Chapter 28
Gellert Grindelwald had had a lot of time to consider his actions over the past few decades and had not been terribly impressed with the conclusions that he came to. In his zeal to see wizards and witches rise to what he saw as their rightful place in the world, he had sown untold chaos and, in the end, had weakened the very people he sought to elevate. The decades he had spent in isolation had given him plenty of time to assess his folly and, as he watched the battle outside his cell, the first bit of excitement he'd had since the war, all he could see was the same mistakes made again.
"You got old, Albus," he thought to himself as he watched his one-time friend and lover battle what could only be Lord Voldemort.
The snake-like man was powerful, there was no doubt there, but as he watched the duel, he couldn't help but think that he wasn't actually equal to what he had been in his prime, and as that went on, he wondered why Albus hadn't simply put him down yet. He was dangerous, that was certain, and very skilled, but he was no better than the aged wizard he fought with, who almost certainly had declined some in the days since his own initial reign of terror. Something was wrong here, he couldn't help but think, and he doubted that his old friend hadn't come to the same conclusion.
Just as he thought that, he received a visitor at the window of his cell that he hadn't thought about in years, and it took him a moment to even recognize her.
"Vinda?" he asked, his eyes widening as he realized that she must have flown up to him on her broom, despite how clearly wounded she was.
She was bleeding profusely, something that even her black robes couldn't completely conceal, and he sighed as he saw her grasp the bars of his cell with shaky hands.
"My...lord," she whimpered. "I'm sorry."
"Nein, Vinda," Grindelwald sighed, "it is I who am sorry, for so very much."
"My lor…" Vinda went to ask, only to be knocked out cold as she was hit with a stunner, and levitated away by a nearby auror.
Shaking his head, Grindelwald peered out towards Albus and Voldemort, who were moving closer to him as they continued their duel.
"I expected Tom's followers to be a little rusty after all these years, but not him," Dumbledore thought to himself as he conjured a marble shield to catch his foe's latest killing curse.
Transfiguring the shattered pieces into glass hummingbirds, he directed them towards his foe, their razor-sharp beaks more than up to the task of doing him great harm, provided any of them made contact. Voldemort snarled and flew back, destroying the flock as he went, and Dumbledore pursued him. He might not have been able to fly under his own power as his former pupil could, but that didn't mean that he couldn't still fight him.
"This is remarkably sloppy of you, Tom," Dumbledore called out, his wand a blur as he sent a flurry of spells at his foe, who evaded them all.
"I've already won, Dumbledore," Tom chuckled. "Soon you will be dead, and I will reign supreme. Crucio!"
Dumbledore leapt out of the way of the torture curse and sent a pair of bludgeoning hexes back in return. Voldemort swatted them aside with ease but didn't notice the vines that sprung from the earth, catching his ankles. Growling in frustration, he burned them and sent plumes of flames Dumbledore's way, something that he froze with ease.
"He's plainly distracted," the headmaster thought to himself as he shielded against an organ-melting curse. "His spellwork and even his retorts are oddly inept. He's still a cut above most wizards and witches, but this isn't the man I fought against during the war. Did his resurrection go wrong in some way that I hadn't heard about?"
He had yet to plant Severus in Voldemort's inner circle, so his intel on his foe was very limited, and it was possible that he had come back significantly weakened for some reason, something that he could only hope was true for what it mean for the prophecy. As Voldemort flew off towards Gellert's cell at the top of his tower, Dumbledore summoned his broom from his mokeskin pouch and flew after him.
The wards of this place were tied directly to the Elder Wand, which had been under Dumbledore's complete control since the forties, so the chance of Tom freeing his old friend was slim, but he'd learned long ago not to underestimate Tom Riddle. As he pursued the self-styled dark lord, he realized just how poorly this fight had gone for his followers, many of whom had already fallen and been captured by the German aurors. Vinda Rosier and Angus Macduff were the only ones other than Voldemort who had proven themselves truly capable combatants, and the former had already been defeated while the latter was currently fighting Alastor.
"I swear I had nothing to do vith zis, Albus," Gellert called out as he drew near. "I zink something's wrong, zough."
"Ossus fragmen," Voldemort hissed, sending the bone-break right at his chest and forcing him to shield against it. "Avada Kedavra!"
Dumbledore flew out of the way of the killing curse with ease and was about to respond when he felt a sudden shift in his foe's mood. The rage and hatred gave way to confusion and finally fear as he saw a look on the man's serpentine visage that he didn't think he'd seen on his face since he'd first demonstrated magic to him all those years ago.
"What's going o...AHHHH!" Voldemort screamed as he plummeted and Dumbledore didn't even hesitate to save him.
"Arresto momentum," he cast, summoning his wand from his hand a moment later as he pulled him in close. "Incarcerous."
"What's going on? Where am I? Headmaster?" Voldemort asked in confusion, and Dumbledore felt a terrible chill go down his spine as he finally realized just what he was dealing with.
"I'm afraid you've been had, old friend," Gellert muttered. "You'll probably smell ze polyjuice on his breath, I suspect."
"Merlin, no," Dumbledore breathed he finally saw the battlefield around him for what it was.
This wasn't an attempt to free Gellert Grindelwald and use him as a weapon against him, it was a ploy to lure him away from Hogwarts. It explained why the Death Eaters all seemed so sluggish and sloppy, why even Voldemort didn't seem to be the threat that he generally was. Not a single one was actually there in person, and each of the men and women they faced, save for Gellert's old followers, presumably, was a polyjuiced, imperiused puppet.
"He dangled ze one bit of bait zat he knew you could not resist," Gellert sighed. "I'd be impressed if zis vasn't so dire."
"You truly had no idea this was coming?" Dumbledore asked as he carefully lowered the innocent man Tom had been puppeting down to the ground safely, and sent a patronus around the battlefield to warn the the others what they were actually facing.
"Nein," Gellert replied simply. "Zere is von bit of tentatively good news here, zough. Voldemort lost control of his puppet, vhich means zat something very dire has happened to him."
"We can only hope," Dumbledore replied as he reached for his emergency portkey.
"Ze aurors have zis vell in hand, Albus," Gellert nodded. "Good luck."
Dumbledore smiled grimly and nodded as he left, hoping that he wasn't going to be too late to save Harry, who he knew had to be Tom's target.
"Dad?" Harry asked, staring in shock at his father. "Oh my God!"
It wasn't something that he said often anymore, but nothing else came to mind as he saw the man he'd wanted to meet his entire life. He had a single memory of his mother, the memory of her murder, but none of his father. There was no question about who he was, though, and before Harry even realized what he was doing, he was rushing over to him. James hugged him fiercely, tears welling in his eyes as they streamed from his son's.
"How is...oh, shit" Harry muttered as it finally dawned on him just how he was seeing a dead man in the flesh.
"You're not actually dead," James explained. "As far as I can tell, you're just kind of in between, and besides, that girl of yours would bring you back anyway. Speaking of, there is one very important bit of business we need to get to."
"Huh?" Harry asked as his father stepped back.
"Up top," James replied with undo seriousness as he held his hand up and Harry just laughed. "Oh, come on, you can't bag multiple birds of that caliber and not expect me to be impressed as hell. High five your old man, Harry."
Harry did so, remembering that his father had been just twenty-one when he died and probably hadn't matured any since, though neither had Sirius who had reacted much the same way to learning about him and Rias.
"I somehow doubt that we'd be doing this if Mum were here," Harry chuckled. "Where is she, anyway? Could only one of you come meet me here at a ti…"
He trailed off as he watched his father's face fall and felt a pit form in his stomach as he realized that he was about to receive some bad news.
"Harry, that's actually part of why I came here," James replied, his cheerful demeanor disappearing in an instant. "I need your help, son."
Rias watched Harry fall dead in muted shock, too horrified by the sight to even process it for a solid moment. So distracted was she that she didn't notice Voldemort fall at the same time until the Death Eaters reacted in alarm.
"KILL THEM ALL!" she roared, black fury the likes of which she'd never known consuming her.
Holding her hands out in front of her, her tiredness was forgotten for a moment in her anger, and she unleashed the Power of Destruction on her masked foes in a wave of power the likes of which she'd never managed before. A half a dozen of them were atomized before they even realized they were in danger, and horrified screams rang out across the room at the sight of the enraged devils.
"Devils!" Rodulphus Lestrange cried out, raising his wand to them. "Avada KedavAHHH"
He screamed in pain as Kiba, faster than any of them could track, sliced his wand arm right off. His screams didn't last long, though, as his head swiftly followed. His master had ordered him to kill these men, and so he would. He could practically feel the evil rolling off of them in waves, and it reminded him of the men who had so gleefully helped Galilee murder him and his friends. That comparison would do them no favors.
"How the hell did Potter manage to summon devils?" Thaddeus Nott growled as he unleashed a flurry of the darkest curses he knew at the admittedly beautiful dark-haired devil.
"Not really something worth discussing just yet," Antonin Dolohov muttered as he lobbed his favorite organ-melting curse at the crimson-haired one, only to growl in rage as she dispelled it with a wave of her hand. "Dispel this, bitch. Avada Kedavra."
He watched the green curse fly towards her only for it to be engulfed in a wave of crimson that stopped it in its tracks. The killing curse was a perfect manifestation of murderous intent, a spell so pure and powerful that no other spell could block it. That apparently wasn't true of whatever that horrifying crimson energy was, as it didn't just block the curse but destroyed it completely. Normally, he'd have asked Rookwood how that was possible, but he couldn't exactly do that in the middle of a battle, and as he heard the men scream in agony a moment later, his body burned to an unrecognizable crisp by lightning, he knew that he'd never get that answer.
The Death Eaters fought as best they could, trying to score a hit of any kind on the devils, but between the crimson-haired one's ability to destroy their spells, the dark-haired one's ability to block nearly anything that got past her while frying them to a crisp at will, and the frightfully quick, sword-wielding boy's ability to pick them off one by one, they all quickly realized that they were completely outmatched. Dolohov looked to their fallen master, hoping more than anything that he would wake up and help them, since he, at least, could match the power on display here, but when he saw his lord's arms and legs disappear, consumed by crimson destruction, he despaired. His lord had done as he set out to do: he had killed Harry Potter, and it appeared that they were all going to pay for that with their lives.
Rias watched with grim satisfaction as her foes fell one by one, continuing to defend against their magic so Akeno and Kiba could kill them without risk. When their ranks had been thinned enough that she figured her queen and knight could handle the rest on her own, she flew towards Harry, intending to push a pawn into his chest while she still had time, only to freeze when she felt something from him that she hadn't expected.
"He's alive," she thought to herself, smiling widely down at him.
"What do you need my help with?" Harry asked and James sighed.
"To answer that, I need to tell you about the last months of your mother's and my lives," he replied. "We were overjoyed when we learned that we were having you. The timing wasn't exactly ideal, and I worried about having a child in the middle of a war, but the simple fact was that either one of us could have died every time we left the house even before he-who-must-not…"
"Just call him Tom," Harry cut him off.
"Even before Tom started targeting us directly," James continued. "Bringing you into the world, even if it was still a pile of flaming shit at that point, was the happiest moment of our lives, and we both hoped with all that we had that that dreadful time would end soon so that you could grow up in peace. That wasn't meant to be, though."
"Because of the prophecy," Harry scowled.
"We were horrified when Albus told us," James sighed, "especially once we learned that h...Tom had learned part of it. We knew at once that we had to go into hiding, as did the Longbottoms, as their son was also a potential candidate."
"Right," Harry nodded.
"Your mother...you have to understand that I grew up in the Wizarding World in the sixties, born to parents who lived through the great war," James said. "To me, and to so many of us, Albus Dumbledore was almost a messiah figure, the one who had ended the threat of Grindelwald and restored peace to the world. Your mother, though, grew up in a different world, and though she came to respect our headmaster a great deal, she didn't have the same degree of reverence that I did. She agreed with the plan to hide away under the Fidelius charm because she couldn't think of anything better, but in the weeks leading up to our going into hiding, she looked for any solution she could find."
"Like what?" Harry asked.
"That was my question," James muttered. "Dumbledore himself couldn't put the dark prick down, so what could we do? She didn't give me an answer because she didn't have one, but she kept looking and looking, and eventually she ended up borrowing a very particular book from Pandora Lovegood."
"Oh no," Harry thought to himself as he realized where this was going.
"AHHH!" Neville screamed as every nerve in his body was set on fire by Bellatrix's curse.
"You scream as beautifully as your parents did," Bellatrix giggled. "Such lovely music."
"Stop it, you crazy bitch!" Seamus screamed from where he was bound to the wall between Dean and Ron.
"You can make me stop anytime by telling me where Harry Potter is," Bellatrix lied.
"We already told you!" Ron exclaimed, tears streaming down his face as the guilt of having dragged his friends into this set in. "He's in the Great Hall!"
"Stop lying!" Bellatrix hissed, ending her curse for a moment and raising her wand to Ron. "My lord would have summoned me back if Potter had shown up!"
"Maybe he just isn't that into you," a flat female voice said, and Bellatrix whipped around to face the newcomer.
"What the fuck?" Dean asked, furrowing his brow in confusion as he wondered if he'd begun going mad.
Standing a few feet away from them was a short, thin, white-haired girl with cat's ears and a tail. Her eyes were golden and looked bored more than anything, which was frankly even stranger than the cat features, given who she was standing near.
"Run!" Ron shouted, wondering if this girl had suffered a Polyjuice accident like Hermione had back in their second year.
"Who are you?" Bellatrix asked as Neville opened his eyes and tried to force his twitching form to roll onto his front so he could push himself up. He looked at the catgirl and would have begged her to leave if he could speak.
"That doesn't matter," the cat girl replied in her monotone voice as she walked closer. "My master has tasked me with saving these fools from you. Put down your wand or be disarmed."
"I'd like to see you try, little girl," Bellatrix giggled. "CruciAHHH!"
Bellatrix shrieked in pain as, faster than any of them could blink, the girl grabbed her wand arm and ripped it clean out of the socket. The three boys hanging on the wall were sprayed with blood as she jerked around, seemingly as shocked as they were by what had happened. The cat girl hit her upside the head with her severed arm so hard that it knocked out some of her teeth, and she fell to the ground in a heap.
Neville struggled to push himself up and ended up settling for curling up and watching the violent display in muted shock. As he took in the sight of the small cat girl beating Bellatrix Lestrange, the woman who tortured his parents into insanity, to death with her own arm, he felt a sense of vengeful satisfaction that he hoped wouldn't have any lasting effects on his psyche. Years from then, when he'd ask his wife, Hannah Abbott, to let him transfigure cat ears and a tail on her in bed, she'd wonder why but agree without complaint.
"It was the devil book, wasn't it?" Harry asked.
"It was," James nodded grimly. "She didn't have it for long, as we had to go into hiding not long after she spoke to Pandora about it, but she copied out a couple pages of it and took them with her. I don't know who she summoned, and I didn't even know what she was doing because she didn't tell me, but I know that she summoned a devil."
"The devil energy signature that Ajuka noticed!" Harry exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "That had to be from whoever she summoned."
"Quite likely, because whatever that devil did, I think that's what saved you back then," James replied, "but it wasn't without cost."
"What did she offer?" Harry asked, bracing himself for what couldn't be a good answer.
"I don't know, but…" James trailed off, looking stricken. "She's not here."
"No," Harry breathed. "Oh, Merlin, I…"
"It's not your fault!" James exclaimed. "That madman came after us, and there's nothing that the two of us wouldn't have done to protect you. You'll understand when you have your own kids someday, but...with the contacts you have, you'll be able to find out what's happened to her. You're dating the devil king's little sister, right? Surely he could order whoever took her soul to let her go!"
Harry reeled, stepping backward, and sat down on the nearest bench he could find, burying his face in his hands.
"I'll do it," Harry vowed, running his hands through his hair as he wondered if he'd ever stop finding him drifting from nightmare to nightmare. "Whatever it takes, whoever I have to fight, I'll save her soul."
"Thank you, Harry," James sighed, sounding relieved, "but hopefully it won't come to that. This Sirzechs…"
"Theoretically, he should be able to work out a deal with whoever has her, but since when have things in my life gone smoothly?" Harry asked. "Fuck, I still have a horcrux to track down and destroy before I'll be rid of Voldemort for good."
"The one in your scar is likely gone," James mused. When Harry looked up at him curiously, he explained, "The devil's protection saved you from the first killing curse, but I doubt it did this one."
"The soul shard took it instead," Harry nodded. "That makes sense. Good bloody riddance."
"I'm sorry to burden you with this, son," James sighed, "but there was no one else I could turn to."
"She's my mother," Harry scoffed, "and she put herself in this position to save me. This is a burden I'd take up no matter what, and I'd have been pissed if I found out down the line instead of from you."
"You've become a good man, Harry," James smiled, "one that I am very proud of."
Harry stood up and hugged him again, fully aware of the fact that this was likely the last time he'd ever get the chance.
"Tell Padfoot I forgive him," James whispered, "and tell Moony to lighten the hell up. He's looking bloody old."
"We both know he won't listen," Harry replied, and they just chuckled.
"I love you, Harry," James said, his voice thick with emotion, and Harry felt his eyes well up again.
"I love you too," he whispered, not trusting his voice. "I'll get her back. I swear it!"
The train arrived then, and James just sighed, looking at him sadly.
"My ride's here," he sighed. "Please don't let it be yours for a long while. You have a lot of women who would miss you terribly."
"I'll do my best," Harry replied. "Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Harry," James smiled sadly, "and good luck."
Harry stood there, watching his father board the train, and wept bitterly as he watched it leave. He wished that he could just stand there and process any of what had just happened, but he felt himself being pulled back to the land of the living, and knew that he had a dark lord to deal with. He might not have been able to kill him yet, but capturing him and imprisoning him in the underworld sounded great just then.
"Harry!" Rias exclaimed as he sat up, wrapping her arms around him tightly.
"Rias, wait, there…" Harry went to say, only to look around at the sheer carnage surrounding him.
The last of the Death Eaters were being turned to charred husks by Akeno just then, too far gone to even scream. Corpses littered the Great Hall, both whole and heavily dismembered, and Harry wondered for a moment if that was the result of Rias' magic until he saw Kiba standing there, cleaning his sword. That explained the blood splatter everywhere.
"I guess they were no match for you," he chuckled.
"They weren't," Rias confirmed. "I even ensured that Voldemort won't be able to hurt you again."
Harry looked over to where she was pointing and burst out laughing at the sight of the armless, legless Dark Lord. He would make an easy enough prisoner to hold in that state, which would allow them to hunt down and kill Nagini. His laughter seemed to rouse his nemesis, who opened his eyes and screamed in rage.
"Morning Tom," he mockingly as he stood up. "Sleep well?"
"Potter, I…" Voldemort snarled, before his crimson eyes went wide at the sight of Rias. "Devils? But I…"
"Yeah, I don't know what the fuck a Baraqiel is, but that wasn't what I sought help from," Harry grinned. "I turned to the devils, and they…"
"Baraqiel?!" Akeno exclaimed, flying over to them.
"Uh, yeah," Harry replied, confused by the sudden anger from her. "That's apparently what Voldemort thought I had allied with. I don't know why, or what that even is, but…"
"He's a fallen angel," Akeno replied as Rias took her hand comfortingly. "I'll explain later."
"Okay," Harry replied, furrowing his brow in confusion. "Hello, Kiba, you're looking well."
"The lightning, it...I was sure…" Voldemort babbled.
"I understand you were there...that night," Kiba replied. "Thank you."
"I didn't really do much," Harry replied. "Harry Potter."
"Kiba Yuuto," Kiba nodded.
"Stop ignoring me!" Voldemort snarled. "I don't care what you've allied with, Potter! I will find a new body, and I will destroy you if it is the last thing I…"
"You're not leaving this one," Harry spat. "I'm taking you to the Underworld and keeping you prisoner, and then once I've dealt with…"
"Nagini's dead," Hermione announced as she stepped through a door he was certain hadn't been there a moment earlier. Sure enough, it disappeared the moment it closed.
"What?" Harry asked.
"What?!" Voldemort raged.
"Well done," Rias nodded.
"It's a long story, but the basilisk venom dagger did the trick," Hermione replied. "Oh, fuck!"
She hadn't had a chance to look around before then, and as she saw the brutalized corpses around her, she felt her stomach lurch. Watching Malfoy die had been bad enough, but it hadn't been quite this bad, and, to her horror, she threw up. Akeno pulled her hair back with a wave of her hand and went over to comfort her.
"The crazy bitch is dead, and I sent the students she was torturing on their way," Koneko announced as she entered. "Who's the new recruit?"
She was pointing at Hermione, referring to her inability to keep her lunch down around dead bodies.
"We'll introduce everyone later," Rias replied. Turning to Harry, she said, "Is the horcrux in your scar gone? Because if so, he's effectively mortal."
"Wha...wha?" Voldemort spluttered, feeling fear overtake him for the first time in a long time.
"It is," Harry confirmed, grinning down at Voldemort. "His killing curse took care of it, which means that they're all gone."
"That's not possible!" Voldemort exclaimed.
"Nagini, the diary, the ring, the diadem, the cup, and my scar; the one you never intended to make," Harry listed them off, intentionally leaving one out. "They've all been destroyed now, which means that your next death will be your last."
He watched terror flash in Voldemort's eyes, followed by a sliver of hope that he couldn't fully hide as he realized that Harry hadn't mentioned one of them. Harry let him feel that spark of hope for a moment before adding, "Oh yeah, and the locket."
"Wait, no!" Voldemort screamed as Harry pointed his wand right at his head. His blasting curse, overpowered by his rage at the man who had forced his mother to sell her very soul, hit him hard, and his head exploded, sending skull fragments, and bits of pulverized brain in every direction.
"Sorry, Mione," he winced as he saw the brunette turn even greener.
"No, it's okay" Hermione croaked. "It's…"
"What in the world?" Dumbledore asked he walked in, his wand in his hand and his blue eyes wide as he took in the carnage.
"Fuck," Harry thought to himself. As he saw Dumbledore raise his wand to Rias, having spotted her devil wings, he acted without thinking and cast "Expelliarmus."
Never in a million years would he have expected to successfully disarm Albus Dumbledore of all wizards, but between the man's shock at the scene he found and the fact that he didn't expect Harry to raise his wand to him, he was caught off guard and his knotted wand flew into Harry's hand.
"Harry?" he asked, staring at him in shock.
"Hello, Headmaster," Harry grimaced. "Voldemort's dead, his horcruxes have all been destroyed, including the one in my head, and his Death Eaters are gone too. This is Rias Gremory, the devil without whose help I wouldn't be able to say any of that."
Dumbledore just blinked, looking more confused and baffled than he'd ever seen him before. "Harry, how did you even...wait, your scar?"
"I know you know about that, and I don't honestly blame you for not telling me, but I found a solution, and it worked," Harry replied, lying a little about the solution part. "Voldemort had made six horcruxes knowingly, the first of which was the diary, and we've dealt with all of them. When I killed him just now, there was no shade that rose from his body. He's gone, sir; it's over."
Dumbledore looked like he was about to reply when a sudden overwhelming presence made all of them go still. A familiar-looking crimson summoning circle appeared between them, and a moment later, Sirzechs appeared.
"Hello," he said warmly as he looked around. "Oh, it seems I missed the excitement."
"I asked you to come mostly for diplomatic reasons," Rias clarified, nudging her head over towards Dumbledore, whose second wand had slipped from his sleeve.
"It seems your castle's defenses were breached by your enemies," Sirzechs observed. "Luckily my sister and her peerage were on hand to deal with them. Were there any unfortunate casualties?"
"Anthony Goldstein was killed," Harry replied and Dumbledore faltered slightly at that. "Hermione, Luna, and I managed to get the others out. They used your floo port to escape."
"I thank you for that, but if word were to spread of the...allies you made to accomplish this," Dumbledore muttered, already imagining what a political headache it would be deal with.
"That's not something that I'm going to have to worry about," Harry replied. "I'm going to be moving to Japan this summer."
"Japan?!" Dumbledore exclaimed.
"My home," Rias replied, taking his hand. "He and I have grown quite close."
"I...am very sorry to hear that," Dumbledore spluttered, reeling.
"Luna and I will be moving too," Hermione replied. "We've loved it here, really, but I think it's time for a change."
"Are you sure that you've thought this thr…" Dumbledore went to ask, only to still as a sudden chill spread through the Great Hall. "Dementors! Expecto Patronum."
"Oh, please don't," Sirzechs smiled, raising his hand calmingly. "I've wanted to deal with these things for a while, but there was just never time."
"Why?" Harry asked, his own wand ready to conjure a patronus if needed.
"Hades created them long ago but grew bored with the project and abandoned them on Earth," Sirzechs replied. "When I pointed out what harm they could cause, he said if I cared so much, I could destroy them myself."
"They can't be killed, though," Hermione pointed out, and Sirzechs just smiled coolly before stretching out his right hand.
The Dementors flew in through the ruined windows, seeming intent on going after the Satan in particular, and he just smiled more as a ball of crimson energy more powerful than anything Harry had ever felt formed in his palm. Dumbledore kept his patronus ready, flying it around Harry and Hermione protectively, but it turned out not to be needed at all. They watched in shock as the Dementors were enveloped by the Power of Destruction and quickly faded out of existence. The whole process took mere moments, and at the end of it, the cold that their mere presence had caused disappeared.
"Merlin," Dumbledore breathed, sounding awed.
"Well, that's that," Sirzechs smiled. "Is there anything you need to get before we go?"
"No," Hermione replied before he could. "I had Dobby gather our things and bring them to Grimmauld Place."
"Alright, well then, we'll be going," Harry nodded, looking to Dumbledore, who just sighed.
"I am, despite everything, happier than I can say that you managed to defeat Voldemort so readily and even remove the horcrux safely," Dumbledore said.
"Wait, you did?" Sirzechs asked.
"Yeah, I'll explain later," Harry replied.
"I cannot approve of your methods and I have no idea what I'm going to tell the ministry or the press, but given all the countless lives you've saved today, rest assured that it won't be the truth," Dumbledore continued. "If you wish to move, I can't stop you, but just know that you will always be welcome in this castle for as long as I am headmaster here."
"Thank you, Professor," Harry smiled. "Until we meet again."
"Until we meet again," Dumbleore replied. "You too, Miss Granger."
"Goodbye, Professor," Hermione nodded.
With that, they gathered together with Sirzechs, who teleported them all out. Dumbledore watched them go with a heavy heart, still grappling with everything that he'd just learned, and it was only after they'd left that he remembered one very pertinent detail.
"He has the Elder Wand!" he exclaimed mentally, burying his face in his hands.
"Freeze!" an auror shouted as he and a few dozen others barreled into the room, coming to a shocked halt the moment they saw the state of the Great Hall.
"Albus?" Amelia Bones asked. "What in the world…"
Dumbledore could only stroke his beard, wondering what the hell he was going to say.
"Where are we?" Hermione asked as she looked around the very richly decorated anteroom they appeared in.
"With your leave, I'm going to check on Luna and get these two back," Akeno suggested, looking at Rias.
"Yes, please," Rias replied, watching Akeno teleport herself, Kiba, and Koneko back to Kuoh.
"My palace," Sirzechs replied to Hermione. "We haven't met yet. I am Sirzechs Lucifer."
"Hermione Granger," Hermione replied, paling as she recalled that this man had just wiped out the Dementors with ease. Seeing Harry sit down in the nearest chair and bury his face in his hands, looking oddly deflated for someone who had just defeated his greatest enemy, she asked, "What did I miss?"
"I died," Harry replied, "or sort of, anyway. I met my dad, and we had a long talk."
"I'm sorry, you died?" Hermione asked, barely hearing anything after that part.
"Killing curse; usually does the trick," Harry replied dryly, "except where I'm involved, anyway. It destroyed the horcrux in my scar."
"If we had known it was that easy…" Sirzechs muttered. "I removed the one in the diadem without damaging it, by the way. I was going to reach out to Rias later today, actually."
"Luna will appreciate that," Hermione mused.
"You don't look like someone who got to speak with their father for the first time in your life," Rias frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Sirzechs, if a devil had...taken a soul, could you get it back from them?" Harry asked.
"Your mother?" Hermione asked, looking utterly horrified.
"Yeah," Harry replied, feeling guilt on a level he'd never known. "She summoned a devil when my life was threatened and seems to have offered her soul in exchange for my protection."
"That's...troubling," Sirzechs muttered, scratching his chin. "It's horrifying, of course, and I'll do all that I can to help with this, but very few devils actually take souls anymore. Do you have any idea who she might have summoned?"
"I can answer that," Ajuka replied as he walked in. "I think I arrived just after you left, old friend. The devil who left their mark on Harry was Rizevim."
"Oh no," Sirzechs muttered, looking down.
"Rizevim?" Harry asked.
"Rizevim Livan Lucifer," Sirzechs replied, making Rias' eyes go wide, "natural son of the original Lucifer and Lilith."
"Wait, he's...the Lucifer's son?" Harry asked, feeling his heart sink.
"He is," Ajuka replied, sounding more dour than usual. "When Lucifer first rebelled against the Tyrant, he found a most willing accomplice in Lilith. She, who had been scorned by Adam for daring to have a mind and a will of her own and whom the Tyrant had sided against, came to loathe him and wanted revenge. She agreed to Lucifer's proposal that she would birth the army he would create with the pages stolen from the Book of Creation but on one condition: once the seeds of his army had been planted, he would give her a son that was just theirs, made without the book, and so, after the founders of the pillars were created, she bore the seventy-third devil, Rizevim."
"So he's ancient," Harry mused numbly, as Hermione rested her hands on his shoulders and her cheek on his head. "Could I make a deal with him?"
"No," Sirzechs replied flatly. "Rizevim is one of the worst beings in the Underworld, a creature of unmatched cruelty. He also possesses the covetousness of a dragon, and there is no deal he would make that you would ever agree to."
"He has my mother's soul!" Harry hissed. "What would I not agree to for that?"
"Hermione? Luna? Akeno? Rias?" Sirzechs replied, and Harry paled.
"If it helps at all, you can be certain that your mother isn't suffering," Ajuka added. "Taking human souls was never about tormenting them for daring to disobey the Tyrant, as the church suggested, but rather about taking them from him. When he came across the early, primitive humans of this world, he augmented them, using the Book of Creation, and greatly altered their souls. When humans die, their souls eventually make their way to purgatory, where they're judged, and it is determined if they'll go to Heaven or not. That judgment was precious to him and it was because of that that the devils sought to claim souls for themselves."
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.
"The Tyrant loved judging others, it was his favorite thing," Sirzechs replied, "or so they say. Taking souls as the devils of old did prevented them from ever reaching purgatory, and being formally judged, and nothing infuriated the Tyrant more than that. After the great war, the appeal of doing so waned, as in the absence of the Lightbringer, most of us stopped thinking in terms of how best to defy the Tyrant all the time."
"So you can be sure that your mother is being treated more as a collectible than anything else," Ajuka replied. "I don't say this to suggest that you shouldn't care or anything, but the solution to your problem both isn't and doesn't need to be immediate."
"Could either of you…" Harry went to ask.
"We couldn't," Sirzechs sighed, looking down. "The two of us could handle him but if we went after the son of Lucifer, particularly to free a human soul, it would spark a second civil war, one that our people may well not survive."
"Well, how powerful is he?" Harry asked. "If I can't reason with him, and you can deal with him…"
"Harry, we classify devils in the following way: there are Low-Class Devils, Mid-Class Devils, High-Class Devils; that's what Rias is, Ultimate-Class Devils, and finally what we call Super Devils," Ajuka replied. "There have only ever been three Super Devils in recorded history, two of whom are in this very room."
"He's your equal?" Harry asked, sounding like he felt that his world was caving in around him. When Sirzechs just nodded, he closed his eyes and said, "Then I'll have to be as well."
"An admirable goal, Harry," Sirzechs nodded. "Rizevim hasn't been seen in a very long time. He keeps to himself, traversing parts of the Underworld that neither we nor the Fallen ever developed. Our people are not vast in number and this world is very large. I will try to get eyes on him, but I need you to promise me that you will not go after him until you can hold your own against me in a spar for five minutes. Try it before you're at that level and you will die."
"I promise," Harry nodded, filled with determination the likes of which he'd never known.
"I'm so sorry, Harry," Rias sighed, running her nails over his scalp. "I promise that I'll train you to the best of my abilities."
He smiled at that and kissed her hand, knowing that it would take more than her to help him now. He didn't just need to become great, he needed to become more powerful than almost every being in the Underworld, and that was going to be incredibly difficult, but there was no alternative.
"Um, I don't mean to offend you, but...if this Rizevim is Lucifer's son, why is he not in charge?" Hermione asked. "He sounds like a dreadful creature, but still…"
"There was a civil war that took place not long after the deaths of the original four Satans," Sirzechs replied. "The descendants of the original four believed that they should take over by right of succession, while our faction believed that different leadership was needed in the wake of the devastation caused by the Great War. Rizevim stayed out of it completely, disappearing into the depths of the Underworld and leaving us to our affairs. Our side won, and a new government was formed."
"No one knows why he stayed out of it but we were glad that he did," Ajuka added. Turning to Harry, he said, "Becoming our equal will be a journey of a thousand miles but you can take the first step now."
"He's right," Rias nodded, reaching into her bag and pulling out her pawns. "With the horcrux gone, you should be able to become a devil with ease."
"Yes," Harry replied. "Not that I didn't want to before, but I have no choice now."
"Oh, by the way, here's your cloak back," Hermione smiled, handing it to Harry. "It really helped us escape everyone else to go summon Rias."
"And helped you kill Nagini, I imagine," Harry mused as he accepted it. "What happened there, anyway?"
"I made Malfoy do it," Hermione replied, her brown eyes looking a little hollow as she recalled it. "He didn't survive."
"Hermione," Harry breathed, completely surprised.
"It turns out that he was the one who told Voldemort where to find her parents," Rias explained and Harry's eyes hardened.
"Well done, then," he muttered, and Hermione smiled slightly.
"As interesting as this is, please get on with it," Ajuka scowled, sounding peevish, and Sirzechs chuckled.
"You'd think at our age you'd have learned to be patient by now, old friend," the crimson-haired devil teased him.
"I have been patient," Ajuka muttered. "I've spent months wondering if there was some flaw in my most important design or not. I'm almost certain that it was the horcrux preventing them from working, but until we see proof that they can work now…"
"You're right," Harry nodded before staring at the small pawn piece in Rias' hand, "this is long overdue."
Rias gently pressed the pawn to his chest, not daring to take a breath as she watched and waited for a sign that something had gone wrong. Harry sat there, equally concerned, and though he was pleased when no headache resulted, he expected to feel something and furrowed his brow at how muted it seemed.
"Um, Rias?" he asked.
"It's fine," she smiled, "you're just too powerful for me to use only one pawn. We're not seeing what we did before."
"That's true," Ajuka smiled, sounding relieved. "You haven't experienced the headache yet?"
"No, not at all," Harry replied. "In fact, I think I'm just now realizing that I always had a minor unpleasant feeling in my forehead."
"Making a living thing into a horcrux was stupid on its own, but yours was poorly formed to begin with," Ajuka muttered. "It's a wonder that it didn't kill you, though I suppose the prophecy might have been a part of that."
Rias pushed another pawn into his chest, and then another, and finally a fourth one before he finally felt something that made him gasp.
"Harry?" she asked.
"It's...I feel...ugh," Harry grunted, falling out of his chair and onto his hands and knees.
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed as Rias rushed to her knees in front of him.
"What's wrong?" she asked, brushing his hair out of his face and hissing as she felt his head. "He's burning up!"
"Move," Ajuka muttered, levitating him over to a nearby bed he conjured with a wave of his hand. As he hovered his hand over Harry's chest and cast a few diagnostic spells, he furrowed his brow and exclaimed, "What in the world?!"
"What is it?" Sirzechs asked, concerned.
"His pieces have mutated," Ajuka replied. "Four pawns mutated at the moment of reincarnation...what is going on with you?"
"Could it be the horcux?" Hermione asked.
"No, this doesn't feel like that," Ajuka replied as Harry writhed on the bed, his fever worsening. "It feels wild and...hungry, but it doesn't feel like another piece is needed."
"Could it be something that Rizevim did?" Sirzechs asked.
"Conceivably," Ajuka muttered, running his hand through his hair. "It feels like it needs energy of some kind. We might be able to stabilize him if we…"
He trailed off as he suddenly felt Harry calling out to something with his magic. The wizard had lost consciousness by then and wasn't doing anything by his own will, yet the hunger in him seemed to be working through him regardless. He began to glow a bright white, forcing the others to avert their eyes. Casting a spell on his eyes to help him ignore the blinding light, Ajuka watched as the cloak that the boy's friend had given him was levitated up from where it had fallen when he stumbled forward. It moved towards him, as did a small, black stone and a particularly long wand, which were pulled out of the mokeskin pouch he kept at his hip. The three items, which he realized all had the same magical signature, moved more quickly then, racing towards his chest, which began to glow so brightly that even he had to avert his eyes.
Harry gasped, sitting up and panting for breath. His vision was terribly blurry, worse than it normally was without glasses, and as he took them off, wondering what had gone wrong, he realized that he saw better without them, better than he ever had.
"The evil pieces fixed my eyes?" he asked, unaware that they would. Everyone around him blinked as they stared at him, looking as though they couldn't believe what they we seeing, and he chuckled, saying, "At least two of you have seen me without glasses before."
"You said that was rare!" Hermione hissed, glaring at Rias, who balked.
"Some degree of...change can happen, but when it's minor like this, it can be hidden easily enough," the redhead spluttered.
"Change, what cha...oh!" Harry exclaimed as he stood up and found himself unsteady on his feet. "Did you all get shorter? What the hell happened to my shoes!"
"You outgrew them," Ajuka replied flatly as he walked around him. "It seems the evil pieces had a more profound effect than they generally d...Lucifer's light!"
"What is...is that what I think it is?" Sirzechs stammered. "But that…"
"What?" Harry sighed, wishing that he could just go to bed and forget this day happened.
"Here," Rias sighed, conjuring a mirror and holding it up to him. "I swear, I genuinely think that they're sexy."
Harry's eyes went wide as he looked into the mirror and saw what everyone had been freaking out about. From his forehead sprang two horns that curved up towards the ceiling. They were jet black and about six inches long, and as he reached up to feel them, he learned the hard way that the tips were quite sharp.
"Ow," he muttered. "I have horns?"
"Like I say, you can hide them easily enough with magic," Rias replied. "They're rare, but not unheard of, and one of the highest-ranked players of the rating games has horns naturally. She's a devil of the Belphegor clan and…"
"Is that a tail?" Hermione asked as she finally bothered to find out what Ajuka and Sirzechs were gawking at.
"A tail?" Harry asked, looking around at his side.
Sure enough, hanging from his lower back was a long, black, whip-like tail with what appeared to be a full heart-shaped tip.
"What the fuck?" he thought to himself, watching in muted shock as his newest appendage moved about, and he realized that he could direct it about like any other part of him. It made sense, he supposed, as it was apparently attached to him.
"I've never heard of a devil having a tail before," Rias piped up, sounding confused. "Sirzechs, what's wrong?"
Sure enough, her brother's face had gone pale, and he muttered, "That's not possible!"
"No, it isn't," Ajuka replied flatly, "and yet it is. Sense his power, Sirzechs; neither of us has ever seen one, and yet there is no mistaking that, not to mention the tail."
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, "And why does it sound like I've turned into something other than a devil?"
"Oh, you're a devil alright," Ajuka replied. "You just happen to be something very distinct. There has only ever been one type of devil to possess tails, after all."
"What is he?" Hermione asked. "What's happened?"
"The impossible," Ajuka grinned. "I cannot say how, but there can be only one possible explanation. You're an incubus, Harry."
Days later, in a section of the Underworld thought completely undeveloped, a man flew through the winding hallways of a vast, ornate palace with purpose. He had been given a task by his liege and he had completed it. All that remained was to report to him, something that required him to venture into a part of the palace that he generally didn't care for. If it had been up to him, he'd have met his king in the throne room, but it wasn't, and it wasn't up to him to question the son of Lucifer either.
"Lord Euclid," one of the guards nodded as he spotted him. "He's expecting you."
"Of course he is," Euclid Lucifuge sneered before making his way inside to the royal dining booth.
Seated in his usual high-backed chair, peering out through the window in front of him, was Rizevim Livan Lucifer, true heir to his father's throne, and the man that Euclid had served zealously for longer than he could say.
"Your majesty," he said as he knelt dutifully. "I bring news."
"We are eager to hear it," Rizevim replied, his voice as deep and silky as ever. "For days now our curiosity has only mounted further, but before you get to your report, we would have your counsel on a vital matter."
"Your majesty?" Euclid asked.
"Beef or chicken?" Rizevim asked, pointing down at the menu before him. "We have ruled out nearly everything on this menu, but we cannot decide between the beef or the chicken."
"I am more of a venison man myself," Euclid replied, staring down the extensive menu in his king's hand.
"We went with venison the last time we were here and found it disappointing," Rizevim replied. "You know, cows are most remarkable creatures. Their digestive system is one of the most perfect in all of nature, and they can eat all manner of things without the more unfortunate parts of them passing through to the rest of their systems. It's what makes tallow such a perfect cooking fat, as no matter what the cow has eaten, their fat remains clear of all impurities. On the other hand, chicken fat is delicious."
"Undoubtedly, your majesty," Euclid replied. "Perhaps the beef would be the better option in this case."
"Bah, we will mull it over more," Rizevim said dismissively. "Give your report."
"The rumors my spy in Sirzechs' palace reported appear to be true," Euclid reported. "This Harry Potter has become an incubus."
Rizevim chuckled at that and set the menu down. "By the Lightbringer, that was a name we had completely forgotten. We had long since written that old experiment off as a failure when all those children died. Even the Potter boy's survival we dismissed as a fluke, since it seemed that the incubus genes simply hadn't taken. What was it, we wonder, that allowed him to survive where none of the others did?"
"Perhaps, whatever it was, it also allowed his transformation," Euclid posited, and Rizevim scratched at his beard as he thought about it.
"Actually creating a full-fledged incubus was never our plan," the king admitted, tapping his fingers on the table. "This will require careful study and planning."
"Do you wish for me to have him abducted?" Euclid asked.
"No, we do not," Rizevim replied sharply. "He's a plaything of the Gremory heiress, though this will reverse soon if it hasn't already. We will let him come into his own and develop for the time being. He represents a significant thorn in the side of your wretched brother-in-law now."
Euclid's eye twitched at the mention of Sirzechs, and Rizevim smirked. His right hand never failed to grow angry at the mention of the man who wore his mantle, which in turn never failed to amuse him.
"The Heavens and the Fallen will not abide a living incubus," Euclid grinned. "This could be a significant problem for him. Is there any chance that he might take action against him?"
"No," Rizevim replied. "Sirzechs is powerful yet weak, burdened by conscience and even more so by love. If the Gremory girl is as infatuated with our young incubus as your spies say, then Sirzechs would sooner cut off his right hand than harm him, as doing so would hurt his beloved sister."
"It is infuriating that such a man leads our people; that he dares to hold the title that is yours by right," Euclid growled, and Rizevim flared his power warningly, making him flinch.
"Sirzechs Gremory holds what we allow him to hold," he declared. "He rules what we allow him to rule, and in time, we will take what is ours, but until then, let him pretend that he's worthy of our father's name. Did your spies say anything else about him?"
"He's not the only new part of Rias Gremory's peerage," Euclid replied. "She's also turned two young witches as well, one of whom is an inquisitive yet unremarkable creature, and the other might be mad."
"Hmm, chicken or beef?" Rizevim muttered to himself, staring down at the menu and sipping his wine as he continued to mull over his choice.
"Sounds like the civil war," Euclid murmured, and Rizevim looked up at him, his hazel eyes clearly telling him to explain. "Our people were caught between hot-headed fools and cowardly cretins, who would sully our lines with humans. Beef or chicken."
"We see the comparison," Rizevim chuckled. "To think, there are still those out there who wonder about our decision to step away from that mess. Caught between a faction of idiots hell-bent on continuing a war we plainly could not win without finding a way to fix our fertility problems and a faction of peace-obsessed weaklings bound and determined to spit on everything our father stood for, what was a king to do but leave them to their folly and seek a third option? Being perpetually caught between two terrible options at every corner is a human malfunction. We Devils are better than that."
"Quite right, my king," Euclid nodded, and Rizevim just hummed.
"Have you anything else to report?" he asked.
"Our spies in Hades' palace report that the God of the Dead has been spitting mad for the last couple days," Euclid replied.
"What's the old bag of bones on about now?" Rizevim sighed.
"Sirzechs wiped out the Dementors," Euclid replied, scowling again as he thought of the man who had what he coveted most, "and then apparently, three artifacts Hades created long ago were destroyed, and he has no idea how."
"Curious," Rizevim mused. "Did you hear what specifically had been destroyed?"
"Not yet, though I will keep investigating, my liege," Euclid replied.
"See that you do," Rizevim commanded. "We will go with the beef this time."
"Quite right, your majesty," Euclid replied as he watched his king cast a spell to enhance his voice.
"Send in the bull!" he called out, and all around the arena, men and women cheered gleefully.
"What the fuck?!" the prisoner below, a middle-aged, darkly complected man with a badly receded hairline and a pot belly, cried out as he was woken by a sudden shock. "Where am I? What is this? What do you want with me?"
"Humans are so irritating," Euclid muttered as he watched next to his king, who paid close attention to the coming show. "Always with the questions."
One of the gates was opened and the human screamed in terror as a bull the size of an elephant charged into the arena. Euclid didn't much care for these shows that his king so adored, having come to find them repitive by now, but he had to admit that the mutated monstrosities their researchers had created were still fascinating. Whether to give them weapons of war or simply because he thought it might be fun, Rizevim had ordered them long ago to seize animals from Earth and experiment on them. The results spoke for themselves.
"What the fuck?!" the human man screamed, diving out of the way of the gigantic bull and trying to make a break for the room it had come from.
Rizevim watched as the bull crashed into the wall, turning in time to avoid slamming his head into it but having too much momentum to avoid slamming his flank against the stone. It grumbled at that, being too strong to be too bothered by the blow, and huffed angrily at the human, who was halfway to the door. The son of Lucifer smirked as he watched the man near what he saw as, perhaps not salvation, but the only hope he had, and held the door up intentionally to give him false hope. The second the man drew too close, he snapped his fingers, and it slammed shut.
"At least this one didn't freeze in terror," Euclid murmured as he watched the man run right into the heavy wooden door. "Those ones are always dreadfully boring."
"Oh, we don't know," Rizevim chuckled. "The ending always remains amusing."
The human man tumbled backward, dazed by his heavy impact against the door, and didn't manage to move in time as the bull gored him right in his taint. A scream the ancient devil would have called inhuman if he didn't know better spilled from his lips as he was impaled. The crowd cheered and the bull, enjoying the sound, ran around the arena proudly, keeping the dying man dangling from his horn as he went.
"That was more fun than watching him be pecked to death by giant chickens would have been," Rizevim declared. "You know, speaking of Hades, we do wonder how one of our bulls would fair against one of his cerberi."
"Perhaps we could approach him," Euclid suggested, and Rizevim ran a hand through his long, silver hair.
"We will consider it," he replied. "You are to give us regular reports on Potter's progress, Euclid, but none of our agents are to make contact with him, understood?"
"Yes, your majesty," Euclid replied, "though, a thought does occur to me."
"Speak freely," Rizevim commanded.
"Potter is the first true incubus to live in ages," Euclid said. "I understand your reasoning for not wanting him to be taken immediately, and I wouldn't dream of questioning you, but does that not represent a significant risk? I could instruct our agents to ensure that, should he end up in danger, they will ensure that he comes to no harm."
"We would prefer that they remain completely undetected," Rizevim replied. "Ajuka Astaroth is many things, but stupid isn't one of them. Even if Sirzechs will balk at the thought of Potter's status ruining his desire to make peace with the other factions, Ajuka will recognize the resource that the boy is. We would wager much that he has already acquired sperm samples from him as insurance, and should anything happen to him, our men will simply infiltrate Agreas and take them. Our desire remains to watch him from afar as we try to figure out how in our father's name he managed to become so much more than we ever intended. Now, leave us and return when you have more to report."
"Your will be done, your majesty," Euclid nodded before departing.
Rizevim swirled his wine around the glass for a moment and brought it close to observe the legs slowly trailing back down.
"Could it have simply been the prophecy his mother mentioned?" he wondered to himself as he took another sip. "Those marked by the fates for great purpose cannot die before they fulfill them, and that would make sense, but we cannot help but think that there might be more to this."
In the end, it didn't truly matter, at least yet. The boy would play his part in the games to come, and that was what mattered most.