PSA:

Here is the current tally on the vote:

Ravenclaw: 4, Hufflepuff: 1, Gryffindor: 1

Review Time:

Thristan: I actually had an idea where I mimicked the iCarly meme of "What 'cha got there?" "A Smoothie" when Minerva came into the scene to give the letter to Octavius lol.

As for romances... you're hitting on interesting notes. However, considering I have been spammed so many messages of "which X romance option is it going to be?" I am going to keep everyone going on a loop until things get confirmed by either vote or simply a roll of the writing dice lol.

Guest #1: It's no worries, I accept your apology. I know for a hundred percent certainty that what I write will never appeal to a group of people (I know if I go on Twitter, I know 10/10 chance that the crowd will try to censor me for including Hogwarts Legacy, supporting the Devil, have an anti-god complex, and who knows what shit folks come up with) and I will do my best to make the writing more appealing to a vast audience. However, I really do want to have some fun providing a world for y'all!

Guest #2: I am going to be 100% straight with you, I am not going to disclose that information. Regarding Voldemort, we are quite literally having the majority of the story set in the afterlife, the same afterlife Voldemort wanted to flee from (and Angels who would carve and exterminate him like a piece of pie); of course we are going to be dealing with crap that makes many things off-putting in J.K Rowling's Harry Potter plot. It's kind of the Catch 22 of a Helluva Boss/Harry Potter crossover.

Also, if you were the son of an Ancient Demon Prince and have access to seeing all kinds of future plots through Divination, you would be pretty confident in yourself. Whether that is arrogance or literally an eleven year old spamming UNLIIIIIMITEEED POOOOOOWAAAAA , I leave it up to y'all to find your own interpretations!

Harry Potter: Goetian Beginnings

Chapter X: Diagon Alley and Chill

Diagon Alley, Mortal Realm

July 31st, 1991

The bustling Diagon Alley stood frozen as if ensnared in a temporal spell as the unlikely eclipse cloaked the world in a celestial shroud. The spectacle, both fearsome and breathtaking, pinned the gazes of the gathered witches and wizards skyward. Their robes rustled softly, their murmurs hung on the chilled air, and their wands lay dormant in their hands, momentarily forgotten in light of the cosmic spectacle unfolding above.

It was then that they emerged, stepping forth from the heart of the eclipse itself, a striking, unfamiliar family that seemed somehow born of the very stars. The ethereal light of the moon seemed to gather around them, highlighting their garments and casting an incandescent glow that transformed each outline into an image of radiant beauty. Their eyes, brilliantly shining, each told an unspeakable tale of cosmic mysteries.

Amidst this strange, luminescent group, one figure stood out. He was a boy, but not any boy. It was him - Harry Potter. The lightning-shaped scar, as recognisable as ever, gleamed on his forehead, despite the shadows, a mark of his tumultuous past and an omen of his turbulent future.

The crowd hummed with surprise, their murmurs growing from soft whispers to excited chatter. "Harry Potter, the boy who lived!" "But where has he been? Why is he here?" "And who are these people? They're different, unlike any witch or wizard I've seen!" The questions skittered around like scattering beetles, their shells glistening under the unnatural light of the eclipse.

As the group advanced, the crowd parted like a sea, creating an illuminated pathway that echoed the ethereal light they seemed to exude. Many watched with a mix of awe and unease, curiosity knitting their brows, speculation sparking in their wide eyes.

The flurry of gasps and whispers surged into a crescendo, as the sea of witches and wizards absorbed the sight of the young Harry Potter among this mysterious, otherworldly family. The whispers, once a low hum, roared into a cacophonous din, spilling into every nook and cranny of Diagon Alley. The atmosphere was thick with disbelief, shock, and a profound sense of curiosity.

An elderly wizard, his hair snowy white and face a network of deep-set lines, stepped forward from the crowd. Stiffly, he bent over, his gnarled hand extending towards the boy in a gesture of familiarity and warmth. "Harry Potter," he rasped, his voice brittle with age yet thick with the respect the name commanded, "Never thought I'd live to see the day."

Just as the boy, Harry, or rather, Octavius, as the family referred to him, was about to reach out in response, a figure loomed forward. It was a tall man, commanding in presence and robust in build. His starlit eyes mirrored a deep wisdom, a wisdom that seemed ancient and profound. He wore a polite, yet firm smile on his face, and in his authoritative voice, he announced, "Apologies, but this young lad here is Octavius. He is my son, part of the Goetia family. His shoulders may bear the weight of many things, but the attention of the world, I'm afraid, is not one he needs."

The crowd's confusion was cut short by another commanding presence, a man whose age seemed indeterminate, a paradox of timelessness and ancient wisdom. His eyes shone with a certain knowing glint, as if he was privy to the secrets of the universe itself.

"Please," he said, his voice resonating across the thrumming crowd. "Allow me to clarify. Yes, this is indeed Harry Potter," he motioned toward the young boy who was standing tall amidst the gaze of the crowd. A murmur went through the assembly, a shiver of recognition and awe. The boy from the stories, the boy who lived.

"But," Paimon added, his voice smooth as silk, holding an underlying authority that commanded attention. "He is just a boy, much like your own sons and daughters, nephews and nieces. He may be the one who lived, but today, he is also just a boy out shopping for his first year at Hogwarts."

His clear eyes met the collective gaze of the crowd, taking in each face in turn, a silent plea for understanding mirrored in their depths. "He is here, just as any other child, excited about cauldrons and spell books, the thrill of a new wand and the promise of the year ahead. So, I implore you all," he said, the last of his words echoing in the silence, "give him the space to experience these joys without the weight of the world on his shoulders, without the gaze of every eye on his every action. Allow him to be Harry, allow him to be Octavius, but above all, let him be a boy."

His request was met with a murmur of assent, nods, and whispers of agreement rippling through the crowd. The atmosphere, which was earlier buzzing with anticipation and star-struck awe, now softened, turning into a gentle understanding, a mutual agreement to let the boy be, to let him explore this new magical world in peace. Paimon's words, delivered with such sincerity, seemed to have woven a spell of their own, reminding everyone that Harry Potter, Octavius of the Goetia family, was just a boy, much like their own, stepping into the magical world for the very first time.

Paimon turned back to Octavius, a softer smile gracing his features. The weight of the crowd seemed to lift, the ripple of agreement through the throng of witches and wizards allowing a sigh of relief to echo silently through the Goetia family.

"And where to next, Octavius?" Paimon asked, his voice carrying a warmth that was exclusive for his grandson.

Octavius tilted his head slightly, his eyes turning upwards. A moment of silence passed, and then, a faint glow began to dance in his eyes, illuminating their usual color with an ethereal violet light. The glow was subtle, noticeable only if one were close enough or paying particular attention. It was an otherworldly sight, and yet, it fit him just as well as the air of mystery that cloaked him.

"Gringotts, grandpa," he said after a moment, the light in his eyes fading as his gaze focused back on his grandfather.

A ripple of murmurs swept through the crowd once more as Octavius's eyes flared violet. Gasps were softly uttered, whispers traded hurriedly between cloak-covered figures. The adults, with their knowledge of magic's limitless boundaries, bore expressions of intrigue and alarm in equal measure, yet said nothing, their gazes flickering between Paimon and Octavius with unabashed curiosity.

In stark contrast, the younger witches and wizards were far more unrestrained in their reactions. A small girl, no older than six, her hand tucked securely in her mother's grasp, gaped up at Octavius, her blue eyes wide with awe. "Mummy, his eyes went all glowy," she whispered loudly, pointing a chubby finger in his direction.

An older boy, hovering around the age of twelve with a lopsided grin, nudged his friend. "Wicked, did you see that?" he exclaimed, his eyes shining with unabashed admiration. "He must be really powerful!"

Displaying a grace and maturity far beyond his tender years, Octavius extended his hand, enfolding Estrella's smaller one within his own. A respectful bow of his head was granted to her before he gently turned her, leading the way with an air of self-assured command.

Whispers rose in their wake, as the crowd parted like the Red Sea before Moses. A pair of elderly witches, clad in garish purple hats, nodded approvingly. "Such fine young ones," one clucked to her companion, her gnarled hand tugging at the collar of her robe. "I reckon it's an arranged marriage, mark my words."

"Aye, could very well be," her companion agreed, their eyes tracking the pair's progress.

Sprinklings of children, their faces aglow with excitement, danced around the edges of the crowd, pointing towards the immense white building rising in the distance. "Gringotts is this way!" one piped up enthusiastically, earning a warm smile from Octavius as he passed.

Suddenly, a pair of energetic, identical ginger-haired youths burst forth from the crowd. Weaving through the onlookers, they found their way to the forefront of the gathering, their worn-out, hand-me-down robes swishing around their ankles. Illuminated by the ethereal glow of the celestial event, their vibrant hair seemed ablaze, a pair of mischievous comets streaking through the hushed crowd.

"Make way! Make way for the future king!" they bellowed theatrically, their arm-in-arm stance evoking the aura of seasoned court jesters. The proclamation hung in the air, a bold declaration amidst the soundless stillness of the moment.

For a heartbeat, the world seemed to hold its breath. And then, Octavius laughed, a rich, warm sound that cut through the quiet like a beam of sunlight piercing the darkness. His laughter spread like wildfire, sparking a wave of giggles among the children in the crowd, their youthful gaiety breaking the tension of the moment.

With the wave of a hand and a final, shared grin of delight, the ginger twins bowed, graciously stepping aside. The crowd parted, their awestruck silence replaced by the soft murmur of wonder and speculation, allowing Octavius and the Goetia family to continue their journey towards Gringotts.

As the towering, foreboding doors of Gringotts swung open to admit the Goetia family, the sun began to reclaim the sky. The celestial bodies seemed to dance, shifting and rotating around each other in the heavens as if performing an ethereal ballet. The myriad hues of the stellar lights began to recede, melting into the azure canvas of the sky as the eclipse came to an end.

Simultaneously, the mystical glow enveloping the family faded as the final vestiges of the eclipse vanished, their luminescent robes gradually losing their otherworldly sheen. It was as though the eclipse had chosen to bid its farewell in sync with their entry into the goblin-run bank, signaling the end of a unique spectacle that Diagon Alley would remember for generations to come.

As the Goetia family disappeared into the marbled halls of Gringotts, Diagon Alley sprang back to life. The ethereal silence that had cloaked the magical marketplace during the eclipse was replaced by the familiar din of haggling and the bustling movement of shoppers. However, beneath the apparent normalcy, the air remained tinged with an undeniable buzz of excitement and anticipation, the remnant echoes of the event that had unfolded.

Gringotts, Mortal Realm

July 31st, 1991

A behemoth of a man emerged from Gringotts' grand entrance, causing the crowd to part around him like he was a ship sailing through a sea of wizards and witches. His presence was almost as bewitching as the spectacle that had just taken place - the tousled mess of a beard that obscured most of his face, the beetle-black eyes that twinkled with a familiar warmth, the wild mane of hair that seemed to have a life of its own.

As the Goetia family approached, he flashed them a wide, toothy grin that could be seen even through his bushy beard. Swiftly, he swung the large, ornate door open, holding it with a hand as large as a dustbin lid.

A giant of a man with a beard as wild as the wind on a stormy day emerged from the grand doors of Gringotts. His beetle-black eyes twinkled warmly as they took in the spectacle before him. With a robust arm, he held the door open for the approaching party, a broad, toothy grin hidden amongst the sea of hair on his face.

The young boy at the front of the group, Octavius, glanced up at the towering figure, his eyes flashing violet with a combination of respect and gratitude. "Thank you," Octavius said, his voice surprisingly firm for one so young.

The giant man chuckled, his booming laugh reverberating through the air. "'Course, 'course," he replied, his voice as rough as gravel yet kind. "Always happy to lend a hand."

Octavius paused, his foot halfway over the threshold of the bank. Without turning around, he added, "Please pass a message to Dumbledore for me. Tell him, 'Octavius says hello.'"

The young boy then continued to lead his family into the grandeur of Gringotts, leaving the giant of a man chuckling in their wake.

"Well, I'll be..." the giant murmured, shaking his head as if in disbelief. He turned his gaze toward the sky, still chuckling. "James and Lily would be so proud." Then, he too disappeared into the shadows of the bank, his mind already spinning with the curious happenings of the day.

As the grand doors of Gringotts were opened for the young lad, the Goetia family stepped into the opulence of the wizarding bank, their eyes widened in silent awe. The bank was a splendid panorama of marble pillars, intricate mosaics, and glittering chandeliers that danced with luminescent light. The air was filled with the rhythmic clinking of gold and the murmured conversations of wizards and witches conducting their business.

Goblins were hunched over their work behind counters, their sharp eyes darting over the throngs of patrons with an almost predatory diligence. Their fine robes shimmered with opalescence as they moved, their gnarled hands counting coins and shuffling through parchments with a speed that was almost dizzying.

The party moved with a dignity and grace that seemed to demand attention, yet blended with the bustling atmosphere of the bank. Octavius took the lead, his eyes scanning the surrounding activity with a curious, yet determined look. His hand still held onto Estrella's, their interlocked fingers swinging gently between them as they moved.

Every now and then, Octavius would whisper something into Estrella's ear, prompting her to laugh or nod in agreement. The family behind them followed their lead, their conversations quiet but indirect.

The counter was a towering fortress of brass and mahogany, and behind it sat a goblin whose face bore more wrinkles than a crumpled parchment. The goblin glanced up at the young boy standing before him, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly.

"I need to make a withdrawal from the Potter vault," Octavius said. His voice was calm and steady, filled with a confidence that belied his age.

"Do you have the key to the vault?" the goblin asked, his voice a raspy echo that bounced off the high ceilings of the bank.

"I do not," Octavius admitted, his violet eyes meeting the goblin's stare unflinchingly. "But I can prove my identity, and I would also like to open a new account under the name of Goetia."

A grunt escaped the goblin, a sound that was neither agreement nor disagreement. "You're too young to open a bank account," he stated matter-of-factly.

The slightest smile tugged at the corners of Octavius's mouth, as if he had expected this response. "With all due respect, kind sir, I'm a friend of the Goblins and now a son of Goetia. Age has little bearing on capability or entitlement, wouldn't you agree?"

"In addition," Octavius continued, his voice dropping to a low whisper that seemed to echo around the vast, cavernous interior of the bank. "I am privy to the secret of Vault Number Twelve."

The quiet that had been reigning over the bank was shattered like a glass mirror falling on stone. A gasp, a series of startled whispers, spread out in ripples among the assembled goblins. Vault Number Twelve was an enigma, a shadowy secret whispered among goblins since time immemorial. It was the vault whose contents had long been hidden and lost to the mists of time.

The elderly goblin who had initially dismissed Octavius behind the counter raised a gnarled brow, a gleam of interest brightening his usually aloof gaze. His weathered face took on a thoughtful look. The boy standing before him was not an ordinary wizard, he thought. There was something different about him.

Murmurs filled the air, intermingled with the whispers of "Vault Number Twelve" and "Goetia". The echo of an ancient memory resurfaced — the infamous Goblin Rebellion that reverberated through the history of the wizarding world. The Rebellion of the Goblins led by the infamous Ranrock, their fight for equality and rights — a conflict that seemed to linger even in the air of Gringotts.

The goblin's sharp eyes flickered over Octavius with newfound respect. He scratched his craggy chin thoughtfully, the mention of the rebellion and the mysterious Vault Number Twelve lingering in the still air. The silence was broken by the goblin's gruff voice, carrying an undertone of begrudging acceptance.

"Very well, Mister Potter," the goblin said, his beady eyes glinting in the dim light. "If you indeed are privy to the secrets of Vault Number Twelve, then this is a matter that requires... more private discourse."

With a sudden, swift movement that was surprising for someone of his aged appearance, the goblin hopped off his chair and shuffled around the counter. He motioned to Octavius and his family with a gnarled hand, indicating for them to follow him.

"This way," he said, his voice echoing through the cavernous bank. His sudden change in demeanor seemed to catch the other occupants by surprise as they watched the unusual group follow the goblin towards the bowels of Gringotts.

As the goblin led Octavius, Estrella, and the Goetian family down a narrow stone passage, they were greeted by the sight of a small rail cart. The family piled into the cart and with a creak of metal and a gust of chilled subterranean air, they were whisked away deeper into the labyrinthine depths of the bank.

"The uprising of Ranrok," the goblin started, his gruff voice echoing through the dark tunnel, "caused many problems for our kind. Yet, the true reasons behind his rebellion are shrouded in mysteries that even we goblins have struggled to unveil."

As they plunged deeper into the vault, the cart began to glow with a faint blue light. The light coalesced around the Goetian family, bathing them in a soft glow before fading away, leaving their true forms exposed. Their human disguises had fallen away, revealing their Goetic Demon forms.

Octavius looked surprised for a moment, but the goblin simply chuckled. "Our enchantments are designed to see through illusions and disguises. We sensed your true nature as soon as you stepped foot into Gringotts," he explained, his tone neither accusatory nor alarmed.

"We chose to say nothing. The affairs of witches and wizards are their own. As are the affairs of the Goetic demons." The goblin paused, casting a sidelong glance at the family. "Our only concern is the gold, silver, and the secrets stored within our vaults."

Stolas, his voice carrying the rich resonance of authority, spoke up. "Are you attempting to curry our favor, Goblin?" His eyes, a vibrant blend of blues and greens in his demonic form, locked onto the goblin, curious but wary.

The goblin turned his gaze back to the rails, his small hands gripping the sides of the cart. "Not at all," he replied, his tone matter-of-fact. "Your favor is not our concern. Our primary obligation is to the treasures and secrets within our walls, whether they belong to humans, goblins, or demons."

He glanced back at Stolas, the corners of his mouth twitching in a half-smile. "But, I won't deny that having royal demons like you among our clientele is... most treasured."

The cart continued to snake its way through the vast labyrinthine tunnels beneath Gringotts, the dim light casting strange, dancing shadows on the cavernous walls. The air grew cooler, the path steeper, as they delved deeper into the heart of the bank.

After what felt like an eternity, the cart finally juddered to a halt before an imposing door, encrusted with what appeared to be precious gems of all shapes and sizes. They had arrived at Vault Number Twelve.

"Our journey concludes here," the goblin announced, as he hopped off the cart onto the stone floor. He stepped towards the vault, the jewels embedded in the door shimmering mysteriously in the faint glow of the tunnel.

The Goetian family followed suit, their cloaks billowing slightly as they descended from the cart. Octavius and Estrella exchanged a glance, their eyes reflecting the strange, alluring gleam of the vault door.

The silence of anticipation hung heavily in the cool, subterranean air as they watched the goblin take a key from his pocket and insert it into the ornate lock. The door creaked open slowly, revealing the treasures of Vault Number Twelve to its newest custodians.

The imposing stone door to Vault Number Twelve creaked open ominously, unveiling a scene frozen in the grips of a time long forgotten. A tangible chill filled the air, bearing with it the musty scent of ages past, of magic once potent now lying dormant and stale.

As the Goetia family crossed the threshold, the weight of the ancient air settled over them. The torchlight illuminated the vault, casting long, eerie shadows over the time-ravaged stone walls. Old and broken chests, cobwebbed relics of another era, lay scattered, consumed by the darkness.

Octavia's vibrant violet eyes danced over the faded runes etched into the walls. Only she, along with Stolas and Paimon, were able to discern the faint luminescence of the ancient enchantments - spectral reminders of a forgotten magical narrative.

The eerie stillness of the vault was punctuated only by the echo of their footsteps as they delved deeper into the shadows. Flecks of dust caught in the sparse light trickled down like celestial fragments, settling on the stone floor and time-worn relics.

Octavius's gaze drifted through the gloom, taking in the tableau of decay. His eyes were those of a child, yet held an ageless wisdom, a deep understanding of the unseen history etched into the very stone.

"Looks like a lost world," Estrella's hushed voice echoed faintly, reverence coloring her tone. Her gaze was alight with the reflected luminescence of the fading enchantments.

"Indeed," Octavia responded, her voice low, her eyes locked onto the faint glow of the runes. "But it's a world we're here to rediscover."

Octavia turned to Stolas, her violet eyes gleaming with certainty and determination. "Father," she addressed him, her voice resonating softly amidst the somber silence. "Can you mend the ancient magic that holds this place together? Its echoes still linger, waiting to be revived."

Stolas gave his daughter a contemplative look, his eyes following the path hers had traced along the walls. He then raised his hand, fingers outstretched, a stately gesture which stilled everyone present.

With the imperceptible flick of a finger, a surge of magic, vibrant and potent, emanated from him. It weaved through the air like an invisible tapestry, caressing the faded runes and intertwining with the dormant enchantments that clung to the cavernous vault.

The reaction was instantaneous.

The vault seemed to shudder, as if jolted awake from an eons-long slumber. The runes pulsed once, twice, before blooming in a brilliant glow that cast the vault into sharp relief. Broken chests mended themselves, stone walls solidified, and dust-laden relics shone as if freshly polished.

The decay that had permeated the vault was swept away, replaced by a robust vitality that permeated the air. A subtle hum of magic now resonated, a harmony that sang of ancient power brought back to life.

The Vault was colossal, an otherworldly haven hidden beneath the surface of the earth, lit by the strange, ambient luminescence from the cavernous ceiling above. The stone walls shimmered with an iridescence that danced across the numerous stacks of ancient artifacts, tomes, and magical objects. Here and there, chests filled with gleaming gold and glittering gems were nestled, untouched and awaiting discovery. Piles of gold coins, goblets, and treasures of unimaginable worth glinted invitingly, untouched for years, bearing the testament of the centuries.

The cavernous dome soared overhead, its jagged edges adorned with elaborate carvings of celestial bodies. A facsimile of the night sky, shimmering stars seemingly twinkled down upon the vault. This ethereal lighting cast long, flickering shadows that brought an almost mystical aura to the space, echoing the depth and intrigue of the magic that it held.

At the center, an ancient plinth stood proud, wreathed in an aura of mystic light. Upon it, untouched by time and the countless years, was an artifact of immeasurable worth, a testament to the deep-rooted magic that the vault safeguarded. A beacon, an epicenter of magical energies that surged and ebbed with the rhythm of the vault.

This was a place where the mundane met the mystic, where echoes of the past whispered tales of magic and legend to those who had the ears to listen. A world frozen in time, yet alive with the vibrant thrum of ancient magic coursing through its veins.

With a certain grace in his stride, Octavius strolled into the room, absorbing the grandeur of the surroundings. The Goblin, eyes wide with fascination and curiosity, finally mustered up the courage to ask, "What in Gringotts is this place?"

Octavius paused, glancing back at the Goblin, "This, my friend, is a testament to an age where Wizards and Goblins worked together, bound by the need to preserve and protect a secret. Only those with the sight and ability to wield Ancient Magic can truly see this place for what it is."

Octavia stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with an eerie light, "We, the lineage of Goetia, are among those chosen to bear witness to it. This magic is embedded within us, it flows in our blood, and this place responds to our presence."

Octavius sighed, a faint smile tracing his lips, "Although my soul remains human..."

Estrella cut him off, stepping forward, her eyes locking onto Octavius', "No, Octavius, you're Goetian. Every part of you. You are one of us, and don't you forget it."

Octavius gave a grateful nod to Estrella before turning his attention back to the Goblin, his demeanor serious.

"Every world has its secrets," he began, his voice echoing softly in the cavernous space, "Power tucked away in the most unlikely places. This vault... it's a signpost of sorts. A guide to where such power might lie dormant, just waiting to be awakened."

He then paused, his violet eyes meeting the Goblin's, "Given this revelation, I believe it's fair to propose that I have demonstrated the value of trust and confidentiality required for a new bank account, not to mention access to the Potter Vault. Wouldn't you agree?"

The Goblin's eyes gleamed in the torchlight, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I agree, Octavius Goetia. A new account can indeed be created for you in light of these... exceptional circumstances. As for the Potter Vault, well, standard procedure dictates that only original parents or an appointed guardian can grant access."

Upon hearing the Goblin's words, Octavius' brows furrowed momentarily in thought before an idea seemed to dawn on him. "Well then," he said, his voice steady, "If I cannot access the Potter Vault at this time, may I request this vault, Vault Number Twelve, be assigned for my new account? Its historical and personal significance makes it a fitting choice."

The goblin's eyes surveyed the grandeur of the Goetian family in their undisguised forms. Paimon, the King of Hell, towered above them all, a majestic figure clothed in kingly vestments, his avian face inscrutable, emanating an aura of sublime authority and wisdom.

His gaze then shifted to Stolas, who, despite his humanoid disguise having been lifted, retained an air of calm knowledge and dignity. His bird-like form was crowned with wisdom born from eons of cosmic observation, his penetrating eyes containing the secrets of the universe.

Estrella, too, was a sight to behold. The disenchantment spells had revealed her in her full glory, her radiant beauty echoing the lustrous constellations from which she derived her name. Her eyes twinkled with an inner light, an eternal wisdom that belied her youthful appearance.

Then, there was Octavius, the young prince. The spells had transformed him back into his Goetic form, a boy who wore his mystical heritage like a mantle. His humanoid guise had been replaced by a visage of youthful grace and maturity, his features displaying an uncanny blend of the human and the avian.

Finally, the Goblin's gaze landed on Octavia, her stellar purple eyes shining with the allure of the cosmos, her dark violet plumage adding an ethereal quality to her beauty. The sight of them all, their avian visages reflecting their true heritage, was a testament to their magnificent Goetic lineage.

"A deal it is, then," said the goblin, his sharp eyes studying each member of the Goetian family with a newfound respect. "The Vault of Ancient Magic is hereby designated as the account of Octavius, heir to the Potters and adopted son of Goetia."

As his words echoed through the vast chamber, King Paimon moved with an air of silent authority. With a sweeping gesture, he summoned a chest that materialized in a shower of iridescent sparks. As the lid of the chest creaked open, it revealed a dazzling sight - it was brimming with Aureus, the ancient currency of Rome.

The coins were round, made of pure gold, their surfaces polished to perfection, gleaming under the soft light of the vault. Each coin bore the distinct markings of the Roman era - the portraits of Emperors, the divine symbols of ancient deities, the classic inscriptions of Latin. They were not merely currency; they were pieces of history, each holding tales of a civilization long gone.

The goblin's eyes widened at the sight, his stony countenance revealing a flicker of surprise. In his centuries-long career at Gringotts, he had seen many forms of wealth, but this...this was a relic of a time lost to history. The sight of the Aureus, once the symbol of Rome's grandeur and power, was an unexpectedly stunning sight in the heart of the Wizarding World's bank. "Most remarkable," the goblin murmured.

King Paimon gestured at the chest with a benign smile. "We would be obliged," he said, his deep voice resonating within the stone walls, "if you could convert this wealth into the currency of this realm. As a gift for my grandson, you see." His gaze settled on Octavius, a soft fondness in his otherwise intense eyes.

The goblin's sharp gaze darted from Paimon to the golden Aureus and then to Octavius, surprise flickering once again in his eyes. This was not an everyday occurrence, even in the extraordinary walls of Gringotts. He blinked, adjusting his spectacles, before his lips curled into a rare goblin smile, revealing his pointed teeth.

"An... interesting request," he said, bowing his head slightly, "but certainly one within our means to fulfill. It will be our pleasure to provide Master Octavius with the requisite funds."

As the goblin began to turn away, Octavius paused, his eyes scanning the newly repaired vault. Beneath the billowing folds of his starry robes, his hand flickered into motion. With a quick and decisive precision, he drew something into the air with the tip of his wand. A fiery, ethereal glyph, glowing with an otherworldly light. It was a teleportation rune, a secret of the Goetian family.

The light of the rune refracted off the polished surfaces of the vault, illuminating the ancient symbols and intricate carvings that were now restored to their former glory. As soon as the rune was complete, it sunk into the stone floor of the vault, leaving behind a faint, almost imperceptible, glow.

Octavius looked up and nodded at the Goblin, who was waiting patiently at the entrance. "Thank you for your assistance," he said, his young voice carrying an echo of authority. "We are ready to make our way back."

With that, he and the Goetian family exited the vault, leaving the echo of their presence and the faint glow of the demonic rune in their wake. The door of the ancient vault slowly closed, swallowing the glow and awaiting the return of its new master.

Escorted by their goblin guide, the Goetian family reemerged from the mysterious depths of the bank, their forms shifting and morphing as they crossed the threshold back into the main gallery, their otherworldly guises receding and being replaced by their human disguises. The bank's interior came alive around them, echoing with the clink of coins, the hum of hushed conversations, and the occasional scratch of quill against parchment.

They approached a counter where another goblin, resplendent in a tall, gold-rimmed hat, awaited them. His beady eyes flickered over their group, a momentary spark of surprise quickly masked by professional detachment.

He rapidly began to count out gleaming Galleons, feeding them into a counting machine that whirred and clattered, sorting the coins with precise efficiency. Once it finished, a substantial pile of six thousand Galleons, the maximum amount allowed for a single withdrawal, lay before them.

Pushing the heavy leather bag across the counter, the goblin met Octavius's gaze. "Master Potter," he began, his voice curt, "Please be aware, six thousand Galleons is the maximum amount one can withdraw at a time."

Accepting the weighty bag, Octavius gave a gracious nod, "Thank you," he replied. The Goetian family, a small, satisfied smile on their faces, had successfully made their first significant stride in the mortal world.

Diagon Alley to Eeylops Owl Emporium, Mortal Realm

July 31st, 1991

Emerging from the cool interior of Gringotts, the Goetian family stepped out onto the uneven cobblestone of Diagon Alley, their steps slow and measured, their bearing regal. Octavius held the heavy bag of Galleons with ease, the weight seeming little more than an afterthought.

The crowded alley, bustling with witches and wizards of all ages, fell into a stunned silence as they made their way through. Their eyes followed the peculiar group, whispers following in their wake like an echo. Their robes flowed around them, their forms strikingly tall for their apparent age. The two children, especially, drew the gaze of the crowd, their ethereal beauty quite unusual.

Continuing to navigate the maze of shops and stalls, they arrived at Eeylops Owl Emporium. The tinkling bell announced their entry, and a soft hush descended on the shop as the array of owls all turned to regard their unexpected visitors. There was a palpable ripple of energy that moved through the aviary, a silent recognition passing between the feathered beings and the disguised owl demons. The soft hooting of the owls became a melodious chorus that only the family could understand.

Some of the owls, seeming quite taken by the group, leaned forward on their perches and extended their wings, ruffling their feathers. It was a rare and unusual sight in the shop, a place typically filled with a chorus of hoots and the flutter of wings, not the silent watchfulness currently displayed.

The owls seemed to understand that they were in the presence of beings who understood their language, who flew the night skies as they did, and they reacted accordingly. It was a scene that only the members of the Goetian family could truly appreciate. In their human disguises, their presence in Diagon Alley had already created quite a stir, but this... this was something that resonated with their true natures. They were, after all, still very much a part of the natural world. The shop was filled with the sounds of hooting and screeching, but to Octavius, these were not just noise. Every hoot, every screech, every flutter of wings was a symphony of conversations. Each owl had its own unique tone, pitch, and rhythm that Octavius not only heard but also understood. The language of the owls was as clear to him as any human language.

"Help us... free us... take us home," the owls seemed to plead. Their soft hoots resonated with a note of sadness and longing that only Octavius could perceive.

As the echoes of their voices filled the room, Octavius turned his attention to the shopkeeper, his violet eyes glowing with a newfound resolve. "I would like to purchase an owlery for each of the owls in this shop," he said. His voice was calm, carrying an undertone of determination that caught the shopkeeper by surprise.

The shopkeeper blinked in surprise, his gaze darting between Octavius and the owls. "But, sir," he started to say, a tremor in his voice revealing his disbelief.

"I am aware," Octavius cut him off, the corners of his mouth lifting in a serene smile. "I assure you, the cost is not an issue."

The shopkeeper was left in stunned silence, his gaze darting from the young boy to the owls. The hoots and screeches filled the room once more, and even if the shopkeeper couldn't understand them, he knew something extraordinary was unfolding before him.

As if cued by an invisible signal, an owl left its perch and glided towards Octavius. Its wings spread wide, casting an eerie shadow across the floor as it sailed through the air, landing gracefully on Octavius's shoulder. The owl tilted its head, its large eyes looking curiously at the boy, blinking in silent understanding.

At Octavius's other shoulder, a small creature fluttered, an almost imperceptible movement that nevertheless caught the shopkeeper's attention. As his gaze fell on the creature, he realized with a start that it was not a common bird or a relative of an owl. Its scales glittered with an unnatural sheen, its wings were a beautiful array of translucent membrane and bone, and its eyes, the same unusual violet as Octavius's, held an intelligence that went beyond the animal kingdom.

"Is that... a dragon?" The shopkeeper asked, his voice shaking with incredulity and awe.

"Yes," Octavius replied simply, his attention divided between the owl perched on his shoulder and the shopkeeper. "This is Nocturne."

For a moment, the shopkeeper was speechless, his mind attempting to make sense of the scene before him. It wasn't every day one saw a young boy with an owl and a dragon, standing in an owl shop, ready to buy an owlery for every owl present.

The shopkeeper busied himself, calculating the total cost of the grand request, and he couldn't help but steal glances at the composed young boy and his unique companions. The owls in the shop had grown silent, their variously colored eyes fixed on Octavius, their heads tilted curiously. There was an air of respect and curiosity from the birds, an indication of their natural instincts towards the strange energy they felt.

"Nocturne, help me with this transaction," Octavius directed softly, and the small dragon stirred, nimbly hopping down from his shoulder onto the counter. A ripple of amazement went through the shop as the dragon began to count the pile of Galleons Octavius placed on the counter.

As Nocturne worked, Octavius turned his attention to the owl on his shoulder, speaking to it in soft, murmuring whispers. The owl, in response, nuzzled into the boy's neck, hooting softly in contentment. Around the room, the other owls shuffled, adjusting their positions and watching the scene with wide, interested eyes.

Upon finalizing the payment, the shopkeeper, still somewhat stunned, handed Octavius the deed to the owlery. Octavius accepted it with a polite nod, the owl on his shoulder hooting in satisfaction as Nocturne returned to his perch.

"Thank you," Octavius said, his voice resonating gently within the quiet shop. "This will give them a better home."

The shopkeeper could only nod in response, awed by the young boy's kindness and the surreal scene he had just witnessed. As the door closed behind the exiting group, he turned to the owls, his eyes glancing across the room at the spaces the purchased owls used to occupy.

The shop felt oddly empty now, but there was a newfound peace that hung in the air, a testament to the extraordinary visit of the young boy, his family, and his unique companions.

Diagon Alley, Mortal Realm

July 31st, 1991

The afternoon sun shone brightly, casting golden hues on the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley as the Goetian family made their way back into the bustling avenue. As they walked, Octavius turned his attention to the snow owl perched on his shoulder. The bird's bright eyes were regarding him with a curious, yet calm gaze.

"Hmm... Hedwig," Octavius mused, the name rolling off his tongue naturally as if it had always belonged to the owl. The snowy owl hooted in affirmation, nuzzling her head gently against his cheek. The sight drew a few more gasps from the bystanders who happened to witness the spectacle.

"Hedwig it is then," he said with a smile, reaching up to stroke her soft feathers. The owl seemed to beam under his touch, her feathers fluffing up proudly. Nocturne gave a soft chirp from his perch, an indication of his approval.

"Is Hedwig alright with that?" Paimon asked, his golden eyes glancing at the owl.

Octavius nodded. "Yes, she seems to like it."

The corners of Paimon's mouth lifted into a proud smile as he looked at Octavius. The boy had the natural affinity to connect with creatures, a trait that was invaluable among their kin. "Very well, Hedwig it is."

They continued their stroll down Diagon Alley, their entourage growing larger with every step. The snowy owl Hedwig, now an official member of their peculiar family, sat proudly on Octavius's shoulder, her eyes glinting under the afternoon sun. Meanwhile, the crowd watched, mesmerized by the fascinating bond between the boy, his pet dragon, and his new owl. Little did they know that this was just the beginning of their extraordinary journey.

Estrella, curiosity evident in her eyes, asked, "What are you going to do with all these owls, Octavius?"

His lips curled into a mysterious smile as he looked at Octavia, an image unfolding between them that only they could perceive. It was a vision of the owls being transformed into Owlfolk, humanoid owl kin that followed him, forming an army against those who wished him ill.

Octavia looked at him with surprise. "Enemies?" she asked, her voice a hushed whisper. The word hung in the air, a chilling reminder of the challenges they were to face. "Like Voldemort?" she dared to voice out the name.

A gasp echoed through the crowd of witches and wizards nearby who had overheard her audacious mention of the name that was rarely spoken aloud. Whispers circulated, and the atmosphere became tense.

In contrast, Octavius remained calm, his violet eyes almost glowing under the sunlight. "Yes, Voldemort is one of them," he confirmed with a slight nod. But then he paused, his expression becoming more solemn, "But he's not the only enemy we will be facing."

The quiet confidence in his voice seemed to fill the room, drawing more gasps from the crowd, who watched, awestruck by his calm assertiveness. Even in the face of danger, Octavius showed no fear.

Octavius's eyelids lowered, covering his eyes, but he was no longer truly in Diagon Alley.

He was then thrown in another place, another time, lost in the vividness of his vision. His heart thudded in rhythm with the beat of unseen wings, and a storm seemed to roar in his ears. The scent of rain-soaked earth and the faint tang of ozone filled his nostrils.

His mind's eye painted a picture of them - the Owlfolk, standing tall and resolute in the face of overwhelming odds. They were noble, strong, their eyes ablaze with the fierce light of determination. Their feathers rustled, a symphony of natural armor, as they took to the skies. He saw them soaring, their wings outstretched in defiance against the terrifying legions of Angels that bore down on them.

They were not just owls. They were warriors. Valkyries of the sky, their hoots were like battle cries that echoed across the vast battlefield. It was a display of unity, courage, and the fierce will to protect those they held dear.

As the vision receded, Octavius opened his eyes, a new sense of determination burning within them. He knew what needed to be done. With these allies at his side, he would confront the challenges ahead, whether they came in the form of Voldemort, Angels, or any other enemy that dared to threaten their world.

His eyes fluttered open, the deep violet irises glistening with a fresh layer of resolve. His gaze shifted to the small dragon curled around his neck and the snowy owl perched on his shoulder, their shared determination reflected in their owner's eyes. Slowly, the group began to move, each step echoing with a sense of purpose that sent a chill down the spines of the watching witches and wizards.

As they walked down Diagon Alley, the crowd parted for them like water. Murmurs followed in their wake, whispers about the boy with the mythical creatures, who carried himself with a royal air that was hard to ignore. Word spread and eyes widened as they took in the sight of the small dragon, its dark scales gleaming in the afternoon light, and the owl whose feathers were as white as the purest snow. Each creature seemed to move with the same regal bearing as the boy, mirroring his calm and confident demeanor.

Their path led them to The Magical Menagerie, its exterior adorned with exotic and vibrant colors that hinted at the vast array of magical creatures housed within. As Octavius stepped through the door, his eyes twinkling with the anticipation of discovery, a cacophony of magical animal noises met his ears. His gaze swept over the shop, taking in the menagerie of magical pets with a quiet reverence. The magical energy of the creatures thrummed in the air, their vibrant hues and peculiar forms creating a scene that was as mesmerizing as it was chaotic.

As Octavius made his way deeper into the shop, the reptilian section of the Menagerie grew peculiarly animated. Glass cases filled with serpents of various shapes and sizes began to stir, their cold eyes tracking his movements. The snake nearest to him, a bright emerald boa constrictor with eyes as deep as the darkest forest, pressed its snout against the glass, its tongue flicking out to taste the air. It seemed to recognize something in Octavius, something that roused it from its usual lethargy.

Similarly, lizards and newts scurried about, their scaly bodies pressed up against their enclosures, eyes trained unwaveringly on the young wizard. Even a massive tortoise, generally regarded as indifferent and slow, perked up at his approach. It's head rose, the usually drooping eyes staring straight at Octavius, a curious spark in their depths.

For a moment, Octavius paused. He could feel the unique thread of magic woven into each creature, responding to his presence. It was as if some invisible connection, some ancient and primal bond, was humming between them. Octavius felt a strange kinship to these creatures, as if he was being welcomed, as though he was one of them, just as mysterious and magically potent.

Octavius moved quietly towards the glass enclosure containing the emerald boa constrictor, pulling his cloak around him to shroud his actions. His eyes met the snake's as he subtly tilted his head towards it, murmuring in the soft, sibilant language of Parseltongue.

"Are you well?" he asked, the words slithering through the air like an unseen wisp of smoke.

The snake responded with a low hiss, the sound inaudible to the general populace, but clear to Octavius. "Adequate," it replied. Its eyes held his, brimming with a quiet intelligence.

"Are you treated well here?" Octavius continued, his gaze discreetly scanning the surroundings, making sure their interaction went unnoticed.

The boa took a moment before responding. "They mean no harm," it replied, a note of resignation in its voice.

With a silent nod, Octavius promised, "I will see what I can do to improve your circumstances," his voice barely a whisper, drowned out by the sounds of the bustling Menagerie. The snake's eyes glimmered, acknowledging his vow.

Octavius moved through the bustling pet store with purpose, his steps measured, the small dragon and owl on his shoulders almost regal in their stillness. Approaching the counter, he leaned on it lightly, meeting the gaze of the clerk who was watching him curiously.

"I'd like to purchase all the newts, snakes, and lizards in your shop," he stated, his voice calm but resolute.

The clerk blinked at him in surprise before turning on his heel to call for the shop owner. A moment later, a middle-aged man with a scruffy beard and twinkling eyes emerged from the back of the shop.

"Young man," he began, scrutinizing Octavius with a critical eye, "That's a lot of responsibility you're taking on. Are you sure you're up for it?"

Octavius met the man's gaze evenly, a small smile playing on his lips. "I am Octavius Goetia," he introduced himself, letting the weight of his lineage settle in the air before he continued, "And I was once known as Harry Potter."

The owner's eyes widened, recognition flaring up in them, but Octavius continued. "I assure you, I understand the responsibility that comes with caring for these creatures. I am well-equipped to provide for them and ensure their welfare."

Nodding slowly, the owner's initial surprise faded into an appreciative understanding. "Very well, Mr. Goetia... or should I say, Mr. Potter. We'll get things sorted for you right away."

"I believe I have that sorted," Octavius replied with a quiet confidence, turning on his heel to face the cages where the creatures were kept. The small dragon, Nocturne, perched on his shoulder, seemed to straighten up, his piercing gaze directed at the cages.

The boy's eyes glowed a soft violet for a moment, an air of authority emanating from him that wasn't lost on the shop owner or the few patrons in the store. In response, the locks on the cages sprung open as if by magic, and the creatures within cautiously emerged, their eyes on the young boy.

As the lizards, newts, and snakes slithered out, they appeared to rally around Octavius. It was as if an unseen hand was guiding them, keeping them calm amidst the sudden change.

Turning back to the owner, Octavius retrieved a small pouch from his pocket. He placed it on the counter, the weighty clink of coins echoing in the otherwise silent shop.

"Please consider this as payment for these wonderful creatures," he said with a polite nod. The shop owner, taken aback by the entire scene, could only nod in response, his gaze fixed on the display of power and authority from the young boy.

"Wait just a minute there," the owner interjected, eyeing the mass of slithering creatures nervously. "How do you plan to transport them all safely? They're not exactly the most... agreeable lot."

The young boy's response was a mere smile, his violet eyes twinkling with an unspoken promise. "I assure you, they will be quite alright. Everyone, I must ask you to close your eyes for a moment, please," Octavius instructed calmly, his tone patient yet firm. His family and friends merely exchanged knowing looks, making no move to shield their eyes.

Hesitant and curious murmurs filled the room as the patrons followed suit, some quicker than others. The owner himself appeared skeptical, but the respect and amazement reflected in his eyes won over his doubt. With a final glance at the boy, he shut his eyes.

There was a moment of absolute stillness, a split second where it felt like the world held its breath. Then, with a soft, barely audible hum, Octavius opened a portal. An ethereal gateway shimmered into existence, a crackling circle of violet energy. A path to a new realm, to a world where these creatures could roam free.

In the next moment, the portal swallowed up the mass of creatures, guiding them into the new realm, where they would find a home and freedom. The only exception was a majestic King Cobra, who chose to remain by Octavius' side, a new companion to accompany him on his journey.

With a soft snap, the portal closed, leaving the shop noticeably emptier, the air tingling with residual magic. The patrons opened their eyes, greeted by the spectacle of an empty shop floor and a single King Cobra loyally slithering by the boy who'd set them free.

With a graceful, fluid motion, the King Cobra slithered up Octavius' robes, twisting and coiling itself securely around his arm before disappearing from view completely. Its head emerged from the opening at his sleeve, resting comfortably on his hand, its eyes half-closed in contentment. The serpentine arrangement was so discreet and neatly tucked away, that to the casual observer, it was as if no snake was there at all.

As the onlookers finally opened their eyes and registered the sudden absence of the slithering, scaly menagerie that had previously occupied the shop, a collective sigh of relief swept through the room. It was quickly followed by an array of astonished and wide-eyed expressions as they tried to make sense of the spectacle they had just witnessed. All the while, Octavius stood there, calm and collected, as if he hadn't just performed an incredible feat of magical prowess right before their very eyes.

Nocturne, with his tiny wings flapping in a blur, floated over the counter and deposited a hefty bag of Galleons with a thud that made the counter shake slightly. As he did so, the dragon's metallic scales shimmered under the shop's light, revealing his true nature to the stunned owner.

"Blimey, that's a dragon!" the shop owner exclaimed, his face turning a shade paler. "Owning one's against the Ministry's regulations!"

Octavius turned to face the owner, his green eyes sparkling with a defiant glint. "It would indeed be a spectacle to see the Ministry try to stop a dragon and its rider from enjoying a peaceful life," he stated calmly, a wry smile playing on his lips. His voice carried an air of determination and gentle warning, leaving no room for argument.

Turning back to the flabbergasted owner, Octavius tilted his head slightly, his tone softening. "Nocturne and I, we don't abide by such a simple relationship as ownership," he clarified. The dragon gave a confirming huff from his perch on Octavius' shoulder, puffing out a small cloud of smoke. "We're equals, bound by more than just a rider's contract. We share a connection...a bond that transcends the laws of this land. It is a link crafted in the crucible of shared experiences, emotions, and a united will. It cannot be defined by mere rules and regulations." His voice echoed with sincerity and conviction, imbuing the shop's air with an almost palpable sense of solidarity and understanding.

The owner nodded, not wanting to contest against someone who resembled someone from a well-known prophesy gone public. He watched as Octavius gracefully exited his shop, leaving behind a reverberating aura of shadow and mystery. The name 'Harry Potter' was known to all, but now it seemed, the world would have to familiarize itself with another, equally powerful identity: Octavius Goetia.

As they exited the menagerie, the bustling street of Diagon Alley unfolded before them once again. Octavia turned to Octavius, her keen eyes studying him in a manner befitting the careful calculation of a strategist.

"You're taking quite the unconventional approach, aren't you?" Her voice was pitched low, barely audible over the chattering crowd and clatter of daily commerce. The faintest of smiles graced her lips, a sign of her amused approval.

Her brother merely glanced back at her, his gaze as serene as the clear summer sky. "Would you prefer that I adhered to convention, sister?"

Octavia gave a noncommittal shrug, her smile widening just a touch. "Not at all. You've always had your own way of doing things. It's refreshing. Plus, it certainly keeps things interesting."

His lips twitched at her words, a soft chuckle slipping from him. "Well, in that case, let's keep the interesting times rolling. Madam Malkin's next, yes?"

Nodding her agreement, Octavia took the lead as the Goetia family turned to make their way to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. The promise of the day was far from over, and there were still many surprises yet to unfold.

Madam Malkin's, Mortal Realm

July 31st, 1991

Stepping onto the worn welcome mat of Madam Malkin's, Octavius held the door open, allowing Octavia, Estrella, Noctus, Gylfie, Francesco, and Dusk to file in ahead of him. He looked back at Paimon, Stolas, Stella, and Andrealphus, who elected to wait outside, the stern faces of the elder Goetians softened by the mildest hint of amusement as they watched their younglings interact with the wizarding world.

The tinkling of a bell overhead alerted Madam Malkin to their entrance. She emerged from behind a stack of neatly folded robes, her round face breaking into a warm smile at the sight of customers. "Welcome, welcome! How can I assist you today?"

"Uniforms for Hogwarts, please, Madam Malkin," Octavius replied, his voice a polite, respectful tone, one that clearly impressed the elderly shop owner.

A gasp caught in Madam Malkin's throat as she looked at Octavius, her eyes darting to the morning edition of the Daily Prophet resting on the counter. It took a moment for the realization to dawn on her, her fingertips touching the front page as though to confirm it was real.

The headline declared in bold, dramatic letters: "HARRY POTTER RETURNS, NEW FAMILY IN TOW!" and right beneath, a motion picture portrayed the spectacle that had played out earlier in the day: the eclipse, the appearance of the Goetia family, and there, in the center of it all, stood Octavius.

The moving photograph showed Octavius, in all his regal poise, standing by the Goetia family. Estrella clung to his arm, Noctus, Gylfie, Francesco, and Dusk close by, and behind them, the imposing figures of Paimon, Stolas, Stella, and Andrealphus. They were all an embodiment of elegance and power, commanding attention, and respect.

"Oh," she breathed, a hand fluttering to her heart, her gaze snapping back to Octavius, her previous composure slipping. "I- I didn't recognize you at first, Mr. Potter... Or should I say, Mr. Goetia?"

In response to her surprise, Octavius merely offered a gentle, reassuring smile. "Either is acceptable, Madam Malkin," he said, his tone measured and calm. "I am still getting used to the new circumstances myself."

His voice was soft, respectful, showing a maturity that was beyond his years. His eyes shone with understanding, well aware of the shock that his presence elicited. "I believe we are here to be fitted for school robes, aren't we?"

Madam Malkin managed a nod, quickly regaining her composure. "Of course, Mr. Potter...Goetia," she corrected herself, casting another glance at the newspaper before setting it aside. She quickly beckoned them deeper into the store, her professionalism returning as she began to guide them through the process of robe fitting.

Behind her, the Daily Prophet still displayed the moving photograph, now showing Octavius and his family, stepping into the magical tapestry of the wizarding world. It was an image that no one in Diagon Alley would soon forget.

"Certainly," Octavius responded, offering Madam Malkin a respectful nod. He turned towards the group of peculiarly dressed individuals flanking him, their vibrant aura contrasting starkly against the quaint decor of Madam Malkin's shop.

He gestured to a young woman with strikingly blue eyes and feathers subtly woven into her blonde hair, "This is Gylfie. She's a dear friend, and an intellect beyond compare," he introduced. Gylfie offered Madam Malkin a small smile, which the elderly seamstress reciprocated.

Next, Octavius motioned towards a tall, broad-shouldered young man with deep-set eyes and dark hair, "This is Noctus. We've shared countless adventures, and he's been by my side through many of them," he shared. Noctus acknowledged the introduction with a curt nod, his gaze unwavering.

"Over here are Francesco and Dusk," Octavius continued, moving onto a fiery-haired lad with twinkling eyes and a more reserved individual cloaked in hues of purple and indigo. "Francesco is as brave as they come, and Dusk...he's always been there when the night was darkest," he added, hinting at tales of camaraderie and shared trials that were left untold.

Finally, Octavius turned to the last two individuals in the group, their presence radiating a unique sort of gravitas that spoke volumes of their relationship with the young wizard.

"This is Octavia," he started, motioning towards a young lady whose elegance seemed to transcend the mortal realm. There was a glimmer of something ineffable in her amber eyes, akin to the ethereal beauty of a starlit night. Her hair cascaded down in dark waves, streaked with hues of a midnight sky. "She's more than just a friend... she is my inseparable sister. We're two halves of a whole, bound by a bond that's stronger than any magic you'd ever come across," Octavius said, his voice carrying an undertone of warm affection.

Next, his gaze drifted towards a woman of exceptional beauty, her eyes reflecting the vibrant colours of a setting sun. Her hair, a glorious cascade of golden waves, framed her radiant face, enhancing her compelling allure. "And this is Estrella," he introduced, his words echoing the high regard he held for her. "Among the noble families, her name resonates as a symbol of grace and strength. Our fates have intertwined in the most unexpected of ways, sparking a unique bond," he finished, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Madam Malkin offered Octavius a knowing smile. "Ah, the entanglement of young hearts," she mused. "I've seen it many times in this shop of mine, but rarely with such unusual company. You lot certainly stand out."

Her nimble fingers began to work on the tape measure as she turned to Octavia first, her expert eyes assessing the young lady's frame before the tape measure began darting around her, taking down every inch and contour. The process was swift and precise, revealing Madam Malkin's expertise in her craft.

Moving on to Estrella, the old seamstress tilted her head, her gaze appreciating the young woman's noble grace. "My dear, your posture alone speaks volumes of your high birth," she commented, the tape measure whirling around Estrella in a flurry of movement.

Then, she proceeded to measure Octavius and his other friends, Noctus, Gylfie, Francesco, and Dusk, her hands moving swiftly with an experienced ease. As the tape measure danced around them, they remained still, eyes filled with a hint of amusement at the peculiar sight of the flying measure.

"Your robes will be ready in no time, dear," Madam Malkin assured them once the measurements were taken, her experienced eyes already visualizing the end results. A flurry of movement ensued as she moved towards the back of the shop.

The tinkling of the bell attached to the entrance door echoed in the quaint store, heralding the arrival of a new customer. Octavius and Octavia, having felt a peculiar ripple in the air, turned to see a familiar blond-haired boy step into the shop, his sharp grey eyes scanning the room.

Draco Malfoy, the son of the influential Malfoy family, walked in with an air of self-importance. Dressed in immaculate clothes, he stood in stark contrast to the warm, homely environment of Madam Malkin's shop.

Octavius' emerald eyes met Draco's icy ones. An almost electric charge filled the room, an undercurrent of anticipation threading through the silence. A curious glint flickered in Octavius's eyes, betraying his interest in the upcoming encounter. Meanwhile, Octavia watched on, her gaze steady and cautious, her mind already working on possible outcomes of this encounter.

Draco, taking in the sight of Octavius and his companions, smirked, the corners of his mouth turning up in a haughty expression. The two of them hadn't officially met yet, but the air was thick with anticipation. One could practically feel the chessboard of the wizarding world shifting under their feet, setting the stage for a new round of the game.

The door of Madam Malkin's shop swung open decisively, and a blond-haired boy strutted in, an aura of self-assuredness radiating from him. Draco Malfoy, embodying the perfect image of aristocratic elegance, met the array of surprised looks with his cool, silvery gaze. His lips, pale and thin, curled up in a slight smile as he approached the counter.

"Malkin," he greeted smoothly, his voice filled with a rich warmth. "I need new robes for the term."

"Right away, dear," Madam Malkin chirped in response, her skilled hands continuing to take Octavia's measurements. She shot Draco a quick look, her eyes darting briefly to Octavius, a subtle, but meaningful exchange.

Draco's gaze, meanwhile, landed on Octavius, recognition sparking in his eyes, followed by a hint of curiosity. "You're Octavius, aren't you?" He inquired, maintaining a respectful tone laced with intrigue.

"That I am, Malfoy," Octavius responded, a courteous smile playing on his lips. The acknowledgment seemed to take Draco by surprise.

"You know my name?" Draco asked, a flash of surprise breaking through his practiced mask. His silver eyes narrowed slightly, studying Octavius with a newfound interest.

"Indeed," Octavius responded casually, his smile never wavering. "Your reputation precedes you."

Octavia watched the interaction curiously from Octavius's side, her eyes flickering between her brother and Draco. Estrella, usually detached from the world around her, seemed intrigued by the unfolding dynamics. From his perch on Octavius's shoulder, Nocturne unfurled his wings, adding an air of silent majesty to the encounter.

"I'm guessing you've read the Daily Prophet," Draco continued, still surprised that Octavius knew his name. He shot a glance at the newspaper on Madam Malkin's counter, the moving image of Octavius, dragon and all, still prominently displayed on the front page.

"Of course," Octavius nodded, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "It's not every day one gets a headline, after all."

Draco couldn't help but return the smirk, his usual haughty expression softening a bit. "A good point," he conceded. "Well, if the rumors are true and you're off to Hogwarts, I suppose we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

Octavius nodded in affirmation. "I'm looking forward to it, Malfoy. Hogwarts will definitely be an interesting experience."

Draco offered a curt nod, his eyes flicking to Nocturne on Octavius's shoulder. For the first time, there was a hint of admiration in his gaze. "I'll see you at Hogwarts then, Goetia." Draco then turned to Madam Malkin, ready to get fitted for his own set of robes.

Before Draco could move far, Octavius spoke up, "You know, Malfoy, there's something quite curious about that eclipse."

Draco paused, turning to face Octavius again. The change in conversation piqued his interest. "Oh? And what's that?"

Octavius looked thoughtful for a moment, his gaze distant. "In the wake of the eclipse, with the sky darkened, the constellations were more visible than ever. The one that shone the brightest, though... it was Draco."

Draco's eyes narrowed slightly, clearly intrigued. He looked at Octavius questioningly. "That so?"

"It is," Octavius nodded. "Now, I'm not one to put much faith in omens, but I do find it interesting, don't you?"

Draco looked thoughtful for a moment before shrugging nonchalantly. "Maybe it is, Goetia. Or maybe it's just a coincidence."

Octavius smirked at that, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Perhaps, Malfoy. Only time will tell, won't it?"

With that, Draco nodded and went back to getting his measurements taken, but it was evident that Octavius's words had left a profound impact on him. The conversation, however short it was, had stirred up a world of thoughts and questions in Draco's mind, leaving him more intrigued about Octavius Goetia than he'd ever expected to be.

Rosa Lee Teabag's, Mortal Realm

August 1st, 1991

Amidst the cozy ambiance of Rosa Lee Teabag's, Octavius unfolded a discarded copy of the Daily Prophet, curiosity sparking in his eyes. He cleared his throat and began reading aloud, his voice holding a hint of dry amusement.

"'Child of the Eclipse Shakes the Wizarding World,' the headline read, capturing the dramatic flair the Daily Prophet was known for.

"He materialized during the eclipse yesterday, introducing himself as Octavius Goetia. This mysterious newcomer is noted for his charismatic charm and intriguing presence. His visit to Gringotts Wizarding Bank left onlookers awestruck as he initiated a new account and completed an exceptionally significant transaction."

His eyes skimmed over the text, absorbing the particulars. "Moreover, Mr. Goetia reportedly proceeded to purchase an array of magical creatures from the Eeylops Owl Emporium and The Magical Menagerie. Among these were a notable collection of owls, snakes, and lizards."

Pausing, he then continued with a touch of amusement, "And... a dragon. The dragon, christened Nocturne, has been observed as a constant companion perched on Mr. Goetia's shoulder. This has ignited much talk, as dragon ownership, despite the excitement it brings, is a rarity even within our magical society."

He leaned back in his chair, folding the paper and setting it aside. "They do have a flair for the dramatic, don't they?" He mused to his family, a wry smile playing on his lips.

Octavius continued to skim the article, his smile fading slightly as he read further.

"The article continues, 'It is worth noting that the ownership of dragons, a highly dangerous magical creature, is restricted under the laws of the Wizarding Ministry. It is strictly illegal to breed or keep dragons without the supervision of a certified dragonologist.'"

A furrow creased his brow as he continued, "Speculations abound as to whether Mr. Goetia is, in fact, a dragonologist himself, given the ease and affinity with which he handles Nocturne. However, no official records verify such a claim. With these developments, Mr. Goetia may soon find himself in a legal tangle with the Ministry. The Daily Prophet will continue to monitor the unfolding events with bated breath."

Setting the paper aside, Octavius released a soft sigh, the furrow in his brow not disappearing. Despite the playful and dramatic tone of the article, the mention of potential legal troubles caused a slight stir within him. However, his face quickly smoothed into its customary serene expression.

"Well, we've certainly made an impression, haven't we?" Octavius commented lightly, attempting to lighten the mood. His family, in turn, responded with a mixture of sighs and soft laughter, the sounds of Diagon Alley continuing to hum around them.

"Octavius, this isn't a laughing matter," Estrella admonished, her dark eyes full of concern. "The Ministry might not take kindly to your...unconventional methods. And a dragon, Octavius? That's not just unconventional, it's—"

"Draconian?" Octavius suggested with a smirk, effectively lightening the mood as laughter bubbled from the table. "I mean, he is a dragon after all."

Octavia chuckled, her teal eyes sparkling with mirth. "Only you could turn a potential legal battle into a pun, brother."

"Speaking of battles," Noctus chimed in, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. "Remember that time Octavius turned a legion of imps into tiny gargoyles because they tried to prank him?"

"Or the time when he transmogrified a succubus into a banshee because she was 'too loud'," added Gylfie, her lilac eyes twinkling with mirth.

"And who could forget the infamous 'incubus into a teddy bear' incident," Francesco chimed in, and the table erupted into laughter, the sound warming the room.

Even Estrella couldn't help but smile, her worries temporarily pushed aside as she joined in the laughter, shaking her head at the outrageous stories.

Through all the laughter and jests, Octavius simply smiled. It was easy to get lost in the camaraderie of his family and friends. But as the laughter died down and the conversation flowed to other topics, he couldn't help but spare a glance at the newspaper again. It wasn't the fear of the Ministry that bothered him, but the thought of what they might do if they discovered the real truth about him and his family. A dragon was one thing, but a family of demons was something entirely different.

No sooner had the laughter subsided than the jingle of the doorbell echoed through the quaint tea shop, catching the attention of its occupants. In walked a pair of seemingly unremarkable muggles, their attire and demeanor speaking volumes about their ignorance to the magical world around them. But it was the young girl trailing behind them that instantly stood out, her bushy brown hair impossible to ignore, her intelligent eyes taking in every detail with wonder and curiosity. Hermione Granger.

"Oh, look at her," Octavia cooed softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "You can tell she's never been in a magical establishment before."

"And yet, she seems to be taking it all in her stride," Estrella added, a note of admiration in her voice. "I like her."

There was something about the way Hermione was trying to take everything in, her wide-eyed fascination with the magical world that struck a chord with Octavius. It reminded him of his own first time in the magical world, the sense of awe and wonder, the realization that magic was real and it was beautiful.

"Should we invite them over?" Noctus asked, motioning towards the Grangers who seemed to be struggling with the magical menu.

Octavius considered it, his gaze trailing from the bemused muggle parents to the clearly delighted Hermione. A faint smile touched his lips as he nodded, rising from his seat and making his way over to the Grangers.

"Hello," he greeted warmly, addressing the parents first. "I couldn't help but notice you seem to be new here. Would you like to join us? We could help you navigate the menu."

The Grangers, though initially surprised, gratefully accepted the invitation. And so, Hermione and her parents were introduced to Octavius and his entourage, unknowingly becoming part of a much larger, much more complex world than they could have ever imagined.

As Hermione and her parents joined Octavius and his family at their table, there was a momentary lull in the conversation, a pause filled with curiosity and intrigue. Hermione's wide eyes darted from face to face, absorbing details, analyzing quirks, and drawing conclusions at a rapid pace. The adults, on the other hand, were more reserved, their cautious gazes darting between the new arrivals and their beaming daughter.

"Dad, Mum," Hermione began, her voice filled with excitement, "these are...?" She turned towards Octavius, her sentence hanging in the air like an unfinished puzzle.

Octavius, for his part, offered a warm smile before he introduced himself, "I'm Octavius," he gestured to the woman beside him, "this is Octavia, my sister. Then there's Estrella," he motioned to the woman on his other side, "and our friends, Noctus, Gylfie, Francesco, and Dusk."

The introductions seemed to soothe the Grangers' initial apprehension, a relaxed smile finding its way onto their faces. Hermione, however, seemed to be caught up in her own thoughts, her gaze distant and thoughtful. Octavius watched her with interest.

"It's very nice to meet you all," Mrs. Granger said, her tone polite and warm. "We're the Grangers. This is our daughter, Hermione."

"A pleasure, indeed," Octavius replied, turning his attention to Hermione. His voice was warm, welcoming, yet there was a layer of mystery that made Hermione's eyes gleam with curiosity. "You must be excited about starting Hogwarts, Hermione."

"Oh yes, I can't wait!" Hermione gushed, unable to contain her excitement. Her eyes, as bright as a Patronus, were alight with uncontained exhilaration. "I've read all the school books already, and I'm halfway through 'Hogwarts: A History'."

A collective chuckle echoed around the table, Hermione's enthusiasm, far from alienating, seemed to breathe life into the gathering.

Octavia leaned forward, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "That does sound like a promising start," she said, her voice carrying the subtle lilt of a shared joke. "Hogwarts is filled with centuries of history and secrets. You might just uncover something no one else has."

Dusk chimed in, his soft voice carrying an air of wisdom. "Don't forget to make time for friendships, too," he reminded Hermione gently. "After all, magic is about connection - to the world around us, to each other... even to ourselves."

Estrella, who had been quietly sipping her tea, set her cup down and smiled at Hermione's parents. "Our world can be quite overwhelming at first," she admitted. "But it's also filled with wonder. The magic isn't just in the spells and the potions, it's in every moment we share, every friendship we form, every story we live."

And as they shared stories and laughter, Hermione and her parents gradually eased into the magical world, their initial apprehensiveness melting away under the warm camaraderie that had quickly enveloped them.

Just as Hermione and her parents left, waving their heartfelt goodbyes and bearing the warmth of a newly found camaraderie, the jovial atmosphere inside Rosa Lee Teabag's faltered momentarily. A group of Ministry Officials, wearing somber suits and carrying an air of stern business, filed into the shop. Their arrival was punctuated by a pronounced hush, conversations dwindling into anxious whispers.

Stolas, Paimon, Stella, and Andrealphus, all sitting comfortably outside the teashop, watched their entrance with sharp eyes. Their senses, honed through countless years, easily picked up the undercurrent of tension.

"Looks like the Ministry is getting involved," Stolas remarked, a silver eyebrow arching in subtle interest. His gaze, sharp and penetrating, followed the officials as they moved, analyzing their every step.

"Seems they've heard about our little spectacle," Paimon added with a wry smile, leaning back into his chair with casual ease. However, his eyes betrayed a heightened alertness, his stare unwavering from the unfolding scene.

Inside the shop, Octavius noticed the officials immediately. Among them, he recognized several familiar faces from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, their badges gleaming in the light. Their presence, along with the covert glances in his direction, made it clear that they were here for him.

"Oh, so it seems our afternoon tea has attracted some attention," Octavius noted calmly, setting his tea cup down with a soft clink. His gaze met the officials' across the room, not hostile, but noticeably assertive.

Nocturne, the little dragon perched on his shoulder, let out a low growl, her eyes narrowed into slits as she stared at the Ministry Officials. Sensing her unease, Octavius laid a calming hand on her, whispering a soothing word in Draconic.

"If they've come seeking answers about my absence and Nocturne," Octavius began, his gaze settling on each official with a disarming calmness. His words, although gently spoken, carried an unwavering certainty that resonated within the room. "They'll find that their time would have been better spent elsewhere. For there is nothing to be found here, but the innocence of a simple reunion among friends."

No sooner had Octavius finished his sentence than the group of Ministry officials spotted him. For a moment, they stood immobile, their gazes roving over Octavius and his companions. Then, as though propelled by some unspoken consensus, they began to approach. Their polished shoes echoed ominously across the wooden floor, the sharp clicks cutting through the low hum of teacup chatter.

"Octavius?" one of the officials, a stern-looking woman with hair as stiff as her demeanor, asked. Her voice was terse, unyielding, much like the gaze she directed at him. Yet Octavius met it with the same unruffled calmness that seemed to be his constant. He dipped his head in acknowledgement, an almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips.

"That would be me," Octavius replied calmly, setting his teacup down on its saucer with a soft clink. The dragon, Nocturne, stirred at his side, turning his large, luminescent eyes onto the newcomers. His reptilian gaze was enough to cause a moment's hesitation amongst the officials, a flicker of uncertainty crossing their faces.

"There seems to be a misunderstanding," Octavius continued, his voice low yet carrying the weight of certainty. "I am here merely enjoying a peaceful afternoon with my friends and family. There are no transgressions here."

With the same careful deliberation, the stern official launched into a barrage of questions. "Are you to say that you're Harry Potter? We received reports of a Harry Potter look-alike with a dragon in tow, causing a spectacle in Diagon Alley. Are you claiming to be that person?"

Octavius' expression remained unruffled as he listened to the barrage of queries. A certain light flickered in his eyes, one of amusement or perhaps the kindling of a dormant spirit within him. "I am Octavius Goetia," he began, his voice as calm as the surface of a placid lake. "I have never claimed to be Harry Potter, but yes, Nocturne is with me."

As he spoke, the figure of Stolas slowly detached itself from the group waiting by the door, his gaze locked onto the Ministry officials. Each step was measured, his grace and regal bearing giving him a captivating aura.

"Nocturne and I," Octavius added, his gaze moving between the officials, "are not causing any trouble. We are simply living."

The officials shuffled uncomfortably, their gazes darting between Octavius and the looming figure of Stolas, who had now stopped a mere few feet away. The shop's chatter seemed to have hushed into whispers, everyone eagerly awaiting the next exchange.

"It's not a matter of 'simply living', Mr Goetia," said one official, her voice strained, "Dragons are classified as XXXXX creatures. They're known to be extremely dangerous, and are prohibited for private ownership."

Her companion chimed in, "We will have to verify your claim of not being Harry Potter. The resemblance is uncanny, and the matter of a possible identity theft is a serious offence in the Wizarding World."

Octavius offered a nod of acknowledgement, his calm demeanor unaltered. "I am aware of the rules regarding dragon ownership," he said simply, "However, as I said before, I do not own Nocturne. Our bond transcends those parameters."

As for his identity, he added, "I assure you, my identity is my own. I may bear resemblance to Harry Potter, but that is purely coincidental. However, I must make it clear that your investigation is your own affair. I have no obligation to partake in it."

The tension in the shop became palpable as the officials bristled at Octavius's refusal, their faces hardening with the stark determination of law enforcers. Each word spoken felt like a catalyst, escalating the brewing confrontation.

"You leave us no choice, Mr Goetia," the lead official retorted, his voice echoing through the now silent shop. He began to reach for something in his robe - presumably his wand.

However, before he could pull it out, Stolas intervened. He stepped forward, positioning himself between Octavius and the Ministry officials. His tall, imposing figure seemed to swell with an underlying threat. His voice was calm, but laced with authority, resonating throughout the room.

"Before you continue," Stolas said, looking each official in the eye, "you should know who you're addressing. My son, Octavius Goetia, may share a resemblance with this 'Harry Potter' character, but it is exactly what it appears - a resemblance. As for Nocturne, there's no ownership there, only a bond that your laws fail to understand."

The Goetian family, their friends, and even Nocturne, stood firm behind him, their resolute stance underlining Stolas's words. The room held its collective breath, as the officials, now caught off guard, exchanged glances, their certitude visibly shaken.

The standoff was far from over, and everyone could sense the weight of the situation - the Goetians would not back down, not without a fight. The tense air in Rosa Lee Teabag's seemed to thicken with every passing second as the Ministry officials grappled with this unexpected resistance.

The silence of the teashop stretched for a moment longer, a thread drawn taut, quivering on the brink of breaking. The Ministry officials stood rooted to the spot, their initial certitude slowly draining away as they beheld the scene that had sprung up before them.

Octavius remained undaunted, his face impassive yet commanding. His sister Octavia stood by his side, her eyes filled with unspoken defiance. Each of his friends - Noctus, Gylfie, Francesco, and Dusk - positioned themselves, a solid bulwark against the officials. They mirrored Octavius's determination, their resolve as clear as the bright afternoon sun.

The King Cobra, having slithered out from Octavius's robes, coiled around his feet, its hypnotic gaze locked onto the Ministry officials. Its formidable presence sent shivers of trepidation through the room. Nocturne, the dragon, crouched protectively by Octavius, his eyes glinting ominously. His deep growl reverberated around the room, a low warning to those who dared to cross him.

Hedwig, the majestic owl, flew onto Octavius's shoulder, her wide eyes reflecting an unspoken promise of loyalty. At her arrival, the front door of the teashop was suddenly awash with a fluttering of wings. In a whirlwind of feathers, the owls Octavius had bought earlier appeared, flocking around him, their hoots echoing around the room.

Their collective presence made a formidable tableau, one that would instill doubt in even the bravest of hearts. The Ministry officials, for all their power and jurisdiction, seemed to shrink before them. The teashop held its breath, the air thick with anticipation. It was a line drawn, a declaration of defiance that echoed in the silence, ready to shatter it at any given moment.

The door of the teashop opened once more, its chimes ringing out a final note before silence descended once again. Paimon entered, his regal bearing and air of authority adding to the already palpable tension in the room. The teashop's patrons watched on, their gazes flickering between Paimon, Octavius, and the Ministry Officials, the anticipation rising to a fever pitch.

In the midst of the spellbound silence, Paimon began to speak. His voice, a deep baritone, resonated throughout the room, leaving no doubt to his authority.

"I find it quite peculiar," he began, his gaze holding each Ministry Official in turn, "that esteemed members of the Ministry would so blatantly disrespect a noble family's privacy. It seems to me that you are the ones causing a disturbance."

His words were met with a hushed silence, the truth of his statements hanging in the air. "This establishment," Paimon continued, sweeping a hand around the room, "is private property. Your entrance and subsequent actions, made without notice, are gross assumptions of power. Not to mention a complete disregard for protocol."

The Ministry Officials shifted uncomfortably under his scrutinizing gaze, their faces paling. Paimon let a moment of silence hang in the air before finally turning his attention to Octavius.

"And this young child, my grandson, has done nothing to warrant such suspicion. He has merely chosen to express his individuality and freedom. The rules he has chosen to break, as you so inelegantly put it, are those meant to be broken. And I have read such laws on my own time and found them to be rather idiotic."

One of the Ministry Officials, a stern-looking woman, attempted to regain her composure as she replied, "Our duty is to enforce the law, not win popularity contests. Owning a dragon is a serious crime, regardless of public sentiment."

Paimon's eyes grew sharp, colder, his voice adopting a chilling edge. "If you're so insistent on enforcing these corrupt laws upon my grandson, you should prepare to face the consequences of that decision."

His hands, aged yet full of a life that defied their appearances, moved in a slow, deliberate arc. The previously sunny and inviting room darkened unnaturally. A thick shadow fell, not born of a mere cloud blocking the sun, but rather a manifestation of Paimon's ire. The temperature dropped, and a grim, terrifying sensation swept over the room.

The Ministry Officials blanched, their confident demeanors collapsing like a house of cards. Each felt an insidious, creeping fear inching its way into their hearts. It was as if they had been plunged into a chilling abyss, unable to escape. They felt the profound terror of someone truly powerful, a being they could not contend with by the law's might alone.

The words from Paimon's lips were nothing short of a bone-chilling prophecy. "Should you persist in enforcing your crooked laws upon my grandson," he said, his voice settling like a weight upon every ear, "then you shall soon discover the true depth of what power really means."

There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, as though the air itself had hushed in dread. The room, once so warm and full of light, sunk into an unnatural darkness. It was a shadow not borne from any earthly cause but seemed to emanate from Paimon himself. An icy cold seemed to invade the room, the jovial ambiance instantly replaced by a palpable sense of terror.

A collective shiver ran down the spines of the Ministry Officials, their confident facades crumbling in the face of this unassailable force. It felt as though they were being swallowed into a pit of endless dark, a sheer, primal fear that made them feel inconsequential and helpless.

"This," Paimon continued, his voice weaving a tapestry of dread through the gloomy room, "is but a mere sliver of our true might. Do not mistake our peaceable nature for weakness. Should you continue to harass us, you will comprehend the dire consequences of confronting a force far beyond your ken."

As suddenly as it had enveloped them, the terrifying manifestation of power vanished, leaving the room bathed in normalcy. But the dread lingered, a heavy silence falling over the petrified Ministry Officials. The reality of Paimon's power had not just shaken them; it had shattered their assumptions, left them questioning the very ground they stood upon. The Goetian family was a force far more formidable than they had ever dared to imagine.

The stillness held its grip for a moment longer, before a gentle clatter of a teacup being placed onto a saucer broke it. The Ministry Officials, their faces still pale from the fear induced by Paimon's display of power, exchanged uneasy glances. They slowly stood, the chairs squeaking loudly in the quiet room, echoing the unspoken tension.

One of them, an elder man with spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose, cleared his throat and managed to stammer, "We... We apologize for the intrusion, Mr. Potter, er - Octavius."

The Official's glance flitted towards Paimon, uncertainty evident in his eyes. "And to you as well, sir," he added, attempting to maintain some semblance of dignity in his retreat.

The Officials turned to leave the premises, their steps hasty and their shoulders slumped in defeat. They exited the tea shop, their departure creating a tangible ease in the room's atmosphere.

Octavius, who had watched the whole scene play out with a detached interest, turned to Paimon. "They're gone now, grandfather. We can finally enjoy our tea in peace."

The room slowly began to regain its former warmth and cheer, as the patrons of Rosa Lee Teabag's put the intense encounter behind them. There was a resounding clink of cups being raised and light laughter filled the air, their resilience symbolising the magic that held this community together.

Octavius's group returned to their table, the shared encounter binding them even closer. They all found comfort in their tea, the steam dancing around them like a protective aura. Octavius picked up his teacup, swirling the warm tea inside, and shot a quizzical glance at Paimon. "Is that why so many want to court me? Because of our family's talent for public spectacle?" He wore an expression of playful curiosity, his tone teasing.

"Octavius, my boy," Paimon began, his voice filled with a vibrant warmth, his eyes twinkling in a peculiar mix of wisdom and amusement. "It is not merely the spectacle or power that others find alluring. It's something much more intricate, more primal."

He leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping lightly against the armrest. "The world is drawn to passion, to unyielding desire, to those who know what they want and aren't afraid to take it. The potency of dominance, intertwined with the authenticity of raw emotion, is a captivating allure."

His lips curled up into a devilish smile as he continued, "And perhaps, that's why I am blessed with an abundance of lovely wives and numerous cambions. It's that powerful mix of passion and dominance that attracts them."

Francesco, who had been silent until now, leaned in, his eyes dancing with intrigue. "Don't underestimate the power of desire either," he chimed in, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "Lust, my friends, is a potent tool."

He leaned back, folding his arms behind his head casually. "It has a way of slipping past defenses, pulling at the heartstrings, and captivating the senses. It can lead to entanglement, fascination, and even obsession," he mused, his gaze distant as if lost in the labyrinth of his own thoughts.

Paimon looked at Francesco, a wisp of amusement in his eyes. "Well spoken, young man," he conceded, tipping his head slightly in a rare gesture of acknowledgement. "There's more to you than meets the eye, it seems."

With that, he turned back to the group, spreading his arms wide in a grand, open gesture. "Come, my family, my friends. We've entertained these officials long enough. Let us not allow them to sour our enjoyable afternoon."

With that, he strode confidently to the entrance of the shop, standing like a sentinel, his figure casting a long shadow as he blocked the light from the door. His posture was firm, his expression serene, but there was an unspoken power that seemed to ripple around him, warding off any further attempts of disturbance.

In the midst of the resumed merriment, Octavius's keen eyes spotted a familiar blond figure across the room. Draco Malfoy and his mother were sitting at a small table, each sipping delicately from their own teacups. Octavius's gaze met Draco's and the boy offered a polite, if somewhat uncertain, nod.

Beside him, Octavia followed his gaze and a small smile danced on her lips. "Well, isn't this a surprise," she murmured, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "The Malfoys enjoying their tea and the show."

Out of the corner of his eye, Octavius spotted the unmistakable platinum blonde hair of Draco Malfoy, seated with his mother, Narcissa Malfoy, in a far corner of the teashop. Their eyes were keenly trained on the Ministry Officials making their abrupt departure from the establishment.

Octavia caught sight of where her brother's gaze was directed and she inclined her head slightly, her lips curling up in a slight smile. "Interesting," she mused quietly, the timbre of her voice carrying a note of amused surprise. "The Malfoys, taking tea and an afternoon's entertainment. How very...ordinary."

Draco met Octavius's gaze across the room, and gave a brief, polite nod, his expression uncharacteristically guarded. Narcissa's eyes, sharp and intelligent, twinkled with a knowing amusement as she too acknowledged their presence, a slight lift of her teacup in their direction, a silent toast.

As Octavius continued to watch the Malfoys, his eyes flicked back to Paimon, just in time to see his grandfather sauntering over to Narcissa's table with a mischievous grin on his face.

"No," Octavius murmured under his breath, his eyes widening in alarm as he placed his cup on the table with a clatter.

Octavia turned to look at her brother, her eyebrows raising in question. "What is it?" she asked, just as she followed his gaze to Paimon, now leaning against Narcissa's table, chatting up the Malfoy matriarch.

"Oh, no," Octavia echoed, aghast, as the horror of the situation began to dawn on her.

"No, no, no..." Octavius muttered, clenching his fists on the table. He watched in a sort of stunned disbelief as Narcissa, instead of recoiling in horror, responded to Paimon's attempts at charm with a cordial smile, a polite chuckle escaping her lips.

"He wouldn't..." Octavia murmured, her mouth hanging open in shock.

"Oh, he would..." Octavius growled, pushing back his chair and standing up, ready to intervene.

"Wait, Grandfather," Octavius implored, rushing to intercept the older demon who was heading towards Narcissa's table with alarming speed.

"Grandfather, you can't!" Octavia echoed, reaching out and trying to pull Paimon back by the sleeve.

Paimon paused, an eyebrow raised in amusement. "And why not, my dear grandchildren?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

"That's Draco Malfoy's mother," Octavia explained, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "It's not appropriate."

"Since when have I ever cared about what's appropriate?" Paimon shot back, his smirk never leaving his face.

He continued on his way, leaving Octavius and Octavia standing there, horrified and slightly bewildered. They watched, aghast, as Paimon approached Narcissa Malfoy, speaking to her in a low voice that made her laugh softly.

Octavius and Octavia exchanged a glance, their faces a mirror image of shock and disbelief. They had tried to stop their grandfather, but it seemed that once Paimon had set his mind to something, there was very little that could stand in his way.

"Are you enjoying Diagon Alley, Paimon?" Narcissa asked, her voice carrying a hint of curiosity as she took a delicate sip from her tea cup.

"Immensely," Paimon answered, his gaze drifting around the teashop, "This place certainly has an unmistakable charm. The presence of such delightful company only adds to its allure."

Draco raised an eyebrow, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, a hint of red gracing his cheeks. "You're quite the flatterer, Paimon."

Paimon merely chuckled, "It's not flattery, my dear boy, if it's the truth." His gaze found its way back to Narcissa, "I must commend you, Narcissa. Your son shows great promise. His manners and wit are a true reflection of the woman who raised him."

Narcissa looked pleased, her eyes sparkling, "Thank you, Paimon. Draco is indeed a source of pride."

"I can only imagine," Paimon said, his voice carrying a genuine warmth that caught both mother and son by surprise.

"I must say, your confrontation with the Ministry Officials was quite the spectacle, Paimon," Narcissa commented, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her tea cup. "It's not often one sees them challenged so brazenly."

Paimon chuckled, his eyes glinting with an unspoken mischief. "It's always a pleasure to put those high and mighty officials back in their place. They have a propensity for overstepping their bounds."

"And yet you handle it with such... finesse," she continued, her icy-blue eyes studying Paimon. "Your grandsons, Octavius and Octavia, they seem to have inherited some of your resolve."

"Ah, yes. My grandchildren. They certainly have a knack for navigating difficult situations. They take after their grandfather in more ways than one," Paimon said, a proud smile playing on his lips. "I believe they have many surprises in store for the magical world."

"Indeed," Narcissa replied, her gaze shifting to Octavius and Octavia. "It seems Diagon Alley has never been more interesting."

"The best is yet to come, Narcissa. The best is yet to come," Paimon said, an enigmatic glint in his eyes. A statement that was met with intrigued glances from Narcissa and Draco alike.

With an exchange of worried glances, Octavius and Octavia swiftly stood from their seats and made their way towards the table where their grandfather was holding court. Paimon's smile widened as he saw them approach, the twinkle in his eyes betraying his amusement at their concern.

"Ah, Octavius, Octavia," Paimon greeted, a mischievous edge to his voice. "Come to join the conversation?"

"More like save you from it, grandfather," Octavius responded with a hint of exasperation, extending a hand towards Draco. "We thought you might want to join us, Draco."

Draco, who had been listening to the exchange with wide eyes, gratefully accepted the offered hand. "Yes, I believe I would."

As they began to retreat back to their table, Octavia glanced back over her shoulder at Narcissa. "Apologies for the interruption, Lady Malfoy," she said, her voice formal yet warm.

With a wave of her hand, Narcissa dismissed the apology. "No need to apologize, dear. It was certainly... enlightening."

Octavia nodded, her lips twitching into a small smile, before following Octavius and Draco back to their table. For now, they had successfully escaped the whirlwind that was their grandfather, leaving Narcissa and Paimon to continue their conversation. As they retreated, they heard Paimon's chuckle echo throughout the tea shop. Despite the chaos he brought, there was no denying that Paimon certainly knew how to make a day interesting.

As Octavius, Octavia, and Draco returned to their table, they were met with a mix of laughter and bemusement from their friends. Noctus shook his head, his eyes crinkling in amusement as he watched Paimon continue his conversation with Narcissa.

Meanwhile, Hedwig perched serenely on a nearby chair, watching the proceedings with a wise, knowing gaze, while Nocturne seemed to have taken to napping on Octavius' shoulder, the occasional puff of smoke escaping from his nostrils. Francesco, Gylfie, and Dusk tried to contain their mirth, failing miserably as they broke into peals of laughter.

Draco, on the other hand, was still a bit taken aback by the entire situation. He looked around the table, at the laughter, the dragon, the owl, and the people who seemed entirely unfazed by the spectacle their grandfather was causing. "Your family is... very interesting," he commented, with a touch of understatement.

Estrella chuckled softly at his comment. "You have no idea," she said, shaking her head fondly. "This is just another day with us."

As the laughter started to fade, Octavia turned to Draco, offering him a sincere smile. "Welcome to the family," she said, causing another round of laughter to echo through the tea shop.

Through it all, Octavius watched Draco, seeing his bewilderment slowly give way to intrigue and even a hint of excitement. After all, how many people could say they've had tea with a dragon and Harry Potter in one day?

Paimon, leaning back in his chair with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, turned his attention to Narcissa. "You see, Madam Malfoy," he began with a sly smile, "I've always had an appetite for challenging endeavours. Encouraging those myopic officials to see reason—well, that's the sort of thrill I live for."

At that moment, the entrance to the tea shop swung open, allowing the formidable figures of Stolas, Stella, and Andrealphus to stride in. Their easy confidence and inherent grace were a stark contrast to the previous tension that had held the room in its grip. They halted at the entrance, surveying the room with observant eyes.

Stolas, noticing his father engaged in animated conversation with Narcissa, raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Father," he greeted, his voice as resonant as a cathedral bell, "I see you've found an interesting company."

A hearty chuckle escaped Paimon's lips as he looked up at his son. "Stolas, my dear son," he started, his hand casually gesturing towards Narcissa, "allow me to introduce you to Narcissa Malfoy. A woman of exceptional taste and elegance, quite the rare find in these parts."

Seeing the amused expressions on Stella and Andrealphus's faces, Paimon couldn't help but grin wider. "Ah, Stella, my charming daughter-in-law, and Andrealphus," he greeted, nodding at each in turn. Stella, unable to hold back her amusement, chuckled, her laughter like chimes in the wind, "Just another lively day in Diagon Alley, isn't it?" Andrealphus nodded in agreement, his amusement evident in his eyes.

Stolas shot his father an amused glance, though his tone held an edge of gentle reprimand. "Father, your charm and flattery could overwhelm an unsuspecting woman."

Paimon only chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Ah, my dear Stolas, she's hardly unsuspecting, now is she? Narcissa Malfoy is no stranger to the dance of words."

Stella, a hint of teasing dancing in her hazel eyes, playfully interjected, "Paimon, dear, while your company is always entertaining, I believe it's time to let Madam Malfoy enjoy her tea in peace." She offered Narcissa an apologetic smile, her elegance and grace shining through.

Andrealphus nodded in agreement, adding his own bit of humour to lighten the atmosphere. "Besides, we've got our own tea getting cold. Might want to let Narcissa decide if she wants another round of your...enchanting tales,"

Paimon threw his head back in laughter. "Oh, very well, you delightful killjoys," he said, lifting his cup in a mock salute. "To enjoying our tea, in peace." And with that, he moved to join his family at their table, leaving Narcissa to her tea, no doubt slightly dazed but entertained.

Diagon Alley to Flourish and Blotts, Mortal Realm

August 1st, 1991

"Alright, Octavius, Octavia, let me show you around," Draco said, as he led them towards Flourish and Blotts. The group made their way through the busy streets, past the bustling witches and wizards, to the three-storeyed building which seemed to overflow with books.

"The place is a bit overwhelming at first," Draco started, indicating the dizzying rows of shelves laden with books. "But once you get the hang of it, it's quite simple. Flourish and Blotts is the premier bookseller in the Wizarding World. From textbooks for Hogwarts students to rare and out-of-print editions, they have it all."

He began pointing out the different sections. "That's where they stock the textbooks," he said, indicating a row of books with titles such as 'A History of Magic', 'The Standard Book of Spells', and 'Magical Drafts and Potions'. "Over there are books on Dark Arts," he continued, pointing to a section that seemed darker and more ominous than the others, "and right here is the section dedicated to Magical Creatures."

The group wandered through the aisles, their curiosity piqued by the sheer amount of knowledge stacked around them. Draco, experienced in navigating the store, guided them, sharing tidbits about different books and authors, enjoying the chance to play the expert.

As they neared the back of the shop, Draco pointed to a glass cabinet which was marked 'Restricted Section'. "Those are books that aren't sold to just anyone. You need special permission for those," he added with a smirk, "but, honestly, they're the most fascinating ones."

Octavius, Octavia, and their friends followed Draco's lead, their eyes wide and full of wonder as they drank in the sight of so many books in one place. Despite their vast knowledge and experience, this may prove an experience they may use to their advantage.

As they approached the section dedicated to Potions and Herbology, Octavius and Octavia stopped, scrutinizing the shelves lined with textbooks. Draco watched in silent curiosity as they pulled out books, scanned a few pages, and promptly replaced them back with a shake of their heads.

"You know," Octavius began, his brow furrowed as he held up a Potions textbook titled 'Magical Brews: A Comprehensive Guide', "a good chunk of these textbooks, they're... well, they're not entirely accurate."

Draco looked taken aback, "What do you mean? These are the standard texts used at Hogwarts."

Octavia chimed in, "For example, look at this one on potions." She picked up a copy of 'Advanced Potion-Making'. "It suggests stirring counter-clockwise for a Draught of Living Death. But doing so can result in a weak and short-lasting effect. The stir should always be clockwise for this potion, promoting a stronger, more effective brew."

Octavius nodded, picking up a book about Herbology. "And this book on Gillyweed," he said, flipping it open to a marked page, "it suggests that the plant only has underwater-breathing properties, but it doesn't mention how its properties can drastically change depending on the moon phase. During a full moon, it can even cause temporary transformation in humans."

"But why...how..." Draco stammered, shocked at the depth of their knowledge and the possible implications of their observations. It was clear to him that Octavius and Octavia had a profound and practical knowledge of the subjects that went beyond anything he'd seen or experienced in his studies so far.

Octavius merely shrugged, "It's not their fault, really. These books have been passed down for generations, and some are based on old practices and outdated research. The Wizarding World could do with some updated literature, and perhaps a more dynamic curriculum."

"But for now," Octavia added, "just remember, Draco, not everything you read in books should be taken at face value. Practical experience, trial and error, those are your best teachers."

"Here's another one," Octavius said, pulling out a large, dusty book titled 'Dragonology: The Comprehensive Study of Dragons'. He flipped it open to a chapter that discussed the ancient history of dragons, and began reading aloud.

"According to this, it states that dragons were always mindless, ferocious creatures," he pointed out, his eyes moving methodically over the text. "That's not accurate at all. There was a time when dragons were sentient beings, imbued with great wisdom and intelligence. Many could even communicate with humans."

Draco's eyes widened in surprise. "Sentient dragons? That's certainly never mentioned in our textbooks."

Octavia, leaning over Octavius's shoulder to peruse the book, added, "Moreover, it suggests here that dragons went extinct due to natural causes. In truth, they were hunted to the brink of extinction by humans who had been swayed by religious dogma, fearful of their power and covetous of their magical properties."

As Draco absorbed this, Octavius placed the book back on the shelf, "Most of the historical information we have about dragons comes from the narratives passed down by the Void Dragons, a unique race of dragons who managed to elude this tragic fate."

"But how can you be so sure of all this?" Draco questioned, intrigued by the depth of their knowledge. "You seem to know more than most scholars."

"Our dragon, Nocturne," Octavius explained, "is a Void Dragon. He has shared a considerable portion of his species' history with us."

"The point we're trying to make," Octavia interjected, "is that a lot of what we are taught and read isn't necessarily the whole truth. It's important to keep an open mind and to question what we know, much like the witch hunts of old. History isn't always as clear-cut as it seems."

Draco's normally cool, composed expression seemed to falter a moment as he absorbed the words of his companions. His pale eyes flitted from Octavius to Octavia, reflecting an inkling of something new. Awe, perhaps. Or respect. A glimmer of understanding that their knowledge was far beyond his comprehension.

"Wow," he finally breathed, "that's... incredible." Draco's eyes narrowed as he looked between Octavius and Octavia, his mind spinning with new knowledge and questions. "But how is that even possible? How can a dragon tell you its history?"

Octavius smiled, "You'd be surprised what you can learn when you know how to listen. And let's just say that Nocturne is more than just a regular dragon."

"And," Octavia chimed in, her eyes sparkling with a secret delight, "it's not just Nocturne. We have a habit of befriending beings who others might consider... unique."

Draco was silent for a long moment, his eyes trained on the siblings. His world, it seemed, had just expanded exponentially. Finally, he broke into a reluctant smile. "I suppose I have a lot to learn, don't I?"

"Yes, Draco," Octavius replied, clapping him gently on the shoulder. "We all do. And that's the exciting part."

A soft chuckle broke the trio's conversation. "He speaks the truth, Draco," said Estrella, her dark eyes glinting with amusement. She stood a short distance away, her arms piled high with a stack of books she'd chosen. "Never a dull moment with these two."

A few feet away, Dusk, a young man with the uncanny air of an old scholar, shook his head in agreement. "That's right, Draco. Our friends here are a fountain of knowledge. It would do you well to listen."

Nearby, Nocturne, now in the form of a young man with azure eyes, nodded from his spot at Octavius' side. His gaze locked with Draco's, confirming the sincerity of the statement.

Gylfie, a petite young woman with a curious air about her, gave Draco an encouraging smile from where she stood. Her large round glasses made her resemble an inquisitive owl, peering at him with her bright eyes as if trying to reassure him.

Draco's lips quirked up in a small smile, seemingly warmed by the show of camaraderie. "Alright," he said, inclining his head towards Octavius and Octavia, "I'm ready to learn."

The tinkling sound of the doorbell broke their conversation, drawing all attention towards the entrance. In trooped the Weasley family: Molly, the matriarch, leading the group with an aura of loving authority, trailed by her brood of redheads. Arthur, with a genial smile, was absorbed in a discussion about some Muggle oddity with his youngest son, Ron, who looked bewildered but interested.

The twins, Fred and George, bounced in with their typical mischievous energy, scanning the shop for potential pranks, while Percy walked behind, his nose already buried in a book. Lastly, Ginny, the only girl in the family, came in, shyly peeping around her mother's side.

The shop had suddenly become a flurry of movement and chatter, the Weasleys' warm, vibrant energy washing over everyone present. Draco's eyes went wide at the sight of the family, perhaps never having witnessed such a spectacle of family togetherness.

Octavius, sensing Draco's surprise, leaned towards him and whispered, "The Weasleys. They're a close-knit family. Quite different from the Malfoys, I'd say."

Draco's gaze flicked towards the door as the Weasley clan, resplendent in their hand-me-down robes and mismatched outfits, stepped into the shop. A sneer played at the corners of his mouth, his pale eyes scanning their family with a look of thinly veiled disdain.

"Such a pitiful sight," he murmured under his breath, too low for the Weasleys to hear, but loud enough for Octavius and Octavia to catch his words. His gaze landed on the second eldest, Ron, who seemed particularly awestruck by the assortment of books.

"What's pitiful," Octavius began, glancing over at the large, tight-knit family, "is judging people based on their financial status, Draco. It shows a lack of understanding and empathy."

Draco seemed taken aback by Octavius's admonishment, his eyes narrowing slightly before he let out a small huff. "Easy for you to say," he countered, "You're not the one who has to deal with them."

Octavius sighed, deciding to switch gears. "Draco, look at them - look at how they are with each other. That's a family. They might not have the same luxuries as the Malfoys, but they have something a lot of rich families don't - they have love, unity. That's something money can't buy."

"Look closer, Draco," Octavia added, her eyes following her brother's line of sight to the Weasley family. They had moved further into the store now, their excited chatter filling the room as they huddled together, selecting books and supplies from the shelves.

"See how they share the tasks? How they consult each other before deciding? How they make sure everyone's opinion is considered? It's not about wealth or status, Draco. It's about respect and togetherness."

She pointed to where the youngest girl, Ginny, was now engaged in a hushed discussion with her mother over a pile of second-hand books. Their conversation seemed intense, but not heated or aggressive, just a genuine exchange of thoughts and opinions.

"And notice," Octavius continued, "how even the smallest one, Ginny, is allowed her say. They don't just dismiss her opinion because she's the youngest. That's something your family could learn from."

Fred and George Weasley, the mischievous twins, had noticed their newest audience. Grinning ear to ear, they moved in unison towards Octavius.

"The king has arrived!" George declared loudly, pointing towards Octavius.

"All hail King Octavius, ruler of dragons and slayer of Ministry officials!" Fred chimed in with a mock bow, causing a ripple of laughter amongst the crowd.

"And they said dragons are tough!" George chimed in, wagging a finger. "But I reckon dealing with the Ministry is far worse."

"Right you are, George. A dragon might roast you, but the Ministry will bore you to death with paperwork," Fred retorted, drawing another round of laughter.

Draco watched the twins with an unreadable expression, a mix of irritation and amusement flickering in his eyes.

"Now, now," Octavius intervened, chuckling along with them. "The Ministry officials were just doing their jobs. I'm not a slayer of any kind. And as for Nocturne..." He gestured towards his dragon who had grown smaller in his human guise, "He's no threat unless provoked."

"Ah, spoken like a true king," Fred said, winking at his brother. "Long live King Octavius!"

"Long live King Octavius!" George echoed, and the rest of the Weasleys joined in, their voices filling the store. The atmosphere lightened as laughter echoed through Flourish and Blotts, a joyous scene amidst the shelves of countless books.

Fred and George, being the ever observant tricksters, didn't miss the two girls beside Octavius. With matching grins, they turned their attention to Estrella and Octavia.

"Well, well," Fred began, turning to Estrella with a charming smile. "I see our king isn't without his queen."

"Indeed, Fred," George chimed in, shifting his gaze to Octavia. "And a charming lady at his side as well!"

At that, Octavia laughed heartily, holding up a hand in playful protest. "Hold on there. I'm his sister, not some lady at his side. But nice try!"

The twins blinked in surprise before erupting into laughter, Fred clapping a hand onto Octavius's shoulder. "Aha! A sister, eh? That's a twist!"

"Indeed, brother," George added, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "But not to worry, we Weasleys are well versed in sibling relations."

Before the laughter could subside, Gylfie chimed in with a mischievous grin, "That could be easily misconstrued, you know. Some might take that as a hint of... incestuous implications."

The store went silent as everyone turned to stare at Gylfie, jaws dropping at her brazen words. The Weasley twins' laughter faded into an awkward cough as they glanced at each other, clearly outmaneuvered.

It was at that moment that a tall, gangly redhead with a smattering of freckles across his nose and bright, eager eyes wandered over, grinning widely as he joined the group. "Wow," he commented, his grin widening, "I never thought I'd see the day when Fred and George were outdone at their own game."

Fred and George, always up for a challenge, squared their shoulders and faced off against Gylfie. She stood casually, an amused smirk playing on her lips, her eyes twinkling with a spark of mischief that rivaled that of the twins.

The first round of the comedic duel began with George making a quip about Gylfie's rather sharp tongue. "You must have swallowed a dictionary," he joked, earning some snickers from the onlookers. Gylfie didn't skip a beat before responding with, "That's funny, I thought I saw you choke on a thesaurus earlier."

Laughter rang out as George turned a faint shade of red. Fred stepped up next, trying to catch Gylfie off guard with a joke about her petite size. "You're so small, you'd need a ladder to reach the top shelf in a gnome's pantry!" he declared, a proud grin on his face.

Gylfie simply shrugged, her eyes gleaming with wicked delight. "And you're so tall, you trip over dandelions," she retorted, her deadpan delivery earning an eruption of laughter from the crowd.

The twins glanced at each other, their brows furrowing as they tried to think of a way to gain the upper hand. However, Gylfie was always one step ahead, launching into a series of puns that left the twins scrambling to keep up.

"You two are so inseparable, you put Siamese twins to shame," she quipped, "You're so alike, even your freckles are identical!" Her dark humor, intermingled with witty punchlines and perfectly timed wordplay, left everyone laughing and the twins gaping in disbelief.

Gylfie, emboldened by the crowd's positive reaction, decided to up the ante and veer into darker territory, her jokes causing the air to fill with gasps and surprised laughter.

"Well, you two are so identical," she began, "that when you were born, your mother couldn't tell you apart. So she just picked one and decided to raise you both exactly the same. I mean, that's the only logical explanation for you both having the exact same number of freckles, right?"

The crowd erupted in laughter, while the twins blinked in surprise, taken aback by the boldness of the statement. However, Gylfie didn't stop there.

"And I've heard of being joined at the hip," she continued, a glint of mischief in her eyes, "but you two seem to be joined at the brain. You share every thought, every joke, every prank. It's like you're one person split into two bodies. Is that why you're so thin? Because there's only enough for one of you?"

The laughter grew louder, mixed with shocked gasps and whispers, but Gylfie seemed to thrive in the chaos, her grin widening.

"I'm surprised you haven't tried to pull off a Parent Trap yet," she finished, "switching places and causing chaos. Or wait, you do that every day. Nevermind."

"Ah, the Weasley Twins," Octavius began, his voice carrying effortlessly. "Known far and wide for your uncanny resemblance and your identical sense of humor. Or, as I like to call it, two-for-one offer."

Laughter rumbled through the crowd, but Octavius wasn't finished yet.

"In fact, you two are so alike, I can't help but wonder if you've ever considered a career in acting. I mean, you'd only need one role between the two of you. And imagine the savings on costumes!"

Another wave of laughter swept through the shop, and Octavius allowed himself a small smirk.

"But I suppose it's not all bad," he concluded. "After all, two heads are better than one...unless of course, they're both thinking up the same terrible pranks. Then, I suppose, it's just doubly disappointing."

Turning his gaze from the stunned Weasley twins, Octavius redirected his attention to Gylfie, the grin never leaving his face.

"And then we have Gylfie," he began, causing the petite elf to straighten up, a wariness in her gaze. "Known for her sharp wit and, well, just sharpness in general. I mean, your humor cuts deeper than most curses, doesn't it?"

Chuckles punctuated his words, the crowd eager for more.

"I suppose it's the little things that sting the most. I mean, literally. Given your size, Gylfie, it's your sting we worry about, not your bite."

Laughter erupted, Gylfie's own cackle rising above it all. Her humor was indeed sharp, her retorts edged with iron, but she had a knack for appreciating the same in others.

"But let's face it," Octavius went on, "if your jabs were potions, Gylfie, we'd all be under the antidote aisle. You're the living proof that good things come in small packages, and by good things, I mean dangerous pranks."

"Alright, alright," Octavius interjected, his voice cutting through the lingering laughter. He raised his hands in surrender, catching the eyes of Fred, George, and Gylfie. Their faces were red and alight with laughter, their eyes shining with the thrill of the verbal duel they had just engaged in.

"Are we quite finished measuring each other's wit now?" he asked, his tone teetering on the brink of amusement and inquiry. "Because while this bout has been exceptionally entertaining, I've got a roomful of authors and publishers who are utterly oblivious to the embarrassment heading their way."

A moment of silence followed his words, as if the air itself held its breath. The Weasley family, the twins, and even Gylfie, looked at Octavius, their expressions flickering from amusement to curiosity. Their eyes sparkled, the prospect of challenging conventional wisdom especially within the sacred confines of Flourish and Blotts adding a touch of thrill to their anticipation.

"What do you mean, Octavius?" Fred finally asked, his eyes narrowing slightly, curiosity piqued.

"Yeah, what's this about embarrassing authors and publishers?" George added, his gaze fixed on Octavius, his interest unmistakable.

Octavius leaned back in his chair, intertwining his fingers together as his gaze swept over the curious faces. He cleared his throat, beginning in a calm, confident voice that drew the attention of everyone in the room.

"Let's begin with Magical Creatures," he said, picking up a book that lay nearby, its title embossed in golden letters – 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them'. "The authors have compiled information from various sources, mostly third hand accounts, and portrayed them as facts. Take dragons for example," he said, flipping to a page and reading aloud. "'Dragons are vicious, fiery beasts, prone to unprovoked attacks on humans.' "

Octavius paused, his eyes flicking up to meet the astonished faces. "This is false. Dragons, like Nocturne here, are complex, sentient beings. They are territorial, yes, but hardly vicious or prone to unprovoked attacks unless threatened. Their extinction, in fact, wasn't a result of some noble quest by dragon slayers, but by humans following religious dogma similar to the witch hunts."

As he spoke, his voice carried an undeniable tone of authority. He knew what he was talking about, not just from reading books but from personal experiences.

"And then there's History," he continued, switching gears effortlessly. He picked up a copy of 'A History of Magic', flipping to a random page. "This book, for example, completely omits the role of non-human magical beings in shaping the wizarding world."

He dropped the book and turned to the topic of Potions. "Perhaps the most glaring inaccuracies lie in the field of potion-making. A multitude of books here advocate the use of ingredients in certain quantities without understanding their synergistic effects. It's less of an art and more of a guessing game for them."

Octavius sighed dramatically, letting the silence stretch for a moment. "Honestly," he said, running a hand through his hair, "I feel like I have half a mind to just start writing my own books to set all of this straight."

He moved his hand to rub his temples, as though the thought itself was giving him a headache. "I'm going to have to start a publishing company at this rate. I mean, can you imagine?" He began to tick off on his fingers, "Octavius's Guide to Magical Creatures, Historical Inaccuracies in Wizarding History: An Octavius Publication, Octavius's Ultimate Guide to Potion Making... The list goes on. Seriously, how did this many errors make it to print?"

Everyone was silent for a moment, blinking in the wake of Octavius's sudden declaration. Draco was the first to break the silence, snorting in disbelief. "You? Write books? You barely have the patience to read them."

Octavius shot him a dry look, "I think I can manage, Draco."

Fred and George, on the other hand, were practically gleeful. "A publishing company!" Fred crowed, clapping Octavius on the back. "Now that's a career path we hadn't considered, eh George?"

"Absolutely, Fred," George agreed, grinning widely. "Imagine the pranks we could publish! 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes: The Official Guide to Magical Mischief Making' - written by yours truly."

Their mother, Molly Weasley, huffed disapprovingly, though her lips twitched in amusement. "I do believe the world has enough trouble with you two without providing an instruction manual."

Ron, a gangly red-headed boy with freckles, stared at Octavius with wide eyes. "You're really going to write books to correct all those mistakes?" he asked in wonder.

Octavius simply shrugged. "Why not? If nobody else is going to do it, then I will. After all, isn't that the right thing to do?"

Meanwhile, Estrella watched this exchange with a thoughtful expression. She nudged Octavia lightly. "Your brother," she said, a smile tugging at her lips, "is truly something else."

"Isn't he just?" Octavia replied, returning the smile. "But that's why we love him."

The bell above the door tinkled merrily as Hermione Granger, her eyebrows furrowed deep in concentration over a thick, dusty tome, and her parents strolled back into the shop. Startled by the sudden outburst of laughter, Hermione looked up, her bushy hair sticking out at all angles. Her eyes darted from face to face until they landed on Octavius.

"Octavius? Writing books?" she repeated, her surprise evident in her tone. The intellectual challenge seemed to spark something in her, as her eyes gleamed with interest. "That's a rather ambitious endeavor, don't you think? Not to mention, the sheer amount of research involved…"

Her parents, standing behind her, shared amused glances. Mr. Granger, a tall, amiable-looking man, chuckled lightly. "Sounds like you've got your work cut out for you, young man," he said, offering a nod of approval. "We'll certainly keep an eye out for your books."

Mrs. Granger, a petite woman whose warm eyes echoed her husband's approval, gave Octavius an encouraging smile. "It's commendable to pursue accuracy in knowledge. That's something we can all benefit from."

Hermione, her arms now folded, continued to look at Octavius. There was an unspoken challenge in her eyes, a spark that clearly stated she was eager to see how he'd tackle such a monumental task. "Well, Octavius," she said, her lips curving into a smile. "I, for one, am looking forward to the wealth of accurate knowledge your books promise to offer."

With a stunned look on his face, Octavius could only nod in return, acknowledging the challenge and support. "Thank you, Hermione," he said, managing a smile. "I promise, I won't disappoint."

"Oh, ho!" crowed George, his grin taking up most of his face. "Hear that, Fred? I reckon this young lady will be the first in line for Octavius's books!"

Fred, unable to resist joining in, added, "And judging by those heavy tomes she's carrying, she'll devour them cover to cover, front to back, and upside down, all in one go!"

The twins laughed uproariously at their own jest, high-fiving each other, only to be interrupted by a sharp rap on their heads.

"Fred! George! Mind your manners!" admonished Molly Weasley, her face slightly flushed with embarrassment. She shot the two a look that could curdle milk, her hands firmly planted on her hips in the universal sign of a mother's disapproval. "That's no way to talk about someone you've just met!"

The twins muttered a sullen "sorry, mum," but couldn't suppress their cheeky grins. Meanwhile, Octavius and the others shared a moment of stifled laughter.

Exchanging knowing glances, Octavius and Octavia rose from their seats. Octavius gently placed his hand on Draco's shoulder, signaling it was time to depart. A quick, silent communication ran through their group of friends - a nod from Estrella, a knowing glance from Gylfie - their silent camaraderie a testament to their shared experiences and deep bonds.

"It's been a pleasure," Octavius addressed the room, his voice carrying an undertone of gentle respect. "We do hope to continue these enlightening discussions in the halls of Hogwarts."

Echoing her brother's sentiments, Octavia chimed in, "Your company has certainly added color to our day. Until we meet again."

As Draco joined them, a sense of unity enveloped the group. There was a camaraderie there, an understanding that went beyond shared experiences, and it left a palpable echo in their wake.

With Octavius leading the way, they gracefully navigated their way out of the shop, their combined presence leaving a lasting imprint on the room.

After leaving Flourish and Blotts, the group made their way back to Rosa Lee Teabag's. Draco moved along with Octavius and the others, his brows slightly knitted together in deep thought. The conversations and revelations from the bookstore still hung in the air, a silent presence that seemed to affect everyone.

Upon their return, Narcissa Malfoy was in conversation with Paimon, her icy demeanor somewhat softened by the charming demon. She rose as they entered, her gaze moving over the group before settling on her son.

"We're leaving, Draco," she said, a subtle relief in her eyes as she took him in. Draco nodded, falling in step beside her.

Just as Narcissa and Draco were about to leave, Paimon, accompanied by Stolas, Stella, and Andrealphus, made his own announcement.

"We too must take our leave," Paimon's voice carried through the tea shop, drawing the attention of the remaining patrons. There was a sense of relief in some eyes, while others held a trace of disappointment.

Stolas glanced at his son, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Until next time, Octavius," he said, a hint of pride in his voice. Octavia gave a nod of acknowledgment to her father and grandfather, a soft smile on her face.

As Narcissa and Draco departed with a nod, Paimon and the rest of the family moved toward the exit, their departure casting a wave of quiet across the tea shop.

Diagon Alley, Mortal Realm moving to Hell

August 1st, 1991

In the cool air of the Diagon Alley evening, Octavius, Octavia, and their motley crew assembled. Even in the dusk, their group was a striking sight, standing in stark contrast to the cobblestone streets and the quaint wizarding shops around them.

Octavius stepped forward, his hands outstretched as if reaching for the very fabric of the universe. Then, with a sound akin to the crack of a whip, a portal, swirling with the dark hues of purples and blues, opened before them. This was not the usual apparition, it was something more, something otherworldly.

As they stepped through the portal, the bustling sounds of Diagon Alley were replaced by the imposing silence of a palace vast and intricate in its grandeur. They had arrived back in Hell, back to the Goetian Palace.

The palace, a testament to the glory of the Goetian family, stood tall and proud in the fiery landscapes of Hell. From its opulent halls to the expansive grounds, the palace was a symbol of the power and dominance of the Goetian lineage.

The group dispersed, each heading their own way within the massive palace, the echoes of their adventures in Diagon Alley still fresh in their minds. The portals closed behind them, leaving the palpable tension of the day's events in its wake.

As the Goetian family stepped into the grand entrance of their palace, they were met with an unexpected sight. A demon, standing tall with an imposing aura, a plume of tawny feathers atop his head like a crown, his stern eyes bore the piercing quality of a barn owl's gaze. He stood with an air of discontent, his sharp talons clicking on the polished marble floor of the entrance hall. His name was Syrach, a Goetian of lesser nobility, and the father of Estrella.

"You!" Syrach's voice echoed through the hall, "King Paimon!"

Paimon, a demon of noble stature, turned his gaze to the lesser demon, raising a brow at his assertive tone. "Syrach," he acknowledged, a hint of curiosity in his voice, "What brings you here?"

Syrach took a step forward, his eyes flashing in anger. "My daughter, Estrella, she has overstepped her bounds." He spat out, his words echoing in the massive hallway. "She is betrothed and was not permitted to attend the festivities under Goetian law."

The Goetian family fell silent, their eyes on Estrella, who was standing a few steps away. Her usually vibrant eyes looked downcast as her father's angry words echoed in the grand entrance hall. Octavius and Octavia, along with their friends, looked from Syrach to Estrella, the severity of the situation dawning on them.

In the blink of an eye, Paimon's charming, human-like guise flickered and fell away, revealing his true, grand demonic form in all its majestic glory. His skin shimmered with an ethereal glow, his form now towered over the lesser demon, and the aura of his power was like a tidal wave crashing against the marble floor of the palace. A gust of chilling air swept across the grand entrance, emanating from the King of Ars Goetia himself.

"Syrach," Paimon's voice thundered, echoing through the cavernous entrance hall, "you dare stand in the heart of my palace, raise your voice, and demand respect? Know your place."

Paimon's commanding gaze turned icy as he glared down at the lowborn demon. His fiery eyes then softened slightly as he turned his gaze towards Estrella. "Your daughter," Paimon started, his tone less hostile now, "attended the festivities of my beloved grandchildren. I am unaware of any Goetian law that prohibits her attendance. Enlighten me."

The echo of Paimon's words hung in the air, giving way to an uneasy silence that blanketed the grand hall. Syrach swallowed, his feathery throat bobbing with the motion, and then found his voice again, albeit much softer this time.

"My daughter is promised to Prince Vitis, son of King Vine," Syrach explained, his voice holding a touch of desperation. "The Goetian law dictates that she should not have been in the presence of other potential suitors at the festivities."

As these words left Syrach's beak, Octavius made to step forward, a spark of defiance igniting in his eyes. But before he could utter a word, Estrella reached out a delicate hand to hold him back, her gaze pleading for silence.

Paimon regarded Syrach for a long moment, his eyes gleaming with understanding and a hint of amusement. "I see your predicament, Syrach," Paimon began, his voice reverberating throughout the hall. "But it appears that Prince Vitis has proven himself to be an unsuitable partner. He has failed to show respect to your daughter and to the Goetian law by ignoring his betrothed. So, your point is moot."

The silence was palpable as Syrach took a step back, his barn-owl eyes flicking from one face to another. His beak opened to speak, but he paused for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady, but there was a note of finality that hung in the air.

"Very well," he said quietly. "If that's how it must be, then that's how it must be."

Syrach lifted his head and stared at Estrella with a cold, hard gaze. "From this moment onwards," he intoned, "you, Estrella, are no longer a part of our family. You are disowned."

With those bitter words hanging heavy in the air, Syrach turned and left, his barn owl wings rustling quietly as he slipped into the shadows, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.

The Goetian family stood in stunned silence, watching as Syrach disappeared from sight. Estrella's eyes were wide, a mixture of shock and sadness visible in them, but she stood tall, her gaze never faltering. Paimon, still standing tall and authoritative, placed a comforting hand on Estrella's shoulder, offering silent support as they all processed the unexpected turn of events.

Octavius, never one to stand by idly in times of emotional distress, stepped forward. His green eyes, usually sparkling with mischief and delight, were now soft and full of empathy. His gaze met Estrella's, and for a moment they shared a silent communication, a mutual understanding born from a deep friendship.

Slowly, he reached out, pulling Estrella into his arms. She went willingly, burying her face into his shoulder. His arms tightened around her, offering a silent promise of comfort and protection.

The room filled with a somber silence, the playful air from earlier was gone, replaced with a tangible heaviness. Octavius held Estrella close, his fingers lightly running through her hair in a soothing motion. Tears began to wet his shoulder, her silent sobs wracking her body. His heart ached at her pain, and he said nothing, understanding that words, in that moment, would be futile. His quiet comfort and presence was enough, a beacon of hope amidst the painful storm.

Paimon's gaze, usually filled with mischief, softened. He saw his grandson comforting Estrella, offering her a solace in a moment of deep sorrow. With a wave of his hand, Paimon signaled the rest of the Goetian family to give them space.

"Give them room," he commanded gently, his tone holding an unusual softness. His golden eyes swept over the gathered family, emphasizing his point. As if pulled by invisible strings, the others began to disperse, leaving the room. A shared look of understanding passed between each one as they quietly retreated, knowing their presence would not be helpful in such a delicate moment.

Only Octavia remained, her eyes focused on Octavius and Estrella. Her heart ached for her friend, but she stood her ground, knowing she would be there when needed.

Paimon was the last to leave, pausing by the door. He cast a final look towards his grandson and Estrella before closing the door.

Once the room was vacant of all but the trio, the facade of humanity dissolved. Octavius, Octavia, and Estrella returned to their demonic forms, letting the veils of humanity fall away. Estrella's dark eyes met Octavius's, a profound vulnerability within them, a stark contrast to the sheer resilience she had displayed earlier.

With the semblance of their human selves no longer necessary, the visage of Octavius and Octavia transformed. Their bodies took on the attributes of the celestial owls they represented. Octavius, with his darker violet feather coloration that echoed the night sky, a spitting image of his father Stolas and his grandfather Paimon, and Octavia, whose feathers were of a brighter violet, mirroring Stolas's lighter plumage.

Estrella, too, embraced her true form. Her demonic figure took the likeness of a Barn Owl, her face pale, framed by a halo of soft, tawny feathers. Her eyes, black as the abyss, held a certain honesty within them.

Octavius finally broke the silence that had fallen upon them, his voice a whisper amidst the serenity, "Estrella, when you came to me... was it a plea for assistance or were you seeking a romantic venture?" His golden eyes met hers, seeking clarity within the swirling emotions.

Estrella sighed, a soft hoot echoing in the silent room. She looked up, meeting his gaze. "Neither," she replied, her voice soft yet steady, "I meant every word I said when we first met. My intentions were as clear as daylight."

Octavius blinked, taken aback. In their world, honesty was a rarity, a treasure buried deep within deceit and manipulation. It was surprising, to say the least, that a Goetian, let alone Estrella, would be so open with her truths. Octavia, watching the exchange, shared in her brother's surprise, her eyes flicking between the two with keen interest.

"In our realm, we often cloak our truths behind layers of deceptions, but you... you chose honesty," Octavius said, his voice echoing a note of admiration. Octavia nodded, confirming her agreement with her brother's words.

Estrella smiled wistfully, her gaze drifting to the grandeur of the palace surroundings, "Sometimes, I find it's the one thing nobody ever expects - honesty. In a realm filled with deceit, the most courageous act is often just to tell the truth."

The trio lapsed into a momentary silence. A bond was being formed - a bond of respect, acceptance, and shared understanding. Even as Octavius and Octavia were born into royalty, they found a friend in Estrella, a lowborn Goetian who just lost her family for being herself.

"Our family will help you, won't they?" Octavia finally spoke up, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it carried the weight of assurance and determination.

Octavius nodded, looking at Estrella. "We'll find a way out of this, Estrella. This family... we take care of our own. Just because one refuses to accept you, doesn't mean you're alone. You have us."

The reassuring words brought a soft smile to Estrella's face. The pain of disownment was still there, gnawing at her insides. But, the seeds of hope were sown. Estrella shifted slightly, the cool sheen of her barn owl eyes reflecting the dimly lit room. She seemed to draw closer, her feathered face edging toward Octavius's in what looked like an attempt at a kiss. But, she veered at the last second, her beak gently reaching out to preen at the downy feathers adorning his chin.

"We're too young for this..." she murmured, her voice hushed, as if the palace walls were eavesdropping on their conversation. "We shouldn't have to worry about arranged marriages or-"

Her sentence was cut short as Octavius pulled her closer, his gaze firm yet comforting. The usual jovial humor was replaced by a certain level of seriousness that seemed to ripple through the air around them. "If you were to ask the question," he said in a quiet but certain voice, "I would say yes."

There was a pause, both their hearts beating in sync, sharing the warmth of a mutual understanding. Octavia watched from the sideline, a soft smile tugging at her beak. Octavia, her feathers a bright hue of violet, fluffed out as she watched the pair. "Father was ten when he was arranged to marry our mother, remember?" she chimed in, her eyes glinting with a certain knowledge. "It may not seem like it, but there's a sense of safety in having a promise now."

"But enough of this now," Octavia interrupted, her sharp gaze softening as it moved from Octavius to Estrella. "We have our own responsibilities to tend to. After all, Hogwarts isn't going to wait for us, is it?"

Her words were light but carried an undercurrent of authority, a subtle reminder of the path that lay ahead. The sudden shift in conversation, the mention of Hogwarts, brought a certain normalcy back into the room. Their roles shifted yet again, from beings grappling with the complexities of Goetian traditions, back to children on the brink of another magical journey.

With a confident wave of his hand, Octavius summoned a portal. The atmosphere in the room shifted, the air rippling like water as a gateway began to form, its edges fringed with an otherworldly violet glow. It was as if reality itself was being pulled apart, revealing a void that wasn't empty at all, but filled with myriad possibilities.

Staring into its depths, one could see the fleeting, ethereal images of Hogwarts - the towering spires, the vast courtyards, the labyrinth of corridors - all rendered in breathtaking detail, as if seen through a strangely distorted lens.

Taking a step forward, Octavius extended his hand to Estrella, an invitation and promise in one, while the other hand held onto Octavia. The two sisters and the Prince of Goetia stood on the precipice of a new adventure, one that would take them into the heart of the wizarding world. With a final glance back, Octavius stepped forward, pulling them all into the portal, and towards another adventure at Hogwarts.

Screams in writing 50k words in the past week.

Evening folks!

I am going to make this short:

This is now the largest chapter!

Had a really hard time with conversations and getting character archetypes on point!

If there is something wrong or missing in a character's personality, please lmk!

Vote is still continuing until sorting hat ceremony!

Hoped you all enjoyed this chapter and please don't be afraid to Fav or Follow this story, means a lot!

Thank you for your time,

-True