After finishing such a fun book club meeting (and having taken a brief rest in order to recharge) Harry was planning to leave the Gremory mansion. Before he could, he happened to catch a glimpse of the lawn through a window that he was passing, and what Harry saw made him stop and look.
Outside on the lawn, Grayfia was standing with her son. Millicas Lucifer was running around and playing, which wasn’t out of character for a kid his age to be doing. Even if the last few times Harry had seen him, Millicas seemed to be very mature for his age.
But he was only eleven and right now he looked it. More than just the action of horsing around in some kind of imaginary game, what stood out to Harry was the way that Millicas happened to be playing.
He was wearing a jacket that might’ve belonged to his dad or his grandfather, because it was way too big for him. Because it was so large, Millicas could wear it in a way that looked like robes. In his hand, he was holding a stick that he’d picked up off the ground. A pointy one that was a little bit more than a foot long.
Millicas danced side to side, waving the stick and pointing it in different directions, all the while Grayfia watched over him. Harry knit his brow. He couldn’t be…
One apparition trip later, Harry reappeared right next to Grayfia. He found a dagger of ice pointed at him, which disappeared a millisecond later. Although Grayfia outwardly looked as inexpressive as ever, Harry had gotten to know her well enough to spot that she was surprised.
“I am unaccustomed to having anyone teleport so close to me, in places like this,” Grayfia said. “I apologize.”
“No offense taken,” Harry said. Just like devil teleportation wasn’t counteracted by wards that blocked apparition, the restrictions devils put on magical means of instantaneous transportation weren’t up to the task of keeping Harry out.
Even if she liked to play the role of a maid, Grayfia had been a soldier long before that. Harry understood that those kinds of reactions didn’t go away.
“What is Millicas up to?” Harry asked.
Grayfia gave him an accusatory look.
“What does he appear to be doing?” Grayfia asked.
“It looks like he’s playing as a wizard,” Harry said.
“You’ve earned a fan,” Grayfia said.
She didn’t seem to know how she felt about this. Gryafia paid a great deal of attention to customs and behavior, which probably explained why Millicas was usually so well behaved. Today, however, he was willing to prance and play with abandon.
Millicas turned sharply toward a tree, saying an incantation. “Exepctus boom!”
“Not quite a proper incantation, I’m afraid!” Harry said, raising his voice so that Millicas would hear him.
Immediately, the youngest member of the Gremory Clan jumped and spun around. Harry could pretty much see stars in his eyes. It was something he was used to spotting, since he got plenty of it when he walked around in magical Britain.
Millicas ran over to them. He might have been a kid but he was still a devil from one of the 72 pillars. Millicas crossed the distance nearly instantly.
“Harry!” Millicas said. “You were amazing!”
“Millicas watched your rating game against Diodora Astaroth,” Grayfia dutifully supplied.
“Did he now?” Harry asked. That seemed a bit… Rough, for a child. Then again, these were devils, and they worked by different rules.
Gryafia looked away slightly. Again, thanks to how adept Harry had gotten at reading her moods, he recognized this as embarrassment.
“I was determined to watch the match myself,” Grayfia said, “which allowed Millicas to watch it too.”
“How did you do that?” Millicas demanded. “The whole thing stopped, and then, when it came back, Diodora was done for, and his own peerage had done it to him! I’ve never seen anything like that!”
“Have you seen many rating games?”
“Some. I know how most of them go,” Millicas said. “What you did was totally new. You really DID beat Serafall, I bet! You’re amazing! Did you mind control Diodora’s servants?”
“I didn’t control them,” Harry said patiently. “The spell to do that is extremely dark. All wizards swear not to use it and to hunt down those who do. Making another person do your bidding is a terrible thing, Millicas. All I did was convince Diodora’s peerage to do their own bidding. I gave them the courage to fulfill their heart's desire.”
Millicas’s lips creased as he thought about this.
“Did Diodora mistreat his peerage?” Millicas. “Dad warns me about that. He says that if you use people as tools, they’re more likely to hurt you than your enemies.”
“That’s right. Your dad is pretty smart about this stuff.” Harry ruffled Millicas’s hair. The young devil glowered at that. “When you’re old enough to have a peerage, make sure you don’t do what Diodora did.”
“I’ll have a peerage soon,” Millicas said. “I’m going to get my evil pieces for my next birthday!”
He puffed his chest out, full of pride.
“Nice!” Harry said.
He had always enjoyed talking to kids. Their enthusiasm could be infectious. He even considered becoming a teacher so that he could return to Hogwarts, but sadly his powers had always been better served hunting down dark wizards, making sure that Britain could be a safe country for the next generation to grow up in.
Still, he sometimes regretted that things turned out that way.
“How old were you when you started learning magic?” Millicas asked.
“Eleven,” Harry said. “That’s when every wizard starts learning where I come from. Our school sends out invitations and invites all the magical children in the country.”
He wasn’t really expecting Millicas to spin away from him, looking outrageously excited.
“Mom! Can I go?” He asked.
“You are neither human nor a wizard,” Grayfia said.
“Harry casts spells with magic he got from becoming a Bishop. That means the source must be the same,” Millicas said. It was a very good point, to the extent that it was surprising to hear it out of a kid his age. “They must just use a different method! Please, mom? I want a wand!”
“You’re already receiving tutoring in how to wield magic—”
“Not THIS kind of magic!” Millicas said.
“You’re learning stronger magic,” Grayfia said.
“Your mom is right,” Harry said. “The kind of magic learned by the wizards I know is much, MUCH weaker than the things that devils can do.”
“Then how are you so strong?” Millicas asked.
“I’m a special case. Comparing me to other wizards is like comparing your dad to regular devils,” Harry said patiently.
He and Grayfia were fighting a losing battle, though. They could see that Millicas had his mind set on this in the single minded way that boys his age can get.
Which wasn’t to say that he would just get his way. If there was any mother strict enough to shut down begging, it was Grayfia.
She looked at Harry, though, saying nothing, and Harry saw her eyes do something strange.
They flickered to the place that Harry first appeared, when he apparated next to her and caught her off guard.
“How long do students study at this school of yours?” Grayfia asked.
“Seven years,” Harry said. “Only by the end can the students be considered fully fledged wizards. But… That’s for ordinary humans, some of them coming from families who don’t even know that the supernatural world exists. It stands to reason that a devil with prior training might learn faster.
His voice wasn’t judgemental. He didn’t support one way or the other, just laid out the facts.
After a few seconds of thinking, Grayfia addressed her son.
“One year is a short enough span of time to be a compromise,” she said. “I would allow you to learn at this school for that long. There are certain skills they wield that are unfamiliar to devils.” In a fight, unfamiliar meant far more effective, since the enemy wouldn’t expect them or know how to properly counter. “Your dad will agree, I’m sure. But—”
Millicas, whose face had been glowing, waited with apprehension now for the ultimatum to drop.
Grayfia turned to Harry. “Can you get him an invitation?”
“I think that I could work some magic,” Harry said, palming his wand to go with the pun.
Millicas jumped for joy, while Grayfia nodded, her eyes mostly closed. While her son celebrated, she murmured to Harry in a way that only he could hear:
“If it will calm that boy down, this arrangement will be more than worth it. He has been utterly obsessed with you, ever since that match.”
“Sorry,” Harry said, smiling in a way that showed he really wasn’t. “I can have that effect.”
LINE BREAK
From Gremory manor, Harry went on a trip straight to the human world. He dropped by Kuoh and checked in with the girls, letting them know that his visit to the mansion had gone smoothly. He also took the liberty of turning a souvenir coin into an illegal portkey.
While portkeys were supposed to be registered, they were almost completely impossible to track. Which was why the laws were strict around them in the first place. It was a difficult spell to create one, but Harry for Harry it was as easy as wiping after a poo.
With that, he hurtled most of the way around the globe, landing in an empty office and giving a lot of portraits a horrible shock. Only one portrait wasn’t phased, instead chuckling once they recognized Harry.
Harry pulled a seat back and sat down, committing to wait. He could hear voices, so his timing had been good; he wouldn't be kept for very long.
Sure enough it was just a few minutes before the door swung open.
“—have to make preparations so that the muggleborn trust fund is accessible— EEEK!” said a beautiful brown haired woman.
The two who had just entered the room, a woman with gray hair and another one with frizzy brown, both sprung sideways and scrambled for their wands.
Well, Harry said scrambled, but they actually drew them dexterously, showing that while they might have both committed to careers in education, they were also veterans of a war.
Headmistress of Hogwarts Minerva McGonagall and Deputy Headmistress (as well as transfiguration professor) Hermione Granger both glared at Harry.
“Don’t DO that!” they snapped.
McGonagall was so worked up that her Scottish accent thickened.
“I had a favor to ask, so I just dropped in,” Harry said innocently. “What’s the matter?”
Hermione muttered unpleasant things under her breath. McGonagall tapped her chest with one of her hands.
“You’re going to give me a heart attack one day, Mr. Potter,” she said. “I'm the headmistress of this place and I know every person who comes and goes… Except for you. It’s like the castle itself makes an exception to the wards for you.”
“She does,” Harry said. “She likes me.”
McGonagall glared at him. She thought that he was playing with her.
They came over and sat with Harry, Hermione sitting next to him and McGonagall going across from them both.
“You disappeared off the face of the planet practically, without a word except for quitting your job, then you turn up here on a whim?” Hermione asked. “What kind of favor could you possibly need?”
“I want an admittance letter to Hogwarts,” Harry said.
McGonagall squinted. “All magical youth in Britain are automatically sent their letters of acceptance. Does that mean you wish one for a child outside of our jurisdiction?”
“That’s right,” Harry says. “Even though he lives far away, he was begging me to come.”
“Where does he live?” Hermione asked.
“Japan,” Harry said. That was easier than saying the underworld, although he would at least have to let Hermione know later.
He knew she was going to drill him for answers about what had been going on in his life. When that time came, it would be easier to just cough them up.
Minerva McGonagall peered at Harry, studying him deeply. In the end, she shook her head slightly.
“I’ll leave this matter in the deputy headmistress's hands,” McGonagall said. “She is more accustomed to your antics. Probably because, as my memory serves, she was often in the middle of them, contributing at least an equal amount.”
“Minerva!” Hermione said, scandalized. “I was the one keeping them out of trouble!”
McGonagall snorted. “And how well that worked.”
She made a shooing gesture, hurrying them both out of the seats they had only recently settled into. Behind her desk, the portrait of Albus Dumbledore (the very same portrait that had chuckled at Harry’s impossible appearance) watched with twinkling eyes.
“I’ll handle the matters you brought to my attention, Professor Granger,” McGonagall said. “In return, you handle this yourself. It should be simple enough… Is what I would say, if Mr. Potter wasn’t the one who brought it to our doorstep. Nothing he does is ever so simple.”
Harry whistled in a failed attempt at projecting innocence.
Hermione nodded, being strangely silent. The two of them took the dismissal and left the office, although not before Hermione grabbed an envelope from a leaning stack on a table in the corner.
Harry glanced at what she was holding as the two of them walked down the stairs from the office, side by side. Unless his eyes deceived him, what she’d picked up was what he made this whole trip for: a blank invitation used for any who might have slipped through the cracks, or foreigners who wished to attend Hogwarts instead of their local wizarding academy.
When they stepped off of the bottom stair, Harry held his hand out. Hermione knew what he was requesting. She looked at his hand, then his eyes… And refused.
“You have to earn it,” she said quietly.
“Oh?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “And how might I do that?”
“You disappeared without a word,” Hermione said. “I know that we don’t talk as much as we used to, but I heard about how you quit your job from Kingsley. I would have liked a word.”
“Well, it all happened so fast…” Harry trailed off, recognizing that he was giving an excuse. “I’m sorry. May I have that letter?”
“Earn it,” Hermione said again.
She met his eyes, and Harry recognized the naked emotion in hers. He smiled as things clicked into place.
“Very well,” he said. “I’ll put in ALL the work I need to… And then some.”
Before Hermione could say a thing, he scooped her up like a princess, carrying her through the halls at a sprint. It wouldn’t have been so easy for him before he became a devil, and Hermione went red with embarrassment.
Harry began the route to their favorite room in the entire castle, ready to do whatever he might have to in order to secure his goal.