management. Plus, the desks were much better at Defense Against the Dark Arts than the actual curriculum, so it was a net positive for everyone's education."
Alaric sat down heavily on the nearest available surface—which happened to be a decorative concrete planter, but he looked like a man past caring about proper seating arrangements. "I need a drink. A very large drink. Possibly an entire brewery."
"After," Lucifer said firmly, though his tone was sympathetic rather than stern. "Clear heads for cosmic intervention, Alaric. You can have a proper celebratory drink once we've successfully reunited a family and exorcised an ancient cosmic parasite. Think of it as delayed gratification."
"I'm thinking of it as 'reasons to update my resume to include experience with supernatural family therapy and reality restructuring,'" Alaric replied dryly. "Though I'm not sure how to phrase that in a way that doesn't make me sound completely insane."
"'Experienced educator with expertise in unconventional problem-solving and crisis management in supernatural contexts,'" Caroline suggested helpfully. "'Proven track record of maintaining educational standards during cosmic interventions.'"
"'Specializing in adolescent supernatural development and family integration services,'" Harry added with a grin. "'References available upon request from various cosmic entities and reformed demons.'"
Elijah was watching this exchange with growing fascination, and Harry noticed that his expression was shifting from confusion and emotional overwhelm into something that looked like genuine amusement mixed with parental pride. "You're all remarkable, you know that? Taking cosmic intervention and reality restructuring in stride, planning for magical emotional outbursts like they're standard educational challenges, making jokes about impossible situations as if they're just another day at the office."
"When your job description includes 'educator of supernatural teenagers,'" Alaric said with the weary wisdom of someone who'd learned to roll with punches that included everything from werewolf transformations to accidental demon summoning, "you learn to adapt quickly. The alternative is a complete mental breakdown, and there's too much paperwork involved in mental breakdowns."
"Plus," Caroline added with a smile that was equal parts fond and slightly hysterical, "when you spend enough time around Harry, you develop a tolerance for impossible things happening on a regular basis. It's like building up immunity to a particularly creative form of chaos."
"I prefer to think of it as providing enriching educational experiences," Harry said with wounded dignity. "I'm expanding everyone's horizons and challenging their preconceptions about the nature of reality. That's good pedagogy."
"That's one way to describe it," Lucifer said dryly. "Another way would be 'giving your teachers premature gray hair and stress-related magical accidents.'"
"Have any of my teachers actually had stress-related magical accidents?" Harry asked with genuine curiosity.
"Professor McGonagall accidentally turned her entire office into a giant cat toy after the tea set incident," Caroline informed him cheerfully. "She spent three hours stuck in a ball of yarn the size of a small building before Dumbledore figured out how to reverse it."
Harry looked genuinely concerned for the first time in the entire conversation. "Is she okay? I should probably send an apology note. And maybe some nice tea to make up for the inconvenience."
"She's fine," Lucifer assured him with a fond smile. "Though she did mention that your next Transfiguration essay should include a section on 'appropriate applications of advanced magical theory in educational settings' and 'the importance of considering long-term consequences when experimenting with reality-altering spells.'"
"That sounds like a perfectly reasonable assignment," Harry said with the kind of earnest enthusiasm that suggested he was genuinely looking forward to writing an essay about responsible use of cosmic abilities. "I could probably do a comparative analysis of different approaches to reality restructuring and their educational applications. Maybe include some case studies of successful integration of magical interventions in academic environments."
"Only you," Alaric said with a mixture of admiration and despair, "would be excited about writing an essay analyzing your own supernatural disciplinary incidents."
"It's not disciplinary if it's educational," Harry pointed out with flawless fourteen-year-old logic. "And it was definitely educational. Everyone learned something important about treating other people with respect, and about the creative applications of transfiguration theory, and about the importance of clear communication when dealing with sentient furniture."
"Sentient furniture," Elijah repeated, and there was something in his voice that suggested he was starting to understand exactly what kind of extraordinary person his son had become. "You know, James Potter once convinced the Whomping Willow to stop attacking students by having a philosophical conversation with it about the nature of violence and conflict resolution."
Harry's eyes lit up with delight. "Really? He talked a violent tree into becoming pacifist through logical argument?"
"More like he convinced it that there were more interesting ways to express its territorial instincts," Elijah said with a smile that was warm and fond and tinged with the kind of parental pride that transcended time and cosmic impossibility. "He suggested it might enjoy choreographed dancing instead of random flailing, and taught it several traditional wizarding folk dances. The Whomping Willow spent the rest of his seventh year performing elaborate ballet routines instead of attacking anyone who got too close."
"That's brilliant," Harry breathed, his expression bright with genuine admiration and delight. "Creative problem-solving and conflict resolution through artistic expression. Much more elegant than just avoiding the tree or trying to fight it."
"Exactly what Lily said," Elijah confirmed, his smile growing warmer. "Though she also mentioned that only James Potter would think to solve a problem involving a violent tree by teaching it interpretive dance."
"Only James Potter and his son, apparently," Lucifer observed with amusement. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, especially when both the apple and the tree are capable of restructuring local reality when they feel strongly about something."
"Speaking of falling," Caroline interjected with the kind of gentle authority that suggested it was time to get back to the matter at hand, "we should probably collect Hope before the rest of the family arrives. She's going to need some preparation before we spring 'surprise cosmic intervention and reality restructuring' on her. Teenagers require careful handling during emotional upheavals."
Harry snorted, his equilibrium beginning to return now that the initial shock of meeting Elijah was settling into something manageable and wonderfully complicated. "Careful handling? Father, you've clearly never seen Hope Mikaelson when she's determined to solve a problem herself. 'Careful handling' isn't exactly her strong suit."
"She's stubborn, then?" Elijah asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer. "Prone to charging headfirst into dangerous situations without backup or proper planning?"
"Spectacularly stubborn," Harry confirmed with the affectionate exasperation of someone who had firsthand experience with Hope's particular brand of determined recklessness. "She's been researching cosmic horror exorcism for months, convinced she has to solve everything herself. 'Careful handling' with Hope usually involves letting her think she's in control while quietly making sure she doesn't accidentally summon any elder gods or open dimensional rifts in the school library."
"Ah," Elijah said, and his smile turned slightly wicked in a way that reminded Harry forcibly that he was looking at someone who had spent centuries perfecting the art of managing difficult situations with style and supernatural competence. "My niece sounds like she has excellent instincts but could benefit from some guidance in execution and risk assessment."
"That's a diplomatic way of putting it," Alaric said dryly. "Another way would be 'brilliant, powerful, completely reckless, and absolutely convinced that she can handle anything the universe throws at her through pure determination and righteous anger.'"
"So exactly like Harry, then," Caroline pointed out with a grin. "This is going to be interesting. Two stubborn, overpowered teenagers who think they can solve cosmic horror situations through creative problem-solving and sheer bloody-mindedness."
"At least Hope doesn't casually restructure reality when she's bored," Alaric said with the air of someone clinging to silver linings.
"That we know of," Harry corrected cheerfully. "She's been under a lot of stress lately, and magical stress responses can be very unpredictable. For all we know, she's been unconsciously altering probability fields around the school for months."
Lucifer paused, his expression shifting into something that looked suspiciously like professional interest mixed with mild concern. "That's... actually not impossible. Tribrid magic under emotional stress can have some very unusual manifestations. I should probably do a quick scan of the local reality matrix to make sure nothing's been accidentally restructured."
"Please tell me you're not suggesting that Hope might have been unknowingly reorganizing fundamental reality as a stress response," Caroline said weakly.
"I'm not suggesting anything," Lucifer said with the kind of careful neutrality that suggested he was absolutely suggesting exactly that. "I'm simply saying that it would be prudent to check. Purely as a precautionary measure."
"Right," Alaric said in the tone of someone whose definition of 'normal Tuesday evening' was apparently being completely rewritten in real-time. "So we need to collect Hope, gently inform her that her entire family is about to arrive for cosmic intervention therapy, check to make sure she hasn't accidentally been altering reality as a coping mechanism, and then facilitate a complex supernatural family reunion involving memory integration and ancient curse removal. In the school gymnasium. Before dinner."
"When you put it like that, it sounds complicated," Harry said with a grin that suggested he found complicated supernatural situations to be roughly equivalent to interesting puzzles rather than potential disasters.
"It is complicated," Elijah pointed out, though he didn't sound particularly concerned about it. "But then, the best family reunions usually are. Especially when they involve resolving thousand-year-old curses and integrating impossible magical solutions."
"Plus," Harry added with the kind of supreme confidence that came from being fourteen and having successfully handled several impossible situations through creative application of magical talent, "we have the Devil on our side. And me. And Hope, once she stops being mad that nobody told her help was available months ago. Between the three of us, we can probably handle one ancient cosmic parasite and some family drama."
"'Some family drama,'" Caroline repeated with the air of someone testing a phrase to see how absurd it sounded when applied to Original vampire families and cosmic intervention. "'Some family drama,' he says, like this is a normal situation involving normal people with normal problems."
"It's normal for us," Harry pointed out with flawless fourteen-year-old logic. "We're just not normal people. So our version of normal family drama involves more magic and cosmic entities than most people's versions."
"Fair point," Alaric conceded. "Though I'm still not sure I'm prepared for whatever Hope's reaction is going to be when we explain that her uncle now shares soul-pattern alignment and integrated memories with Harry's dead father."
"Oh, she'll love that part," Harry said with certainty. "Hope thinks complicated magical solutions are fascinating. It's the 'we could have solved this months ago but nobody thought to ask the Devil for help' part that's going to result in some pointed questions and possibly some accidental magical explosions."
"Accidental magical explosions are why we're doing this in the gymnasium," Lucifer pointed out helpfully. "Plenty of space, reinforced construction, and easy cleanup if anything gets dramatically restructured during the emotional processing phase."
They had reached the school's front doors, and through the windows they could see students moving through the hallways, completely oblivious to the fact that cosmic intervention was about to unfold in their educational facility. It was strangely comforting, this glimpse of normalcy before everything changed forever.
"Ready?" Lucifer asked, though it was clearly more courtesy than actual question. Ready or not, they were about to collect Hope Mikaelson and inform her that her entire world was about to shift fundamentally and permanently.
Harry straightened his shoulders, checked his tie with the careful precision of someone preparing for battle, and nodded. "Ready. Though we should probably expect some tears, some yelling, possibly some accidental magic, and definitely some very pointed questions about why nobody mentioned that cosmic intervention was an available option before she spent months trying to research her way out of an impossible situation."
"Standard teenage tribrid emotional processing," Caroline agreed. "I'll grab tissues. And possibly a fire extinguisher, depending on how the magic manifests when she finds out her family's been suffering unnecessarily while solutions were available the entire time."
Elijah looked between them, his expression fond and slightly amazed and touched with something that might have been wonder at finding himself surrounded by people who cared so much about protecting and supporting a supernatural child they'd only known for a few months. "You're all remarkable, you know that? Planning for magical emotional outbursts like they're standard educational challenges, treating cosmic intervention as if it's just another day at the office, making sure a teenager has proper emotional support during impossible supernatural family drama."
"Well," Alaric said dryly, pushing open the front doors with the weary competence of someone whose job description had expanded far beyond anything covered in traditional educational training, "when your job includes 'supernatural guidance counselor' and 'crisis management specialist for magically gifted adolescents,' you learn to prepare for any eventuality. Even when the eventuality involves family therapy sessions hosted by fallen angels and reality restructuring in the school gymnasium."
They stepped into the school, leaving the golden twilight behind, and Harry felt a familiar thrill of anticipation mixed with the warm certainty that everything was about to change in the best possible way. This was it—the moment when Hope finally got the family reunion she'd been fighting for, when the Hollow's influence was eliminated once and for all, when impossible things became wonderfully real.
It was going to be complicated, emotional, overwhelming, and probably involve at least some dramatic speeches and tears and possibly some accidental magical fireworks.
It was going to be absolutely perfect.
After all, the best family reunions always were.
"Right then," Harry said with a grin that was pure anticipation and mischief and absolute confidence in their ability to handle whatever supernatural chaos was about to unfold, "let's go find Hope and give her the best surprise she's had in months. This is going to be brilliant."
"Or catastrophic," Alaric muttered under his breath, though he was smiling as he said it.
"With our track record?" Caroline said cheerfully. "Probably both. But definitely memorable."
Elijah chuckled, the sound warm and fond and touched with centuries of experience managing complicated supernatural situations with style and supernatural competence. "James would be so proud to see Harry surrounded by people who approach impossible challenges with this much enthusiasm and intelligence."
"He'd also probably be slightly terrified by some of Harry's creative problem-solving methods," Lucifer added with amusement. "But mostly proud. Definitely mostly proud."
"Good thing I'm here to provide proper guidance and supervision for any reality restructuring that might become necessary," Harry said with the kind of supreme confidence that made him sound exactly like a teenager who'd been raised by cosmic entities and thought most impossible situations were just interesting puzzles waiting to be solved.
"That's what worries me," Alaric said dryly, but his expression was fond rather than concerned.
They walked deeper into the school, heading toward whatever classroom Hope was currently using as a research headquarters for her cosmic horror exorcism project, and Harry couldn't stop grinning. This was exactly the kind of complicated, impossible, wonderful situation that made his life so much more interesting than anything he could have imagined.
Time to go collect his friend and give her family the reunion they'd all been waiting centuries to have.
It was going to be spectacular.
---
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