The Black Witch! 36

This is a pretty long chapter, mostly because I plan on wrapping the time travel arc up soon. Not that I haven’t enjoyed writing it. It’s been one of my favorite arcs in this story so far. 

Chapter 36:

– Albus Dumbledore – 

Albus Dumbledore had returned from the Chamber of Secrets with clean robes, a repaired hat, and the deeply unpleasant certainty that he had failed Hogwarts for nearly forty years.

He sat behind his desk with both hands wrapped around a cup of tea that had gone cold several minutes ago. The familiar silver instruments surrounding him continued whirring and puffing as though nothing had changed. Portraits dozed inside their frames. Evening sunlight filtered through the tall windows, bathing shelves of books and delicate magical artifacts in warm gold.

His office looked exactly as it had that morning.

It no longer felt quite as secure.

A fragment of Tom Riddle’s soul had been hidden inside the castle.

A basilisk more than sixty feet long had lived beneath generations of unsuspecting students.

Neither Albus nor any of the headmasters who came before him had uncovered that threat.

He closed his eyes and released a slow breath.

A Horcrux.

Albus had known the magic existed. He had encountered references to it during his studies and subsequently ensured that every book containing useful instructions had been removed from the Hogwarts library. The act required murder, but murder alone was merely the beginning. Creating a Horcrux meant deliberately mutilating one’s own soul and sealing the severed fragment inside an object.

It was an act of profound arrogance and even greater terror.

Only someone more frightened of death than they were of damnation would attempt it.

Tom had not merely attempted it. He had succeeded.

Worse, he had chosen Rowena Ravenclaw’s lost diadem as the vessel and hidden it inside Hogwarts itself. He had taken an artifact belonging to one of the school’s founders, polluted it with murder, and concealed it within the castle that had once offered him sanctuary.

The violation felt deeply personal.

Tom had always claimed Hogwarts as the first place that truly belonged to him. Apparently, his idea of love had always required possession.

Albus opened his eyes and stared at the cold tea.

The diadem might also explain another mystery that had troubled him for years.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts position had become notorious. No professor had managed to hold it for more than a single year since Albus refused Tom the position. Illness, scandal, accidents—some calamity inevitably forced each professor to leave.

Albus had long suspected a curse, but Hogwarts was saturated with so many layers of ancient enchantment that isolating one malicious thread had proven impossible.

Perhaps he had been looking in the wrong place.

Tom might have used the Horcrux as an anchor, allowing the curse to sink into the castle and continuously replenish itself. If so, destroying the soul fragment should have broken the enchantment.

They would not know for certain until a Defense professor survived long enough to begin a second year, but Albus felt cautiously optimistic.

He only wished he understood how Amara had removed the fragment.

The diadem itself remained intact. Albus had inspected it thoroughly and found no trace of the mutilated soul that had once inhabited it. Even the dark residue had been scoured away with a thoroughness that should have required the destruction of the vessel.

Amara’s explanation had consisted of the words Black family secret magic from the future and a smile that strongly discouraged additional questions.

It had not been a convincing lie.

It had, however, been an unmistakable boundary.

Albus could have pressed her. He could have questioned her more aggressively or tried to catch her contradicting herself. A sufficiently skilled Legilimens might even have attempted to slip around her defenses.

The thought alone made him feel ashamed.

Amara already watched him as though expecting manipulation behind every question and betrayal behind every smile. Trying to force the truth from her would only prove that she was right to fear him.

Trust freely given possessed value.

Trust extracted by force was merely obedience wearing a prettier face.

His thoughts drifted to the Chamber beneath the castle.

Albus had known that Tom opened it during his school years. He had suspected Tom was responsible for Myrtle Warren’s death, but suspicion had not been enough. Tom had framed Rubeus Hagrid and his acromantula, leaving Albus unable to do more than prevent Hagrid’s expulsion from becoming permanent exile.

All this time, the proof had been slithering through tunnels beneath their feet.

The basilisk had been enormous. Older than any living professor, heavily armored, lethally venomous, and capable of killing with a glance. Even blinded, it had nearly crushed Amara against the Chamber wall.

Had Tom returned and ordered it to attack the school openly, the consequences would have been unimaginable. Hundreds of children lived within these walls. A single glimpse of its eyes could have killed an entire corridor of students before anyone understood what was happening.

The beast had been a disaster waiting for its master’s command.

Now it was dead.

Myrtle had finally been avenged. Tom had lost one of his most dangerous weapons, and Hagrid might at last receive the vindication he deserved.

The victory should have left Albus relieved.

Instead, the full scale of what he had failed to discover pressed heavily upon him.

A low, mournful chirp came from across the office.

Albus looked up.

Fawkes stood upon his golden perch, brilliant red-and-gold feathers gleaming in the fading sunlight. The phoenix tilted his head, studying Albus with dark, knowing eyes.

“I am quite all right, old friend,” Albus said.

Fawkes released another unconvinced trill.

“Overwhelmed, perhaps,” Albus admitted. “It has been an unusually eventful morning.”

Fawkes ruffled his feathers.

“I suspect adventures involving Miss Black tend to progress at an exhausting pace,” Albus said. “She uncovered a Horcrux, revealed one of Hogwarts’ greatest secrets, and helped slay a basilisk before most students finished their afternoon lessons.”

Fawkes chirped more brightly.

“Yes, I am aware that you have done more impressive things before breakfast,” Albus said. “There is no need to boast.”

The phoenix settled again, although his attention remained fixed on Albus.

A faint smile tugged at Albus’s lips before vanishing.

Amara Black.

She had initially described herself as a witch from the future. Their subsequent discussions suggested the truth was far stranger. She came from another reality—one whose history resembled their own closely enough to create familiar people but differed drastically enough to turn those people into strangers.

Albus remembered entering the hospital wing after Amara awakened.

Her wand had appeared in her hand without warning.

She had pointed it directly at his chest.

There had been no uncertainty in her posture. No trembling in her wrist. Her face had held a degree of hatred Albus had rarely seen directed at anyone, let alone himself.

She accused another Albus Dumbledore of binding her magic while she was an infant. Of destroying her childhood. Of working with James Potter to murder Sirius Black and steal everything Sirius had left her.

The accusations sounded monstrous.

They also sounded painfully sincere.

Amara had not been repeating rumors or constructing a calculated lie. She had spoken with the raw fury of someone confronting the architect of her suffering.

Whatever his alternate self had done, the scars remained.

Even after spending hours beside him, Amara never relaxed completely. Whenever he raised his wand too quickly, her body tensed. Whenever he asked a question about her abilities, suspicion flickered behind her eyes.

Albus had begun to fear that another version of himself had helped create a future Dark Lady.

Amara possessed immense power. Dark magic answered her with alarming eagerness, and she showed little hesitation about using it. She had spoken casually about killing monsters and nearly dying as if both were ordinary weekly inconveniences.

She also carried secrets far more troubling than future Black family magic.

Yet the woman he had observed during the past two days did not fit comfortably inside the role of a Dark Lady.

Her attachment to Lily Evans was particularly difficult to miss.

Albus had witnessed enough embarrassed glances, clasped hands, and public displays at breakfast to understand that their connection had progressed with remarkable speed. Minerva had spent much of the morning looking as though she regretted not establishing stricter rules concerning affection in the Great Hall.

But Lily was not Amara’s only connection.

Amara had looked at the young Sirius Black with grief she could barely hide. She laughed with Marlene McKinnon and Alice Fortescue. She had entrusted her familiar to Hagrid because she knew he would need comfort after surrendering his rooster.

Even her treatment of that doomed bird had revealed compassion. Amara disliked controlling it. She had apologized for using the Imperius Curse and promised that its sacrifice would be remembered.

A person wholly consumed by evil would not have cared…

Tom had gathered followers. He inspired fear, fanaticism, and dependence. He did not form connections built upon mutual affection.

Amara loved people.

She had spoken of those waiting in her own world with a fierce longing that temporarily stripped away every defensive layer. Raven, Morgana, Dick, Kara, Kori, Bellatrix, Daphne, Astoria—names belonging to people Albus had never met, yet whose importance was unmistakable.

Her desperation to return home was not driven by ambition.

It was driven by love.

Amara was undeniably dangerous. She was wounded, secretive, angry, and far too comfortable with destructive magic.

But she was not lost.

The possibility of an evil Albus Dumbledore remained far more disturbing.

Parallel realities meant there could be countless versions of every person. Versions shaped by different choices, victories, losses, and temptations.

Albus knew better than most how thin the line between noble intention and terrible action could become.

Once, as a young man, he had believed he and Gellert Grindelwald could reshape the world for the greater good. He had convinced himself that brilliance granted them the right to determine everyone else’s future.

Perhaps another Albus had never stepped away from that path. Perhaps somewhere, the phrase greater good remained an excuse rather than a source of shame.

The thought made his stomach twist.

A man possessing his knowledge and power could cause tremendous harm if he abandoned restraint. Add political influence, institutional authority, and the certainty that every cruelty served some higher purpose, and that man could ruin lives without ever admitting he had become a monster.

Perhaps that was the man Amara knew.

“I cannot change what he did to you,” Albus murmured, although Amara was nowhere near the office. “But I need not become him.”

The fireplace erupted.

Green flames filled the hearth, casting harsh light across the office walls. Several portraits startled awake as a broad, battered figure stepped through the Floo.

Alastor Moody never emerged from a fireplace gracefully. He lurched forward, caught himself with his cane, and immediately spun to examine the room behind him as though expecting an assassin to follow.

His heavy travelling coat bore fresh scorch marks. A shallow cut crossed one cheek, and his greying hair looked as though it had been combed with an explosive spell.

Despite everything weighing upon him, Albus smiled at the sight of his old friend.

“Alastor,” Albus said warmly. “You look well.”

Moody stared at him. “Your standards have fallen,” Moody said.

“Age brings generosity,” Albus said.

“Age ought to bring better eyesight,” Moody muttered. He limped away from the fireplace and swept his gaze over every corner of the office. He checked the windows, the ceiling, both doors, and several portraits before finally appearing satisfied that Dumbledore had not been taken hostage in his own tower.

Fawkes chirped a greeting.

“At least someone here takes security seriously,” Moody said.

“Would you care for tea?” Albus asked.

“No.”

“Brandy?”

Moody hesitated. “Later,” Moody said.

That answer removed the last trace of amusement from Albus’s expression. Alastor refusing alcohol until after a conversation suggested the matter was serious indeed.

“How are matters in London?” Albus asked.

“Bad,” Moody said. Alastor lowered himself into the chair opposite the desk with a grunt. He rested his cane beside his knee but kept his wand in his hand. “Something’s happened,” Moody continued. “Something that’s got right under the Dark Lord’s skin.”

“Tom has never responded gracefully to frustration,” Albus said.

“This is more than one of his usual tantrums,” Moody said. “He’s raging.”

Albus sat straighter. “The attacks have doubled over the past few days,” Moody said. “Maybe tripled. Death Eaters who’ve kept quiet for months are suddenly moving. Safe houses have been hit. Families suspected of helping Muggleborns are disappearing. The bastards aren’t even covering their tracks properly anymore.”

“That does not sound like Tom,” Albus said.

“No,” Moody agreed. “He’s usually careful. Cruel, but careful. This is different.” Moody leaned forward, his scarred face hardening. “He’s not choosing targets because hitting them accomplishes anything,” Moody said. “He’s hurting people because he can’t reach whoever actually angered him.”

Albus glanced toward the window. A fragment of his soul disappearing from Ravenclaw’s diadem. The basilisk he had controlled since his school days dying beneath Hogwarts.

Two losses in scarcely two days.

Yes, Albus had some idea what might have enraged him.

“Do you know what caused this change?” Moody asked.

“I have a theory,” Albus said carefully.

Moody’s eyes narrowed. “I hate it when you say that,” Moody said.

“So does Minerva.”

“I’m not joking, Albus.”

“Neither is she.”

Moody grunted, but his expression did not soften. “There is something else,” Moody said. “One of my sources heard Hogsmeade mentioned during a gathering earlier today.”

Albus went very still. “In what context?” he asked.

“Attack,” Moody said. “Retaliation. Punishment. The source couldn’t hear everything without exposing themselves, but the village was named twice. So was tonight.”

Beyond the office windows, the distant rooftops of Hogsmeade were visible between the darkening hills. Tiny columns of smoke rose peacefully from chimneys. Shopkeepers would be preparing to close for the evening. Families would soon sit down to supper.

They had no idea that Voldemort might already have sentenced them to death.

“How reliable is your source?” Albus asked.

“Reliable enough that I came here myself instead of sending a Patronus,” Moody said. “Could still be false information. Could be a trap meant to draw us out.”

“But you do not believe it is.”

“No.”

Albus rose from behind his desk.

The weariness that had settled into his bones remained, but it no longer mattered. His mind sharpened as possibilities arranged themselves into threats, defenses, evacuation routes, and contingencies.

Amara’s victories had not ended anything.

They had wounded Tom’s pride, stripped away treasured pieces of his immortality, and destroyed a creature he considered his birthright. Now innocent people might pay the price for humiliations they did not even understand.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Moody asked.

Albus looked at his oldest friend.

“I believe recent events at Hogwarts may have contributed to Tom’s anger,” Albus said.

Moody surged halfway out of his chair. “What events?” Moody demanded.

“I will explain everything,” Albus promised. “But first, we must ensure there remains a Hogsmeade in which to have that conversation.”

Moody stared at him for a long moment before giving a curt nod. 

“How much time do you think we have?” Albus asked.

“A few hours,” Moody said. “Maybe less.”

Albus turned toward the portraits surrounding the office. “Wake the headmaster portraits with frames in Hogsmeade,” Dumbledore ordered. “Tell them to observe and report anything unusual. Do not spread panic.”

The portraits immediately scrambled into motion, several elderly witches and wizards vanishing from their frames.

Albus looked toward Fawkes. “Find Professor McGonagall,” he said. “Ask her to come here immediately.”

Fawkes released a piercing cry and vanished in a burst of golden fire.

“Students inside the castle before sundown,” Moody said.

“Every last one,” Albus agreed. “The secret passages into Hogsmeade must be watched, and the wards surrounding the village reinforced. I will contact Aberforth.”

Moody retrieved his cane and forced himself upright.

“And if the Death Eaters are already on their way?” he asked.

Albus reached for his wand.

The Elder Wand settled into his hand, and the scattered silver instruments around the office began to tremble beneath the sudden weight of his magic.

“Then Tom will discover that Hogsmeade is not undefended,” Dumbledore said.

– Amara Black –

Hot water poured over my head and streamed down my body, carrying the last traces of basilisk blood toward the drain.

It had taken several minutes before the water stopped turning faintly green around my feet. The creature’s blood had soaked through my ruined robes, coated my skin, and worked its way into places basilisk blood had absolutely no business reaching.

The heat felt wonderful against muscles that had technically healed but still remembered being thrown nearly fifty feet into a stone wall.

I squeezed a generous amount of soap into my palm and slowly worked it across my shoulders. White lather spread over my skin as my hands moved down my arms, across my stomach, and along the dramatic curve of my hips.

Nothing about the past several hours should have left me horny.

I had eaten another fragment of Voldemort’s soul, crawled through a disgusting pipe beneath Hogwarts, watched a heroic rooster get flattened, and helped Dumbledore murder a sixty-foot basilisk. The creature had broken several of my ribs before we finally managed to pin its head beneath several tons of stone and cut open its throat.

That should have killed anyone’s desire for at least a week.

Unfortunately, my newly evolved body disagreed.

My soapy hands slid up to my breasts. The instant my palms cupped them, pleasure rolled through me in a warm wave. I squeezed slowly, kneading their weight before rubbing my thumbs over my already hardening nipples.

A moan escaped my lips and echoed around the shower.

“Fucking hell,” I whispered.

I had slept with Lily that morning.

It hadn’t even been a full day since I had her naked in the prefects’ bath, blushing and trembling beneath my hands. I could still remember the way she tasted, the softness of her thighs, and the wonder in her eyes when my horns, wings, and tail emerged.

That should have satisfied me longer than a few hours.

It was not. Being a Succubus Queen would take a lot of getting used to. I don’t know if Didi was even watching me from our own Universe, but I had a feeling she was laughing. And maybe touching herself too…

My fingers pinched my nipples.

Another needy sound slipped out.

Heat gathered between my thighs as my mind helpfully replayed Lily moaning my name. I let one hand travel down my stomach, moving through the soap and water until my fingertips brushed the sensitive flesh between my legs.

My knees nearly buckled.

I caught myself against the tiled wall with one hand and slowly rubbed my clit with the other.

Pleasure shot up my spine.

I sighed and let my eyes close as my fingers made another lazy circle. My body immediately demanded more. My hips rolled forward, chasing the friction as my thighs spread beneath the falling water.

It would have been so easy to continue.

Unfortunately, I already knew how that ended.

Masturbation was almost completely useless for me now. I could force myself to orgasm, but it never properly satisfied the demonic hunger burning beneath my skin. If anything, touching myself made the need worse.

Masturbating as a succubus was like drinking seawater when thirsty. It provided a few seconds of relief before leaving me even more desperate than when I started.

I reluctantly pulled my hand away.

My pussy gave an irritated throb of protest.

“Yes, I know,” I muttered. “Life is cruel…”

I turned off the shower before my willpower collapsed completely.

The sudden silence felt deafening.

I stepped onto the bathmat and wrapped a towel around my hair before grabbing another for my body. I dried my breasts, stomach, and legs by hand, taking care not to let the towel linger anywhere too sensitive.

Once I had removed most of the water, I gathered a small thread of magic.

It responded instantly.

Warm air spiraled around me, drying my skin and hair without removing the flushed, freshly washed glow. My raven-black hair remained slightly damp and glossy, while my pale skin looked warm, clean, and subtly shiny.

Was preserving the just-showered look unnecessarily vain?

Absolutely.

I had spent eighteen years magically cursed to look plain, awkward, and forgettable. I had earned the right to be vain now.

After examining myself in the mirror, I pulled on a black thong and fastened a matching bra around my chest. The garment struggled heroically to contain my breasts, though I suspected it would surrender if I moved too violently.

The Hogwarts uniform presented another challenge.

Whoever designed it clearly never anticipated someone with my proportions. My white shirt stretched tightly over my chest, its buttons threatening to become dangerous projectiles. The skirt hugged my hips before falling around my thighs, and even the robes failed to disguise my figure.

I adjusted my tie and stared at my reflection.

The outfit technically complied with every school rule.

It also made me look like someone had dressed a succubus for a highly inappropriate school fantasy.

“Good enough,” I decided.

I left the bathroom and crossed the empty dormitory. Nyx’s absence made the room feel strangely quiet. My little phoenix was spending the night with Hagrid, comforting him after the loss of his rooster.

I hoped Hagrid hadn’t spoiled him too badly already.

Nyx was shameless enough without a half-giant feeding him treats every few minutes.

I descended the spiral staircase into the Gryffindor common room.

The room was far busier than it had been that morning. Students occupied nearly every table and armchair, celebrating the end of classes with games, gossip, and unfinished homework. A bright fire crackled in the enormous stone fireplace, filling the chamber with comfortable warmth.

Several conversations faltered when I entered.

I felt gazes following me as I crossed the room, but I had already grown accustomed to that. My evolved allure hummed beneath my skin, drawing attention even when I wasn’t deliberately using it.

I quickly spotted the group waiting near the fireplace.

Lily, Marlene, and Alice sat together on one sofa. Sirius, Remus, and Peter occupied another positioned across from them.

James Potter was nowhere to be seen.

Again.

I wasn’t sure whether he was sulking somewhere because Lily had slept with me, planning some grand romantic gesture nobody wanted, or simply avoiding the group.

Whatever the explanation, I wasn’t disappointed.

This James had not done anything remotely comparable to what the version from my world had done. He was jealous, arrogant, and immature, but he hadn’t abandoned a baby in an orphanage, tortured his unconscious daughter, or attempted to sell her as breeding stock.

Still, every time I looked at him, I saw the man who had pointed his wand at my chest.

Distance between us was probably healthy.

Everyone looked toward me as I approached.

I smiled and spread my hands.

“Did you wait long?” I asked. “Sorry. I needed a very long shower after my adventure with Dumbledore.”

Remus’s attention dropped briefly toward my chest before snapping back to my face.

Peter wasn’t nearly as subtle. His gaze wandered from my damp hair to the open collar of my shirt, then down toward where the fabric stretched over my breasts.

My enhanced senses picked up their attraction immediately.

Both young men possessed a sweet, nervous scent that made my demonic instincts stir. Beneath that rested something untouched and strangely alluring. Their magic had a freshness to it that my newly evolved senses interpreted in a distinctly sexual way.

They were both virgins.

Cute, blushing, inexperienced virgins.

My succubus side purred.

I gave them both a slow, flirtatious wink.

Remus cleared his throat and abruptly became fascinated by the fireplace. A flush climbed from beneath his collar to his scarred cheeks.

Peter turned so red I briefly wondered whether he was choking.

Sirius noticed both reactions and grinned broadly.

“Careful, cousin,” Sirius said. “You’re going to kill poor Peter before the evening even starts.”

“I only winked at him,” I said innocently.

“That was not an innocent wink,” Marlene said.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said.

“You know exactly what she means,” Lily said.

Lily rolled her eyes as she stood, but the affectionate smile pulling at her lips undermined the disapproval. She crossed the small space between us and wrapped her arms around me.

I returned the embrace automatically.

Her warmth pressed against me, and the scent of her hair filled my senses. My body remembered what we had done that morning with humiliating enthusiasm. Heat immediately stirred between my thighs again.

This was going to become a serious problem.

“We only finished classes a few minutes ago,” Lily said. “You haven’t kept us waiting long.”

“That’s good,” I said.

Lily started to release me, then seemed to reconsider and kept one arm curled possessively around my waist. Her gaze sharpened. “Wait,” Lily said. “What did you mean by an adventure with Dumbledore?”

Marlene leaned forward immediately. “You had an adventure with the headmaster?” Marlene asked. “What did you blow up?”

“Why do you assume she blew something up?” Alice asked.

Marlene stared at her.

Alice considered the question before nodding.

“That was foolish of me,” Alice said. “What did you blow up?”

Sirius, Remus, and Peter turned their full attention toward me.

I grinned. “It’s quite a story,” I said. Before I could elaborate, a yawn forced its way from my mouth. I tried to smother it behind one hand, but Sirius noticed.

“Are you tired?” Sirius asked.

“Maybe a little,” I admitted. That was an understatement.

I had awakened before dawn, wandered into the Forbidden Forest, united the Deathly Hallows, met Death herself, evolved into a Succubus Queen, reunited with Nyx, had sex with Lily, eaten part of Voldemort’s soul, explored the Room of Requirement, fought a boggart wearing the faces of everyone I loved, and helped Dumbledore kill a basilisk.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, I had also attended breakfast.

I had probably earned a nap. Unfortunately, sleep sounded painfully boring compared to whatever Sirius had planned. I waved off his concern. “I’ll survive,” I said. “What sort of ridiculous plan have you arranged for us tonight?”

Sirius placed a hand against his chest, looking deeply offended.

“Ridiculous?” Sirius asked. “I’ll have you know that I have planned a fascinating and educational exploration of Hogwarts.”

Lily snorted.

Sirius pointed toward her. “Evans may have given you a tour yesterday,” Sirius said, “but I guarantee she only showed you the boring parts.”

“I showed her the important parts,” Lily said.

“You showed her classrooms and the library,” Sirius said.

“Those are important.”

“They’re the exact places students are supposed to know about,” Sirius said. “That defeats the entire point of exploring Hogwarts.”

“The point of a school tour is showing students where their classes are,” Lily said.

“That sounds like Ministry propaganda,” Sirius said gravely.

Marlene covered a laugh with her hand.

Lily gave Sirius an unimpressed look.

“What exactly does your superior tour include?” I asked.

Sirius’s grin widened. “Secret tunnels,” Sirius said. “Hidden rooms. Private places where professors rarely look. Several excellent shortcuts, two of which might occasionally move, and a passage leading straight into Hogsmeade.”

I raised my eyebrows. “There’s a secret passage out of the castle?” I asked. I know about the one in the Room of Requirement, but he was obviously talking to us about something else.

“There are several,” Remus said.

Sirius turned toward him in betrayal. “You weren’t supposed to tell her that yet,” Sirius said. “I was building suspense.”

“My apologies,” Remus said dryly. “Please continue building suspense around information you were already about to reveal.”

Lily released a long-suffering sigh. “Obviously, I didn’t show Amara any illegal tunnels,” Lily said. “I’m Head Girl.”

“Yes,” Sirius said sympathetically. “We’ve all been very patient about your condition.”

“My condition?”

“Chronic responsibility,” Sirius sighed. “Tragic, really…”

Lily’s hand tightened around my waist. “Why did I agree to hang with you boys?” Lily asked.

“Because you don’t trust Amara alone with them,” Marlene said.

Lily’s cheeks turned pink. “That isn’t the reason…” 

“It is absolutely the reason,” Alice said.

“I thought it was because Lily secretly enjoys breaking rules,” I said.

Lily looked at me.

I smiled sweetly.

Lily tried to maintain her stern Head Girl expression for several seconds before it cracked. “You are a terrible influence,” Lily said.

“You slept with me before breakfast,” I reminded her. “I think we’ve established that.”

Peter made a strangled noise.

Remus covered his face with one hand.

Sirius looked delighted.

Lily’s entire face turned scarlet. “You promised not to keep announcing that!” Lily hissed.

“I don’t remember promising that,” I said.

“You should have known she would tell everyone,” Marlene said.

“I did not tell everyone,” I protested. “Only the people in the Great Hall this morning and everyone within hearing distance just now.”

“That is everyone,” Lily said with narrowed green eyes.

Sirius stood and adjusted his robes with theatrical importance. “As entertaining as this is, we should leave before curfew,” Sirius said. “Some of the passages take a while to reach.”

Peter remained seated. “No,” Peter said. Everyone looked at him. Peter shrank slightly beneath the sudden attention, but he held his ground. “Story first,” Peter said. “She said she had an adventure with Dumbledore.”

“I agree with Peter,” Remus said. “You disappeared with the headmaster, returned hours later looking exhausted, and immediately needed a long shower. I’d like to know whether we should expect part of the castle to collapse.”

“That’s a reasonable concern,” Alice said.

Marlene patted the space beside her. “Sit,” Marlene ordered. “Confess.”

Lily glanced over me carefully. Her playful embarrassment faded beneath genuine concern. “Were you hurt?” Lily asked. Her arm tightened around me again.

The simple question softened something in my chest. “I’m fine,” I assured her. “Completely healed.”

Lily’s eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t quite the same as saying you weren’t hurt,” Lily said.

“She’s learning,” Sirius said approvingly.

“She is clever,” I agreed with him.

“I’m standing right here,” Lily said.

“I noticed,” I said, letting my gaze drift appreciatively over her.

Lily blushed again but refused to look away.

Sirius dropped back onto the sofa with an exaggerated sigh. Remus shifted to give him room while Peter leaned forward eagerly. Marlene moved down the opposite sofa, and Lily pulled me into the newly opened space beside her.

Alice sat on the rug near the fire, crossing her legs beneath her robes. Marlene joined her a moment later, leaving Lily and me together on the sofa.

Six curious faces turned toward me.

The fire crackled behind them. Outside the tower windows, the last golden light of afternoon slowly faded toward evening.

I leaned back and draped one arm along the sofa behind Lily.

“All right,” I said. “Settle in. It’s story time.”

Peter’s eyes brightened.

Sirius grinned.

Remus looked cautiously interested, while Marlene and Alice waited with open curiosity. Lily rested a hand on my thigh, her expression caught somewhere between concern and anticipation.

I considered where to begin.

There were probably gentle ways to introduce what had happened.

I had never been particularly good at gentle.

“Well,” I said, “it started with me fucking up some of Voldemort’s plans and ended with Dumbledore and me killing a sixty-foot basilisk…”

– Sirius Black –

Sirius Black had heard plenty of unbelievable stories in his life.

James once claimed he had outrun an enraged mountain troll after stealing its club. Peter regularly insisted his mother’s cooking could cure almost any disease. Remus had spent seven years trying to convince them that his monthly disappearances were caused by an unusually contagious skin condition.

None of those stories came close to the one Amara Black was casually telling beside the fireplace.

It was, without question, the most insane thing Sirius had ever heard.

It did not hurt that the story was being told by the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Amara sat beside Lily on one of the sofas, her long legs crossed beneath a Hogwarts skirt that appeared to have lost an ongoing battle with her thighs. Her raven-black hair remained slightly damp from her shower, gleaming in the firelight. Her skin carried a warm, freshly washed glow, and the top buttons of her shirt strained valiantly across her breasts.

Sirius was doing his best to focus on her words.

He was not succeeding nearly as well as he would have liked.

“So Dumbledore reshaped the statue’s mouth,” Amara said, “and told the basilisk it was no longer welcome beneath Hogwarts.”

Remus leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

“He spoke directly to it?” Remus asked.

“No,” Amara said. “He made his voice loud enough to wake up every dead snake in Scotland and hoped the basilisk would understand the tone.”

“That sounds like Dumbledore,” Sirius said.

“It was very dramatic,” Amara agreed. “He even stood there with his robes billowing, despite there being no wind underground. I’m almost certain he did that part deliberately.”

Lily smiled, but her hand remained wrapped around Amara’s wrist.

“And then the basilisk came out?” Peter asked.

Amara nodded. “All sixty feet of it,” Amara said. “It was roughly as thick as a carriage, covered in scales harder than steel, and had fangs almost as long as I am tall.”

Peter swallowed.

Sirius didn’t blame him.

Slytherin’s monster was supposed to be a legend told to frighten younger students. The Chamber of Secrets had been a rumor for centuries—one professors dismissed whenever someone asked too many questions.

Amara claimed she had found it during her second day at Hogwarts.

Not only had she found it, she and Dumbledore had gone inside and killed the monster.

The sensible part of Sirius’s mind told him the story had to be rubbish.

Unfortunately, Amara provided far too many details for an improvised lie.

She explained where the Chamber entrance had been hidden, how she destroyed the girls’ bathroom to reach it, and how she and Dumbledore descended through an enormous pipe beneath the castle. She described the bones scattered through the tunnels, the gigantic snakeskin they found, and the vast complex concealed behind the final door.

She even described Hagrid’s rooster.

The rooster had apparently been the key to the entire plan.

“You used the Imperius Curse on a chicken?” Marlene asked.

“It was a rooster,” Amara corrected.

“That isn’t the part I’m questioning.”

“I needed it to stay calm until the basilisk appeared,” Amara said. “A rooster’s crow can kill a basilisk. We didn’t know whether it would kill one that old, but it was our best chance to blind the creature before it looked at us.”

“What happened to the rooster?” Alice asked.

Amara’s expression dimmed slightly.

“It died heroically,” Amara said. “Dumbledore agreed to commission a memorial plaque…”

“Did he agree before or after you volunteered him to commission it?” Lily asked.

“After,” Amara admitted. “But only because I promised Hagrid there would be one before consulting him.”

Lily released a quiet laugh and rested her head against Amara’s shoulder.

The sight did unfortunate things to Sirius’s imagination.

Lily Evans had always been stunning. Everyone with functional eyes knew that. Her vivid red hair, clear green eyes, and increasingly impressive figure had driven half of Gryffindor mad for years.

Amara somehow made her even more attractive.

The two of them fit together far too well. Lily’s bright coloring contrasted perfectly with Amara’s raven hair and pale skin. Lily sat pressed against Amara’s side, while Amara kept one arm stretched along the sofa behind her.

Sirius almost wanted to sigh.

The two hottest witches in Gryffindor were together. It was beautiful. It was also deeply unfair.

Amara continued describing the fight. “The rooster crowed as soon as the basilisk appeared,” Amara said. “It closed its eyes because of the pain, and I destroyed them before it could look at us.”

Lily’s fingers tightened around Amara’s wrist. “You attacked it directly?” Lily asked.

“That was why we brought the rooster.”

“You could have stayed behind Dumbledore!”

“I did,” Amara said. “For almost ten seconds.”

“That is not reassuring!”

“I’m still alive.”

“Amara!”

“I healed,” Amara said gently. “I promise.”

Lily moved even closer, pressing her thigh against Amara’s.

Sirius studied them carefully.

Whatever happened between them in the prefects’ bathroom had not been a meaningless encounter. Lily’s concern was genuine. Every time Amara described a particularly dangerous moment, Lily clung more tightly to her.

When Amara explained how the basilisk’s tail had thrown her into a wall and shattered several ribs, Lily practically climbed into her lap.

“It broke your ribs?” Lily asked.

“Only a few,” Amara said.

“ONLY?”

“They grew back.”

The entire group fell silent.

Remus blinked.

“Your ribs grew back?” Remus asked.

“They healed,” Amara corrected.

“In several hours?”

“Several seconds.”

Peter stared at her in wonder.

Amara smiled at him.

Sirius watched Peter’s face turn bright red.

That was interesting.

Amara might have been genuinely attached to Lily, but she did not behave as though that attachment prevented her from noticing anyone else.

She had spent the entire story tormenting Remus and Peter.

Whenever Remus asked a question, Amara leaned forward to answer him. The movement pulled her shirt tighter across her breasts and provided an excellent view down her collar.

Remus tried valiantly to keep his eyes on her face.

He failed every single time.

Peter was worse.

Amara shifted her crossed legs, allowing her skirt to ride higher along her thighs. Peter’s gaze immediately dropped before he jerked it away with the panicked expression of someone who had accidentally stared into the sun.

Amara noticed. Her full lips curled into a slow, knowing smile.

Peter’s ears went scarlet.

Lily noticed too, but she did not seem angry. She merely rolled her eyes and nudged Amara’s side.

“You’re doing that deliberately,” Lily murmured.

“I have no idea what you mean,” Amara said.

“You never do.”

Amara gave Remus another lingering look.

Remus abruptly forgot what he had been about to ask.

Sirius’s interest sharpened. Perhaps Amara and Lily were only friends with benefits. Or perhaps their arrangement was genuine but not exclusive. Either possibility left the door open.

Sirius’s gaze travelled over Amara again.

She was absurdly beautiful. Her face appeared flawless from every angle, rosy lips, and vivid green eyes framed by thick lashes. Her body was even more distracting. Full breasts, a tiny waist, wide hips, and legs he desperately wanted wrapped around his head.

The only problem was the name.

Black.

Amara claimed she belonged to a hidden American branch of the family, which meant they might actually be related.

Sirius had spent most of his life listening to his parents praise the purity of the Black bloodline. The family tree on the wall at Grimmauld Place was full of cousins marrying cousins before congratulating themselves for preserving their superior heritage.

He had sworn never to become anything like them.

Attempting to seduce a potential cousin seemed like a remarkably poor way to uphold that promise.

Perhaps he should leave Amara alone and focus on Lily instead.

Lily was undeniably gorgeous, and she appeared far less tightly wound than she had been before Amara arrived. That morning, she had practically sprinted through the Great Hall while glowing, blushing, and walking with a slight limp.

Whatever Amara had done in that bathroom had clearly been good for her.

James no longer had the slightest chance with Lily. She had made that painfully clear even before sleeping with Amara, and now she appeared completely captivated by the new witch.

Maybe Sirius could ask Amara what was happening between them.

If Lily and Amara were keeping things casual, perhaps Lily would be interested in experimenting with someone else too.

Sirius briefly imagined lying between both witches.

The image nearly destroyed what remained of his self-control.

He shifted in his seat.

No. He was not giving up on Amara yet.

Her story about a secret American branch of the family had always sounded suspiciously vague. She could be a distant cousin separated by six or seven generations. She might not be related to him at all. Black was not an uncommon enough name to prove anything without a family tree.

More importantly, Sirius had never backed away from a challenge in his life.

He would flirt with Amara. He would learn exactly how she was connected to his family and discover what arrangement she had with Lily.

After that, he would make his interest unmistakable.

If Amara rejected him, then she rejected him. Sirius was a relentless horn dog, not a monster. But judging by the teasing looks she kept directing toward Remus and Peter, he doubted she would be offended by the attempt.

By the end of the night, he intended to have Amara in his bed!

If Lily happened to join them, Sirius would consider that proof the universe finally appreciated him.

Amara reached the most dramatic part of her story.

“Dumbledore dropped several tons of stone on its head,” Amara said. “That finally pinned it down, but the bloody thing still refused to die.”

“How did you finish it?” Peter asked.

“I cut through the scales around its throat,” Amara said. “Dumbledore opened the wound further, and then I forced cursed fire inside it so it couldn’t heal. We kept attacking until it stopped moving.”

Remus stared at her.

“You walked up to a living basilisk and cut its throat?” Remus asked.

“It was mostly pinned down.”

“Mostly?”

“I never claimed the plan was perfect.”

“You are completely insane,” Sirius said.

Amara’s gaze moved toward him. Her lips curled. “Is that a compliment?” she asked.

“From me?” Sirius asked. “Always.”

Her smile widened.

Something hot twisted in his stomach.

Yes. He was absolutely going to try.

Sirius glanced toward Remus and Peter.

Both of his friends looked completely starstruck. For once, their fascination wasn’t solely caused by Amara’s body.

Remus studied her with quiet admiration, his attention fixed upon her face rather than her chest. Peter’s eyes were wide with awe.

Sirius understood.

Amara had voluntarily entered the Chamber of Secrets. She had confronted a monster capable of killing her with a glance, kept fighting after suffering injuries that would have incapacitated anyone else, and helped destroy one of the most dangerous creatures in magical Britain.

She wasn’t merely beautiful.

She was brave, powerful, and completely mental.

Sirius found that combination irresistible.

He became aware of how quiet the common room had grown.

At some point during Amara’s story, the nearby conversations had stopped. Students abandoned chess matches, homework, and private gossip to drift closer to the sofas.

A group of fifth-years stood behind Remus and Peter. Several younger students sat cross-legged on the carpet near Marlene and Alice. Even a pair of sixth-years who normally considered themselves too mature for common-room excitement leaned against the staircase to listen.

Nearly the entire Gryffindor house had gathered around Amara.

She did not appear bothered by the attention.

If anything, she seemed to thrive under it.

“And that,” Amara said, “is how Dumbledore and I killed Salazar Slytherin’s basilisk.”

Silence held for one breath.

Then Gryffindor Tower erupted.

Students cheered and applauded. Someone near the back shouted Amara’s name. A seventh-year Sirius barely knew raised a bottle of butterbeer in her honor.

“The monster’s really dead?” a younger student called.

“Very dead,” Amara confirmed.

Another wave of cheering rolled through the room.

Amara leaned back with a satisfied smile while Lily remained pressed against her side, looking proud and worried in equal measure.

By breakfast tomorrow, the entire school would know.

The story would grow with every retelling. By the end of the week, Amara would probably have fought three basilisks while Dumbledore hid behind the heroic rooster.

Sirius laughed at the thought.

Then he noticed the empty space where James should have been.

James had refused to join them after classes. He continued acting as though Amara had stolen Lily from him, despite the inconvenient fact that Lily had never belonged to James.

Sirius loved James like a brother.

That did not stop James from being a jealous prick.

He was upstairs sulking while everyone else celebrated the destruction of a legendary monster beneath their school. James should have been there. He would have loved the story under any other circumstances.

Part of Sirius wanted to find him and drag him downstairs.

Not tonight.

Amara deserved a celebration without James glaring at her or picking a fight because Lily touched her.

Sirius rose and clapped his hands loudly.

“Right!” Sirius said.

The common room gradually quieted.

Sirius pointed grandly toward Amara.

“Killing Slytherin’s legendary monster deserves more than applause and stale butterbeer,” Sirius declared. “It calls for a proper celebration.”

Lily regarded him suspiciously. “What do you mean by proper?” Lily asked.

“Drinks,” Sirius said. “Music. An establishment that doesn’t contain first-years asking whether the basilisk had wings.”

“It didn’t, did it?” a first-year asked.

“No,” Amara said.

“Could it breathe fire?” another asked.

“Also no.”

Sirius ignored them.

“I promised Amara a tour of Hogwarts’ best secrets,” Sirius said. “It’s time I delivered.”

Amara’s eyes lit up. “You mentioned a passage to Hogsmeade,” she said.

“I did,” Sirius said. “My personal favorite. It leads out beyond the wards and emerges within walking distance of the Three Broomsticks.”

Lily’s expression flattened. “No,” Lily said.

“We haven’t even left yet,” Sirius said.

“And you aren’t going to.”

“Why not?”

“Because sneaking out of Hogwarts through an unauthorized passage is against at least twelve school rules,” Lily said. “We would also be out after curfew.”

Sirius smiled patiently. “That’s precisely why you should come,” he said.

Lily stared at him. “How does that make any sense?” she asked.

“You’re Head Girl,” Sirius explained. “If you accompany us, you can supervise.”

“I would be supervising you while you broke rules I’m supposed to enforce.”

“Exactly,” Sirius said. “Responsible leadership.”

“That is not what responsible leadership means.”

Marlene jumped to her feet. “Wait,” Marlene said. “You’ve known about a secret passage into Hogsmeade this entire time?”

Sirius glanced at Remus and Peter.

Peter looked suddenly nervous.

Remus sighed.

“Possibly,” Sirius admitted.

Marlene planted her hands on her hips. “You selfish bastards,” she said. “You’ve been hoarding a tunnel out of the castle for years?”

“It’s called a secret passage,” Sirius said. “The secrecy is an important feature.”

“You could have told the rest of Gryffindor.”

“If we told everyone, Filch would discover it within a week.”

“He has a point,” Alice said as she stood.

Marlene looked betrayed.

“I still want to go,” Alice added.

Marlene brightened immediately. “So do I,” she said.

Peter rose eagerly.

Remus remained seated for another moment. “This is a terrible idea,” Remus said.

Sirius grinned. “That means you’re coming,” Sirius said.

Remus closed his eyes and sighed. “Yes,” he admitted. “Apparently it does.”

Lily looked toward Amara, clearly hoping for support.

Amara smiled and extended a hand to her. “Come on, Head Girl,” Amara said. “You can keep us out of trouble.”

“You are the trouble,” Lily said.

“That only makes your presence more necessary.”

Lily held out for approximately three seconds before taking Amara’s hand.

Sirius’s grin widened.

The night was shaping up beautifully.

They had a gorgeous new witch to celebrate, a secret passage waiting, and an entire village full of drinks beyond the castle walls.

Sirius had a feeling the evening would be unforgettable.

He couldn’t imagine what could possibly go wrong?

– Amara Black –

We left Gryffindor Tower with the cheers from my newly acquired audience still following us.

Several younger students tried to come along until Lily firmly informed them that the evening’s activities were restricted to seventh-years. She refused to elaborate on what those activities were, which naturally made everyone even more curious.

Sirius led us through the portrait hole first. Remus and Peter followed him, with Marlene and Alice close behind. Lily and I brought up the rear.

James remained conspicuously absent.

Nobody mentioned him.

I certainly wasn’t going to ruin my first secret excursion through Hogwarts by asking where the jealous alternate version of my biological father had gone. He could spend the night sulking into his pillow about Lily choosing someone else.

That someone else happened to be me, which made his misery much easier to tolerate.

We moved through the castle in a loose group, trying not to look like seven students heading somewhere forbidden. That became increasingly difficult whenever we encountered another prefect, because Sirius immediately adopted the exaggeratedly innocent expression of a man transporting stolen explosives.

Fortunately, having the Head Girl with us provided excellent camouflage.

Two Ravenclaw prefects passed us near the moving staircases. They greeted Lily, admired me with varying degrees of subtlety, and continued without questioning why she was escorting Sirius Black through the castle after classes.

Once they disappeared around the corner, Sirius looked back at Lily. “You’re remarkably useful,” Sirius said.

Lily narrowed her eyes. “I’m beginning to regret coming,” Lily said.

“No, you aren’t,” Marlene said.

“I’m beginning to regret bringing you too.”

“You’d miss us!”

“I would finally know peace.”

Alice laughed as we turned down a narrow corridor lined with portraits of sleeping monks.

Sirius stopped before a faded tapestry depicting a group of medieval wizards attempting to teach a troll how to dance. The troll appeared to have misunderstood the lesson and was repeatedly throwing its instructor into a pond.

“I’ve walked past this tapestry three times since yesterday,” I said. “I never sensed anything behind it.”

“That’s because Hogwarts likes us better,” Sirius said.

“Hogwarts likes you?” Lily asked skeptically.

“She appreciates creativity.”

“She has tried throwing you down three different staircases.”

“Affection takes many forms.”

Sirius reached behind the tapestry and pressed something hidden between two stones. A low grinding sound moved through the wall.

Part of the stonework slid inward, revealing a narrow opening filled with absolute darkness.

Marlene stared at it. “You have got to be joking,” she said.

“Impressed?” Sirius asked.

“Furious,” Marlene corrected. “I could have used this passage for years.”

“That’s why we didn’t tell you,” Peter said.

Marlene turned toward him.

Peter quickly stepped through the opening.

Remus followed before Marlene could demand clarification. Alice slipped in after them, laughing beneath her breath.

Sirius gestured grandly toward the entrance. “After you, ladies,” Sirius said.

Lily folded her arms. “If something in there eats me, I’m haunting you,” Lily said.

“I would expect nothing less,” Sirius said.

Lily ducked into the tunnel.

I followed, with Sirius entering directly behind me. The hidden stone panel ground shut, sealing away the corridor and plunging us into darkness.

Several wands lit ahead of us.

“Lumos,” Remus said.

“Lumos,” Peter added.

Soft white light spilled across a cramped stone passage that looked considerably older than the surrounding castle. Moisture glistened along the walls, and thick roots pushed through cracks in the ceiling.

The tunnel was barely wide enough for three people to walk side by side.

Peter and Remus took the lead. Marlene and Alice followed them while continuing to complain about the Marauders selfishly hiding such a useful route.

“How long have you known about this?” Marlene asked.

“Since third year,” Peter admitted.

“THIRD YEAR?” Marlene demanded. “You’ve had unrestricted access to Hogsmeade for four years?”

“Not unrestricted,” Remus said. “The passage occasionally floods…”

“And there are rats,” Peter added.

“Large rats,” Remus clarified.

Alice made a displeased noise.

“They’re friendly,” Sirius called.

“They tried eating your shoe,” Remus said.

“My shoe entered their territory!”

I smiled as I walked behind them.

Lily remained on my left while Sirius moved alongside me on the right. The intermittent wandlight from ahead barely reached us, leaving most of the passage cloaked in shadow.

My evolved eyes adjusted almost instantly.

The darkness thinned into muted shades of grey. I could distinguish every crack in the walls, the uneven stones beneath our feet, and the loose strand of black hair resting against Sirius’s forehead.

For everyone else, the tunnel probably appeared nearly pitch-black.

Sirius moved closer. “The passage gets rough farther ahead,” Sirius said. “You’ll want to be careful.”

“I can see perfectly well,” I said.

He gently took my hand anyway.

His fingers curled around mine, warm and calloused from years of holding a wand and broomstick. The gesture might have passed as protective if his thumb hadn’t immediately begun tracing slow circles over the back of my hand.

A shiver ran up my arm.

I turned toward him.

Sirius’s handsome face was clearly visible to me despite the darkness. His grey eyes gleamed with amusement, and a knowing smirk rested across his lips.

The bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

I had thought introducing myself as his supposed cousin ended this particular problem. His flirtation had collapsed immediately that morning when he realized I was another Black.

Apparently, his restraint lasted less than a day.

That was either flattering or deeply concerning.

Possibly both.

This Sirius believed I belonged to a hidden American branch of his family. As far as he knew, we might share a great-grandparent.

That did not make the attraction less complicated.

He was not my Sirius. He had never raised me, protected me, or rescued me from the orphanage. He was an entirely separate person who happened to possess the same name, face, and reckless personality as the only man I had ever considered my father.

Unfortunately, knowing that intellectually did nothing to stop my body from responding to his touch.

My thighs already throbbed with every step.

The arousal created by fighting the basilisk had not faded. My shower only made the problem worse. I had spent several minutes rubbing soap over a body that could apparently turn bathing into foreplay, then briefly touched my clit before remembering that masturbation would leave me even more desperate.

Now Sirius’s thumb was caressing my hand while Lily walked close enough for her hip to brush mine.

My demonic instincts were having the greatest evening of their existence.

I should have pulled away from him.

Instead, I let Sirius continue.

His smirk deepened.

Cocky bastard. I needed a distraction before I did something impulsive inside a dirty tunnel while six people were close enough to hear every sound.

I turned toward Lily. She was watching the uneven path ahead, apparently unaware of the internal crisis unfolding beside her.

My free hand moved behind her. I grabbed a generous handful of her ass.

Lily yelped.

The sound echoed along the entire passage.

Remus and Peter stopped immediately. Marlene and Alice spun around.

“What happened?” Remus asked.

“Did something bite you?” Peter asked.

Lily stared at me with wide eyes, her face already turning crimson. “I stumbled,” Lily said quickly.

I squeezed her ass again.

Lily jolted. “Amara,” she whispered. Her attempt at a stern warning was severely undermined by the breathless hitch in her voice.

I gave her my most innocent smile. “Careful,” I said. “The ground is uneven.”

Lily’s pout could have melted stone. “I hate you,” she whispered.

Marlene studied us suspiciously. “Are you certain you only stumbled?” Marlene asked.

“Y—Yes,” Lily said.

“She definitely stumbled,” I agreed.

Alice covered her mouth to hide a laugh.

Remus looked unconvinced, but he wisely turned forward and continued walking. Peter followed him, although his ears had turned red again.

Sirius had witnessed the entire thing.

He looked delighted. “You’re very helpful,” Sirius murmured.

“I’m protective of my friends,” I said.

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

Lily elbowed me lightly.

I released her ass but allowed my hand to rest against her hip. She made no attempt to move away. If anything, she pressed closer to my side.

Sirius still held my other hand.

His thumb resumed its slow circles.

Wonderful.

I was walking through a secret tunnel trapped between alternate-universe versions of my blood-adoptive father and biological mother while both of them flirted with me.

Sleeping with Lily had already revealed the catastrophic extent of my maternal issues.

Apparently, my paternal issues refused to be ignored as well now...

My emotional damage had become equal-opportunity.

I blamed Dumbledore. Not this Dumbledore, admittedly, but blaming a Dumbledore remained a comforting tradition.

The passage narrowed as it began sloping downward. I kept one hand clasped with Sirius while my other occasionally brushed along Lily’s hip.

I tried reminding myself that alternate versions were separate people.

This Lily was not the woman who abandoned me. She was kind, brave, and genuinely concerned about my well-being. She had chosen to share something precious with me despite knowing I intended to leave her reality.

This Sirius was not the man who adopted me. He was a gorgeous, reckless young wizard who had known me for less than two days and apparently decided the possibility of distant familial ties added spice rather than caution.

They deserved to be judged as individuals.

My libido wholeheartedly agreed with that philosophy.

The rational parts of my mind remained less certain.

Marlene glanced over her shoulder. “How much farther?” she asked.

“Not long,” Sirius answered. “The tunnel starts climbing again soon.”

“You said that ten minutes ago,” Alice said.

“That was a different climb.”

“How many different climbs does one tunnel need?”

“Hogwarts is built on a hill,” Remus explained.

“This tunnel feels like it was designed by someone who hated knees,” Marlene complained.

“It probably was,” Peter said.

We continued through two sharp turns before the floor finally began sloping upward.

Cooler air drifted toward us.

My enhanced senses detected the scents of damp earth, woodsmoke, roasted meat, and something sweet that reminded me of caramel. Somewhere ahead lay Hogsmeade, warm pubs, and enough alcohol to make my increasingly bizarre emotional life somebody else’s problem.

A faint patch of amber light appeared at the tunnel’s end.

“We’re nearly there,” Peter called.

“Finally,” Marlene said.

Sirius’s thumb continued stroking my hand. He made no attempt to release me, even though the growing light meant he no longer had darkness as an excuse.

Lily remained pressed against my other side. Her pout had softened, but she kept glancing toward the hand resting near her hip as if expecting another attack.

I was tempted to oblige her. Instead, I looked toward the approaching exit and tried focusing on the celebration ahead.

Drinks. Friends. A secret night in Hogsmeade after killing a legendary monster. Simple. Completely harmless.

At least, that was what I told myself while walking between Lily Evans and Sirius Black.

…At the time, I still believed that would be the most dangerous part of the evening.

– James Potter –

James Potter had never been so furious with his friends!

He followed them beneath his Invisibility Cloak, keeping nearly twenty feet between himself and the group ahead. The Cloak concealed him perfectly, but it did nothing to silence his footsteps. One careless scrape of his shoe against the stone could reveal everything.

Sirius, Remus, and Peter should have been standing beside him.

They were his friends. His brothers.

When James explained what Amara had done, he expected them to recognize the transfer student as an enemy. They should have shunned her, refused to speak with her, and made it clear that nobody entered Gryffindor Tower and stole Lily Evans from James Potter without consequences!

Instead, Sirius dismissed his complaints.

Remus said Amara hadn’t done anything wrong.

Peter stared at her like a lovesick puppy whenever she entered the room.

Even Marlene and Alice had accepted her immediately.

Then they all sat around listening to Amara boast about her supposed adventure with Dumbledore. They cheered when she claimed she had killed Slytherin’s legendary monster, believing every ridiculous word that left her perfect rosy lips.

Now they were secretly leaving the castle with her.

James tightened his grip around his wand.

He followed as the group descended another staircase and turned into a quiet corridor. Lily walked beside Amara, remaining so close that their hips repeatedly brushed. Sirius occupied Amara’s other side.

Seeing the three of them together made James’s blood boil.

Lily was supposed to be his.

Everyone in Gryffindor knew that.

James had pursued her for years. He had memorized her favorite flowers, challenged anyone who insulted her, and asked her out more times than he could count. Persistence was supposed to mean something.

Eventually, Lily would realize that they belonged together.

She would stop pretending his confidence irritated her. She would understand that no other wizard could offer her the life James could. They would marry after Hogwarts, move into Potter Manor, and have brilliant red-haired children who inherited his flying ability.

That was how our story was supposed to end.

Amara Black had destroyed everything in less than two days.

The rumors spread through Gryffindor Tower before lunch. James initially refused to believe them, but too many details matched. Lily disappeared before breakfast with Amara, then returned glowing, blushing, and walking strangely. Amara announced what happened publicly more than once.

His sweet, innocent Lily had given her virginity to some witch she had known for less than a day.

Inside the prefects’ bathroom.

The thought filled James with a mixture of rage and humiliation.

Lily had guarded herself for years. She never allowed boys to touch her. She rarely accepted dates and had hexed more than one persistent admirer.

James had always assumed that meant she was waiting for him.

Instead, she gave herself away like—

His thoughts supplied an ugly word. Whore.

James accepted it.

How else was he supposed to describe someone who threw away something so precious with a stranger? Lily’s virginity should have been saved for the man she eventually married.

For him.

Amara had corrupted her.

That explanation was far easier to accept than the possibility that Lily knowingly and enthusiastically chose someone else.

James watched Amara lean toward Lily and whisper something. Lily’s cheeks turned pink before she laughed.

The sound hurt worse than any curse.

Amara had stolen that laugh. She had taken Lily’s innocence, affection, and attention.

Now she was flirting with Sirius too.

Sirius Black—James’s best friend—walked close enough that his hand occasionally brushed Amara’s. He kept looking at her with that familiar grin he wore whenever he intended to charm a witch out of her clothes.

Betrayal burned through James.

Sirius should have hated Amara on principle. Instead, he looked ready to drag her into the nearest broom cupboard.

James would set them straight.

Once they reached the secret passage, he would follow them away from the castle and wait for the proper opportunity. He would confront Sirius, Remus, and Peter first. He would remind them where their loyalties belonged.

Then he would deal with Amara.

The Cloak gave him the perfect advantage. Amara wouldn’t see the curse coming. One strike in the back would drop her before she could raise that mysterious wand.

James hadn’t decided which curse to use yet.

Something painful.

Something humiliating.

Perhaps he would ruin her flawless face. A sufficiently powerful Skin-Erupting Curse could cover her in boils that resisted ordinary healing. Once she no longer looked like a seductive goddess, Lily might finally see what she truly was.

Or he could break her legs and leave her trapped in the tunnel long enough to understand her position.

James did not intend to kill her. He merely needed to frighten and maim her. Once Amara understood that touching Lily carried consequences, she would retreat.

If she refused, James could always escalate.

The group stopped in front of a faded tapestry.

James slowed and watched from beneath the Cloak.

Sirius reached behind the fabric and activated the concealed mechanism. Part of the wall slid inward, revealing the entrance to one of the passages they had discovered years ago.

Peter and Remus entered first. Marlene and Alice followed while loudly criticizing the Marauders for keeping the passage secret.

Lily ducked through next.

Amara followed her, and Sirius slipped inside last. The entrance began grinding shut behind them.

James waited.

Only when the corridor fell silent did he approach.

His friends believed themselves clever. None of them suspected that he had followed them from Gryffindor Tower. Once James entered the passage, they would have nowhere to escape his confrontation.

He reached toward the mechanism hidden behind the tapestry.

A voice spoke behind him. “Stupefy!” the voice shouted.

Red light struck James squarely between the shoulder blades. His hand froze inches from the hidden switch. His wand slipped from suddenly numb fingers, clattering against the floor beneath the Cloak.

For one impossible instant, James remained upright.

Shock overwhelmed even his anger.

Nobody was supposed to see him! Nobody could see through the Cloak!

His legs collapsed.

James hit the stone floor hard, but he barely felt the impact. Darkness swallowed him before he could turn his head toward his attacker.

– Severus Snape –

Severus lowered his wand and smiled.

James Potter lay motionless beneath the shimmering folds of his precious Cloak.

The sight was beautiful.

After years of humiliation, attacks, and relentless harassment, Potter was finally helpless. No Sirius Black stood nearby, laughing as Severus’s robes were torn away. No Remus Lupin watched silently while pretending his inaction made him innocent. No Peter Pettigrew hovered at the edge, snickering behind his hand.

Potter was alone. Vulnerable. Entirely at Severus’s mercy.

It had taken years to develop a reliable method of finding him beneath that infuriating Cloak.

Ordinary revealing charms failed. Detection spells slid across the artifact without discovering anything beneath it. Even wards designed to identify human presence occasionally ignored the wearer.

The Cloak did more than turn someone invisible.

That did not make James nonexistent.

After another humiliating prank in fifth year, Severus began experimenting with magical echolocation. Rather than searching for light, heat, or the presence of a concealed person, his spell mapped the physical space surrounding him through returning pulses of magic.

The Cloak hid James from sight.

It could not prevent his body from displacing air or occupying space.

When Severus quietly released the spell moments earlier, the magical pulse travelled along the corridor and returned with the unmistakable outline of a human figure beneath flowing fabric.

There was only one person arrogant enough to stalk through Hogwarts under an enchanted cloak.

Severus approached and bent down.

His fingers found the edge of the silvery fabric. He pulled it away, revealing James sprawled face-down across the stones. His glasses sat crookedly against his nose. His wand lay several feet away.

Severus stared at him.

This was the opportunity he had imagined during countless sleepless nights.

He could do anything.

A Severing Curse across James’s face would leave him scarred permanently. A carefully modified nerve curse could destroy the coordination in his wand hand. Severus knew spells capable of rotting teeth, stripping away hair, or filling someone’s lungs with insects.

He could remove James’s tongue.

He could make certain the arrogant bastard never mocked him again.

Severus raised his wand.

The tip hovered over the back of James’s neck.

All he needed was a single whispered incantation.

Then he remembered Amara Black.

The Dark Lord’s command returned with perfect clarity.

Observe her. Discover what protected her from the poison. Steal it. Capture her if possible. Kill her if necessary.

Severus reluctantly lowered his wand.

Potter could wait.

Amara was leaving Hogwarts at that very moment. Once she passed beyond the school’s wards, she would lose Dumbledore’s protection. She would be surrounded by students rather than professors, and those students would probably be drinking before long.

This might be Severus’s best opportunity to fulfill the Dark Lord’s command.

Amara had already survived his first attempt.

The poison should have closed her throat and burned through her organs before anyone realized she had been attacked. Instead, she recovered within seconds.

No natural witch could do that.

She had to possess some protective artifact—most likely an undiscovered Black family heirloom. If Severus could identify and steal it, Amara would become vulnerable.

Then he could deliver her to the Dark Lord.

Perhaps Voldemort would allow him to kill her personally after extracting her secrets.

The thought filled Severus with cold satisfaction.

Amara deserved it.

She arrived at Hogwarts and immediately attached herself to Lily. Within a day, she had taken liberties with Lily that Severus had spent years dreaming about.

He had heard the rumors.

Everyone had.

Lily Evans—the girl Severus loved—had given herself to Amara Black in the prefects’ bathroom.

Severus refused to believe Lily truly wanted it.

Amara had manipulated her. Perhaps the witch possessed some kind of charm ability in addition to her mysterious protection. That would explain how quickly Lily became infatuated.

Now Amara was sneaking Lily out of the castle.

Sirius Black was with them too.

Severus’s grip tightened around his wand.

He hated every Marauder, but Sirius inspired a special kind of fury. Potter was arrogant and entitled; Sirius was vicious. He enjoyed causing pain and treated Severus’s humiliation as entertainment.

No doubt Sirius intended to encourage Amara’s corruption of Lily.

Perhaps the two Blacks had planned this together.

Severus imagined killing Amara, defeating Sirius, and leading Lily safely back to Hogwarts. Once the enchantment clouding her judgment faded, she would finally understand that Severus had protected her.

She would forgive him.

She might even thank him.

First, he needed to reach them.

Severus looked down at James once more. “Later,” he whispered.

Leaving the bastard unharmed tasted bitter, but Severus reassured himself that another opportunity would come.

His attention shifted toward the Invisibility Cloak gathered in his hand.

The fabric was impossibly light. It flowed between his fingers like water, yet he sensed enormous power woven through every thread.

This was no ordinary enchanted garment.

Severus had always assumed James used some expensive Potter family trick. Holding it now, he understood that the Cloak was far older and more powerful than anything a student should possess.

Taking it felt wonderfully appropriate.

James had used the Cloak to torment Severus for years.

Now Severus would use it to hunt James’s friends.

He draped the fabric over his head.

His body vanished.

Severus left James exposed on the corridor floor and stepped behind the tapestry. He had watched Sirius activate the mechanism from a distance.

His fingers pressed the concealed stone.

The wall slid open.

A cold, dark tunnel waited beyond.

Severus slipped inside and allowed the passage to close behind him.

The distant glow of wandlight flickered far ahead. Muffled voices travelled through the narrow space, distorted by countless turns and uneven stone.

Severus renewed the tracking charm he had placed upon Lily.

He had used several strands of her hair to build the connection. Lily would have been upset if she knew, but Severus only used the spell to protect her. Given the company she kept, he considered that protection necessary.

The magical thread pulled him forward.

He moved carefully beneath the Cloak, placing each foot deliberately to avoid loose stones. His echolocation charm travelled ahead in silent pulses, mapping the tunnel and warning him about sudden drops or protruding roots.

The group remained unaware of his presence.

Even Sirius and Remus would not hear him unless he made a mistake.

Severus would not make one.

Lily’s laughter drifted through the passage.

Amara’s voice followed, warm and teasing.

Another male voice answered.

Sirius.

Jealousy burned through Severus with such force that his vision briefly blurred.

He tightened his grip around his wand beneath the Cloak and continued forward.

Let them laugh.

Let them believe they were sneaking into Hogsmeade for a harmless celebration.

Severus would remain patient.

He would wait until they were outside Hogwarts’ wards. He would watch until Amara became distracted, separated from the others, or impaired by alcohol. Then he would discover which trinket protected her and take it.

After that, Amara Black would learn what happened to witches who stole from the Dark Lord.

And from Severus Snape.

– Amara Black –

The secret tunnel opened behind a crooked stone building at the edge of Hogsmeade.

Cold evening air washed across my face as I stepped outside. Sirius emerged beside me while Lily remained close on my other side, her shoulder brushing mine.

Then I looked toward the village and temporarily forgot about both of them.

Hogsmeade was beautiful.

It looked like a magical medieval village ripped from the pages of an illustrated storybook. Timber-framed buildings leaned toward narrow cobblestone streets, their upper floors hanging at angles that should have offended every principle of architecture. Stone chimneys released spirals of silver smoke that twisted into animal shapes before dissolving into the night.

Enchanted signs swung above shop doors despite the complete absence of wind. Painted figures moved across them, advertising sweets, quills, robes, potions, and countless other magical goods.

Hundreds of colored lights floated overhead.

They drifted lazily above the streets in clouds of gold, blue, violet, and green. Some resembled tiny stars, while others looked like miniature lanterns carried by invisible hands. Their glow reflected across windows, wet cobblestones, and the faces of witches and wizards moving happily through the village.

Music drifted from an open doorway. Laughter escaped from several pubs. Somewhere nearby, something smelled like roasted meat covered in herbs and melted cheese.

“This is incredible,” I said.

Sirius grinned. “Knew you’d like it,” Sirius said.

“It’s much better than Diagon Alley.”

Peter gasped theatrically. “Blasphemy!” 

“She’s right,” Marlene said. “Diagon Alley is crowded, loud, and full of people trying to sell you things.”

“Hogsmeade is also crowded, loud, and full of people trying to sell you things,” Remus observed.

“Yes, but it’s prettier here,” Marlene said.

That was exactly the difference. Diagon Alley felt commercial. Every building existed to extract galleons from anyone unfortunate enough to walk past. Hogsmeade felt alive. It was a real village rather than a single shopping street. People lived here. They met friends, ate dinner, drank together, and wandered beneath floating lights simply because the night was beautiful.

For a moment, I allowed myself to experience it like an ordinary Hogwarts student.

This should have been part of my childhood.

I should have spent years looking forward to Hogsmeade weekends, sneaking drinks with friends, visiting sweet shops, and complaining about homework beneath enchanted lights.

That life had been stolen from me.

I couldn’t recover those lost years, but I could steal back a few experiences now. “So where are these world-famous drinks?” I asked.

Sirius pointed toward one of the largest buildings on the main street. A weathered wooden sign depicting three flying broomsticks hung above the entrance. “The Three Broomsticks,” Sirius said. “Best drinks in Britain.”

“Possibly the world,” Peter added.

Remus gave him a sidelong look. “You’ve never left Britain,” Remus said.

“That doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

We joined the steady stream of patrons entering the pub.

Warmth immediately enveloped me. The interior was packed with witches and wizards sitting at crowded tables, standing near the bar, and squeezing past one another with trays of drinks.

A magical band performed somewhere near the back. I couldn’t see them through the crowd, but their lively music carried over the constant roar of conversation.

Floating trays travelled overhead, weaving effortlessly around customers before descending beside the correct tables. Mugs refilled themselves from enchanted pitchers, and a row of dirty glasses near the bar repeatedly vanished in bursts of steam before returning perfectly clean.

The pub was far larger inside than the building’s exterior should have allowed.

Even then, every table appeared occupied.

“Where are we supposed to sit?” I asked.

“Wait for it,” Alice said.

A group of travellers entered behind us.

The far wall shuddered.

It moved outward by several feet, stretching the room without disturbing anyone already seated. A new row of empty booths unfolded from the woodwork as casually as flowers blooming.

I stared.

“Hogwarts could use that enchantment in the dormitories,” I said.

“Professor McGonagall says unrestricted expansion charms encourage students to hoard furniture,” Lily said.

“That sounds suspiciously specific.”

“It became a problem in Ravenclaw Tower.”

Sirius, Remus, Peter, Marlene, and Alice immediately claimed one of the newly created booths. It curved around a large polished table and looked barely wide enough for all seven of us.

That promised considerable physical contact.

My succubus instincts enthusiastically approved.

Before I could slide into the booth beside Sirius, Lily caught my hand. “I need to use the restroom,” Lily said.

Marlene looked between us. “Both of you?” Marlene asked.

“Yes,” Lily said firmly.

“Try not to take until breakfast this time,” Marlene said.

Lily’s entire face turned red. “We are not doing anything!” Lily hissed.

“Of course not,” Alice said.

I allowed Lily to pull me away before I could make the situation worse.

We crossed the crowded pub and entered a small corridor near the kitchens. A brass sign marked the women’s bathroom at the end.

Lily pushed open the door and looked around.

The room was empty.

Several mirrors hung above a row of porcelain sinks, and four dark wooden stalls lined the opposite wall. A chandelier filled with tiny floating flames provided warm golden light.

Lily checked beneath every stall door before closing and locking the bathroom entrance.

I leaned against one of the sinks. “This feels less like a restroom visit and more like an interrogation,” I said.

Lily turned toward me. “What was happening between you and Sirius in that tunnel?” Lily asked.

Definitely an interrogation. 

I frowned. “I honestly don’t know,” I admitted.

“He was holding your hand.”

“The floor was uneven.”

“His thumb was rubbing your hand.”

“I noticed.”

“And you let him.”

“I noticed that too.”

Lily folded her arms. She wasn’t angry. I could sense too much curiosity beneath her concern for that. Still, she clearly expected an explanation.

I released a tired sigh. “...Fighting makes me horny. It’s a Succubus thing…” 

Lily blinked. “That was direct,” she said.

“You asked.”

“I expected more emotional confusion before we reached that part!”

“The emotional confusion is there too,” I assured her. “But the basilisk battle left me painfully aroused. Violence and adrenaline get tangled together with my succubus instincts. Normally it fades eventually, but becoming a Succubus Queen this morning apparently made everything worse.”

Lily’s gaze briefly dropped toward my thighs.

I squeezed them together. “Every attractive person around me feels like temptation right now,” I continued. “And I’m surrounded by you, Sirius, Remus, Marlene, Alice…even Peter is cute, if just a tiny bit chubby. None of you are making this easy.”

“You flirted with all of them.”

“I have eyes.”

Lily tried not to smile. “You grabbed my bum hard enough to make me yelp,” she said.

“That was a distraction,” I told her.

“From Sirius?” she asked. 

“From doing something significantly more reckless with Sirius.”

Lily’s expression turned serious again. “Isn’t he your father?” she asked.

I grimaced. There it was. “...Technically, yes,” I said.

“Technically?”

“My Sirius wasn’t my biological father when I was born,” I explained. “Sirius performed a Black family blood-adoption ritual after he rescued me,” I continued. “It wasn’t merely ceremonial. The ritual rewrote my blood, magic, and inheritance. It replaced my birth father’s paternal contribution with Sirius’s. And no I don’t want to mention who my birth father was, since he is dead to me…”

“...Blood adoption?” Lily’s expression softened. “That must have meant a lot to you,” she said.

“It meant everything.” The bathroom suddenly felt quieter. I looked down at my hands. “My Sirius was my father,” I said. “This Sirius isn’t him. He’s eighteen, from another universe, and we aren’t biologically related here. But he has the same face. The same voice. The same laugh. Half the time I look at him, I remember the man who saved me. The other half, I notice he’s an extremely attractive young adult who keeps flirting with me.”

“That does sound complicated,” Lily said.

“That’s a polite way to describe it.”

Lily remained silent for several seconds. Then a strange smile appeared. “Marlene and Alice are going to be disappointed,” Lily said.

I looked up. “Why?”

“They developed a theory about how you were born. They assumed Sirius eventually shagged a demon.”

I stared at her.

Lily burst out laughing. “Marlene was adamant it would explain everything.”

“Everything?”

“Your wings, horns, tail, surname, and appearance.”

I considered it. “Honestly, that is disturbingly believable,” I admitted.

“Exactly.”

“Sirius absolutely looks like someone who would accidentally father a child with a sex demon.”

Lily laughed harder, one hand covering her mouth.

I smiled despite myself. “My demonic side came from a distant ancestor,” I explained. “The inheritance remained dormant for generations and randomly awakened in me. Or it was supposed to awaken naturally. The magical bindings placed on me in my world delayed and distorted the process.”

“So Sirius didn’t shag a succubus?”

“...Not that I know of.”

“Marlene owes Alice two galleons…”

I shook my head.

“When we get back to the booth, I’ll shut down the flirting,” I said. “Sirius is attractive, but this is too complicated...”

Lily’s laughter faded. She hesitated. Then she shook her head. “You don’t have to do that,” Lily said.

I studied her. “I thought that was why you dragged me in here.”

“I wanted to understand what was happening.”

“You don’t mind?”

Lily rubbed her thumb nervously across her folded arms. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe I should. I probably would have yesterday.”

“What changed?”

Lily gave me a pointed look. “This morning happened!”

I grinned at her, the memories flashing through both our eyes. “That tends to change things.”

“I spent years following every rule,” Lily said. “I studied constantly, behaved responsibly, became a prefect, and then became Head Girl. I kept telling myself that if I did everything properly, my life would unfold properly too.” Her expression grew more sombre. “But the world outside Hogwarts keeps becoming more dangerous,” Lily continued. “People are disappearing. Muggleborn families are being attacked. Every week brings another story about the Dark Lord or his followers.”

I remained quiet.

“Graduation is coming,” Lily said. “I don’t know what happens afterward. None of us do. I’m tired of waiting for some perfectly appropriate future that might never arrive.” She looked directly into my eyes. “I told you this morning that I wanted an epic romance,” Lily said. “Something exciting and meaningful that I would remember for the rest of my life.”

“I remember.”

“You aren’t staying forever,” Lily said. “You have people waiting in your world. You care about them, and I know at least some of those relationships aren’t platonic.”

That was an understatement.

Lily already knew that whatever existed between us could never be traditionally exclusive. 

“I don’t want to spend whatever time we have arguing about who else you’re allowed to find attractive,” Lily said.

My eyebrows rose. “Are you giving me permission to flirt with Sirius?”

“I’m saying I don’t mind a little competition.” A daring smile slowly spread across her face. It looked surprisingly natural on her. “Besides,” Lily continued, “Sirius may be an incorrigible flirt, but he’s always treated me fairly.” Lily’s smile vanished. “James treats my affection like a prize he’s already earned,” she said. “Sirius accepts no when I say it. That alone places him far above James.”

“So you might be interested in Sirius too?”

Lily’s cheeks turned pink. “...Possibly?”

I gasped. “Lily Evans!”

She squeaked. “What?”

“Are you suggesting that we share him?” Honestly, I could admit I would be ecstatic if they got together after I was gone from this timeline…

Her blush deepened, but she held my gaze. “Maybe,” Lily said. “Or perhaps he shares you with me. I haven’t worked out the details!”

I gasped dramatically a second time. Then I launched myself at her. Lily squeaked as I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her against me. “Who are you?” I asked. “What happened to the proper, rule-abiding Head Girl?”

Lily’s hands settled against my shoulders. “Don’t tell the others,” Lily whispered, “but I think she disappeared in the prefects’ bathroom this morning.”

I laughed and pressed my lips against her neck.

Lily shivered.

I kissed upward while her fingers tightened against my shoulders. Her skin tasted clean and faintly sweet. My lips found the sensitive spot beneath her chin.

Lily sighed. “Amara,” she murmured.

I sucked gently. Her hips pressed forward against mine.

“We should go back,” Lily said without conviction.

I kissed the same spot again.

“They’ll come looking for us,” she warned.

“Marlene will assume we’re having sex.”

“Marlene already assumes that.”

Lily laughed breathlessly before pushing at my shoulders. “Behave,” she said.

“You invited competition and sharing, and now you expect me to behave?” I reluctantly released her.

Lily immediately checked her neck in the mirror. A faint red mark had appeared beneath her jaw.

She gave me an accusing look.

“It’s barely visible,” I said.

“It will become more visible!”

“I can heal it…?”

Lily considered that. “Later,” she decided.

I grinned.

We moved toward the door.

Then Lily stopped. “Oh, wait,” she said.

“What?”

“I have something for you.” Her sudden nervousness returned.

Lily reached into the pocket of her robes and withdrew a delicate silver chain. A polished locket hung from it, decorated with elegant green enamel that twisted across the metal in the shape of flowering vines. She held it out. “I made it in Transfiguration today,” Lily said.

I carefully accepted it. The locket was warm from resting inside her pocket. Its surface caught the chandelier light, silver and green gleaming between my fingers. “You made this?” I asked.

“The silver used to be a teaspoon,” Lily admitted. “Professor McGonagall wanted us to create something intricate and permanent.”

“You spent your lesson making me jewellery?”

Lily’s blush intensified. “...I thought you might like something to remember me by when you go home.”

My chest tightened. The locket suddenly felt far heavier than it should have. “It’s beautiful,” I said. I pressed the small clasp. The locket opened. A tiny moving portrait filled the interior. Lily sat upon her four-poster bed in the Gryffindor dormitory, smiling directly at me. She was completely naked. Her red hair spilled over her shoulders, framing her bare breasts. Her legs were spread just enough to expose the neat red curls between her thighs and everything beneath them.

Portrait-Lily slowly leaned back on one hand. She ran the other down her stomach, then gave me a seductive little smile.

I gasped. This was like the wizarding world version of sending nudes! “Lily! How naughty!”

The real Lily slammed the locket shut. “That is private,” she said quickly.

I stared at her. “You made me a naked moving portrait of yourself?”

Her face had become almost as red as her hair. “...I thought you would appreciate it.”

“I appreciate it more than the English language can adequately express.”

“You are never to open it in front of anyone else,” Lily said sternly. “Not Sirius, not Marlene, not Alice—nobody!”

“What about portrait Lily? She seems eager to socialize.”

“She is not!”

“She looked very friendly.”

“Amara!”

I laughed.

Lily pointed firmly at the locket. “You also cannot let anyone steal it,” she continued. “That portrait is for you and absolutely nobody else.” Her embarrassment was adorable, but the seriousness beneath it touched me.

Lily had given me something intensely private. Something I could carry back to my own reality when I finally found a way home. A piece of her. “I’ll keep it safe,” I promised. I fastened the chain around my neck. The locket settled against my chest, resting between the open edges of my shirt collar.

Lily adjusted it carefully, her fingertips brushing my skin. “It suits you,” she said.

“I absolutely love it.”

Her expression softened with relief.

I cupped her cheek and kissed her. This kiss was gentler than the hungry ones we shared moments earlier. Lily relaxed against me, her lips moving softly beneath mine while her fingers curled around the chain she had made.

When we separated, I rested my forehead against hers. “Thank you,” I whispered.

“You’re welcome,” Lily said. She touched the locket once more before stepping back.

We finally unlocked the bathroom door and prepared to rejoin the others.

The silver-and-green pendant remained visible against my chest, gleaming beneath the pub’s warm lights.

Lily had trusted me to protect it.

I intended to keep that promise. If anyone tried to take it from me, they would learn exactly how possessive a Succubus Queen could be.

Drowning demonic arousal in alcohol probably wasn’t a healthy coping strategy.

It was, however, remarkably effective.

I tipped my fourth butterbeer back and drained it in several long swallows. Warmth spread through my chest and stomach while the constant ache between my thighs finally faded to something manageable.

When the mug emptied, I slammed it triumphantly onto the table.

“FINISHED!” I announced.

Some of the butterbeer missed my mouth during that final swallow. It ran down my chin, slipped beneath my shirt collar, and travelled between my breasts.

I released a happy giggle.

Across the table, Remus and Peter stared.

Both watched the golden liquid disappear beneath my shirt. Peter gulped audibly, while Remus’s scarred cheeks turned an endearing shade of red.

I caught them looking.

Their gazes snapped upward.

“See something interesting?” I asked.

“No,” Remus said far too quickly.

“Yes,” Peter said at the same time.

Remus turned toward him.

Peter’s face became even redder.

I dragged one finger slowly along my collarbone, collecting a drop of butterbeer before bringing it to my lips.

Both young men watched the entire process.

My succubus instincts purred. 

They are adorable.

Beside me, Lily sighed. “You’re doing that deliberately,” Lily said.

“I spilled my drink,” I said.

“You made no effort to prevent it.”

“I was thirsty.”

“You’ve had four!”

“Exactly. Very thirsty.”

Lily slid my empty mug out of reach before I could attempt to drink from it again.

Across the booth, Sirius was in the middle of recounting a prank from the previous year. “Then Avery opened his trunk,” Sirius said, “and three hundred enchanted snakes exploded into the dormitory.”

Marlene laughed so hard she nearly knocked over her drink.

Alice covered her mouth, but her shoulders shook. “You said it was a harmless prank,” Alice said.

“They were made of ribbon,” Sirius explained.

“They still chased everyone through the Slytherin common room,” Remus said.

“A harmless pursuit.”

“You made them scream insults about blood purists the entire time.”

“They were educational ribbons!”

“You also enchanted Avery’s trousers to fall down,” Peter added.

“That part was unrelated,” Sirius said.

Remus looked at him. “It happened at exactly the same time.”

“A fortunate coincidence.”

Marlene wiped tears from her eyes. “What did Avery do afterward?” she asked.

“He spent three weeks threatening to curse me,” Sirius said. “But the snake bastard deserved worse.”

“Sirius,” Lily warned.

“What?” Sirius asked. “They call themselves snakes.”

“I’m fairly sure that doesn’t make it acceptable.”

“I’m fairly sure being a blood-purity-obsessed arse makes almost anything acceptable.”

I pointed approvingly toward Sirius. “He has a point,” I said.

Lily turned back toward me. “You should slow down,” she said. “Butterbeer is stronger than it tastes.”

“I’m completely fine.” The words came out slightly softer than intended.

Lily examined my flushed face and unfocused eyes. “You’re giggling at everything,” Lily said.

“I’m happy.”

Lily’s lips twitched.

I leaned against her side and rested my head on her shoulder.

The pub felt wonderfully warm. Conversation rolled around us in a comfortable roar while magical music played near the back. Floating trays carried drinks overhead, weaving between one another like busy birds.

For once, nobody was attacking me.

Nobody was threatening my family.

Nobody was trying to destroy the world.

I was sitting in a magical pub with a group of gorgeous adult witches and wizards after killing a legendary monster.

Life was good.

Sirius suddenly climbed onto his seat and raised his mug. “TO AMARA BLACK!” Sirius shouted. “HERO OF HOGWARTS!”

Our table erupted in cheers.

Remus raised his drink more calmly, while Peter nearly spilled his into his lap. Marlene and Alice loudly repeated my name. Lily lifted her mug with a fond smile.

The surrounding patrons had no idea what we were celebrating. News about the basilisk hadn’t spread beyond Gryffindor Tower yet.

That did not stop anyone from joining.

“TO THE HERO!” a wizard at the bar shouted.

“HERO OF HOGWARTS!” someone else called.

Within seconds, half the Three Broomsticks had raised their drinks.

I stood in the booth and bowed with as much dignity as four butterbeers allowed. “Thank you,” I announced. “Your completely uninformed admiration means everything to me!”

More people cheered. Drunk people loved cheering. The reason barely mattered.

I dropped back into my seat, laughing. A modern nightclub probably would have suited me better. I missed neon lights, pounding bass, and dance floors packed with bodies grinding against one another. But I was around 20 years in the past and pretty sure clubs like that didn’t exist yet.

Still, the Three Broomsticks had charm. I was having fun. That was becoming a rare and precious experience.

I reached for Lily’s mug.

She pulled it away. “No,” Lily said.

“One sip?”

“You’ve had enough.”

“I fought a basilisk today!”

“That does not make alcohol medicinal.”

“It should.”

Lily continued holding the mug beyond my reach.

I was considering climbing into her lap to retrieve it when something strange caught my attention.

The lights near the end of our booth shimmered.

I blinked. Nothing was there.

Then the distortion moved. Candlelight bent around an empty patch of air. The shape advanced through the crowd, forcing people to step aside without understanding why.

I squinted at it.

“Am I hallucinating?” I asked.

“What?” Lily asked.

“That empty space is walking toward us.”

Lily followed my gaze but saw nothing.

The distortion continued approaching.

My vision couldn’t fully penetrate whatever concealed it, but some deeper part of me understood what I was seeing. The Deathly Hallow assimilated into my soul recognized its counterpart.

The world itself seemed to bend around the hidden figure.

An Invisibility Cloak.

The concealed person reached our table. A vague impression of an arm extended toward me. More specifically, toward the silver-and-green locket resting between my breasts.

My pleasant drunken haze vanished beneath a surge of possessive fury.

I growled and seized the invisible wrist.

Someone gasped beneath the magic.

My free hand caught hold of impossibly soft fabric. It felt like water woven into cloth—familiar even though the version I once possessed now existed inside my soul.

I ripped it away!

The Invisibility Cloak collapsed into my hands. 

Severus Snape appeared beside our booth.

For a moment, everyone stared.

I had expected James to be honest.

Sirius moved first. He surged to his feet so violently that his knee struck the underside of the table, sending every mug bouncing. “SNIVELOUS!” Sirius shouted. “What the hell are you doing with James’s Cloak?”

Snape twisted his arm, trying to escape my grip.

I tightened my fingers. His face contorted in pain.

“Where is James?” Sirius demanded. “What did you do to him, you greasy bastard?”

Snape ignored him. His black eyes remained fixed upon the locket between my breasts. He reached into his robes with his free hand and drew his wand. “Give me the locket,” Snape ordered. He pointed the wand directly at my chest.

Everyone at the table froze.

Lily’s expression transformed from shock to absolute disgust. “You revolting pervert,” Lily said.

Snape flinched as if she had slapped him. “What?” he asked.

“I cannot believe I was ever your friend,” Lily continued. “You followed us beneath an Invisibility Cloak and tried stealing that from her! How do you even know about it!?”

“Hand it over!” Snape demanded. “That locket belongs to my master!”

Lily’s mouth fell open. Then outrage burned across her face. “THERE IS NO WAY IN HELL I’M LETTING THE DARK LORD SEE ME NAKED!” Lily shouted.

Snape froze. “...What?” he asked.

Everyone else stared at Lily. Marlene’s eyes widened with delighted understanding. Alice covered her mouth. Sirius looked between Lily and the locket as though Christmas had arrived early. Peter made a squeaking noise. Remus closed his eyes.

I understood the mistake immediately. Snape thought the locket was the magical artifact that protected me from his poison…? Lily thought he wanted her nude portrait?

Neither had any idea what the other was talking about.

Snape looked genuinely stumped. “...Naked?” he repeated.

I punched him in the nose.

I carefully restrained my strength enough not to drive bone into his brain, but the impact still produced a satisfying crunch.

Snape screamed. Blood sprayed from his nostrils as he collapsed beside the booth, clutching his face. His wand slipped from his hand and clattered across the floor.

Peter moved before anyone else. He jumped out of his seat, snatched up the wand, and backed away from Snape. His hands trembled, but he pointed the weapon steadily toward its owner.

I smiled at him. “Good work, Peter,” I said.

Peter’s round face flushed. “Thanks,” he said.

I gave him an approving wink.

His wand arm nearly dipped before he forced it back into position.

Sirius seized the Invisibility Cloak from the table. “This is James’s,” Sirius said. “It’s been in the Potter family for generations.” He rounded on Snape. “What did you do to him?” Sirius demanded.

Snape spat blood onto the floor. He said nothing.

I stepped over him. “Oh, I have so many questions…”

Snape glared up at me through watering eyes.

I counted the questions mentally. Why had he poisoned me at breakfast? When had he begun serving Voldemort? What exactly had the Dark Lord ordered him to do? Why did he believe my locket protected me? Where had he left James? The last one was less important personally, but everyone else would want to know.

The entire pub had gone quiet around us. Dozens of patrons stared openly at our table. Some moved away, apparently deciding that a bloody confrontation involving seven Hogwarts students was a good reason to relocate.

Others leaned closer.

Apparently, watching Snape get punched was considered free entertainment.

I opened my mouth to begin the interrogation.

Shouting erupted outside. A heavy crash shook the windows. The enchanted band stopped playing mid-song.

Everyone turned toward the sound.

Marlene reached the nearest window first. She looked outside and went pale. “Oh, fuck,” Marlene whispered. She pointed toward the sky.

A gigantic green skull burned above Hogsmeade. A serpent emerged from its open mouth, coiling around the skull like an enormous tongue. Poisonous green light washed across rooftops, streets, and frightened faces.

The Dark Mark.

For one suspended moment, nobody inside the Three Broomsticks moved.

Then the pub exploded into panic!

People shouted and drew wands. Chairs scraped across the floor as patrons surged toward the exits. Several witches pushed toward the fireplace, throwing Floo powder into the flames and shouting destinations.

Someone screamed outside. Another explosion flashed between the buildings.

Snape crawled far enough to see through the window. The blood drained from his face. “No,” Snape whispered.

Sirius grabbed the front of his robes. “You knew about this,” Sirius hissed.

“I didn’t,” Snape said.

“Liar!”

“The Dark Lord didn’t tell me about an attack on Hogsmeade!” Snape shouted. His panic sounded genuine. It was also an astonishingly stupid confession.

Sirius’s expression turned murderous. “I knew it,” Sirius said. “I knew you were a fucking Death Eater this entire time.”

Snape struggled weakly against his grip.

“James should have let Remus eat you,” Sirius snarled.

Remus frowned. “Not cool, man,” Remus muttered.

Sirius glanced toward him. “Sorry, Moony,” Sirius said. “But you understand my point.”

“Unfortunately….”

Lily grabbed my arm.

“The Dark Mark means they’re attacking,” Lily said. “Or they’re about to. We need to return to Hogwarts.”

“The passage is on the other side of the village,” Sirius said.

Lily looked toward him. “We can reach it,” she insisted.

“We’d have to cross the main road and two side streets,” Sirius said. “If Death Eaters are already inside Hogsmeade, they’ll see us.”

Another explosion rattled the windows. People screamed in the street.

Remus drew his wand and looked around the rapidly emptying pub. “We could barricade the doors,” Remus suggested. “Help anyone sheltering here and find another way out.”

“What about the Floo?” Alice asked.

“The line’s already backed up,” Marlene said. “They’ll trample each other before everyone gets through.”

The group fell silent.

Their gazes turned toward me.

That was happening surprisingly often.

I looked through the window.

Dark-robed figures moved between the distant buildings. Flashes of red and green magic illuminated the streets. Hogsmeade was full of families, shopkeepers, and people who had come here for an ordinary evening. I remembered being Heather Potter—a helpless girl abandoned in a filthy alley, desperately wishing someone would save her.

I could leave these people to die. The demonic part of me would barely care. But Lily would. Sirius would. Remus, Peter, Marlene, and Alice would.

The people I loved back home would expect better from me. Well. Morgana and Bellatrix wouldn’t but, but everyone else would. I wasn’t a hero, but I was…fond…of more than a few heroes that would be disappointed if I did nothing. 

Of course, I would be doing things MY WAY.  That was enough.

“I’ll handle it,” I said. “The Death Eaters.”

Lily stared at me. “Handle what?” she asked. “...We don’t know how many there are.”

“That sounds like their problem.”

“You cannot fight an entire attack force alone!”

I placed my hand over Lily’s. “I won’t let them hurt you,” I said. “Any of you.”

Her anger faltered beneath fear. “Amara,” Lily whispered.

“Stay together,” I instructed. “Keep Snape disarmed.”

Peter tightened his grip around Snape’s wand.

Sirius drew his own. “I’m coming with you,” Sirius said.

“So am I,” Remus added.

Marlene and Alice raised their wands.

Lily looked ready to argue until the determination around the table made her stop.

I slid out of the booth and stood. Magic moved eagerly beneath my skin. My integrated wand burned like a tattoo along my forearm, ready to manifest the instant I called for it.

Lily’s locket rested safely against my chest. I touched it once.

Snape had tried stealing it. 

Voldemort’s followers had ruined my first enjoyable night in Hogsmeade.

I was slightly drunk, extremely horny, and very angry. That was a catastrophically dangerous combination. Fortunately, it was dangerous for everyone else.

I turned toward the pub entrance.

Whoever had decided to attack Hogsmeade was about to regret interrupting my celebration.

XXX