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Repost: That's not Wizard Magic! Ch 43
🕑 Added 2026-01-21 06:44:12 +0000 UTCSorry the bots took down the last one.
Chapter 43:
– Serafall –
Serafall couldn't stop the smile that kept threatening to split her face in half.
She sat in one of the high-backed chairs across from her mother's desk in Selene Sitri's private office, deep within the administrative wing of Sitri Manor. The room was all dark wood and silver trim, serious and elegant in a way that always made Serafall want to mess something up just to watch her mother's eye twitch.
But today—today she was too blissed out to cause her usual brand of chaos.
Yesterday had been perfect.
Well, okay, not the part where a legion of Fallen Angels had tried to murder her son and destroy Hogwarts. That part had been decidedly un-perfect and had resulted in way too much paperwork and six dead students and a whole political nightmare she was going to have to navigate. But after? After, when she'd finally—finally—gotten Harry-kun and So-tan alone in her bedroom with no interruptions and no emergencies and absolutely nothing to stop her from celebrating the way she'd been fantasizing about for months?
That had been heaven! No, better than heaven. Heaven was boring and full of self-righteous angels who didn't know how to have fun. Last night had been pure demonic indulgence, and Serafall had savored every single second.
She could still feel the pleasant ache between her legs—a reminder of Harry-kun's size and stamina and the way he'd filled her so perfectly. Could still taste him on her tongue if she thought about it hard enough. Could still see the exact moment Sona's face had gone from nervous to overwhelmed to absolutely shattered with pleasure as she'd lost her virginity on their nephew's cock.
Serafall had watched. Had helped. Had held So-tan's hand and whispered encouragement and wiped away the single tear that had slipped down her sister's cheek—not from pain, but from the sheer emotional weight of finally letting go of all that control.
It had been beautiful.
She'd wanted to stay in bed with them all day. Wanted to wake up sandwiched between her two favorite people in all the realms, maybe go for round ten (or was it round twelve? She'd lost count), and then spend the afternoon teaching them fun new positions. She'd even toyed with the idea of keeping Harry-kun's cum inside her for the whole day—just walking around with that warm, wet reminder of what they'd done.
But that wouldn't have been appropriate for a meeting with the head of House Sitri.
So she'd reluctantly dragged herself out of the bed—carefully, so as not to wake either of them—and stumbled into the shower. She'd stood under the hot spray for a good twenty minutes, washing away the evidence of the night's activities even as her body protested losing Harry-kun's scent. Then she'd dressed in her usual Levia-tan costume, because comfort was important.
Now here she sat, post-orgasmic glow still radiating off her in waves, across from her mother.
Selene Sitri’s pink eyes were narrowed in a way that Serafall recognized from approximately a couple hundred years of getting into trouble.
Mama knew. Of course she knew. Selene Sitri hadn't maintained her position as one of the Underworld's most formidable matriarchs by being oblivious. She could probably read the satisfaction rolling off Serafall like a physical aura.
"You look pleased with yourself," Selene said, her tone carefully neutral in that way that meant she was absolutely not neutral about anything.
Serafall's grin widened. "I had a very good night."
"I'm sure you did." Selene's fingers drummed once against her desk—a rare tell of agitation. "Serafall, we need to discuss—"
"I know, I know—the Fallen Angel attack and the political ramifications and how we're going to respond without starting a war with the Grigori." Serafall waved a hand dismissively, even though she'd already spent half the teleportation trip thinking through strategy. "But can I just enjoy being happy for like five more minutes? Please?"
Her mother's expression softened, just slightly. "You slept with him."
It wasn't a question.
"Them," Serafall corrected cheerfully. "I slept with both of them. Together. At the same time. And it was amazing, Mama. So-tan finally let herself just feel instead of overthink, and Harry-kun was so sweet and attentive, and I got to watch my two favorite people in the entire world fall apart for each other, and—"
"Serafall." Selene's voice cut through the rambling, firm but not unkind. "I'm going to need you to be very careful here."
The smile faltered. "What do you mean?"
Selene leaned forward, clasping her hands on the desk. "I mean that you are an extremely powerful, extremely old devil who has just initiated a sexual relationship with two much younger devils—one of whom is your son, the other your sister. Both of whom are the heirs to House Sitri's future." Her pink eyes held Serafall's steadily. "The power dynamic is... complicated."
"I didn't push them into anything they didn't want," Serafall said, a bit of defensiveness creeping into her voice. "So-tan could have said no. Harry-kun could have said no. They're both adults—"
"Are they?" Selene's eyebrow arched. "By devil standards, perhaps. By the standards of their actual lived experience? Harry is nineteen, Serafall. Sona is barely older. You are over a thousand years old."
Serafall slouched in her chair, the post-sex glow dimming under her mother's scrutiny. "I love them," she said quietly. "Both of them. I would never hurt them or manipulate them or—"
"I know you wouldn't. Not intentionally." Selene's expression gentled. "But intention isn't always enough. I'm asking you to be careful and keep them comfortable and happy." She paused, then added with a hint of exasperation, "And perhaps to exercise a modicum of restraint instead of dragging them both to bed mere hours after a battle that nearly killed all of you!"
"Hey, I waited until we made sure everyone was safe and—" Serafall cut herself off at another glare from her mama. "Okay, point taken. I'll... talk to them and say sorry for dragging them off like that in front of their peerages…”
"Good." Selene's stern mask cracked into something that might have been amusement. "Though knowing your sister, she's probably going to be mortified the moment her brain starts working again and she realizes what she did."
"Oh, absolutely," Serafall agreed, perking back up. "I give it three hours before she sends me a very formal letter demanding we 'discuss the boundaries of our relationship going forward' or something equally So-tan."
"And Harry?"
Serafall's smile turned soft, but her eyes glinted with something fierce. "He's mine, Mama. Mine and So-tan's and all those other girls who've decided he's worth keeping. And I'm going to protect him from anyone who tries to take that away!"
Selene nodded, satisfied. Then her expression shifted, and suddenly she was all business—the face of the woman who had negotiated with Maou and conquered rival houses and built an economic empire. "Now that we've addressed your... extracurricular activities, we have actual problems to solve."
Serafall straightened in her chair, forcing herself to shift mental gears. "The Fallen Angels."
"The Fallen Angels," Selene confirmed. "Specifically, the fact that they attacked Hogwarts in coordination with Voldemort, declared themselves allies of a known enemy of House Sitri, and attempted to murder both you and Harry in front of thousands of witnesses."
"Don't forget they killed six students and murdered Viktor Krum while he was helpless in the medical tent," Serafall added, her voice going cold. "Dumbledore has cancelled the rest of the tournament, and closed the school for a month to rebuild the wards." The only reason the tournament could be cancelled at all was because all the remaining champions were devils, the Goblet of Fire was not powerful enough to try and take their magic from them. “That will work for the wizarding world, but how is OUR pantheon going to react to this attack on our faction and house?”
"We can't simply brush this under the rug as an isolated incident." Selene pulled out a folder—actual physical paper, because some conversations were too important to trust to magic—and slid it across the desk. “And we need to make sure all the allies and new assets our family has acquired in the wizarding world are similarly protected as well…”
"What should we do first?" Serafall asked.
– Harry –
I spotted them the moment they emerged from the arrivals gate at Narita International Airport.
Jasmine McKinnon came through first, her curly brown hair slightly frazzled from the long flight, her Gryffindor scarf still wrapped around her neck despite the fact that it was way too warm for that in Tokyo's humid autumn air. Her eyes scanned the crowd frantically until they locked onto me, and her entire face lit up.
"Harry!" She didn't just call my name—she shouted it, her voice carrying across the entire terminal in a way that made several nearby Japanese travelers turn and stare. I couldn't help but grin as she practically sprinted toward me, her carry-on bag bouncing against her hip. "Hi, Harry! That flight was so long!" She skidded to a stop in front of me, breathless and flushed and radiating excited energy. "And I've never been out of the country before—I mean, except for that one time Mum took me to France when I was like seven, but that doesn't count because I barely remember it, and this is Japan, Harry, actual Japan, and I'm so excited I could—"
"Breathe, Jasmine," I said, amused. "You're going to pass out."
She sucked in a dramatic gulp of air, then launched herself at me in a hug that nearly knocked me back a step. I caught her easily, wrapping my arms around her waist as she squeezed me tight enough that I felt her modest chest press against mine through our clothes.
"I missed you," she murmured into my shoulder, quiet enough that only I could hear.
Something warm unfurled in my chest. "I missed you too."
She pulled back, her cheeks pink, and I noticed her eyes flicking down to my lips for just a heartbeat before she caught herself and looked away. Right. Jasmine had made it pretty clear she was interested in me, but we'd never actually done anything about it beyond some hand-holding and one kiss on the cheek.
Mostly because every time we got close to having a moment alone, something exploded or someone tried to kill me.
Standard Hogwarts experience, really.
"Hello once again, Harry Sitri." The voice was warm, cultured, and unmistakably amused. I looked past Jasmine to find Marlene McKinnon approaching us with the kind of easy confidence that came from being absolutely certain of the effect she had on people.
And what an effect it was.
Marlene McKinnon looked like she'd stepped out of a high-end fashion magazine. Tall—easily five-foot-nine in her heeled boots—with long blonde hair that fell in perfect waves past her shoulders, sharp blue eyes that were currently giving me a very thorough once-over, and the kind of body that made teenage boys walk into lampposts. Her tight jeans hugged curves that would make a succubus jealous, and the low-cut blouse she wore left absolutely nothing to the imagination regarding the size of her breasts.
I was a nineteen-year-old half-devil with minimal impulse control. Of course I stared.
Behind her, I noticed at least three Japanese businessmen who had stopped mid-stride to watch her walk past, their eyes glued to the sway of her hips. One of them got smacked in the arm by what I assumed was his wife, who hissed something sharp in Japanese that I didn't need to translate to understand.
Marlene seemed completely oblivious to—or more likely, completely accustomed to—the attention.
"Madame McKinnon," I greeted, offering my hand. "It's good to meet you again. You look just as amazing as the last time…" I added with a smirk. The last time I’d really talked to her she’d been naked in the prefect baths of course.
"Oh, call me Marlene, please." She took my hand, her grip firm and her smile sharp. "And the pleasure is mine…”
I released her hand before my brain could suggest anything stupid in public. "Welcome to Tokyo, Japan." I gestured broadly at the bustling airport around us, then back toward the exit. "We'll be taking a limo to Kuoh Town—it's about an hour's drive from here. Kuoh is a territory my family and the Gremory family are in charge of, at least for the next few months until someone else takes over the contracts…" I deliberately didn't elaborate on what "contracts" meant in public. The fewer muggles who overheard conversations about devil politics, the better.
Jasmine was practically vibrating with curiosity. "Contracts? What kind of—"
"We'll talk in the car," I cut her off gently, glancing around at the crowd. "Too many ears here."
She nodded, clearly bursting with questions but managing to contain herself.
Marlene just smiled knowingly. "Lead the way, then."
The limo was waiting exactly where I'd told the driver to park. The driver, a polite middle-aged devil in a crisp suit, bowed slightly as we approached and opened the door without a word.
"No luggage?" I asked as Jasmine and Marlene climbed in.
"Shrunk it," Jasmine said cheerfully, patting her jacket pocket. "Mum taught me the charm last week. It's brilliant—I can fit my entire trunk in here!"
"We’re not muggles after all. And those international baggage fees are frankly absurd," Marlene added, settling into the plush leather seat across from us. She crossed her legs, and smirked, noticing my eyes drifting lower.
I slid in beside Jasmine, who immediately scooted closer until our thighs were pressed together. The contact was warm and deliberate, and when I glanced at her, she was studiously looking out the window as if she hadn't just invaded my personal space.
Cute.
The driver closed the door, and a moment later the limo pulled smoothly into Tokyo traffic.
For a few moments, none of us spoke. Jasmine was glued to the window, eyes wide as she took in the organized chaos of Tokyo's streets—the neon signs in kanji, the crowds of pedestrians, the organized flow of traffic that somehow never resulted in gridlock despite the sheer volume of cars.
"It's so different," she breathed. "I mean, I knew it would be, but seeing it in person is—wow."
"Wait until you see Kuoh Town itself," I told her. "It's a bit quieter than Tokyo proper, but it's got its own charm. It should be a peaceful place for us to hide away for the next couple weeks while everything in England gets handled.”
– Sona –
Sona sat on the leather couch in the Occult Research Club building, her back straight despite the plush cushions, her eyes fixed on the chessboard balanced on the low table between herself and Rias Gremory. The familiar weight of a chess piece—her knight—rested between her fingers as she contemplated her next move with the kind of careful deliberation she applied to everything in her life.
Well. Almost everything.
The clubhouse itself was exactly as they'd left it over a month ago when they'd departed for Hogwarts. Rias's territory, her private sanctuary within Kuoh Academy's grounds. It was a Western-style building that looked like it belonged in some European countryside rather than a Japanese high school campus. Rich mahogany furniture, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves stuffed with occult texts and romance novels, thick curtains that blocked out the afternoon sun, and that perpetual smell of old books and Rias's favorite jasmine tea.
It felt surreal being back here.
"It's weird, isn't it?" Rias murmured, her turquoise eyes flicking up from the board to meet Sona's gaze. She was lounging in her seat with the kind of casual elegance that came naturally to Gremory devils, her crimson hair spilling over one shoulder. "Being back here. Almost like we never left in the first place."
Sona made a noncommittal sound of agreement, her focus still on the board even as her mind wandered. Rias was right—it was weird. The building held the same magic, the same atmosphere, the same sense of comfortable familiarity.
But everything had changed. She had changed.
"I can admit," Sona said carefully, moving her knight to threaten Rias's bishop, "that no longer running the entire student council and simply being a normal student at Hogwarts is much more preferable." She allowed herself a small smile. "Less paperwork. More time for actual magic theory. No Saji stalking me in the hallways." She muttered that last part…
Rias snorted, a decidedly un-ladylike sound. "I'm surprised you haven't been climbing the walls without something to micromanage."
"Hogwarts provides plenty of intellectual and magical stimulation," Sona replied primly. Then, softer, "And I'm looking forward to it reopening as soon as possible."
The school was still closed—would be for at least another few weeks while Dumbledore and her family completely overhauled the defensive wards. The Fallen Angel attack had exposed just how vulnerable Hogwarts had been to coordinated supernatural assault, and no one was taking any chances with a second attempt.
Which was why they were all here in Kuoh instead of scattered across the Underworld or stuck in Britain. Technically, this territory still belonged to the Gremory and Sitri families for the next two months under their contract with the Shinto pantheon.
It was as good a place as any for a vacation, and more importantly, it was a safe location where they could invite their human friends without the complications of bringing them into the Underworld proper.
Harry was currently at Narita International Airport picking up Jasmine McKinnon and her mother Marlene. Luna's father Xenophilius Lovegood had arrived yesterday and was staying at a hotel in town, researching some kind of magical creature he was convinced lived in the nearby mountains. Hopefully he stayed away from the suicide forest.
And Sona was here, playing chess with her best friend, trying very hard not to think about what had happened three nights ago in her sister's bedroom.
She was failing spectacularly at that last part.
"Your move," Rias prompted, her tone deceptively innocent.
Sona blinked, refocusing on the board. She'd been staring at the same position for nearly two minutes without actually seeing it. Unacceptable. She prided herself on her strategic mind, her ability to think twelve moves ahead, her—
"So," Rias said, her voice dropping into that particular register that meant trouble, "what was your favorite position?"
Sona's hand froze halfway to her rook. "Excuse me?" Her voice came out higher than intended, and she mentally cursed herself for the tell.
Rias's smile widened, sharp and knowing. "Sex position. With Harry." She said it as casually as if she were asking about the weather, but her eyes gleamed with mischief. "I'm just curious, you know. I imagine I'll be a missionary kind of girl—it always seemed romantic in ero-manga. Lots of body contact, Face-to-face, lots of eye contact, but I suppose I'll find out when my turn comes next."
Heat flooded Sona's face so fast she felt dizzy with it. "That is none of your business, Rias."
"Oh, come on." Rias leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand. "We're friends. We're going to be sister wives alongside your actual sister I figure. We tell each other everything. Hey, do you remember when Akeno and I decided we wanted to learn how to kiss properly and I told you all about it afterwards—"
"I did not ask for those details," Sona said stiffly, her fingers tightening around her queen piece as she moved it—poorly, she realized a second too late, leaving it exposed to Rias's knight.
"And yet you got them anyway." Rias captured the queen with a satisfied click of wood against wood. "So? Favorite position? Or do I need to ask Serafall? Because I absolutely will."
"You wouldn't dare."
"Try me."
They stared at each other across the chessboard, locked in a silent battle of wills that had nothing to do with chess pieces and everything to do with stubborn pride.
Sona broke first. "From behind," she muttered, so quietly she barely heard herself.
Rias's eyebrows shot up. "What was that? I didn't quite catch—"
"From behind!" Sona snapped, her face burning hot enough that she was certain she'd set something on fire. "I... preferred it from behind. There. Are you satisfied?"
The memory hit her before she could stop it—vivid and overwhelming and so recent it might as well have been happening right now.
Harry behind her, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises she'd healed hours later. The weight of him pressing her down into the silk sheets, the angle driving him so deep inside her she'd thought she might break apart. And Serafall in front of her, spread out like a feast, guiding Sona's face between her thighs with gentle but insistent fingers in her hair. The taste of her sister's pussy on her tongue. The stretch and burn and overwhelming fullness of Harry's cock pounding into her. The way she'd moaned into Serafall's cunt, the vibrations making her sister cry out. The moment she'd looked up and locked eyes with Nee-sama—seen the love and pride and possessive hunger in that gaze—and came so hard she'd screamed!
"...Sona? Sona, are you alright?"
She snapped back to the present, blinking rapidly. Rias was staring at her with open concern now, the teasing edge gone from her expression.
"I'm fine," Sona said automatically, her voice strangled.
"You zoned out for like thirty seconds. And you're—" Rias gestured vaguely at the chessboard. "—you just moved your king directly into check. You never do that."
Sona looked down at the board and felt her stomach drop. She had. She'd moved her king right into the path of Rias's bishop without even seeing it.
"Checkmate," Rias said quietly, almost apologetically.
Sona stared at the board for a long moment, at the evidence of just how thoroughly her carefully controlled mind had betrayed her, and then she sighed, long and defeated.
"Checkmate," she agreed, tipping her king over in surrender.
Rias leaned back in her seat, studying Sona with those unnervingly perceptive turquoise eyes. "It was really good, wasn't it? The sex."
"Rias—"
"I'm not teasing anymore." Rias's voice was gentle now, lacking its earlier edge. "I'm just... I'm happy for you, Sona. You've been wound so tight for so long. It's nice seeing you actually relax for once."
Sona opened her mouth to protest, she was perfectly capable of relaxing, thank you very much, she relaxed all the time, but the words died in her throat.
Because Rias was right.
The old Sona—the Sona from a month ago, before Hogwarts, before Harry, before everything—wouldn't have lost a chess match because she got distracted by sexual memories. That Sona had been in perfect control at all times. Cool, composed, unshakeable.
But that Sona had also been lonely. Isolated. So determined to prove herself as Sitri heir that she'd forgotten how to just... be.
"It was good," Sona admitted quietly, surprising herself. "Really good. Better than I..." She trailed off, not quite able to finish the sentence.
"Better than you imagined?" Rias supplied, her smile soft now, without any mockery.
"Yes."
Rias looked happy for her. “Now you are making me jealous for my turn!”
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the chess game forgotten between them. Outside, Sona could hear the distant sounds of Kuoh Academy's after-school clubs, the softball team practicing, someone poorly playing a trumpet in the music room, the rhythmic thwack of the kendo club's bamboo swords.
It was normal. Peaceful even.
The door to the clubhouse opened with a soft creak.
Sona turned, straightening instinctively as Akeno and Tsubaki entered together. Rias's Queen and her own, returning from their patrol of the town's outskirts.
"Welcome back," Rias called out to them. "How did it go?"
Akeno smiled, that perpetually serene expression that hid so much beneath the surface. "Congratulations on your victory, Rias," she said first, glancing at the tipped-over king on the chessboard. "I trust it was hard-fought?"
"Sona was distracted by our sex talk," Rias replied with a smirk that made Sona want to strangle her.
"Ufufu… I can't imagine why," Akeno murmured, her violet eyes gleaming with barely suppressed amusement as she looked at Sona.
Sona refused to rise to the bait. "Your report?"
Tsubaki stepped forward, her expression more serious than Akeno's. "The town fared well in our absence," she said, her voice calm and professional in that way Sona had always appreciated. "The local wards are holding. No major disturbances. The contracts we established before leaving for Hogwarts are still being honored by the remaining low-class devils that our families stationed here in our absence."
"However," Akeno added, settling gracefully into one of the armchairs, "we did sense some tainted demonic power near the warehouse district on the eastern edge of town." Her smile turned sharp. "A new stray devil has moved in within the last few days. Freshly turned, from the feel of it. Not particularly powerful, but definitely unstable."
Sona frowned. "How fresh?"
"Three days, maybe four," Tsubaki said. "The corruption is still settling into their aura. Whoever turned them likely abandoned them almost immediately."
A stray devil. Not ideal, but not exactly unexpected either. Without active territory management, strays tended to drift toward power vacuums like moths to flame. Kuoh, with its two devil heiresses absent for over a month, would look like easy hunting grounds.
"We'll need to deal with it," Sona said, her strategic mind already working through options. "But it's not urgent. A single low-class stray isn't going to cause significant damage before we can mobilize."
"I agree," Rias said, though her expression had gone thoughtful. "We should probably handle it within the next few days, though. The last thing we need is Jasmine McKinnon stumbling into a stray devil's feeding ground. She's probably still traumatized from the stray-devil Voldemort copy…"
Sona nodded. "Tomorrow evening, then. After Harry gets everyone settled." She glanced at Tsubaki. "Can you and Akeno keep monitoring the warehouse district? I want to know if the stray moves or if its corruption intensifies."
"Of course." Tsubaki inclined her head, ever reliable.
Akeno stretched languidly, the movement drawing attention to her curves in a way that seemed entirely deliberate. "Well, if that's settled, I think I'll go take a bath. Patrol was exhausting." She paused, then added with faux innocence, "Unless anyone wants to join me? I promise I'll behave. Mostly."
"Akeno," Rias said with long-suffering exasperation.
"Just offering." Akeno rose from her seat with fluid grace. "Sona? Tsubaki? No?"
"I'm fine, thank you," Sona said dryly.
Tsubaki just shook her head, fighting back a smile.
"Your loss." Akeno swept toward the door, then paused with her hand on the frame. "Oh, and Sona? If you need any advice on... bedroom techniques... I'm always available." She was gone before Sona could formulate a response, the door clicking shut behind her.
Rias laughed and even Tsubaki allowed herself a quiet chuckle.
"I hate both of you," Sona muttered, but there was no real heat in it.
"No you don't," Rias said cheerfully. She started resetting the chess pieces, clearly angling for another match.
– Harry –
The limo pulled up to the mansion, and I heard Jasmine's sharp intake of breath beside me.
"Holy shit," she whispered, her nose practically pressed against the window. "Harry, is that—is that where we're staying?"
I followed her gaze and felt a familiar mixture of pride and mild embarrassment wash over me. The mansion—and yeah, it was definitely a mansion, not a house—sprawled across what had to be an entire city block. Three stories of pristine white stone and dark wood, with huge floor-to-ceiling windows that reflected the afternoon sun, a circular driveway with an actual fountain in the center (because of course there was a fountain), and manicured gardens that looked like they required a full-time staff of twelve just to maintain.
Mum had built this place in less than twenty-four hours.
I still didn't fully understand how she'd managed it—some combination of hiring devils that specialized in construction magic, throwing obscene amounts of money at the problem, and probably terrifying the local contractors into working through the night. But she'd been absolutely adamant that her "precious Harry-kun" wasn't going to stay in some cramped apartment or normal house while visiting Japan.
"Yeah," I said, trying for casual and probably missing by a mile. "That's us."
"That's—" Jasmine turned to stare at me behind her glasses. "All ours for the whole vacation?"
"My mother doesn't really do things halfway," I admitted.
Marlene leaned forward from her seat across from us, peering out at the mansion with an expression of amused appreciation. Unlike her daughter's wide-eyed shock, she looked more... impressed in a knowing way, like she'd expected something ridiculous and was pleased to have her expectations met. "Well," she said, her lips curving into a smile that made my pulse kick up a notch, "I can't say I'm complaining. After that flight, I could use a proper relaxing soak. Preferably one with jets." Her blue eyes found mine, sparkling with mischief. "I don't suppose this place has a jacuzzi?"
"Three of them," I said without thinking. "One for each pool."
Jasmine's head whipped back around. "Three pools?!"
"Indoor, outdoor, and rooftop," I confirmed, mentally running through the floor plan Mum had shown me via magical projection yesterday. "Plus a private theater, a full gym, a library—though honestly I have no idea who's going to use that when we're only here for a few weeks—and apparently the kitchen is 'restaurant quality,' whatever that means."
The limo came to a smooth stop in the circular driveway, right beside the fountain. Up close, I could see it was carved from pale marble and featured some kind of dragon or serpent wrapped around a column of water that sparkled in the sunlight.
Subtle devil imagery. Very Mum.
The driver opened our door, and I stepped out first, then offered my hand to Jasmine. She took it automatically, still staring up at the mansion like it might disappear if she blinked.
"This is mental," she breathed. "Completely mental."
Marlene slid out next, ignoring my offered hand in favor of smoothing down her blouse and adjusting her hair with practiced ease. "I've stayed in luxury hotels that weren't this nice," she observed, her tone conversational. "Your mother has excellent taste, Harry."
"She has expensive taste," I corrected. "Whether it's excellent is debatable." I was about to suggest we head inside when movement on the front porch caught my eye. The massive double doors swung open, and Lilja emerged.
My Queen looked radiant in the afternoon sun. She'd abandoned her Hogwarts uniform for casual clothes—dark jeans that hugged her hips and a fitted green shirt that brought out her eyes. Her long red hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, and her face lit up the moment she spotted us.
But it wasn't me she was looking at.
"Marlene!" The name came out somewhere between a squeal and a sob, and then Lilja was running—actually sprinting down the front steps with complete disregard for dignity or decorum. She hit Marlene at full speed, throwing her arms around the older woman's neck and nearly knocking her off her feet.
"Oof—" Marlene staggered back a step, clearly caught off-guard, but her arms came up automatically to return the embrace. "Hello to you too—"
"I missed you so much!" Lilja's voice was muffled against Marlene's shoulder.
Beside me, Jasmine made a small, confused sound. "Um. Harry? I still don’t get the relationship between my mum and the new girl. What's—"
I touched her elbow gently, leaning down to murmur, "I'll explain everything tonight. I promise. There's... a lot to tell you."
She turned to look at me, searching my face. Whatever she saw there must have satisfied her, because she nodded slowly. "Everything?"
"Everything," I confirmed. Devils, magic, the supernatural world, Lilja's past life as Lily Evans—all of it. No more secrets. She deserved to know, especially if she was going to be spending time around my peerage and potentially joining it herself someday.
The thought made something warm settle in my chest.
On the driveway, Lilja finally pulled back from the hug, though she kept her hands on Marlene's shoulders like she was afraid the woman would vanish if she let go. Her face was flushed, her eyes bright with unshed tears, and she was beaming with pure, unguarded joy. "You have to see this place," she said, her words tumbling over each other in her excitement. "Harry's mum went completely overboard—there's a theater room with these huge recliners that massage your back, and three heated pools, and my bedroom has this giant bathtub that's practically a swimming pool on its own—"
"Breathe, Lily," Marlene said, looking very amused.
"—and the kitchen is insane, it's got like six ovens and two refrigerators the size of walk-in closets, and there's a rooftop garden—" Lilja grabbed Marlene's hand and started tugging her toward the front doors. "Come on, I'll give you the full tour! You're going to love it!"
Marlene shot me an apologetic look over her shoulder as she was dragged away, but she was smiling. "I'll see you inside, Harry?"
"Take your time," I called back.
They disappeared through the doors, Lilja's excited chatter echoing back even after they were out of sight. I stood there for a moment, just... happy. Happy that Lilja had her best friend back. Happy that she got to experience this second chance at a relationship that had ended so painfully in her first life.
"Harry."
I turned to find Jasmine watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read. "Yeah?"
"That was really sweet," she said softly. "The way you looked at them just now. Like... like you were genuinely happy for her."
I shrugged, a little embarrassed. "She's my Queen. Her happiness matters to me."
"Queen?" Jasmine frowned. "What does that—never mind. Tonight. You'll explain tonight." She shook her head, clearly trying to categorize everything weird she'd witnessed in the last five minutes. "I'm holding you to that promise."
"I know."
We might have stood there longer, but the front doors opened again and Lilja's head popped out. "Harry! Oh, and Jasmine too—do you guys want to make a quick run to the convenience store?"
I blinked. "What?"
"Lyna and Lyra are baking a cake tonight to celebrate everyone being here," Lilja explained, stepping fully back onto the porch. "But they're missing some ingredients. Brown sugar, vanilla extract, and I think they said something about needing more eggs? They wrote a list." She held up a small piece of paper covered in Lyra's looping handwriting.
The mental image of the Sitri twins—probably wearing nothing but naked aprons—attempting to bake a cake in the massive kitchen made me smile despite myself. "They couldn't just teleport to get the stuff themselves?"
"They're busy prepping the kitchen," Lilja said with a grin. "And I quote, 'We can't leave in the middle of measuring flour, young master, that's how baking disasters happen.'" Her impression of Lyra's breathy, dramatic tone was spot-on.
I glanced at Jasmine. "You up for it? I know you've been traveling all day—"
"I'm fine," she said quickly, straightening up. "I slept on the plane. And honestly, I'd love to see a bit of the neighborhood. Get my bearings." She smiled at me, a little shy, a little hopeful. "Besides, it'll give us a chance to spend more time together."
My heart did a stupid little flip at the way she said that. "Alright then. Convenience store run it is."
Lilja tossed me the shopping list, which I caught one-handed. "There's one about three blocks from here. Can't miss it—it's got a big blue sign with a cartoon owl on it. Very Japanese." She was already backing toward the doors again. "I'm going to finish showing Marlene around. Have fun, you two!" And then she was gone, the doors swinging shut behind her.
Jasmine and I stood just inside the automatic doors, staring at aisles packed floor-to-ceiling with products I couldn't even begin to identify. Brightly colored packaging covered in kanji I could now read thanks to my devil nature, but that didn't make the concepts any less foreign.
"Is that... squid-flavored chips?" Jasmine asked, her voice climbing an octave as she picked up a bag with a disturbingly realistic illustration of a tentacle on the front.
I leaned over to read the label. "Salted squid and mayonnaise, apparently."
"That's disgusting."
"Probably." I plucked the bag from her hands and tossed it into our basket. "But now I have to try it."
She laughed, bright and delighted, and the sound made something warm settle in my chest. This was nice. Normal, even—or as normal as things got when you were a half-devil shopping for baking supplies in a foreign country with a human girl you were definitely developing feelings for.
We found the brown sugar and vanilla extract easily enough, the basic staples were organized logically even if I couldn't read half the brand names, but then Jasmine spotted the snack aisle and all pretense of efficiency went out the window.
"Harry, look at this!" She held up a box with a cartoon mascot that looked like a demented mushroom with googly eyes. "It's chocolate-filled biscuit sticks. We have to get these."
"We absolutely do not have to—"
"And these!" She was already moving, grabbing a bag of what appeared to be dried seaweed strips dusted with some kind of red powder. "And—oh my God, are those melon-flavored Kit-Kats?"
I caught up to her, watching with growing amusement as she filled her arms with increasingly bizarre treats. A box of mochi ice cream in flavors I'd never heard of. Gummy candies shaped like tiny bears that promised to be "super sour." Some kind of cream-filled cake roll that had a disturbing number of preservatives listed on the back.
"Jasmine," I said, trying for stern and probably failing completely, "we're supposed to be getting ingredients for a cake, not buying out the entire store."
"But it's research," she insisted, turning to face me with her arms full and her eyes sparkling behind her glasses. "Cultural research. We're in Japan, Harry—when else are we going to get the chance to try authentic Japanese snacks?"
"We're going to be here for at least three weeks."
"Exactly! We need to pace ourselves. So we should start by trying one of everything." She grinned up at me, unrepentant and adorable. "Come on. You're rich. You can afford it!"
I snorted. "That's a terrible argument."
"But it's working."
It was. Damn it. I grabbed a second shopping basket, because one was clearly no longer going to cut it, and gestured for her to start loading up. "Fine. But if you get sick from eating too many weird gummies, I'm not the one explaining it to your mum."
"Deal!" She dumped half her armload into the new basket, then immediately darted off toward another display. "Ooh, they have those little fish-shaped waffles filled with custard—"
We spent another twenty minutes wandering the aisles, grabbing things that looked interesting or bizarre or just made us laugh. Jasmine found a drink called "Pocari Sweat" and absolutely refused to believe it was a real product until I showed her three different bottles. I discovered an entire section dedicated to instant ramen with flavor combinations that ranged from "interesting" to "probably a war crime," and ended up grabbing six different varieties just to see which ones were edible.
By the time we made it to the checkout counter, we had two overflowing baskets and a total that made the clerk's eyebrows climb toward his hairline.
I didn't care. Watching Jasmine's excitement, seeing her smile and laugh and just enjoy herself after everything she'd been through—the Chamber of Secrets, the Fallen Angel attack—made every yen worth it.
We left the store with four bulging plastic bags each, the sun still hanging stubbornly above the horizon despite the late hour. Summer in Japan apparently meant extended daylight, which was nice. Made the unfamiliar streets feel a little less foreign.
"This is going to be so much fun," Jasmine said, peeking into one of her bags at the collection of snacks inside. "We should have a tasting party tonight! Get everyone together and try everything and rate them on a scale of one to ten!"
We'd gone maybe half a block when I noticed the telephone pole ahead of us, plastered with flyers and advertisements. Most of them were for local businesses—a ramen shop, guitar lessons, someone offering English tutoring. But one stood out. A missing person poster.
I slowed as we approached, my eyes picking out the details with the kind of automatic precision my devil nature provided. The text was in Japanese, but reading it was as natural as breathing for me now—one of the perks of devil linguistics.
MISSING: Issei Hyoudou
Age: 18
Last Seen: Kuoh Park, approximately one month ago
There was a photo—a teenage boy with brown hair and a goofy grin, wearing a Kuoh Academy uniform. The description mentioned he was a student, that his family was desperately searching, that anyone with information should contact the number listed below.
One month ago. Right around the time Sona and Rias had left for Hogwarts, leaving Kuoh without active devil supervision. Coincidence? Maybe. But probably not.
I felt Jasmine's curious gaze on me and realized I'd stopped walking entirely, just staring at the poster.
"Harry? What's wrong?"
I forced myself to look away, to keep moving. "Nothing. Just... noticed a missing person poster. Sad, that's all."
"Oh." Her grip on my hand tightened slightly. "That is sad. I hope they find him."
I didn't respond. What could I say? No. No need to upset her with speculation and dark possibilities. This world could be harsh.
We stood there for another moment, the bags of snacks suddenly feeling frivolous and heavy in my hands, before Jasmine gently tugged on my sleeve. "Come on," she said softly. "Let's get back."
We'd made it maybe half a block when I felt a flicker of something in my demonic senses. Not a threat, exactly—nothing aggressive or hostile. But... It felt Holy?
I stopped walking.
"Harry?" Jasmine turned to look at me, concern creeping into her expression. "What is it?"
"I don't know," I admitted, scanning the street around us. I focused, reaching out with my senses the way Sona had taught me during our training sessions. Most of the auras around us were human—mundane and unremarkable. But there, in the narrow alley between two apartment buildings maybe twenty feet ahead, I felt it again. Holy energy. Faint and flickering, like a candle guttering in the wind. "This way." I shifted the grocery bags to one hand and started toward the alley.
Jasmine followed without question, though I heard her breath quicken slightly. "Should I have my wand out?"
"No, I don’t think it’s a threat…"
Her eyes widened slightly, but she nodded, clutching the bags to her chest. "Okay. But Harry, if this is dangerous—"
"It's not," I said, though I wasn't entirely certain. The holy energy felt... weak. Scared, almost, if energy could be scared. "I just want to check it out. Make sure everything's alright."
The alley was darker than it had any right to be given the sun was still up. The buildings on either side rose high enough to block most of the light, creating a corridor of shadow that smelled faintly of garbage and stale water.
And there, about halfway down near a dumpster, was a girl. She couldn't have been older than eighteen—maybe a year younger than Jasmine and me. Long blonde hair that might have been beautiful if it wasn't matted and dirty, pale skin, and a tattered nun's habit that looked like it had been white once but was now closer to grey. She was hunched over, digging through the dumpster with desperate, jerky movements, shoving aside trash in search of... what? Food?
She was digging through one of the dumpsters, her movements jerky and desperate, pulling out what looked like a half-eaten bento box and examining it with the kind of focus that made my chest ache.
Beside me, Jasmine made a soft, pained sound. "Oh no."
The girl must have heard us, because her head snapped up, green eyes going wide with fear and shame. She dropped the bento box back into the trash and scrambled backward, pressing herself against the alley wall like a cornered animal.
She said something in rapid Italian, her voice high and frightened, and I understood every word: "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'll leave if this dumpster belongs to you! I'm just so hungry, please don't call the police, I didn't mean any harm—"
"Hey, it's alright," I said in Italian, keeping my voice soft and non-threatening as I set the shopping bags down carefully. "We're not going to hurt you."
Her eyes widened even further at hearing her native language. "You—you speak Italian?"
"Yeah." I took a slow step forward, hands visible and empty. "My name is Harry. This is Jasmine." I gestured to my companion, who was watching with clear concern even though she couldn't understand what was being said. "We're not locals. We're just visiting."
The girl was trembling, I realized. Actually shaking, whether from fear or hunger or cold—probably all three. Her lips were chapped, her skin too pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes that spoke of too many sleepless nights.
"What's your name?" I asked gently.
She hesitated, clearly torn between fleeing and the desperate hope that maybe, maybe these strangers wouldn't make things worse. "Asia," she finally whispered. "Asia Argento."
"Asia." I crouched down slowly, trying to make myself less threatening by reducing my height. "When's the last time you ate? Actual food, not..." I gestured at the dumpster.
Her face crumpled, and for a horrible moment I thought she was going to start crying.
"Three days," she admitted in a tiny voice. "Maybe four? I don't... I'm not sure anymore. I lost my bag with my money, and I can't speak Japanese, and no one would help me when I tried to ask, and I was supposed to meet someone but they weren't there—"
The words came faster and faster, tumbling over each other in a torrent of Italian that would have been hard to follow even if I wasn't dealing with the gut-punch of realizing this girl had been surviving alone and starving for at least two weeks.
"Okay, okay, slow down." I held up a hand, and she cut off mid-sentence, looking at me with those huge green eyes that were definitely on the verge of tears now. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to come back with us—" I saw her tense and added quickly, "—to somewhere safe, where we can get you actual food and a proper bath and a place to sleep. No strings attached. Just... basic human decency."
"I don't—" Her voice cracked. "Why would you help me? You don't even know me. You don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this…"
"Because you're clearly in trouble and you need help," I said simply. "And I'm in a position to help. So I'm going to." I stood back up and walked toward her slowly, telegraphing every movement. When I was close enough, I held out my hand. "What do you say, Asia? Want to come with us?"
She stared at my hand like it might vanish if she touched it. Then, moving with the kind of careful deliberation of someone who'd been hurt before, she reached out and placed her smaller hand in mine.
Her fingers were ice-cold. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay. Thank you. Thank you so much—"
"Don't thank me yet," I said, helping her to her feet. She swayed slightly, and I steadied her with a hand on her elbow. "Save it for after you've had a hot meal and a shower."
Jasmine, who'd been watching all of this with an expression of concern and confusion, immediately stepped forward when she saw Asia wobble. She might not have understood the words, but she clearly understood the situation.
"Harry, is she—" Jasmine started.
"Starving and homeless," I confirmed in English. Then, switching back to Italian for Asia's benefit, "This is Jasmine. She doesn't speak Italian, but she's a friend. She's safe."
Asia looked at Jasmine uncertainly. Jasmine, bless her, just smiled warmly and did something I should have thought of—she pulled a water bottle out of one of the bags and offered it to Asia.
"Here," Jasmine said softly, even though Asia wouldn't understand the words. "You look like you need this."
Asia's eyes filled with tears as she took the bottle with shaking hands. "Grazie," she managed, her voice breaking. "Thank you."
Then she was crying properly, silent tears streaming down her dirty face as she clutched the water bottle like it was the most precious thing in the world. I felt something fierce and protective surge up in my chest—the same instinct that made me build my peerage, that made me fight for the people I cared about.
Without thinking too hard about it, I stepped forward and pulled her into a hug.
She went rigid for a second, clearly not expecting the contact, but then she collapsed against my chest and just... sobbed. Great, shaking sobs that wracked her whole thin body, her fingers fisting in my shirt like she was afraid I'd disappear.
"It's alright," I murmured, one hand coming up to pat her back awkwardly. "You're safe now. We've got you."
Jasmine moved in from the other side, wrapping her arms around both of us and adding her warmth to the embrace. She still didn't understand what Asia had said, but she understood this—understood that this girl needed comfort and kindness and the simple human reassurance that she wasn't alone anymore.
We stood like that for what felt like a long time, two strangers holding a broken girl in a shadowy alley in a foreign country, while the sounds of normal life continued on the street beyond.
Eventually, Asia's sobs quieted to hiccups, and she pulled back slightly, wiping at her face with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry," she said in Italian, her voice thick. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"Don't apologize," I told her firmly. "You've been through hell. You're allowed to cry."
She nodded, still sniffling, and took a shaky sip of the water Jasmine had given her.
"Can you walk?" I asked. "The place we're staying isn't far—just a few blocks."
"Yes. I can walk."
"Good." I picked up the shopping bags again—Jasmine grabbed the third without me having to ask—and offered Asia my free arm. "Come on. Let's get you home." Home. The word slipped out before I could think about it, but it felt right somehow. Whatever else happened, Asia Argento wasn't spending another night digging through dumpsters for food. Not while I had the power to stop it.
We started walking back toward the mansion, Asia leaning slightly on my arm for support, Jasmine on my other side casting worried glances at our new companion.
"Harry," Jasmine said quietly as we turned back onto the main street, "what did she say? Back in the alley?"
I glanced at Asia, who was focused entirely on putting one foot in front of the other, and answered in English. "She's been here for over two weeks. Came to meet someone at a church, but when she got there it was abandoned. Lost her money, doesn't speak Japanese, has been trying to survive on her own ever since."
"Two weeks?" Jasmine's voice was horrified. "Alone? In a country where she doesn't speak the language?"
"Yeah."
"That's—" Jasmine shook her head, her expression fierce. "We're keeping her, right? She can stay with us? And she also kind of feels magical, but not at the same time? It’s confusing."
Despite everything, I couldn't help but smile. "Yeah. We're keeping her." As for the magical holy feeling the girl was giving off, maybe she had some kind of Sacred Gear? That was NOT why I offered to help her though. I wasn’t one of those devils that only went after humans with those things fused to their souls.
"Good." Jasmine reached across me to gently touch Asia's shoulder, getting the blonde girl's attention. When Asia looked at her, Jasmine smiled and said clearly, slowly, "You're safe now."
Asia might not have understood the words, but she understood the sentiment. "Grazie," she whispered. "Thank you. Both of you."
XXX
Comments
Pride
Tbh I thought she got taken by diodora
Eric Lachance
Homeless Asia hits kinda hard, hopefully someone snaps her up permanently, likely Harry, though I don't remember what pieces he has left, some pawns?
Dragonman97
Poor Asia, I was wondering what happened to her
BobyCola
thanks for the chapter, and good to see Asia
