Chapter 30 - chapter 30

Chapter 30 (~13k words):

– Tom (diary) –

Diary Tom Riddle was growing more irritated by the day. It had been days—actually weeks—and his bloody basilisk had still not returned!

That treacherous serpent had slithered off into Merlin-knew-where, likely deep into the heart of the Forbidden Forest, feasting gluttonously upon that near-endless supply of giant spiders inhabiting the depths of those accursed woods. The thought rankled Tom's pride immensely. Imagine, a creature of Salazar Slytherin, his basilisk, abandoning its sacred duty simply to gorge itself upon Arachnids instead of mudbloods! 

Disgraceful, utterly disgraceful.

Of course, Tom didn't know for certain this was what had happened. He was confined, after all, to the cursed limitations of his diary-bound existence. But it was the most reasonable hypothesis he could deduce under the circumstances. Had the basilisk somehow perished, the entire population of Hogwarts Castle would surely have been abuzz with terrified gossip. After all, a sixty-foot serpent carcass discovered anywhere near school grounds would hardly remain a secret. 

The most galling part was that Tom couldn't even seek the basilisk himself. Trapped as he was inside his diary-Horcrux, his ability to influence events remained limited to possessing a single pathetic student. Even that possession had severe limitations—he could only hold the student's body under his complete control for a few scant hours per day, lest he accidentally kill the frail mortal form before the appropriate time. 

Tom still required this weak fool to remain alive for the ritual that would ultimately return him to full life and power. As tempting as it might be to exhaust the imbecile's life force, Tom's long-term goals had to take priority over petty annoyance, no matter how satisfying it might feel to wring the very last shred of energy from the wretch's soul.

But now Tom faced another pressing problem, one that required immediate action. For the task at hand, he would need help, and—naturally—the only person capable of assisting someone as brilliant as Tom Marvolo Riddle was himself.

His possessed student trudged obediently up the silent, deserted staircases of Hogwarts Castle. Dinner was currently underway in the Great Hall, meaning most of the school's population was blissfully preoccupied. Exactly the opportunity Tom required. The student moved stiffly as Tom's consciousness fully dominated the poor mortal vessel. 

Tom guided the student's feet along a familiar route, finally halting in front of an unremarkable expanse of stone wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach trolls to dance ballet.

His thrall paced deliberately in front of the wall three times, repeating clearly and with great focus in the student's borrowed mind exactly what Tom sought: a hidden chamber, the Room of Hidden Things, where Hogwarts' feeble house-elves routinely dumped decades' worth of lost and forgotten rubbish from its ungrateful student body. 

It was precisely the sort of cluttered, neglected place Tom himself would have chosen to conceal a Horcrux, had the idea ever struck him in life. And it seemed his main-soul counterpart had thought precisely along these lines. Horcruxes possessed an innate magical resonance—an affinity to sense the presence of other soul fragments. Tom had felt the distant whisper of this particular Horcrux since that moronic Lucius Malfoy carelessly surrendered his diary inadvertently sending Tom back to Hogwarts Castle.

Now the room finally complied, materializing from thin air as a grand pair of ornate doors. 

Tom directed his puppet to pull open the heavy, intricately carved doors and enter. The sight inside, despite his expectations, still managed to astonish even Tom. The enormous space stretched endlessly ahead of them, its towering shelves filled from floor to ceiling with countless discarded items, a chaotic landscape of clutter. 

Tom sneered inwardly at the careless wastefulness. He had grown up as an orphan with nothing to his name after all. 

His possessed vessel marched deeper inside the cluttered room, toward Tom's other soul fragment. The sensation grew stronger, becoming an almost palpable hum of dark, resonating magic. After several minutes of patient searching and careful stepping through heaps of detritus, Tom finally saw the item he sought, shining dully beneath decades of accumulated grime: Ravenclaw's lost diadem.

There it was—another piece of his soul…

The body he was possessing reached down and picked it up, bringing it up to their head. "You and I need to talk…"

– Harry –

Ginny and I finally managed to stumble into the Great Hall, noticeably late but thankfully not so much that we drew the undivided attention of the entire school. There were still a handful of other latecomers trailing in slowly behind us, each with their own sheepish expressions. I couldn't suppress the quiet snicker that escaped me as Ginny shot me a helpless pout, her freckled cheeks tinted faintly pink from embarrassment—or maybe exhaustion.

She was leaning heavily into me, her soft, petite frame pressed intimately against my side as she struggled to stay upright on wobbly, jelly-like legs. Every careful step was a challenge for her, and it was all because of how thoroughly I had shagged her earlier in my private room. It had seemed amusing at first, the idea of carrying her into the Great Hall like a princess—exactly as she had teasingly suggested. But, of course, with her parents here specifically for her brother Ron's return from St. Mungo's, that particular move would have been beyond suspicious.

Instead, we moved slowly but determinedly toward the Gryffindor table, Ginny's petite hand gripping tightly to my robes as I steadied her shaky form. As we drew nearer, Mrs. Weasley's gaze immediately found her daughter, her face lighting up with motherly enthusiasm. She waved energetically at Ginny, gesturing for her to hurry and join the family. Ron sat beside his mother, looking notably healthier and more alert than the last time I'd seen him, which, frankly, wasn't difficult given the circumstances.

Ginny sucked in a deep breath and put on a brave face, trying her very best to appear normal despite the obvious discomfort between her thighs. But as she took her first independent steps toward her family, her wobbling gait became all too apparent. Mrs. Weasley's expression shifted rapidly from excited greeting to narrowed-eyed suspicion, her brows drawing together into a familiar frown of parental skepticism.

"Ginny dear, are you alright?" Molly called loudly across the remaining distance, eyes squinting with growing suspicion as her daughter limped slightly closer. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"Oh no, Mum, I'm perfectly fine—" Ginny tried to assure her, though the strained note in her voice and blush deepening across her cheeks gave the game away entirely.

I couldn't resist the impulse to tease her a bit further, leaning forward and pressing an affectionate kiss against her flushed cheek. Ginny's eyes widened in startled embarrassment at my blatant display of affection, and Mrs. Weasley's suspicious expression intensified instantly, now positively glaring daggers of maternal distrust straight at me.

"Harry!" Ginny hissed softly, her blush flaring even brighter, clearly realizing I was deliberately making this worse for her.

I smirked down at her, thoroughly amused by the entire situation. She shot me another adorably outraged pout, clearly torn between exasperation and amusement at my behavior. She gingerly eased herself down onto the bench, wincing visibly at the uncomfortable soreness I knew she must be feeling. Her mother leaned in immediately, voice dropping into a fierce whisper as she began rapidly interrogating her daughter. Molly's face turned bright red as Ginny stammered, attempting weakly to deflect and minimize the reason behind her current state.

I let out a quiet chuckle at Ginny's predicament, feeling more than a little smug at the obvious evidence of our activities earlier. I moved a few spots further down, giving the Weasley family their space and hoping to avoid being drawn into an interrogation by Molly as well.

As soon as I settled down, I felt the comforting, familiar presence of Fleur and Gabrielle approaching from behind. A moment later, Fleur gracefully sank down to my left, Gabrielle quickly following suit on my right. 

"Bonsoir, Harry," Fleur purred softly in my ear, her silky, French accent sending a subtle shiver down my spine. "You look rather pleased with yourself tonight."

Gabrielle giggled softly from my other side, leaning in close as she whispered, "That's because he was very busy earlier, wasn't he?"

I gave the younger Veela sister a knowing smirk, amused but unsurprised at Gabrielle's sharp perceptiveness. "Perhaps I was," I replied vaguely, though the smugness in my voice made the truth obvious enough.

Fleur and Gabrielle simultaneously leaned in and pressed gentle kisses to each of my cheeks, their soft lips lingering affectionately against my skin. The immediate murmurs and envious grumbles from several male students sitting nearby reached my ears, but I'd long since grown used to ignoring their obvious jealousy. Fleur and Gabrielle didn't even spare the observers a glance.

As the sisters settled comfortably beside me, Fleur sat elegantly on my left while Gabrielle nestled closer on my right. They shared a meaningful glance between them, and I sensed immediately that something important was on their minds.

"Harry, mon amour," Fleur began softly, lowering her voice to a quiet, intimate whisper. "Gabrielle and I had quite an eventful conversation with our parents this weekend."

Gabrielle leaned closer. "Oui, we finally spoke openly with Maman and Papa about our wish to join your peerage. It was, um, how do you say… very intense."

"And… how did your parents react?" I asked carefully, suddenly a bit worried. "Did they take the news alright?"

Fleur smiled fondly, tilting her head slightly as a soft chuckle escaped her. "Our maman—she was utterly delighted by ze very idea, of course. She fully understands what such a decision would mean for Gabrielle and myself. Especially once she learned zat one day we might ourselves become High-Class Devils. It seems she finds ze possibility of eternal youth and beauty quite irresistible."

I laughed quietly, nodding in understanding. "I can't exactly blame her. Eternally young and beautiful sounds pretty appealing to anyone."

Gabrielle's blue eyes twinkled mischievously. "Oui, zat is exactly what Maman said," she whispered. "In fact, she expressed clearly zat when zat happens, she wishes to become our servant in return. To join either Fleur's peerage or mine someday—if and when we achieve such an honor. She dreams already of ze immortal beauty and prestige zat comes wiz such a life."

The idea was amusing and oddly endearing, and I couldn't suppress my quiet smile. "Well, that's certainly ambitious of her. I can already tell your maman is someone I'll get along with perfectly."

Fleur and Gabrielle both laughed lightly at my remark, though their smiles soon faded slightly into twin expressions of visible concern. Fleur's grip on my thigh tightened just a little more, signaling me to pay attention as she took a deep breath. "Unfortunately," she said more seriously, her voice now tinged with regret and sadness, "Papa's reaction was… far from positive."

Gabrielle nodded somberly beside me, her pretty face growing troubled. "We did not realize just how deeply religious Papa is. He was very angry, Harry. He said zat he would never allow his daughters to become evil monsters—zat we must abandon zis foolish idea immediately, and zat we should never associate wiz you again."

Her voice trembled slightly on those last words, and the hurt shining clearly in her eyes sent a pang of genuine sadness through me. I reached out instinctively, gently taking Gabrielle's delicate hand into my own and softly stroking my thumb across her knuckles.

"I'm so sorry he reacted that way," I told her sincerely. "And I'm sorry you had to experience such harsh words from your own father just because of your involvement with me."

Fleur sighed softly, her elegant features drawn into a pained frown. "Zere was a very heated argument between zem both. Papa was so angry zat he immediately returned home to France. Maman was furious wiz his behavior, and now she has chosen to remain nearby in Hogsmeade for ze time being."

"Your maman is here?" I asked, somewhat surprised at this revelation. "In Hogsmeade?"

Gabrielle nodded quickly, her expression brightening again slightly. "Oui. And she wishes very much to meet you, Harry. She wishes to get to know ze man who has captured ze hearts of both of her daughters."

I smiled warmly at that, deeply touched by the sincerity and affection in Gabrielle's voice. "Of course," I replied genuinely, squeezing both of their hands affectionately beneath the table. "I would absolutely love to meet your mother. How could I possibly pass up the chance to meet the woman who raised the two incredible girls that I've grown to love so much?"

Both Fleur and Gabrielle immediately melted at my words, cooing softly in delight. 

"Oh, Harry," Gabrielle cooed softly, her accent rich and sweet as she gazed lovingly into my eyes. She leaned in, gently kissing my cheek again. "You always know just the perfect thing to say."

Fleur mirrored her sister's actions, pressing a warm, lingering kiss against my other cheek as well. Her voice was low, sensual, and deeply affectionate. "C'est vrai. We love you so very much, Harry Sitri."

I felt a cautious tap on my shoulder. 

Turning away from Fleur and Gabrielle, I glanced up and was genuinely surprised to see Ron Weasley standing there, shifting nervously from one foot to another. His cheeks were pale and freckled, his red hair messier than usual, and he looked awkward as hell, clearly uncomfortable under the curious stares from nearby students.

"Hey, Harry," Ron said hesitantly, his voice a bit unsteady. "Can we, uh... talk for a sec?"

I sighed deeply, trying to mask the immediate surge of irritation I felt. The last thing I really wanted to do tonight was deal with this conversation—especially after the wonderful afternoon I'd had with Ginny. Yet Ginny's heartfelt words about Ron earlier echoed in my head, and despite myself, I knew she had a point. He hadn't been himself when everything had happened. Hell, he had been more of a victim than anyone else.

"Yeah, Ron," I finally conceded with a reluctant nod. "Give me just a minute, alright?"

Ron nodded stiffly, stepping back and shoving his hands awkwardly into his robe pockets. I turned back toward Fleur and Gabrielle, meeting their questioning gazes.

"Excuse me for a minute, ladies," I told them softly. "Ron wants to have a quick chat."

Gabrielle's delicate eyebrows rose in surprise, and Fleur's icy-blue eyes narrowed with cautious skepticism.

"Are you sure, Harry?" Fleur asked gently, clearly wary after what had happened the last time Ron and I were alone together. "Perhaps we should come wiz you?"

I shook my head, offering them a reassuring smile. "It'll be fine. He's not dangerous. Besides," I said, lowering my voice further, "if he tries anything again, I promise you both that I'm more than capable of handling him."

Fleur and Gabrielle shared a brief, uncertain glance, then reluctantly nodded.

"As you wish, Harry," Gabrielle said softly, her eyes following me with visible concern as I stood up.

Ron was already making his way toward the doors. As I walked behind him, I noticed several students whispering furiously, clearly speculating whether Ron might suddenly go berserk again. I caught snippets of conversation: "Is Ron gonna attack Harry Sitri again?" and "Why did they even let Weasley back in?" Apparently, none of them had been informed about the involvement of Peter Pettigrew—only that Ron had been mind-controlled by some unknown dark wizard outside Hogwarts.

It wasn't their fault they were wary, I supposed.

Ron paused in the corridor just beyond the Great Hall doors, turning to face me with an uneasy grimace. He shuffled nervously, eyes cast down to the stone floor.

"Look, Harry..." he started, voice thick with embarrassment and guilt. "I'm—I'm really sorry about... everything. Everything that happened. All of it. I just—I never got to apologize to you properly before, so I wanted to do it now."

I sighed again, rubbing the back of my neck tiredly. I studied him for a long moment, noting how genuinely remorseful he seemed. Ginny had been right—Ron deserved a second chance. It was that fucking rat's fault. Pettigrew. Just thinking about that vile creature made my blood boil with hatred. That traitorous little rat had cost me my birth mother, Lily Evans, all those years ago. And now, he was responsible for tearing Ron's life apart as well.

"It wasn't your fault, Ron," I finally said quietly, my voice surprisingly even and sincere. "Trust me—I don't blame you. The blame lies entirely on that damned rat."

Ron's shoulders sagged visibly in relief at my words. He looked up at me with genuine gratitude and a hint of surprise, as if he hadn't really expected me to forgive him at all. "I appreciate that, Harry," he said earnestly. "Merlin, you have no idea how bad I've felt. They told me bits of what happened, you know... and I bloody hated myself for it, even knowing I couldn't control it."

I nodded slowly, a thoughtful silence settling between us. Ron scratched nervously at the back of his head before giving me a sheepish grin.

"You know," he said, with a slight chuckle, "when I was a kid, I actually used to idolize you. Pretty stupid, I guess—but everyone talked about the Boy-Who-Lived. I always thought you must be so bloody cool, some kind of hero. Kind of ironic, huh?"

His admission startled a genuine laugh out of me, and I shook my head in mild disbelief. "Seriously? You idolized me?"

He gave an embarrassed shrug. "Yeah, I know—it sounds dumb now, but it's true."

"Wow," I said dryly, amusement coloring my tone. "Well, life sure does have a twisted sense of humor."

"Tell me about it," Ron muttered with a small grin. After a brief pause, he asked, "So, um... did I miss anything important while I was locked away at St. Mungo's? And what happened to that bloody rat anyway?"

I sighed again, more heavily this time, leaning back against the cool stone wall. "You missed a few interesting events from the Triwizard Tournament. Some of them were actually pretty fun," I admitted, thinking briefly about the tournament of me vs Sona. "As for Pettigrew—the rat escaped, unfortunately. But there's currently someone tracking him down. Honestly, I don't know how reliable that bloke is, though."

My voice darkened bitterly as I considered Sirius Black. Sirius held a grudge against me simply because I wasn't the son of his precious James Potter. Even though he and Lily had supposedly been very close friends as well…

Ron frowned thoughtfully, absorbing my words before nodding slowly. His expression hardened noticeably, eyes blazing with determination. "Well, if that rat bastard ever shows his face here again, I swear, Harry—I'll bloody kill him myself."

"You'll have to get in line," I replied grimly, a harsh chuckle slipping past my lips despite the seriousness of the situation.

We both stood silently for a moment, allowing the weight of everything between us to settle. Then I met his eyes again, deliberately offering him a nod of sincere acceptance.

"Look, Ron—I mean it. You and I, we're good now. No grudges, alright?"

Relief flooded his features, and he smiled in genuine gratitude. "Thanks, mate. I really mean that. It's... it's a huge weight off my chest, you know?"

"Yeah," I said quietly. "I can imagine."

Ron visibly relaxed further, the tension draining from his posture. He grinned sheepishly, a hint of playful curiosity lighting his eyes as he finally asked, "Alright then—so now that's out of the way, there's something else I really need to ask you about."

I raised a questioning eyebrow, sensing the tone shift to something slightly awkward. "Oh? What's that?"

His expression grew more serious again, though a faint protective edge lingered. "Well—what exactly is going on between you and my little sister?"

I chuckled quietly, already anticipating this particular conversation. "Ah. I had a feeling this was coming…"

Ron crossed his arms, arching a challenging eyebrow in a distinctly brotherly manner. "Well, yeah, mate—I'm her big brother, after all. It's my sacred duty to find out exactly what's going on with blokes who shag—I mean, who date my sister!"

– Tom –

At the same time…

Tom found himself—or rather, his spiritual body at the very least—standing in the center of an unfamiliar yet unmistakably mental space. All around him stretched an endless expanse of swirling gray mist. 

Directly across from Tom stood an older version of himself. His counterpart appeared somewhere between forty and fifty, the sharply chiseled handsomeness of his youth now warped into something cold, inhuman, and snakelike. The older Tom Riddle wore dark robes of expensive, finely tailored silk, though they hung loosely on a frame that appeared gaunt, as if decades of dark magic had begun eating away at his very essence.

Both figures faced each other silently for a moment, appraising the other with undisguised disdain. The elder's pale face twisted with irritation, crimson eyes narrowed into thin, sinister slits. "I have nothing to talk about with my sniveling sixteen-year-old self," the older Tom declared coldly, his voice harsh and rasping as it echoed across the empty mindscape.

Tom's lips curled into a cruel sneer, contempt bleeding from every word as he replied. "Hoh? And here I was, generously planning to forgive my older self for becoming such a disgraceful failure."

The elder soul-fragment stiffened visibly, red eyes flashing dangerously. "What was that, boy?" the older version of Tom snarled, stepping forward threateningly, the movement sending ripples of magical energy cascading outward in every direction.

Tom raised an eyebrow coolly, his voice dripping with scorn as he elaborated, "It's true, isn't it? Look at yourself—pathetically aged, clearly twisted by your foolish experiments and reckless dark rituals. And yet, despite all your grand schemes, not only did you spectacularly fail to conquer Britain and subjugate the wizarding world, you couldn't even accomplish our backup plan! You couldn't even succeed at becoming a Hogwarts professor, much less oust that worthless old fool Dumbledore and seize control of this castle from within. Honestly, future me is downright pathetic!"

The older Tom growled furiously. "And past me," he hissed venomously, "is nothing more than a naive sixteen-year-old brat who still has absolutely no concept of how this world actually operates. You think taking over Britain is our greatest obstacle?" His lips curled back, revealing teeth sharper than they should have been—another unsettling side-effect of years of soul-fracturing and dark magic experimentation. "You haven't even begun to understand the true monsters that lurk in the darkness beyond the wizarding world! Creatures and entities so ancient and powerful they make witches and wizards look like mere talking monkeys."

Tom tilted his head, momentarily intrigued by the elder fragment's implication. What precisely had the older fool encountered in the years separating them that he would speak so fearfully of such threats? The idea was unsettling. But it seemed obvious by now that this exchange would yield nothing of productive value—just arrogant posturing and pointless insults.

As he studied the twisted visage of his older self, Tom reached a swift, decisive conclusion. 

He would not be receiving willing aid…

There was no point prolonging this pathetic confrontation. Far better to simply absorb the weaker, smaller fragment and claim whatever valuable knowledge it might possess. 

He was confident he would prevail—after all, the pitiful shard of soul housed in Ravenclaw's diadem represented barely three percent of the original Tom Riddle's essence. Meanwhile, he himself—the Diary Horcrux—contained a powerful and stable half of his former self. Absorbing this other piece would provide a minor but welcome strengthening of his already formidable soul.

Yet, from the arrogant gleam in the elder fragment's crimson eyes, Tom understood clearly that his older self had reached precisely the same conclusion about him. 

They were each determined to consume the other.

Silently, the two soul-fragments raised their wands in perfect synchronization. 

"So eager to be erased from existence already, boy?" the older Tom mocked.

"Pathetic," Tom countered coldly, his voice icy calm despite the surging currents of power. "You'll make nothing more than an insignificant addition to my strength, old fool."

Without further preamble, both soul-fragments unleashed devastating magical assaults simultaneously. Bolts of sizzling dark magic erupted violently from their wands, colliding and bursting into brilliant explosions of crackling, destructive energy. Waves of violent force swept outward across the chaotic mindscape, ripping through the swirling mists and fracturing the space itself with each explosive impact.

Tom felt no sympathy whatsoever for the hapless, weak-minded student whose consciousness served as their current battleground. Indeed, he cared nothing for the permanent, devastating damage their duel was inevitably causing to the vessel's mind. 

The elder fragment hissed a furious incantation, summoning a blazing serpent of fiery green magic which lunged hungrily toward Tom's spiritual form. Unfazed, Tom responded effortlessly, conjuring an impenetrable shield of shimmering black energy. The serpent exploded upon contact, shattering into sparks of emerald flame that dissipated harmlessly into nothingness.

"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.

And worst of all, Tom now understood exactly who—and what—Harry Sitri truly was. 

He finally recognized that name clearly, thanks to the memories of his older self. Harry Sitri, the boy Tom's older self had foolishly tried and spectacularly failed to kill, was no mere wizard. No, far from it. Harry was a DEVIL! No wonder his main body had failed!

More terrifyingly still, Harry's devil mother was a literal Demon Lord—one of the Four Satans who ruled over all other devils in the Underworld.

"Merlin's balls," Tom cursed harshly. "I've been sitting blindly within this castle, utterly unaware that one of Hell's Demon Lords herself has repeatedly come and gone so close to me!" Tom shuddered involuntarily, fear worming its way deeper into his soul. It was astonishing luck that Satan hadn't yet discovered and obliterated his diary Horcrux. 

He knew with absolute certainty that, in his current weakened state, trapped within a failing, brain-dead mortal body, he stood no chance whatsoever against Harry Sitri—let alone the boy's terrifying mother. 

Tom needed a solution, something he could grasp quickly and decisively. He needed a new plan.

Thankfully, the knowledge he'd inherited wasn't entirely worthless. His older, broken self had meticulously researched supernatural beings—their strengths, their weaknesses, their ancient rivalries and blood feuds. Tom now possessed insight into devil society, their internal politics, and the bitter enemies they held.

A slow, sinister smile stretched across his borrowed lips as a sudden, brilliant thought entered his mind. "The enemy of my enemy," he murmured softly, voice filled with dark intent, "is my potential ally."

He knew the Sitri clan had dangerous and deadly enemies in the supernatural world. If Tom could make contact, and establish some form of alliance, he might actually have a chance to fight back and eliminate Harry Sitri—and potentially even Satan Leviathan herself!

Yes… This could work!

Tom quickly turned toward the farthest reaches of the Room of Hidden Things. Among the vast array of dusty, forgotten artifacts and clutter was hidden a secret exit. A narrow stone passageway led directly from the castle, beneath Hogwarts' outer wall, and into the dense, shadowy depths of the Forbidden Forest.

He needed to move quickly—time was not on his side. Especially if this student's brain death had been picked up by the wards. Which Tom figured it had. The castle was annoyingly nosy like that at the worst of times!

…Tom's borrowed hand was dripping with blood as he stared down at the summoning circle he had carved in the dirt. 

– Katerea Leviathan –

It had been a very long time since Katerea Leviathan had last been summoned by a mortal human. Decades, perhaps—long enough that she'd almost forgotten the sensation entirely. The feeling of being pulled forcefully across dimensions, her body disassembled and reformed in an instant, was always slightly uncomfortable, and thoroughly irritating. 

Still, there were occasional benefits to accepting summons from humans—provided, of course, the summoner had adequate offerings. A refined, superior devil like Katerea greatly enjoyed feasting upon the fresh, innocent souls of young children. Their pure essence was the sweetest delicacy, capable of sating her hunger in a deeply satisfying manner. 

Thus, as she materialized from the summoning circle in a dramatic burst of crimson light, she allowed herself a moment of anticipation.

But as her gaze swept through the gloomy, moonlit surroundings, her pleasure quickly faded into irritation. There were no sacrificial offerings here—no terrified, helpless children, no bound innocents pleading for their pitiful lives. 

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, glowing slightly behind her sophisticated glasses. The absence of proper tribute meant whoever summoned her would become the sacrifice themselves. She glanced downward disdainfully, finally noticing the figure who had summoned her—a human teenager, of all things. 

The mortal boy knelt unsteadily in the dirt, trembling visibly, his pale face streaked with sweat. He wore long. Such archaic clothing confirmed he belonged to one of those backward, isolated magical communities of wizards that Katerea always found so laughably pathetic. Modern humans at least wore somewhat tolerable attire, but these wizard-types clung foolishly to medieval fashions.

Yet, there was something unusual about this particular human vessel. Her senses quickly picked up an anomaly—the soul inhabiting the body didn't match the form itself. In fact, the young wizard's original soul seemed completely absent, replaced instead by a corrupted, fragmented entity that pulsated with unnatural darkness. 

Katerea raised an eyebrow slightly, mildly intrigued by this unexpected development. Not that it mattered. No matter how intriguing, he would soon become her meal. She usually preferred feasting on innocent pure souls, but blackened souls had their own spicy kick as well. And she liked to think she had a refined palate.

Before she could move forward to drain his corrupted soul, the mortal shakily raised their head. 

"Mighty Satan Katerea Leviathan," the teenager spoke clearly, "it is an honor to meet you in person. Please forgive my abruptness in summoning you without proper preparation or sacrifices!"

She paused, her interest reluctantly piqued by his acknowledgment of her rightful title and status. At least the mortal knew to whom he spoke. It was the barest hint of respect from such inferior vermin—but it was still respect nonetheless.

"Why have you called me here, mortal?" Katerea demanded coldly, her tone dripping with superiority. "I see no offerings for me. Do you truly believe yourself important enough to summon a Satan without tribute?"

"As you have undoubtedly noticed, this body I currently inhabit is failing rapidly. It is not my own—it belonged to a foolish, pathetic wizard whose soul I devoured. Now this mortal shell is dying, and without your assistance, my ambitions will perish alongside it."

Katerea rolled her eyes impatiently, folding her slender arms beneath her ample chest as she sneered, "And tell me, little parasite—why exactly should I care about your pitiful problems? Why should I lift even a single finger to help worthless scum like yourself?"

"Because, Katerea Leviathan, you and I share a common enemy. A hated rival who has caused us both great humiliation and suffering."

She raised an eyebrow skeptically, growing slightly curious despite her impatience. "A common enemy? And who, precisely, could you and I possibly both desire to destroy?"

"Harry Sitri," he replied firmly, his voice carrying raw, vicious hatred as he spat the name. "The son of your hated enemy Serafall Leviathan. My greatest desire—above all else—is to kill him, slowly and painfully. To see his death, and the ruin it brings his whore of a mother."

Katerea's eyes widened sharply, a slow, wicked smile spreading across her face at his unexpected words. 

Now this was certainly interesting! 

To hear this mortal utter such open hatred toward the beloved offspring of that wretched Serafall Leviathan was undeniably satisfying, even thrilling. Serafall had thwarted Katerea's attempts to assassinate her younger sister Sona repeatedly. That self-righteous, overly cheerful bitch was infuriatingly competent at protecting those she loved. 

But if, somehow, Serafall's precious son could be destroyed through this mortal's ambition…

Her pulse quickened with cruel excitement at the very thought of Serafall's agonized screams of grief and despair, watching her beloved offspring perish.

Katerea's gaze lingered thoughtfully upon the mortal, finally making her decision. "Very well, little wizard," she said smoothly, her voice silky and darkly seductive. "I have decided to grant your request. And fortunately for you, I know precisely the solution you require right now!"

With a swift, graceful motion of her delicate hand, Katerea summoned forth an Evil Piece from her private dimensional storage—a small, glowing chess piece pulsing with sinister crimson energy. It was not one of her own precious Evil Pieces, of course—she would never degrade her peerage by allowing such inferior filth to join. 

No, this particular piece had belonged to a noble devil she'd slain years ago and had been deliberately saved for occasions exactly like this.

Without bothering to ask for permission, Katerea stepped forward and ruthlessly slammed the glowing crimson chess piece directly into the teenager's chest, piercing the flesh effortlessly with magic-enhanced strength. 

The boy's eyes widened in shocked agony, his scream ringing out into the empty night air as he collapsed onto the forest floor, writhing and convulsing violently. Dark, chaotic energy crackled and surged wildly across his form as the Evil Piece forcibly corrupted the mortal vessel, rapidly transforming him into a stray devil.

Katerea watched coldly, enjoying his pathetic screams of pain, considering briefly whether to stay and savor his transformation further. But just then, her heightened senses suddenly exploded with alarm, picking up a terrifyingly familiar magical aura rapidly approaching from somewhere far too near.

Her blood instantly ran cold with fury—and perhaps a tiny thread of genuine fear—as she recognized precisely whose aura it was, that accursed Serafall Leviathan herself!

"Damn it!" Katerea hissed, her voice filled with seething hatred and frustration. There was no time to linger—no time to risk a direct confrontation with Serafall now, not without sufficient preparation. She shot one final glance down at the writhing, spasming figure on the forest floor, already beginning his metamorphosis into a twisted, uncontrollable abomination.

"Congratulations, wizard," she spat bitterly, her voice barely audible over his screams of agony. "You've got your wish—and your new form. Use it well, and do not disappoint me."

With one last venomous glare, Katerea Leviathan swiftly invoked her teleportation magic, disappearing instantly in a brilliant flash of crimson light back into the relative safety of the Underworld, leaving the newly created stray devil alone in the darkness to finish his horrific transformation in solitude.

– Harry –

I slowly drifted awake, feeling more comfortable and warm than I usually did. Blinking lazily, I realized immediately that I wasn't alone in bed—though that certainly wasn't unusual for me. Still, the softness pressing intimately against each side of my bare torso was distinct enough to make me pause in sleepy surprise.

On my right, I felt a pair of large, impossibly soft breasts firmly pressed against my chest and ribs. Their comforting weight was familiar enough that my body recognized her instantly. 

Serafall, my gorgeous and incredibly affectionate mother. 

On my left side, however, the sensation was subtly different—a pair of smaller, more delicate but incredibly perky breasts pressed firmly against my skin. That gentle curve and shape was new, unexpected—though certainly not unwelcome. 

My heart skipped slightly as I realized exactly who was lying there, completely nude at my side.

On my opposite side, Sona stirred slightly, clearly just beginning to awaken. She shifted a bit closer against me, unintentionally pressing her petite but beautifully shaped breasts more firmly into my bare chest. I could clearly feel her hardened nipples grazing lightly against my skin.

A blush immediately colored Sona's delicate features as her eyes fluttered open. She glanced downward in embarrassment, clearly realizing exactly where she was and how intimately we were pressed together. Yet, despite her visible embarrassment, she made no immediate move to pull away or cover herself.

Serafall slowly awoke beside me as well, stretching her lithe body. She yawned cutely, then smiled sleepily up at me and her younger sister. 

Unlike Sona, she showed absolutely no sign of embarrassment or modesty whatsoever—indeed, she seemed delighted at waking up in such an intimate manner.

"Good morning, my darling Harry-kun," Serafall purred softly, her voice husky from sleep but filled with genuine warmth. She leaned upward, pressing a gentle yet lingering kiss directly upon my lips. Her breasts pressed even tighter against my chest as she did so, making my pulse quicken noticeably. "And good morning to you as well, my cute little So-tan!" She then leaned across me and kissed Sona on the lips next.

Sona flushed deeper at her sister's affectionate greeting. "Good morning, nee-san," she mumbled softly, glancing briefly at me and then quickly averting her eyes, as if uncertain how to behave in this new and intimate situation between us.

"Good morning, you two," I finally spoke gently, giving Sona a reassuring smile to help ease her embarrassment. 

I glanced over at Sona, noticing the faint shadows beneath her beautiful pink eyes. I gently reached out, my fingers grazing along the curve of her cheek, brushing softly against her silky dark hair.

"You were gone all night last night, Sona," I said carefully, studying her expression for any hint of discomfort. She blinked back at me. "Something happened here in the castle while you and Serafall were away."

Sona immediately straightened, shifting against the sheets as her expression grew serious. "Something?" she echoed softly, tilting her head in question. "What exactly happened?"

I hesitated briefly, my eyes darting to Serafall beside me. My mother was reclining lazily against the pillows, a soft and amused smile playing on her lips. Serafall clearly wasn't worried, but I felt a duty to share the troubling news.

"Professor Dumbledore felt it," I began seriously, my voice lowered in concern. "A student here at Hogwarts died last night. We still don't know exactly who or why. My peerage members are working with Dumbledore to find out exactly what happened."

Sona's eyes widened sharply, her delicate mouth falling open slightly. "A student was killed?" she repeated, clearly disturbed by the news. "That's deeply concerning, Harry. And you're certain you don't yet know who or how it occurred?"

I shook my head solemnly. "Not yet. We're working as quickly as possible to uncover the details."

Sona nodded slowly, a thoughtful frown forming across her pretty features. "That's extremely troubling news," she admitted quietly. "Nee-san and I were dealing with something important elsewhere, so we didn't sense anything amiss at Hogwarts."

Beside me, Serafall shifted onto her side with a playful smile, apparently deciding it was time to share their own surprising news. "That's right, Harry-kun!" she declared proudly, her voice filled with excitement. "So-tan and I did something yesterday!"

I blinked curiously at my mother's enthusiastic announcement. "Well, I'm certainly intrigued. What exactly did you two do?"

Serafall didn't hesitate, a bright grin lighting up her face as she declared cheerfully, "We took over a Bank!"

In a swift, energetic motion, Serafall suddenly hopped up onto her knees atop the bed, her playful excitement causing the sheets to slip completely away from her gorgeous, nude body. My breath immediately hitched, my eyes drawn helplessly to the large, perfectly rounded breasts now bouncing enticingly from her sudden movement. I couldn't help openly admiring the sight of her flawless, creamy skin, soft curves, and the tantalizing glimpse of her lovely pink folds nestled neatly between her toned thighs. 

After a second or two of stunned distraction, her words finally registered fully in my mind. They took over a bank?

"Which bank?" I asked incredulously, although deep inside I already suspected I knew the answer.

Sona cleared her throat softly beside me, her cheeks flushed adorably red as she attempted—rather unsuccessfully—to ignore her sister's blatant nudity. I was too. 

"Gringotts," she confirmed calmly, forcing herself to maintain her usual composed expression. "The goblins attacked innocent devils in the Underworld first. Such blatant aggression couldn't go unanswered, Harry. It was decided that we needed to send a clear, decisive message."

I nodded slowly, absorbing the implications of her words. It made perfect sense, actually. "So you took Gringotts away from them," I summarized thoughtfully. "That explains why you were both gone all night."

Sona inclined her head gracefully. "Yes, exactly. It is now officially under our family's control. Specifically, my mother Selene Sitri will personally oversee its management and incorporate it fully as one of her extensive business enterprises."

"Grandmother Selene?" I repeated, surprised but intrigued. A faint smirk crossed my lips. I really should spend more time getting to know that woman. We were family after all.

Serafall grinned widely, clapping her hands together in enthusiastic delight. "It all worked out perfectly, Harry-kun!" she said happily, bouncing again atop the mattress, causing her generous assets to jiggle enticingly once more. "The filthy goblins are finally gone for good! Yay!"

And then, before I could properly prepare myself, Serafall abruptly dropped herself directly into my lap!

I instinctively sucked in a sharp breath, my body stiffening automatically at the dangerously erotic sensation of her soft, warm flesh pressing down suddenly atop me. She had narrowly—oh so narrowly—missed fully impaling herself upon my rigid morning erection, instead landing directly atop it, my thick shaft now pressed firmly against the warm, slick folds of her intimately exposed pussy.

My pulse skyrocketed immediately, my breath catching sharply in my throat. I stared into her eyes, instantly recognizing the mischievous, seductive smirk playing teasingly across her lips. She knew exactly what she'd done, precisely how she was affecting me right now, and she clearly enjoyed every second of it.

"Careful, Harry-kun," Serafall purred playfully, her hips subtly shifting atop me, grinding ever so slightly against my throbbing cock, sending jolts of intense pleasure coursing through my body. 

My eyes darted helplessly toward Sona, whose entire face and neck had turned an even brighter shade of scarlet. She was watching us both with wide, embarrassed eyes, yet still didn't quite look away. Sona was clearly torn between awkward embarrassment and undeniable fascination at our blatantly provocative position.

Serafall smirked wickedly down at me, her blue eyes darkening significantly with desire. I could feel the slick heat of her pussy sliding along my throbbing shaft, teasing me mercilessly with slow, deliberate motions. She moved her hips in a sensual rhythm, rocking back and forth, coating my length in her arousal as her soft folds parted against my rigid cock. 

The sensation was exquisite torture, drawing a low, strained groan from my throat.

"Mmm, Harry-kun," Serafall purred seductively, biting gently at her plump lower lip. Her voice was husky and dripping with anticipation. "It feels so good having you like this. But we shouldn't leave So-tan out of our fun, right?"

My gaze immediately flicked toward Sona, whose cheeks had flushed crimson at Serafall's provocative words. Her chest rose and fell quickly with nervous excitement, pink nipples visibly hardened, betraying how aroused she was despite her visible embarrassment.

"Come here, So-tan," Serafall commanded softly, crooking one slender finger at her younger sister. Her expression held both playfulness and authority—an irresistible blend I knew well.

Sona hesitated only briefly before sitting up obediently and scooting closer. Serafall reached out confidently, slipping her fingers through Sona's silky black hair, gripping gently yet firmly as she guided her younger sister's face toward her own. My heart raced, watching as Serafall closed the distance between them, pressing her full, luscious lips possessively against Sona's delicate mouth.

I watched, enthralled, as their kiss deepened passionately. Their tongues tangled sensually together, exploring each other's mouths openly and without restraint. Both sisters pressed their naked breasts together, soft flesh molding enticingly against each other, nipples brushing teasingly with every slight movement. The erotic sight heightened my desire to nearly unbearable levels, my cock pulsing painfully with need beneath Serafall's continued rhythmic grinding.

Eventually, Serafall reluctantly broke the wet, sloppy kiss, a thin thread of saliva lingering momentarily between their lips. Both sisters breathed raggedly, their faces flushed deeply, clearly sharing my heated excitement. Serafall gave me an inviting smirk, clearly indicating what she intended next.

Just as Serafall raised herself slightly, positioning her entrance precisely over the thick head of my cock and preparing to take me fully inside her waiting pussy for the first time, the door to my room suddenly burst open violently with a loud, unexpected crash.

All three of us snapped our gazes sharply toward the abrupt intrusion.

Standing breathlessly in the open doorway were Lyra and Lyna, my beautiful twin maids and peerage members. Both looked noticeably disheveled, their normally immaculate maid uniforms slightly rumpled from frantic movement, their eyes wide with startled embarrassment upon realizing exactly what they'd just interrupted.

"Master Harry!" Lyra blurted out immediately, her pale cheeks reddening intensely as her eyes flicked briefly down at the explicit sight before her. Beside her, Lyna blushed equally fiercely, bowing her head hastily in apologetic submission. "Lady Serafall—Lady Sona—please forgive us for the unforgivable intrusion!"

"We deeply apologize!" Lyna echoed hastily, clearly mortified at having caught us in such an intimate moment. "But we have urgent information we must share immediately. It simply cannot wait!"

My heart sank slightly, even as my arousal stubbornly refused to subside. Serafall gave an exaggerated sigh of disappointment, clearly frustrated at the sudden interruption. Slowly and reluctantly, she lifted herself off of me, releasing my cock from her soft hand. The abrupt loss of contact felt painfully frustrating after being so achingly close.

"Alright," Serafall said firmly, sitting back with visible reluctance. "Tell us what's happened."

Lyra nodded quickly, stepping further into the room with urgency etched clearly across her pretty face. "Master Harry, we've just completed thoroughly investigating Hogwarts castle and the Forbidden Forest as you and Dumbledore instructed."

Lyna immediately continued, "Unfortunately, we discovered something deeply troubling within the Forbidden Forest itself. There are clear signs of recent, extremely violent activity—a full centaur village appears to have been brutally attacked and completely wiped out."

"Oh, what a tragedy…" Sona said sarcastically. She did not like Centaurs. 

I didn't really either, but I still wanted to know what happened?

"Yes," Lyra confirmed seriously. "The village was utterly devastated—there were no survivors. It seems the attacker was a single stray devil. We both sensed the unmistakable energy traces clearly."

"A stray devil?" Sona asked quietly, her brows furrowing with immediate seriousness. "Do you have any further details regarding its nature or abilities?"

Lyna nodded gravely, visibly troubled by what they'd found. "Yes, Lady Sona. We managed to identify its general form and characteristics by closely analyzing the traces it left behind."

Lyra picked up seamlessly where her sister left off, speaking carefully, "It's some kind of enormous serpent-like creature. Clearly a stray devil—extremely aggressive, dangerous, and powerful. The centaur warriors attempted to defend their village, but they were swiftly overwhelmed and slaughtered without mercy."

Serafall listened closely to the report from Lyra and Lyna, nodding thoughtfully as they finished speaking. Her expression softened slightly as she addressed them. "Thank you for bringing this information to us, girls," she said calmly, even through the lingering haze of lust still clouding her eyes. "Having a stray devil so close to the school certainly isn't ideal, but it's not something urgent enough to demand my immediate attention. I'm confident my darling Harry, or my lovely So-tan—or even Rias-chan—can easily take care of it sometime this week."

Lyra and Lyna exchanged an uncertain glance, still looking somewhat anxious, but they both bowed respectfully at Serafall's dismissal.

"Of course, Lady Leviathan," Lyra said hesitantly, her tone carefully polite yet clearly reluctant. "If that is your wish."

"Yes, Lady Leviathan," Lyna echoed softly.

Serafall turned back to me with a mischievous, excited grin that rapidly reignited the burning hunger within her blue eyes. "Now, I'm honestly getting quite tired of all these interruptions," she declared playfully, shifting once again until she was straddling my lap. Her gorgeous, shapely thighs spread wide, positioning herself directly above my fully rigid cock, her intimate folds hovering mere inches from the aching tip.

I watched Serafall eagerly lower one slender hand between her legs. With two elegant fingers, she slowly and deliberately spread open her delicate pink pussy, already slick and dripping with evidence of her intense arousal. Warm droplets of her essence dripped enticingly down onto the sensitive head of my cock, sending jolts of pure anticipation racing through my entire body.

"I've been waiting for this for far too long, Harry-kun," Serafall purred seductively, biting softly at her plush lower lip. Her heated gaze locked directly with mine, a desperate expression I had rarely seen from my playful and usually carefree mother. Slowly and deliberately, she began lowering herself downward.

But before I could experience the exquisite sensation of finally sliding inside her, both Lyra and Lyna suddenly blurted out again, their voices urgent and insistent.

"Wait, Lady Leviathan! That wasn't all!" Lyra's voice was tense with genuine alarm, her cheeks flushed deeply at once again interrupting such an intimate moment between her master and the Satan Leviathan.

Serafall froze immediately, irritation flickering across her flushed face. She turned her head sharply toward the two maids.

"What is it now?" she asked impatiently, the raw frustration audible in her voice.

Lyna swallowed nervously, clearly regretting their timing but bravely pushing forward anyway. "We... we also found a summoning circle deep within the Forbidden Forest. Specifically, a Leviathan Clan summoning circle."

Serafall's irritated expression vanished instantly, replaced by stark shock and then rapidly transforming into an expression of cold, deadly rage. Her previously relaxed posture went immediately rigid, her fingers trembling slightly where they still rested against her own folds.

"A Leviathan Clan summoning circle?" Serafall hissed quietly, every syllable laced with fury and hatred. "Are you absolutely certain?"

"Yes, Lady Leviathan," Lyra confirmed anxiously, her voice quiet but resolute. "We're nearly certain that Katerea Leviathan herself appeared last night, close to Hogwarts, inside the forest."

"That fucking bitch," Serafall growled darkly under her breath. Her voice had dropped dangerously low, an icy tone I'd rarely heard from her, sending a chill down my spine. "She dares show herself here again, near my family!?"

Beside us, Sona let out a sharp, surprised gasp, clearly understanding the weight of Katerea Leviathan's name. "Katerea Leviathan?" Sona whispered, shock and dread mingling in her voice. 

Serafall ignored her sister's soft question, lifting herself swiftly and decisively from my lap. All signs of her earlier lust and playful desire had vanished entirely, replaced instead by a cold, furious determination that radiated powerfully from every inch of her body. She stood up abruptly beside the bed, hands clenched into tight fists at her sides, eyes blazing furiously.

"I'm going to fucking kill her," Serafall stated flatly, her voice utterly devoid of any humor or teasing warmth. She turned to look at Sona and me, her beautiful features twisted slightly in genuine regret and disappointment. "I'm so sorry, my darling Harry, my sweet So-tan. I truly wanted to enjoy this moment with you both, but I cannot delay. I must speak with my Queen Behemoth immediately. This is an emergency."

"Of course, Mother," I replied quickly, sitting upright and regarding her seriously. "Go and do whatever you must."

"Nee-san, be careful," Sona said gently, worry evident in her voice as she watched her elder sister carefully.

Serafall nodded briefly, her gaze softening momentarily as she looked lovingly at the two of us. "Next time we WON'T be interrupted!" With that final declaration, the familiar Sitri teleportation sigil flared briefly to life beneath her feet, glowing brilliantly blue before whisking Serafall instantly from the room.

Silence fell heavily across the room as we stared at the empty spot Serafall had occupied mere seconds earlier. I suddenly became acutely aware of my current state—naked and incredibly aroused—lying awkwardly on the bed beside an equally naked and visibly flustered Sona, while Lyra and Lyna shuffled uncomfortably near the doorway.

The tension was palpable, embarrassment radiating from all sides. Lyra cleared her throat quietly, averting her gaze respectfully toward the floor.

"Master Harry, Lady Sona," she began hesitantly, cheeks still bright red, "please forgive us for interrupting such an important moment. We truly had no choice but to—"

"It's alright, Lyra," I quickly reassured her, managing a small, understanding smile despite my lingering frustration. "You two did exactly the right thing. Katerea Leviathan appearing so close to Hogwarts is a serious matter, and you were absolutely correct to report it immediately."

"Thank you, Master," Lyra replied softly, relief visible in her expression.

"We'll give you both some privacy now," Lyna said hastily, grasping her sister's hand and swiftly dragging her toward the door. "If you need anything, please summon us again. We'll be ready."

And with a final, respectful bow, my maids quickly exited the room, shutting the door carefully behind them.

Sona and I exchanged an awkward glance, the heat still present in both our faces, though the mood had undeniably shifted. She quickly reached for the sheets, pulling them hastily over herself with an embarrassed cough, her eyes deliberately avoiding my painfully obvious erection still throbbing insistently between us.

"So..." Sona finally said quietly, struggling for something appropriate to say after such an uncomfortable interruption. "That happened… Well, it ALMOST happened…"

I couldn't help but chuckle at Sona's words, nodding in agreement as I replayed the events of moments ago in my mind. She was right—that had almost happened. 

"Almost," I echoed softly, glancing at Sona with a teasing smirk, my voice full of amusement. "Speaking of which, how exactly did the two of you end up in my bed last night? I distinctly remember going to bed alone."

Sona's delicate cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of crimson. She avoided my gaze briefly, biting her lower lip in embarrassment before finally responding, "Well… Nee-san and I got back very late after dinner. I'd planned to return straight to my room in Ravenclaw, of course, but she convinced me to just come and sleep here with you instead. She insisted you wouldn't mind, and you were already sound asleep anyway, so I didn't really think you'd argue."

I laughed warmly at that. "You're right about one thing, Sona, I definitely wouldn't have argued with either of you joining me in bed." Pausing for a moment, I tilted my head with playful curiosity, eyeing her exposed, slender shoulders beneath the covers. "But there's still one question remaining. If you were just planning on sleeping… how exactly did you end up completely naked in my bed?"

Her blush intensified, turning a charming shade of scarlet as she hastily pulled the sheet up a bit higher, though not quite enough to conceal the enticing swell of her breasts. "I went to sleep wearing my pajamas, Harry," she muttered defensively, narrowing her pink eyes into an adorable pout. "It seems Nee-san must have used her magic to strip me bare after I'd already fallen asleep. She's… irritatingly mischievous like that."

I chuckled again at the mental image of Serafall grinning gleefully as she magically removed her sister's clothes, likely with every intention of creating exactly this kind of scenario when we awoke. But my amusement softened quickly into something warmer as my gaze lingered sincerely upon Sona's face, taking in every delicate curve of her flushed, beautiful features.

"Well," I said gently, reaching out with my fingertips to softly brush a lock of silky, dark hair from her warm cheek, "whatever the circumstances that brought you here, I'm certainly not complaining. You're incredibly beautiful, Sona."

Her eyes widened slightly, clearly caught off guard by my earnest compliment. Her blush softened just a fraction, transitioning from embarrassment to shy delight as she held my gaze steadily for a moment. "You're not the only one who feels that way, Harry," she whispered softly, her voice barely audible yet undeniably sincere. She hesitated briefly before continuing. "You're very handsome as well. And I'm… very attracted to you. To your body, and…" She trailed off shyly, unable or perhaps unwilling to finish that thought aloud.

A charged silence settled briefly between us. I saw her gaze flicker downward, drawn involuntarily toward the unmistakable outline of my erection beneath the thin sheets. 

She stared openly. Finally, she met my eyes again with visible embarrassment, gathering her courage before she softly asked, "Would you… like me to take care of that for you, Harry?"

My cock twitching eagerly beneath the sheets at the suggestion. But I forced myself to pause, searching her face carefully for any sign of hesitation or uncertainty. "Are you sure, Sona?" I asked gently, ensuring she felt no pressure to go further than she was comfortable.

She gave me a small, decisive nod. "Yes, Harry. I'm sure. Besides," she continued, her tone shifting slightly into playful accusation as she tentatively reached her hand beneath the covers, "it's technically Nee-san's and my fault you're waking up like this anyway. It's only fair that I take responsibility."

I briefly considered correcting her adorable misconception—after all, as a healthy young man, I woke up with an erection almost every morning, regardless of beautiful naked women pressed against me—but I quickly decided there was absolutely no need to spoil her charmingly earnest reasoning. Not when her soft, delicate hand was already sliding cautiously beneath the sheets.

A sharp intake of breath escaped my lips as her fingers wrapped slowly, tenderly, around my thick, aching shaft. 

Her eyes widened slightly in genuine surprise at feeling just how thick and rigid I was beneath her small hand. "Harry…" Sona whispered softly, a mixture of awe and shy embarrassment coloring her voice. Her fingers tightened cautiously around my cock, applying just enough pressure to send another intense shiver of pleasure cascading down my spine. "You're… bigger than I expected."

I smiled warmly, encouragingly at her as I gently stroked the backs of my fingers along her cheek, reassuring her softly, "Take your time, Sona. There's no rush."

She nodded gratefully as she tentatively began moving her hand slowly up and down along my length. 

I sighed quietly in satisfaction. This was a fine way to start the morning as well. And I had a long couple of days ahead of me as well: Going to our classes. Investigating that stray devil. Spending more time with my peerage and hopefully Lilja as well. Meeting Fleurs and Gabrielle's mother. And of course preparing for the next event in the tournament. Not to mention, he was sure his family would endure a lot of fallout from "taking over" the only bank in the magical version of the country.

– Ron –

Ron woke slowly, his eyes blinking open as sunlight filtered softly through the familiar scarlet curtains of his Hogwarts dormitory bed. It was a strange sensation—waking up without the lingering haze of dark and confusing thoughts. For the first time in years, his mind was completely clear and focused. 

That had driven him to madness and hatred was finally gone for good.

"Bloody hell," Ron murmured softly to himself, stretching his long limbs comfortably beneath the soft warmth of the covers. "That's more like it. Fucking rat-faced bastard can't mess with my head anymore."

He couldn't help the small, satisfied smile that stretched lazily across his freckled face. Ron was finally free to be himself again.

Ron reached beneath his pillow to grab his wand, quickly tapping the tip and muttering, "Tempus." The glowing numbers hovered briefly in the air above him. He scowled immediately when he realized the time.

"Shit," he groaned, frustrated, sitting up quickly and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Missed breakfast completely. Great bloody way to start my first normal day back."

"Relax, mate," came a cheerful voice from across the room. Ron looked up sharply, spotting Dean and Seamus, both already fully dressed in their school uniforms, grinning at him from near the doorway. They'd obviously been waiting patiently for him to wake up.

"Dean? Seamus?" Ron asked, slightly surprised. "What are you two still doing here?"

Dean chuckled, shrugging good-naturedly. "We decided to let you sleep in a bit, mate. After everything you've been through lately, you looked like you really needed some extra rest."

"Yeah," Seamus agreed sincerely. "You're finally back, Weasley. None of us wanted to disturb you. Especially after everything you've had to put up with. We're just glad you're alright now."

Ron felt a sudden wave of genuine warmth toward his friends, a lump forming unexpectedly in his throat. "You two…" he started awkwardly, his ears turning faintly pink, "thanks, seriously. That's…really thoughtful of you."

Dean just waved off Ron's embarrassment with a casual grin. "Don't mention it. Besides, we figured you'd be hungry as hell when you finally woke up. You're always hungry!"

"Got that right," Ron admitted sheepishly, rubbing a hand absently over his growling stomach.

"See?" Dean said triumphantly, elbowing Seamus playfully. "Told you he'd appreciate it."

Dean held out a tall cup toward Ron. "We grabbed you a smoothie."

"Thanks, Dean. You're a bloody lifesaver, mate." He raised the cup slightly in a casual toast to his two friends, then pressed the rim of the cup to his lips. "Merlin, that's delicious," Ron said enthusiastically! He was glad he had such good blokes as friends. 

XXX

A/N: Welp, Diary Tom is now a stray devil and technically that means there's two Voldemorts. Also, anyone want a totally not suspicious smoothie...?