Chapter 11: Velvet Nights and Hidden Songs
It had been a week since the bond—since everything changed.
Tom sat quietly in his loft, a book open in his lap, though his eyes hadn't moved past the same page in nearly twenty minutes. The late afternoon light streamed in through the tall windows, casting warm golden slants across the polished floors and modern furniture. A cinnamon-scented wax melt—one Jess had brought over—softly perfumed the air. It had become a familiar comfort now, woven into the fabric of his daily life.
His life... which had taken a dramatic, unexpected turn.
He glanced toward the vintage tin still sitting neatly on the counter—the same tin he'd used to bring her those chocolate-covered cherries. Her reaction to them still played in his mind like a treasured echo, one of many memories that had already embedded themselves into his very soul.
Jess.
His girlfriend. His partner. His equal.
And currently working at—of all places—an anime maid café.
The discovery had left him stunned, to say the least.
He had never imagined Jess, with her royal blood and dark celestial elegance, donning frilly skirts and cat-ear headbands for giggling customers in downtown London. And yet, when she told him about it, her eyes had sparkled with such unapologetic joy that he hadn't even had the heart to question it.
Usagi Anime Maid Café, she'd said.
She loved it.
Said it was fun, a little chaotic, and surprisingly freeing.
He wasn't sure he fully understood—but he respected it.
Apparently, she even sang there once a week. That part lingered in his mind longer than he expected. He hadn't yet heard her sing... and now he couldn't stop wondering what it would be like.
Tom leaned his head back against the couch, fingers lightly tapping the edge of the book.
She'd be over later tonight. And though part of him wanted to ask her more about this strange little café, another part—the quieter, more possessive part—simply missed her. Missed her presence. Missed the way she curled beside him like she belonged there.
Nagini stirred on her perch near the window, tongue flicking lazily.
Tom tilted the ancient, leather-bound Royal Archive book in his hands, brows furrowing as his eyes scanned the gold-inked text glowing faintly on the aged parchment. His finger paused beneath the elegant heading:
Polymorph Charm – Maledictus Containment Theory
The margins of the page were scribbled in old royal script, annotations by previous Parselmouth scholars—each name centuries old. This was no ordinary charm. It was lost to most of the world, hidden deep in royal records. His curiosity sharpened, and he leaned closer, his voice a whisper.
"Polymorph charm?" he echoed aloud, lips brushing the word like it might bite.
Nagini, coiled nearby on the soft rug by the hearth, lifted her head. Her serpentine eyes met his with quiet awareness, her tongue flickering once.
The book described it in great detail—an ancient spell not designed to break the Maledictus curse but to manipulate it. To shape the cursed form, allowing it to temporarily shift into a human state. It wouldn't restore the victim to their original body, but it would allow them to interact with the world again—briefly, and only when cast by a Parselmouth. The bond between speaker and serpent was required to stabilize the transformation.
Tom's chest rose and fell slowly as he absorbed the implications. His voice came low, spoken in Parseltongue without thought:
"I could... give you time again, even if it's not permanent."
Nagini's head tilted.
"Time... to feel the world again?"
Tom nodded once, almost uncertain of his own hope. "Only I can do it," he said quietly, fingers brushing the page. "Only someone born with the gift."
He looked to her again. "Would you like to try it?"
Nagini did not answer with words, but the way her body relaxed and her gaze softened gave all the answer he needed.
Tom stood and moved to the open space of the living room, raising his wand as he repeated the ancient incantation under his breath—blending royal dialect with Parseltongue. Magic swirled around them, silver-blue energy rippling through the air, drawn by the innate link they shared.
Nagini's body shimmered—her form stretching, curling upward—and in a brilliant cascade of light, she changed.
Standing before Tom was a small child. She looked about five years old, her long black hair like silk, her vivid green eyes wide and blinking. She wore a soft green dress that shimmered faintly with magical embroidery, stitched snakes and leaves glinting at the hems.
Tom froze. Not in horror, not in confusion—but in awe.
"...Nagini?" he asked, uncertain.
The child gave a tiny nod, her expression timid—then offered a small smile. "You did it," she whispered in parselmouth, her voice light and high-pitched but unmistakably hers.
Tom blinked—once, twice—utterly stunned.
Her little pout, combined with that soft hissed complaint, was almost too much.
"Why am I a little girl?!" she repeated, crossing her small arms and narrowing those vivid green eyes with all the dramatic indignation a five-year-old could muster.
He couldn't help it. A rare, genuine laugh escaped him. Low, smooth, and absolutely amused. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand, shoulders shaking slightly as he tried—and failed—to compose himself.
"I didn't choose the form," he replied in Parseltongue, crouching down to meet her eye-level, though the corners of his lips twitched upward in a smirk. "It's likely based on your core essence... or how long it's been since you were human. The spell reconstructed what it could with the bond."
Nagini's tiny hands went to her hips. "I was expecting a graceful adult—not a child who needs help to reach the counter!"
Tom arched a brow. "Well, you are adorable."
Her eyes widened. "Excuse me?!" she snapped, her cheeks puffing up in outrage.
Tom simply smirked and reached forward, gently tapping the tip of her nose. "Cute," he repeated, deliberately teasing.
Nagini let out an exasperated sigh and flopped onto the nearest cushion like the overly dramatic serpent-turned-child she now was. Her long black hair fanned out around her, and she muttered, "This better not be permanent..."
Tom's chuckle was softer this time as he sat beside her. "It's temporary. You'll revert in a few hours, maybe less if your energy dips."
She glanced sideways at him. "Still... thank you."
He nodded slowly, his gaze lingering on her small form. There was something sacred in this moment—gentle, strange, almost fatherly in a way he'd never thought himself capable of. Not as a Dark Lord. Not as Tom Riddle.
But right now? He just wanted her to have this.
A moment of peace. A glimpse of humanity. A chance to feel alive again.
Nagini crossed her small arms and pouted up at him, lips pursed in clear discontent. "Master, I want something to eat!" she whined, her voice high and slightly raspy in her childlike form.
Tom raised a brow, folding his arms with an exasperated sigh. "Do not ask for a rabbit, Nagini. You're a little girl right now, not a forest predator."
Her pout deepened, but before she could argue, he stepped into the kitchen. "I know exactly what to make you," he continued over his shoulder. "Go sit on the couch. When I'm done, you'll come to the table and eat properly."
Nagini gave a small dramatic huff but obeyed. She skipped over to the couch and clambered up with surprising ease. As she sank into the plush cushions, her annoyed expression melted into one of giddy delight. "Soft!" she giggled, wriggling down into the seat until she practically disappeared in the oversized pillows.
Tom chuckled under his breath. "Try practicing your English," he called from the kitchen. "I know you can understand it, love."
There was a pause, then a hesitant voice followed. "It... it's... beeen... sssssooo llllooong..." she slurred through the unfamiliar syllables, her accent heavily laced with hiss and hissed frustration. Another pout formed on her face.
Tom glanced over with a faint, encouraging smile. "That was a good start."
Nagini only responded by sticking out her tongue at him—playfully, this time.
Not long, the scent of toasted bread and melted cheese soon filled the air as Tom worked in the kitchen, his sleeves casually rolled up, revealing forearms dusted lightly with flour. He wasn't the most experienced cook, but he could manage something simple—and it felt oddly satisfying making something comforting for Nagini like this.
He had carefully layered slices of smoked ham, sharp cheddar, tomatoes, and crisp romaine lettuce between two pieces of golden, lightly grilled bread. A light spread of herb butter gave it just enough richness. He placed the sandwiches on a wooden tray with a side of crisps and a glass of juice for her, tea for himself.
Tom glanced toward the couch. "Alright, Nagini. Food's ready," he called.
There was a beat of silence before a tiny squeal of excitement erupted from the living room.
Nagini hopped off the couch with a clumsy wobble and hurried over, her little bare feet padding across the floor. Her eyes lit up the moment she saw the sandwich. "Is that for me?!" she asked in Parseltongue, already climbing into the seat at the small round table.
"Yes," Tom replied with a quiet chuckle, placing the plate in front of her and sitting down across from her with his own. "No snakes in it, I promise."
She blinked up at him. "That joke was ssstupid." Still, she reached for the sandwich with both hands and took a big bite, her eyes fluttering closed with delight. "Mmmh! It's ssso good..."
Tom watched her with a faint smile, then lifted his own sandwich and took a bite, his expression unreadable. But beneath the calm surface, something strange and unfamiliar stirred—something almost... domestic.
He didn't say it aloud, but part of him was surprised by how natural this felt.
Like a family.
A soft tap, tap, tap at the window made Tom pause mid-bite. He glanced up, brows knitting slightly. Another tap followed—sharp, purposeful.
He turned to see a regal-looking owl hovering just outside the glass, its amber eyes fixed on him with uncanny intelligence. With a resigned sigh, Tom flicked his wand lazily. The latch clicked, and the window creaked open with a whisper of chilled morning air.
The owl swooped in without hesitation and perched gracefully on the back of the empty dining chair, its wings folding neatly at its sides. A scroll, bound with the unmistakable golden wax seal of Gringotts, was secured in its beak.
Tom narrowed his eyes. "Gringotts?"
Nagini, who had just taken another bite, mumbled through a mouthful of sandwich, "You owe them money?"
Tom gave her a flat look. "No." He reached forward, and the owl obediently dipped its head, allowing him to take the letter.
Breaking the seal with care, Tom unfolded the parchment, the crisp texture of the Gringotts letter sharp beneath his fingers. His eyes scanned the ornate script:
Dear Lord Riddle,
It was quite some shock to see that the remaining heir of Slytherin has finally settled down.
On behalf of Gringotts, we offer our formal congratulations on your union.
With this union acknowledged by ancient magical law, and the forming of a new lineage within the Slytherin estate, the matter of your vaults must now be addressed. As the Head Goblin assigned to the Slytherin lineage holdings, I invite you to schedule a private appointment at your earliest convenience to discuss the details of inheritance adjustments, joint account privileges, and heir protections.
Sincerely,
Marrow
Head Goblin of the Slytherin Estate Accounts, Gringotts Bank
Tom's eyes widened. His body stiffened.
Union? he thought, heartbeat thundering in his chest. What union?!
The letter trembled slightly in his grasp. His mind raced with a thousand possibilities, but none made sense—until a memory sparked. A flicker. That night. The overwhelming magic that had swirled around him and Jess. That feeling. That pull.
"Master?" came a small voice, snapping him from his spiraling thoughts. Nagini tilted her head, her expression filled with concern. "You okay?"
Tom blinked at her, his throat dry. He slowly folded the letter, his fingers tightening around the parchment. "Finish your food, Nagini."
The girl frowned. "What's wrong?"
"We're going to Gringotts," he said, voice low, eyes dark. "I need to... speak with Marrow."
Nagini's fork paused halfway to her mouth, but she obeyed, chewing slowly as she watched him with cautious curiosity.
Tom stood in place for a moment longer, the implications still sinking in.
Married?
Jess... is my wife?
No. That was impossible.
...Wasn't it?
Laughter echoed off the newly polished walls of Grimmauld Place's refurbished living room, mixing with the energetic chimes and victory jingles of Mario Party. The flat-screen television, a sleek addition courtesy of royal house-elves and Sirius's curiosity for modern luxuries, lit up the cozy space in colorful flashes.
Draco and Harry were planted side-by-side on the velvet couch, Switch controllers clutched tightly in their hands, faces set in comical determination. Sirius sat cross-legged on the floor in front of them, holding a third controller, his long hair half-tied back in a casual bun. Rodolphus lounged lazily on the other end of the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, watching the chaos unfold with an amused smirk.
"Ha! I stole your star, Harry!" Draco grinned, triumphant as his character gleefully danced across the screen.
"You absolute menace," Harry groaned, dramatically flopping sideways against the couch cushions. "That's the third one!"
"You've been letting him win," Sirius teased from the floor, not taking his eyes off the screen. "He's a Slytherin. That's what they do."
"I am not letting him win!" Harry protested, flinging an arm toward the screen just as his character tripped on a banana peel. "Okay, maybe I'm just cursed."
"This is still more entertaining than watching some of the inner circle try to guess what our Dark Lord's mission actually is," Rodolphus drawled, stretching out along the couch. "Though none of them know he's off doing something only he understands. Again."
Sirius rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, if it means fewer corpses piling up in alleyways, I say let him stay on vacation."
"You're welcome, puppy."
Draco and Harry exchanged a quick look before bursting into laughter.
"Okay, okay," Draco grinned, wiping tears from his eyes. "Who's ready for the next round? And no more targeting me just because I'm winning!"
"Winning?" Harry snorted. "This round, I'm coming for you."
"Oh, it's on," Draco shot back, elbowing him with a playful smirk.
Sirius clicked to restart the next minigame and leaned back slightly to glance over his shoulder. "Can't believe this is my life now, Death Eater boyfriend, godson, and cousin all bonding over video games. I've officially seen everything."
"And you love it," Rodolphus purred from his perch on the couch.
Sirius smirked. "Damn right I do."
As the game loaded again and chaos resumed, laughter filled the room once more. Grimmauld Place—once a house of secrets and sorrow—now rang with life, change, and maybe, just maybe, healing.
Tom Riddle walked with purpose through the grand marble halls of Gringotts, each step echoing with composed confidence. He was dressed sharply in a deep forest green tailored suit, fitted to perfection, the color subtle yet commanding. The black turtleneck beneath his blazer gave a modern edge to his classic elegance, and his polished boots tapped crisply against the stone floor.
At his side, holding his hand with innocent curiosity, was a small girl—Nagini in her temporary form. Her long dark hair tumbled past her shoulders, and her vivid green eyes mirrored the same shade as her delicate dress and matching flats. She looked every bit the part of a child under noble care, though her grip on Tom's hand was firm, and her eyes scanned the surroundings with serpentine awareness.
The moment they passed through the main archway into the lobby, several goblins gasped aloud. Others dropped their ledgers or snapped their gazes upward from gold-counting scales, wide-eyed at the sight.
Whispers started to stir—some murmuring in Gobbledygook, others in barely veiled shock.
Tom didn't acknowledge the noise. His stride remained smooth, regal, unbothered. The only time he slowed was when Nagini tugged his hand slightly, mesmerized by the sight of a goblin vault key being levitated down a hallway. He bent slightly and whispered in Parseltongue, his voice quiet and smooth, "Come along, little one. That's not ours."
Nagini's little green flats tapped lightly against the polished floor as she followed Tom closely, still clutching his hand. Her expression was caught somewhere between curiosity and impatience, pouting slightly as they came to the front counter.
Tom stepped forward smoothly. "Griphook, I received a letter from Marrow."
The goblin behind the polished stone desk looked up—and nearly fell off his stool.
"Y-Your Highness!" Griphook blurted, standing so fast he nearly toppled the quill holder beside him. His wide eyes darted from Tom to Nagini and then back again.
Tom's eyes narrowed slightly. "...What did you just call me?"
Griphook straightened, his expression now serious with formality. "Apologies, my lord. We were informed this morning. Congratulations on your union—Lord Marrow is expecting you in his office. Please follow me at once."
Tom blinked, utterly baffled. Union? Highness?
Nagini tilted her head up at him with an innocent shrug, clearly as lost as he was but delighting in the attention.
"I didn't... what in Merlin's name are they talking about?" Tom muttered under his breath, expression darkening with confusion as he followed the goblin down the corridor.
Griphook didn't elaborate. He simply led them through the intricately arched halls of Gringotts, past ancient columns and magical wards, toward a secluded section meant only for high-ranking vault holders.
They reached a grand door—tall, stately, with the Slytherin crest carved in obsidian relief. It opened with a soft pulse of green magic, revealing Marrow's office beyond.
It was breathtaking.
The office looked nothing like a traditional goblin chamber. Lined in deep sage paneling and gilded accents, it resembled a private study fit for royalty. Towering bookcases filled with ledgers and ancient contracts flanked the walls. A crystal chandelier hung above an emerald green desk set atop a silk-tufted carpet. The windows arched high, letting in a hazy wash of natural light through enchanted glass.
Tom stepped in slowly, eyes flicking around as Nagini clung to his side.
Seated at an opulent desk framed by walls of ancient tomes and emerald green paneling, Marrow glanced up from the parchment he had been reviewing. His sharp golden eyes gleamed with recognition, and a slow, pointed smile curled his lips, revealing the edges of his sharpened teeth.
"Lord Riddle," he greeted smoothly, then added with the faintest bow of his head, "or should I say... Lord Mikcloud-Riddle. Welcome, Your Highness."
Tom halted just inside the doorway, his expression unreadable—but his eyes narrowed, flashing with suspicion. "You're going to explain. Now."
Marrow, unbothered by the iciness of the demand, folded his clawed hands atop the desk and sat straighter. "Your Highness, our records registered a magical bond formed exactly one week ago—a rare and ancient union acknowledged by the deepest threads of wizarding law. The kind that only occurs when the bond is fated, soul-deep, and consummated under certain magical conditions."
Tom's stomach tightened. One week ago. That night with Jess... the overwhelming surge of emotion and magic that surrounded them. The way the air had thickened, the inexplicable hum in his chest—the way it had felt like something in the world itself had shifted.
"You're saying," he said slowly, voice low, "that night... our first time... activated a magical marriage bond?"
Marrow nodded. "Precisely. The enchantments woven into the royal tapestry at the Kuran Estate confirmed it. Ancient soul-binding magic acknowledged it as a consummated, permanent union."
Tom stiffened. "Then answer me this—why are you calling me Your Highness? I'm not royalty. I'm the Heir of Slytherin, yes, but that title hasn't carried royal weight since Salazar's bloodline disappeared generations ago. I'm the last of the Slytherin line."
Marrow looked at him more closely now, his expression twisting into something oddly sympathetic. "Your Highness... did your wife not tell you who she is?"
Tom blinked, thrown. "She told me her name is Jessica Lightning Kuran Mikcloud. That she's a witch. That's it."
The goblin exhaled slowly, as though it pained him to be the one to reveal it. "It seems she didn't know of the binding either... but the magic does not lie. Jessica Lightning Kuran Mikcloud is the Second Crowned Princess of the Magical Realm. Daughter of Prince Jareth and Princess Dawn."
Tom's mind reeled. His chest tightened.
Marrow continued, calmly, "That makes her the direct heir to one of the oldest and most powerful magical bloodlines in existence. And now that the union has been magically recognized... you are consort to royalty. By law and legacy, you are now Prince of the Magical Realm, my lord."
From beside him, Nagini—still in her child form—gasped audibly and tugged at his sleeve.
"Master... you're a prince?!" she hissed in astonishment, green eyes wide and glittering.
Tom stared straight ahead, stunned into silence.
He was married.
To a princess.
And now... a prince.
The room spun slightly, but he didn't show it. Instead, he clenched his jaw, thoughts racing.
"I need to speak with her," he muttered. "Immediately."
Marrow inclined his head. "Of course, Your Highness. I can arrange secure communication if needed. In the meantime, your vaults must be reviewed. The status of the Slytherin and Mikcloud holdings have changed."
Tom took a breath, slow and deep. "Very well, can you summon her here?."
"Yes I can, she cannot ignore summons from Gringotts involving her personal vault." He smirks.
The break room of Usagi Anime Maid Café was peaceful in contrast to the chaos of the main floor. Soft pastel fairy lights blinked along the walls, and a few anime posters curled at the corners from the summer heat. Jess lounged on a velvet bench, her black boots discarded nearby, maid uniform still crisp despite the long shift. A half-eaten jar of maraschino cherries sat beside her, syrup glistening on her fingers as she popped another into her mouth.
She exhaled through her nose, enjoying the sugary quiet—until a soft pop of magic disrupted it.
Jess froze. Her green eyes narrowed as Seb, the royal house-elf and butler, appeared just a few feet away in his usual tailored uniform, hands folded neatly behind his back.
"Princess Jess," he said formally with a small bow. "You are being summoned."
She raised an eyebrow, licking cherry syrup from her thumb. "Summoned?" she repeated with a tired sigh.
Seb inclined his head. "By Gringotts. The goblin Wren has issued the request. You are required to report immediately."
Jess straightened a little, the shift in her posture subtle but regal. "Is it an urgent summons, Seb?"
"Yes it is, Princess," Seb replied calmly. "Wren says it concerns your personal vault and the confirmation of a magical event. She did not provide further detail."
Jess's lips tightened slightly, the seriousness of it sinking in. Vault summons couldn't be ignored. "Alright," she muttered, standing. "Let me guess—I have wear something formal?"
"Already have an outfit waiting for you," Seb replied with the faintest smile, gesturing to the polished pair near the doorway.
Jess rolled her eyes playfully but smirked. "You're too good at your job."
"Preparedness is expected of me, Princess," he said with a modest nod.
Jar closed. Hair adjusted. Crown of responsibility settling invisibly atop her head—Jess stepped forward, boots clicking neatly as she walked into the portal Seb opened.
Within seconds, she vanished from the café, leaving behind the scent of sugar and cherries for the cool, echoing halls of Gringotts.
The familiar, bustling energy of Diagon Alley greeted Jess the moment she stepped through the enchanted entrance, River Dovahkiin walking silently just behind her. Jess wore her regal green ensemble with ease, the tailored velvet hugging her frame and the flowing train whispering along the cobblestones with each step. Her long raspberry-red hair cascaded over her back, the loose waves shimmering faintly in the morning light. Her matching green nails and flawless makeup gave her the aura of someone both untouchable and effortlessly graceful.
She didn't want River with her—but she knew better than to protest. Having the Second Grand Knight of Celtica close by would dissuade most threats before they could form.
As they strode down the lane, the crowd began to murmur and part. Eyes widened. Mouths whispered. A few bowed slightly out of instinct, while others simply stared in awe. The sight of the Second Crowned Princess of the Magical Realm walking openly in Diagon Alley was rare enough to send shockwaves through the morning crowd.
Behind the edge of the gathering, under the shadows of her cloak, Bellatrix Lestrange watched with narrowed eyes.
Her fists clenched around the fabric as she took in the aura that surrounded Jess—not just royal, but something more. Something familiar.
Her master's magic.
It clung to the girl like a second skin, faint but unmistakable. Bellatrix could feel it in her bones—could taste it on the air.
Her lip curled, madness simmering just beneath the surface.
What does this mean? Why does that girl have my Lord's magic all over her?! she seethed inwardly, fists clenched beneath her cloak.
But before she could take a single step forward, River turned her head—eyes glowing ever so faintly with an unnatural light—and locked her gaze directly on the cloaked figure across the alley. She said nothing. She didn't need to. The weight of that look alone made Bellatrix freeze in place, heart thudding. Something ancient pulsed in that stare. Something dangerous.
Meanwhile, Jess remained unaware of the eyes trailing her. She had already ascended the steps of Gringotts, the doors opening as a goblin in deep green robes bowed low before her.
"Princess Jessica Mikcloud," he said with reverence. "You are expected. Lady Wren awaits you inside."
Jess gave a graceful nod, her expression composed and unreadable. "Then lead the way."
River remained at the entrance, standing off to the side with her arms crossed. She pulled out her phone and casually began texting.
They found out. Quicker than expected. You win the bet, Lady Kuran.
She smirked, slipping the phone back into her sleeve.
Inside, Jess was led through the winding marble halls to the back corridor, where a smaller, more ornate hallway branched off. She blinked, hesitating. "This isn't the way to Wren's office."
"She's in a special chamber today, Your Highness," the goblin replied smoothly. "This way."
Jess followed cautiously. As they reached the doorway, it swung open—revealing the soft glow of lamplight and the scent of parchment and aged magic. Wren stood just beyond the threshold, her red hair swept up neatly and her features calm.
"Princess," Wren greeted warmly. "Please, come in."
Jess stepped forward—and froze.
There, seated with impeccable posture and a calm, unreadable expression, was Tom. Nagini, still in her little girl form, sat quietly in the chair beside him, kicking her feet.
Tom stood slowly, his smirk just a touch too sharp. "Well. About time my dear wife decided to join us."
Jess went pale. "W-What? W-Wife?!"
Tom took a step forward. "Why didn't you tell me you were the Second Crowned Princess?"
Jess's lip trembled slightly before she bit it, then raised her chin. "I don't exactly go around flaunting it." Her eyes narrowed. "And why didn't you tell me you were the Dark Lord?"
The room went still. Wren blinked. Marrow's quill snapped in his grasp. Nagini gasped.
And River, still just outside the chamber, was grinning like a fox.
Tom bit his lip, voice faltering. "H-How... did you..."
"I've known for weeks," Jess said gently. "Since the fair."
His breath hitched as she continued, her voice steady.
"River was the one who told me... after the Ferris wheel, when I went to the bathroom. She appeared beside me and told me I had to return to my family estate the next day. That my date had the same Muggle name as the Dark Lord—Tom Riddle."
Tom stared at her, speechless for a moment. Then he stepped forward, closing the distance between them until there was barely an inch left.
"And you didn't back away from me?" he asked softly.
Jess shook her head, tears already starting to glisten in her eyes. "No... I didn't. The pull to you.. the feelings I couldn't, I was in love.."
Tom exhaled, a shaky, almost relieved sound, and gently cupped her face in his hands. "That means more than you know, Jess. I... I too was fell in love."
His voice grew even softer, more vulnerable than she had ever heard it.
"I was told I couldn't love. That I wasn't capable of it. My mother—she used a love potion on my father. He didn't love her. He never wanted her. I was a result of that magic, a child born without love. They said that's why I would never be able to feel it... never care for anyone or anything."
His thumb brushed away a tear on her cheek.
"But when I'm with you... I feel it. All of it. Every heartbeat. Every breath. It's like I'm finally alive."
Jess's chest trembled, overwhelmed. "Tom... I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth. About who I am. But... what is this about me being your wife?" Her gaze darted between Wren and Marrow. "Someone explain. Please."
"And..." she glanced down, blinking at the small girl seated on the chair beside Tom. "Who is this little girl?"
The child perked up with a bright smile, emerald eyes shining.
"I'm Nagini!" she said in Parseltongue, her voice light and sweet. "Master found a charm that helps me change—but it only lasts for twenty-four hours!"
Tom nodded, looking proud. "It's from your family's Royal Archive—something called the Polymorph Charm. Meant to aid Maledictus victims. It doesn't reverse the curse, but... it gives them this. A human form. For a time."
Jess looked from Tom to Nagini, her lips parting in wonder. Then she turned to Wren and Marrow again.
"Alright," she said, voice calm but firm. "Now someone tell me why Gringotts summoned me for a magical event and why I'm suddenly being called a wife."
Wren stepped forward with quiet grace, folding her delicate hands before her as the room seemed to still.
"It would be our honor to explain, Princess," she said gently.
Tom's fingers laced with Jess's, grounding them both as the truth—complex and impossible—began to unfurl before them.
"It seems," Wren continued, "that your night of passion, shared in sincerity and deep connection, triggered an extremely rare event. A magical union, not forged by ceremony or ritual, but by the will of magic itself. Witnessed and sealed by the goddess of magic herself, Hecate." Her voice softened with reverence. "It is she who binds souls in truth. By the laws of old magic, you are now wed. Husband and wife."
Jess's breath caught. Her eyes flew wide as she stared at Tom, then at Wren.
"That's what you both felt afterward," Wren went on. "The swirling sensation, the pressure of something ancient moving between you—it was the binding. The consummation finalized the union."
Tom remained silent, but Jess could feel the tension in his arm. His entire world had just shifted. Again.
"I... I was told..." Jess began slowly, voice barely above a whisper. "When I visited the Kuran Estate after the fair, I told my grandfather about what happened between us. The second kiss—how we both saw the magic swirl around us. He told me it meant something... that I'd found my second soulmate."
Tom turned his head, brow furrowed. "Second soulmate?"
Jess nodded, swallowing hard. "Anyone can have two or more soulmates But the second is rarer..."
Wren inclined her head. "Exactly. Hecate herself acknowledged your bond. And in doing so, recognized Lord Riddle as your rightful consort—elevating him to Prince of the Magical Realm by law."
Jess stared at the ground for a long moment, her hand trembling slightly in Tom's. She looked up at him with glistening eyes. "We're... married?"
Tom's throat bobbed as he nodded slowly. "By magic. By soul." He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "And it seems neither of us knew it until now."
Beside them, the childlike Nagini clapped her hands together softly. "This is very romantic," she whispered, bright green eyes wide.
Jess let out a breathless laugh—half shock, half overwhelmed disbelief—and squeezed Tom's hand.
"Well... I suppose this changes everything."
Tom gave her a faint smirk, that familiar sharpness still lingering in his expression—but now softened by something deeper. Something real.
"Indeed."
Wren and Marrow exchanged a chuckle, their expressions warm with reverence. Wren stepped forward, hands folded neatly in front of her.
"This was sent to me by the Queen—your aunt, Queen Violet."
Jess's eyes widened, then narrowed knowingly. "Of course she would know. Does my uncle know?"
Before Wren could answer, River spoke from the corner, idly checking her phone.
"No. But he will. The tapestry room is already shifting."
With care, Wren stepped closer, holding a velvet green ring box in both hands.
"This belonged to the First Queen of the Magical Realm," she said solemnly.
Jess's breath caught. Her eyes dropped to the box, then back to Wren. "Regina..." she whispered.
Wren nodded with a small smile. "Indeed. And you are her reincarnation, Princess."
Tom's brow furrowed, eyes flicking between them. "Wait... what?" he asked, clearly stunned.
Jess looked up at him, offering a soft, apologetic smile.
"I'll explain later," she promised gently.
She turned back to the box, heart fluttering in her chest as her fingers curled around the soft velvet. With deliberate care, she opened the lid.
Inside, nestled in black silk, sat a ring unlike any she had ever seen. The band was aged silver, delicately carved with intertwining rose stems and leaves, cradling a marquise-cut emerald that shimmered like bottled starlight. The roses on either side were so intricately shaped they almost looked alive.
Her breath hitched.
"This was hers..." she murmured, entranced.
Wren inclined her head. "And now, by magic and bloodline, it is yours. The ring has accepted your union. It is enchanted to fit only the queen's true reincarnation—and it responded the moment your name appeared on the royal tapestry."
Tom stared at the ring, then at Jess. He didn't speak, but his fingers tightened gently around hers.
Jess took the ring with care, holding it in her palm, feeling the warmth radiating from it. She looked to Tom—her voice barely a whisper.
"Would you...?"
Understanding immediately, Tom reached for the ring. He stepped closer, eyes locked with hers, and slowly slid it onto her finger.
The emerald pulsed once with a soft glow, sealing itself in place.
In that moment, magic stirred around them again subtle, but undeniable. A promise. A bond.
A beginning.
Marrow clapped his long-fingered hands together, a rare grin stretching across his sharp goblin features. "Marvelous! The Slytherin line will live on. A historic moment, truly. Your Highness, regarding your estate—I've noticed you've finally begun wearing the Gaunt ring. A wise choice, but that brings me to another matter. Do you still possess the locket?"
Tom blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the shift in subject. "The locket? Yes... I know exactly where it is." He glanced aside, jaw tightening with the memory. "Do I have to retrieve it? I'd much prefer to leave it where it is."
Marrow's expression sobered, the mirth draining from his eyes. "Your Highness, with all due respect, you assured us years ago that it would be placed in the vault for safekeeping. That was never done. Given the importance of that relic—and its legacy—you must understand that its current unsecured location is unacceptable."
Tom's brows furrowed, a flicker of irritation crossing his face before he sighed, shoulders lowering slightly. "You're right..." that's right he decided to leave it in the cave. He glanced toward Jess with an apologetic smile, then turned fully to face her, his voice softening. "I suppose I'll need to go retrieve it."
Jess looked up at him from where she sat, her brow creasing with concern. "Do you want me to come with you?" she asked gently.
Tom shook his head, stepping closer to take her hand in his. "No, my love. It's too dangerous." His voice was firm but tinged with warmth. "I promise, I won't take long. Just stay here where it's safe."
Jess's fingers tightened slightly in his. "How dangerous?" she asked, her voice low.
Tom exhaled slowly. "Inferi are guarding the cave," he admitted.
Her eyes widened in alarm, but before she could respond, he turned slightly and looked toward the small girl seated nearby. "Nagini," he said in Parseltongue, "stay with Jess. Do not leave her side."
The childlike figure that was Nagini perked up immediately, sliding down from the tall chair with surprising grace. Her little green flats tapped softly against the marble floor as she skipped over to Jess and wrapped her arms around her waist in an affectionate hug. "Of course, Master!" she chirped, her voice high and sweet, but still undeniably her.
Tom gave Jess's hand one final squeeze before stepping back. "I'll return soon. Don't worry," he said, the look in his eyes promising far more than words could.
As he turned toward Marrow to discuss the quickest method of transportation to the cave, Jess watched him go, a soft unease curling in her chest—but also something stronger.
Trust.
Jess let out a soft sigh, her shoulders gently rising and falling as the weight of the moment settled over her. "Tell me, River... does the rest of the family know?" she began, turning slightly toward where the dragon knight had stood moments before.
But her voice trailed off.
River was gone.
Jess's emerald eyes narrowed in suspicion. There had been no sound, no portal, not even the faintest flicker of magic—but the knight was no longer present. Jess exhaled through her nose, brows furrowing. Did she follow him?
Shaking the thought off with a small mutter of frustration, Jess sank down into the cushioned seat behind her, allowing the heavy folds of her gown to drape around her legs. Nagini—still in her small, childlike form—clung to her side, her little fingers curled into Jess's sleeve. Jess smiled faintly and lifted the girl into her lap, cradling her gently.
The silence lingered for a beat before Jess looked up, her expression hardening just slightly.
"Wren. Marrow," she said, her voice firm but not unkind. "There's something you two aren't telling me."
Marrow, who had been shuffling a parchment from the side desk, paused. His dark eyes flicked to Wren's, and for a moment neither goblin spoke. The air grew dense with unspoken tension.
Marrow finally cleared his throat, his posture stiffening under her gaze. "It is... not our place to say, Your Highness," he said carefully. "This matter... is something your husband must discuss with you directly."
Wren nodded, her expression solemn, almost regretful. "There are things even we do not fully understand yet, Princess," she added. "But what we do know... is tied directly to him."
Jess pressed her lips into a thin line, her eyes searching the marble floor before flicking up again, sharper now, though not without understanding. She reached up, stroking Nagini's hair gently as the child nestled against her shoulder.
"Of course," Jess murmured, her voice low. "Then I'll wait. But I expect full answers when he returns."
Marrow bowed his head respectfully. "And you shall have them, Your Highness."
A quiet settled in the room once more, but it was no longer heavy with confusion—only the calm before truths long hidden were finally brought to light.
The waves crashed violently against the jagged stone outcroppings as a cold wind howled through the cliffs. High above the sea, darkness gathered—and in an instant, it twisted into form.
A plume of dark smoke tore through the stormy sky, spiraling downward before unraveling into the shape of a man.
Tom Riddle.
Cloaked in shadow and emerald-threaded black, he hovered silently above the cliffside, eyes fixed on the looming entrance of the cave carved into the rock like a gaping mouth. His hair shifted with the force of the wind, but he stood untouched, composed, commanding.
With a smooth motion, his form dissipated into shadow again—faster than wind, darker than storm—and streaked across the rocks. He entered through the hidden passageway only he knew, his body reforming inside the cavern's interior with no need for boats or blood payment.
Boots touched the polished black stone with an audible step. Echoes greeted him.
It was cold. Wet. Still.
Exactly as he had left it.
Glowing crystals pulsed faintly along the walls, their light casting green reflections into the dark lake that dominated the cavern floor. The Inferi were still there—motionless, lurking just beneath the surface like sleeping corpses waiting for any sign of life.
Tom's gaze flicked toward the crystalline island in the distance.
There.
The basin.
And the locket.
He took one step forward—and vanished in a blink, reappearing on the platform in a silent burst of displaced air. His magic was untouched here. These defenses bent to no one else.
But he had made them.
He approached the basin slowly, its eerie green glow pulsing faintly in the darkness. The potion within shimmered with an unnatural light, casting warped shadows across the cave walls. Tom leaned in, his reflection rippling across the surface, distorted and surreal.
With a deft, fluid motion of his fingers—twisting through the air in a silent command—the potion responded. The surface rippled like disturbed glass, then parted with a graceful shimmer, melting away as if recognizing its true master. He reached into the basin and pulled forth the locket.
It was cold in his hand. Heavy. But immediately, something felt wrong.
His frown deepened as he studied the artifact. It was not his locket. Not the one he had hidden here.
With a sharp flick of his thumb, he opened it. Inside was a folded piece of parchment. Tom unfolded the note, his eyes scanning the words with growing fury.
To the Dark Lord –
I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.
– R.A.B.
His breath hitched.
Then rage ignited.
A blinding, choking fury coiled in his chest like a serpent, tightening and squeezing until it burned. His fingers crushed the fake locket with a sharp metallic creak.
"Disappointed, Your Highness?"
Tom spun on his heel, wand halfway raised—only to find River standing calmly at the edge of the cave, her arms crossed, her silvery-blue hair catching the ambient glow like moonlight on steel.
"How did you—" he growled.
River smirked. "Such charms don't work on humanoid dragons," she said, voice light but cutting. "The Princess did not instruct me to follow you, it was her father. Prince Jareth to follow you whenever you leave to collect them. I've been watching since the moment you stepped into her life."
Tom's jaw clenched.
"We dragons can smell dark magic," River continued, slowly walking closer. "And you—Tom Marvolo Riddle—reek of it. Far more than the Kuran bloodline ever has. All my senses screamed that you weren't who you claimed to be."
She paused, studying his expression with sharp, discerning eyes.
"The real locket? It was found at Grimmauld Place weeks ago during the Royal House Elves' restoration. Sir Frank collected it and delivered it to the Kuran estate. It's now secured in an angelic containment ward."
Tom said nothing, but his hand tightened around the broken locket.
"And the diary," River added, "the one Lucius Malfoy so foolishly released—yes, we have that too. Or rather, what's left of it. Even if it was destroyed, it clung to its piece of your soul. Weak, but still pulsing."
She stopped directly in front of him now, her gaze unwavering.
"You see," she said softly, "the family has known your identity since the moment Lady Amara heard the name from farmers market. When Princess Jess told her family her boyfriends name, oh they knew."
Tom stood rigid, a storm of fury and disbelief twisting in his chest. His magic pulsed faintly in response, restrained but volatile.
"Tell me, River," he said at last, his voice dangerously low. "Do they intend to destroy me?"
River's lips curled into something that was part smirk, part sympathy. "No," she said simply. "They intend to restore you. You're her soulmate, Tom. Do you truly believe they would risk hurting Jess by trying to destroy the one thing that's brought her peace since Prince Rick's death?"
Tom's expression faltered, surprise flickering across his face. "Wait... Prince? Rick was a prince?"
River nodded slowly, her voice softening. "Prince Rick Meyers. The son of King Zachariah—the Vampire King."
Jess sat comfortably on one of the plush chairs in Marrow's office, Nagini curled up on her lap like a small, content kitten. The little girl version of the serpent was nestled close against her, arms loosely around Jess's waist as she softly hummed to herself. Jess couldn't help but smile, brushing her fingers gently through Nagini's long black hair.
"You're just... so cute like this," Jess murmured with a laugh, her voice laced with awe. "It's hard to believe you're usually a massive snake."
Nagini tilted her head up, her vivid green eyes shimmering with childlike curiosity. "Do you like me better this way?" she asked, her voice sweet, yet still carrying the serpentine hiss that marked her true nature.
Jess chuckled, giving her a soft squeeze. "I like you either way, Nagini. But I have to admit... you're kind of adorable right now."
Across the room, Marrow sat at his desk, pretending not to watch the exchange too closely. Even he—sharp, no-nonsense goblin that he was—allowed a faint smirk to creep across his face at the sight of the infamous Maledictus looking so small, so harmless, in the lap of the Second Crowned Princess.
Nagini wriggled happily in Jess's lap, her little feet swinging off the side of the chair. She tilted her head up and gave a playful pout, her emerald eyes glittering with mischief.
"Master called me cute and adorable," she declared with the proud air of a child announcing a royal decree.
Jess grinned, brushing a hand gently over the girl's sleek black hair. "Aww. And your English has gotten better," she praised warmly.
Nagini giggled in response, then relaxed, resting her head against Jess's chest with a contented sigh. The softness of the moment, so tender and serene, held a quiet magic of its own. But beneath the gentle calm, Jess could still feel the ripples of everything they hadn't yet discussed—Tom's hidden past, the lingering mysteries of the Horcruxes, the strange swirling magic that had bound them, and the subtle awareness of something new taking root inside her.
Still, she let all those thoughts drift into the background. For now, she chose peace.
A polite throat-clearing broke the silence. Marrow looked up from a parchment he had been reviewing, his long fingers resting on the desk. "Would you care for some tea, Your Highness? And something sweet for the young one, perhaps?"
Jess gave a small, appreciative smile, though her head tilted slightly. "I'm sorry, Marrow," she said with gentle honesty. "I'm not much of a tea person."
Wren chuckled from her place by the sideboard. "Then how about a Cherry Cola, Princess?"
Jess lit up with a smile. "That would be lovely, Wren. And one for Nagini too, please."
The childlike Nagini perked up instantly, her little arms lifting in excitement. "Soda!" she cheered, clearly delighted.
As Wren moved to fetch their drinks, the soft sounds of the office settled again into a peaceful quiet. In that moment, surrounded by the subtle hum of ancient magic and goblin-scribed parchments, Jess held Nagini a little closer, grounding herself in this strange new life—one heartbeat at a time.
Tom stood at the edge of the basin, the fake locket clutched tightly in his hand, the note from R.A.B. still echoing in his mind. The air around him was thick with dampness and decay, and though the green potion no longer glowed, the chamber still pulsed with an eerie weight. He could feel River's gaze still on him—unblinking, unreadable.
He turned toward her, brow still furrowed from her last revelation. "Prince Rick Meyers," he repeated under his breath. "Jess was in love with a vampire prince."
The words tasted strange in his mouth, not from jealousy—but from the realization that he'd been so certain Jess was the first to stir something real inside him. And yet, there had been someone else. A prince. A past love, now gone.
Tom remained still for a long moment, staring down at the black surface of the water. His thoughts spun with everything River had just revealed—Jess's former lover, the fake locket, the royal family's quiet surveillance. It was too much, and yet somehow not enough.
He turned slightly. "Alright. Let's go—"
River suddenly raised a hand, her gaze sharp as her boots scuffed softly across the stone floor.
Tom blinked. "What is it now?"
Her slitted eyes narrowed, head tilting with the faintest twitch. "There's something down there."
His brows furrowed. "Inferi?"
"No," she said slowly, voice lower now. "Not undead. Not cursed. Not quite... awake."
Tom's eyes followed her gesture as she stepped closer to the edge of the basin, boots stopping just at the stone lip. She crouched, placing her palm against the cold surface of the water. The moment her fingers touched it, a small ripple spread across it—followed by the subtlest shimmer of golden aura that flickered in her eyes.
"It's alive," she whispered. "Alive... but dreaming. Locked in sleep."
Tom moved beside her, cautious now. "Explain."
"I can feel a heartbeat," River murmured, her voice low and reverent. "Weak. Slow. But steady. Someone is down there. And they've been there for a long time... their own magic has cocooned around them."
Tom stiffened, a chill sliding down his spine.
River stepped closer to the edge of the water, lifting her hand with slow precision. Tom's eyes remained locked on her, sensing the swell of her draconic aura as it pulsed outward—raw, ancient power that made even the enchantments in the chamber tremble.
Below them, the black water began to swirl.
The Inferi lurking beneath shifted restlessly, drifting away from the center, as if instinctively avoiding the aura now radiating from the dragon knight. The surface rippled with a quiet, almost reverent hush, parting in response to her presence.
"Careful," Tom warned under his breath, his eyes flicking toward the depths. "The Inferi will rise if they sense intrusion. They'll attack without hesitation... perhaps even you."
River only smirked. "I highly doubt they will, not with you right here, Your Highness." Her tone was playful, but her focus was razor sharp.
A soft hum of magic filled the chamber.
Then, slowly, the water parted further—and something began to rise. Encased in a soft, glowing cocoon of golden light, a shape ascended from the depths like a spirit drawn upward by moonlight. The Inferi drifted back, silent and still, their pale forms watching but unmoving.
Tom took a cautious step forward, his breath caught in his throat.
The cocoon floated just above the surface now, suspended in midair by River's focused magic and the lingering enchantments woven deep into the cave's protections. A golden glow pulsed faintly around it, light bending like mist through the dim, eerie chamber.
Inside, curled in a protective fetal position, was a young man.
His features were drawn and pale, framed by damp, shoulder-length black hair clinging to his temples. The tattered remains of Slytherin robes still clung to him, their silver trim faded and waterlogged. His chest barely moved—slow, shallow breaths betraying the fragile thread of life that still held on.
Regulus Black.
Tom's eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, his expression unreadable, his mind racing through every possibility. This... shouldn't have been possible. Regulus had disappeared decades ago. Assumed dead.
And yet—here he was.
River guided the cocoon forward with a fluid sweep of her hand, hovering it carefully just above the ground in front of them. She tilted her head slightly, studying the containment shell, then extended one claw-tipped finger and gave the cocoon a deliberate poke.
The reaction was immediate.
With a sharp crack and a rush of energy, the cocoon burst apart like a shattered ward. A pulse of golden magic exploded outward in a concussive wave, slamming into the chamber's stone walls and nearly knocking Tom off his feet. He staggered back a step, bracing himself with a hiss, his coat snapping in the sudden gust of pressure.
River remained firmly in place, her long hair and robe rippling from the force—but she did not move.
The remnants of the cocoon dissolved into flickering motes of pale, golden light—like soft fireflies dancing into the shadows—before vanishing altogether. What remained in their wake was a figure collapsed gently on the damp, cold stone floor. Regulus Black.
His body, though worn and pale, was intact. His Slytherin robes hung in tatters, the fabric stained and brittle from time and dark magic. A slow, shivering breath escaped him. His fingers twitched. Eyelids fluttered—once, twice—before drifting shut again.
Tom stood motionless, breath caught in his chest. The cavern around them, once echoing only with distant water and Inferi movement, now seemed to hold its breath as well. He stared at the figure before him, a ghost of the past returned—Regulus Arcturus Black. The boy who had once dared to betray him. The one who had gotten closer to uncovering his greatest secret than anyone else.
Tom's thoughts roared in silence. Very few had known the truth behind Regulus's disappearance. Even fewer understood what that betrayal had cost him... or the torment he might've endured to reach this point.
And now, here he lay. Not dead. But not awake either.
River knelt beside the unconscious man, brushing damp strands of dark hair away from his face. "Mhm... In a magical coma," she said, her voice calm but tinged with fascination. "His own magic must've wrapped around him the moment he touched death. It's preserved him—barely—but he won't wake on his own. Not without help."
She stood again and looked to Tom, her eyes glowing softly in the cave's green light. "We need to leave. There's nothing more for us here. We can return to Jess and Nagini. With the Princess present, we'll be able to use her authority to bring him safely to Grimmauld Place."
Tom exhaled, finally stepping forward. His gaze lingered on Regulus's face for a heartbeat longer, eyes narrowed in thought. Then he gave a small nod.
"Yes. Let's go."
Back in Marrow's office, the atmosphere remained calm, even as subtle threads of anticipation lingered in the air. Jess sat comfortably with Nagini curled up in her lap, the little girl humming quietly as she traced invisible patterns on Jess's arm. Wren had just returned with the requested cherry colas, setting them gently on the low table, when the office door creaked open.
Tom entered with quiet urgency, his coat brushing behind him like a shadow. His expression was composed but grave, and the moment he stepped in, the weight of his presence shifted the room's energy.
"Apologies, Marrow," he began, his voice clipped but controlled. "The locket was switched."
Marrow's eyes widened in disbelief, his fingers pausing over a parchment. "Switched?" he echoed.
Tom gave a small nod, jaw tight. "Yes. But don't worry—I know exactly where the real one is. That's not all. Regulus Black... is alive. He's in a magical coma. River sensed his presence below the Inferi waters."
Gasps sounded softly from both Wren and Marrow.
Jess stood up slowly, her gaze never leaving Tom's face. "He's alive?" she asked, stunned.
Tom turned toward her, stepping closer with a gentleness reserved only for her. "Yes. We need to take him to Grimmauld Place. River said St. Mungo's won't be able to help. Whatever magic he's caught in... it's ancient. Deeply bound. But with your presence and your authority, we'll be able to move him safely."
Without hesitation, Jess nodded. "Alright. Come on, Nagini," she said, taking the little girl's hand.
Nagini slid off the seat eagerly, green flats tapping softly against the floor. "Okay!" she chirped with wide, trusting eyes.
Jess turned to Tom, her own resolve hardening behind her warmth. "Let's go."
As the trio prepared to leave, Marrow and Wren exchanged a glance—one of astonishment and respect. Fate was moving quickly now, and the ripples of their union were already reshaping the course of history.
At Grimmauld Place, the sitting room was darkened, lit only by the soft flicker of the television screen. The sharp hum of surround sound filled the air, a low rumble building in the background as Jurassic Park played on. For three of the four occupants, it was their first time experiencing a Muggle movie—and it showed.
Harry sat comfortably on the left end of the couch, arms loosely wrapped around Draco, who was tucked against his side with wide, slightly wary eyes. Across from them, Sirius leaned forward on the edge of the seat, legs bouncing with nervous energy. Rodolphus lounged beside him, posture elegant but eyes fixed warily on the screen as if the T-Rex might lunge out at any moment.
"I don't like the way the ground's shaking," Rodolphus muttered, narrowing his eyes. "That can't be normal."
Sirius nudged him, only half paying attention. "It's fake, right? They didn't actually breed those monsters?"
Harry stifled a laugh. "No, it's all special effects. Muggle cinema. It's supposed to look real."
Draco swallowed hard. "Well, it's working."
Then, the camera zoomed in on the vibrating water glass in the Jeep. The storm howled louder. Thunder cracked. And with a blinding flash of lightning, the T-Rex broke through the fence.
Sirius let out an audible gasp, half jumping from his seat. "Merlin's balls!"
Rodolphus flinched too, his hand flying to Sirius's knee on reflex. "Is that thing real?! That's too real!"
Harry grinned. "That's the idea."
Draco had buried half his face in Harry's shoulder. "Wait until they start watching Star Wars."
Sirius's laughter broke the tension as the scene continued. "Bloody hell! That thing's huge!" he exclaimed, eyes wide as a child's. "This is amazing! It's all fake, but it feels like we're there!"
Rodolphus blinked, then let out a surprised huff of laughter. "I think I'm terrified and impressed at the same time."
Harry smiled at them all, warmth blooming in his chest. Grimmauld Place, once dark and cold, now echoed with laughter, shock, and the wonder of discovery.
This was their new normal—chaotic, healing, and beautifully strange. Laughter and the familiar roars of dinosaurs echoed from the living room, where Jurassic Park played across the screen. Sirius had nearly jumped out of his seat when the T-Rex burst from its enclosure, eyes wide, heart pounding. Rodolphus had chuckled beside him, his arm lazily draped around Sirius's shoulders. Across the room, Draco and Harry were curled together on the loveseat, thoroughly engrossed in the film. For most of them, this was their first taste of Muggle cinema, and the spectacle left them in awe.
Then came the knock.
A sharp, unexpected rap against the front door cut through the moment like a knife.
Sirius groaned, pausing the movie. "Seb, who is it now?" he muttered, already rising from the couch.
But Seb, ever efficient, was already at the front door. As the house-elf swung it open, his golden eyes widened.
"Your Highness! Princess!" Seb gasped, immediately bowing.
Sirius's heart skipped. He stepped out from the drawing room, his brow lifting as he called out, "Seb? Who is it—?"
Then he saw her.
Jess stepped through the doorway with grace and calm authority, dressed impeccably, her presence commanding the very air around her. She offered Sirius a warm smile.
"Lord Sirius Black," she greeted. "Sorry to barge in so suddenly."
Sirius immediately bowed his head, cheeks flushing. "Forgive me, Your Highness—it's quite alright."
From the side archway, Draco, Harry, and Rodolphus appeared, having heard the title. All three straightened instantly.
"Your Highness," Draco and Harry said in unison, offering respectful nods.
Jess gave them both a gentle smile. "Hello again, Harry Potter. Draco Malfoy."
Harry blinked. "Your Highness," he echoed again, unsure what else to say.
Then another figure stepped through the door.
"Riddle...?" Harry's voice was cautious, uncertain.
Tom Riddle walked in beside Jess, calm and composed. "Harry," he returned with a nod. "Hello."
Rodolphus's eyes widened in shock, taking a step forward. "M-My Lord?" he whispered, barely believing what he saw.
Tom gave him a small nod of acknowledgment. "Rodolphus."
Jess cleared her throat softly, commanding the room's attention again. "Lord Sirius Black—as promised by my family—we have found your brother."
Sirius froze.
Jess continued, voice now softened. "He was discovered in a hidden location, encased in a magical cocoon. He's alive, but in a deep magical coma."
Just then, a pop echoed behind them.
Kreacher appeared out of thin air, his eyes going wide with shock. "Master Regulus...?"
And finally, River stepped inside.
Cradled in her arms—effortlessly, reverently—was Regulus Black, his form limp but visibly breathing, wrapped in protective magical silks that shimmered faintly under the light.
Sirius's knees nearly buckled.
"Regulus..." he breathed, tears springing to his eyes. "You... you found him."
Jess stepped forward, her presence a calming force amidst the overwhelming swirl of emotion. She reached out gently, her hand resting on Sirius's arm. Her voice was quiet, yet powerful in its sincerity.
"We brought him home."
Sirius stared at her, barely able to breathe, his eyes still fixed on the unconscious form of his younger brother nestled in River's arms. The words echoed in his heart, cracking something wide open.
Jess turned her gaze to Kreacher, who stood stiffly by the threshold, visibly trembling. "Kreacher," she said gently, but firmly, "please show River where Regulus's room is."
The old house-elf blinked rapidly, emotions bubbling beneath his wide eyes. "Y-Yes, Your Highness," he croaked, his voice thick with shock and something else—gratitude.
Jess then turned slightly. "Seb, I trust his room was cleaned and prepared?"
Seb bowed with a proud nod. "Of course, Your Highness. The room is polished, fresh linens, and all spells renewed. Kreacher supervised it himself."
As River nodded and began to follow Kreacher up the stairs with Regulus still held effortlessly in her arms, a sudden blur of motion darted through the open space.
A flash of green and black—small, swift, and utterly joyful—rushed straight at Harry.
He gasped as tiny arms wrapped tightly around his waist.
Startled, he looked down.
There, clinging to him like an affectionate kitten, was a little girl in a green dress and matching flats, her long black hair flowing around her like silk. She beamed up at him with sparkling green eyes.
"Hello, Harry!" she chirped sweetly. "It's me—Nagini! Remember me? I'm that massive snake!"
Harry's jaw dropped. "Nagini?!"
Draco let out a startled noise and took a step back, his silver eyes wide. "Wait—what?!"
Tom, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed, chuckled under his breath. "I used a Polymorph Charm. Temporarily gives her a human form. She insisted on tagging along."
Nagini giggled, still hugging Harry. "I like it this way. I can eat sweets and wear dresses! And Master said I was cute and adorable!"
Draco blinked at her, still processing. "You were... that giant serpent. The one who tried to eat people?"
Nagini turned to him, tilting her head with a cheeky grin. "I never said I wasn't dramatic."
Harry laughed, dazed but amused, still crouched slightly with Nagini wrapped around him. "Okay. This day is officially insane. I don't even understand—why did you do this?" he asked, glancing toward Tom with genuine curiosity. "Why give her a human form?"
Tom tilted his head slightly and offered a calm, measured response. "Nagini was originally human, Harry. She suffers from a rare Maledictus curse—her bloodline is cursed to eventually become a beast. In her case, a serpent."
Nagini turned toward Jess and took her hand in both of her tiny ones, eyes wide with exaggerated indignation. "I did not expect to look like a little girl!" she huffed dramatically. "I was once a beautiful Indonesian woman! With legs and cheekbones! And now I'm five and adorable!"
Jess laughed warmly, squeezing her hand. "You are definitely adorable."
Nagini pouted, but there was a fond twinkle in her eye. Then she looked up at Tom. "Oh, Master—you promised to help look for Credence!"
Tom's expression softened instantly, the hardened mask he often wore melting into something vulnerable. "Yes," he murmured. "And I haven't forgotten." He turned toward Jess now, his voice quiet but earnest. "Jess, my love... can you help me search for Aurelius Dumbledore?"
The name struck the room like a silent bolt of lightning.
Draco's jaw dropped. Harry blinked rapidly, eyes wide. Sirius looked up sharply, brows knitting. Even Rodolphus looked stunned.
Jess blinked, taken off guard, but nodded after a heartbeat. "Seb," she said calmly, glancing toward the butler house-elf who had just returned, "can you summon Sir Frank? He may be able to help find him... and assist with Regulus. His condition might require something beyond the reach of St. Mungo's."
Seb bowed deeply. "At once, Princess," he replied, and with a soft pop, he was gone.
Sirius, still slightly flustered from the whirlwind of events, cleared his throat and managed a half-smile. "Uhm... would you all like to join us in the living room? For tea? Or... snacks?" he added quickly, remembering what Jess had said earlier.
Tom chuckled under his breath, already guiding Nagini back toward Jess. "Jess doesn't like tea," he said with a soft smile, "but I'm sure we'd all appreciate sitting down together."
As they made their way toward the sitting room, Tom paused and glanced back at the others. "And... there's something else," he added quietly. "Jess and I... are magically bonded now. A magical union, sealed by the laws of ancient magic."
Rodolphus gasped, his eyes wide, and his mouth dropped open in disbelief. "My Lord... congratulations! This is wonderful news! Truly—what an honor. Does the rest of the inner circle know?"
Tom shook his head, expression composed but firm. "Not yet. But soon... they will."
The atmosphere in Grimmauld Place shifted once more—not with tension, but with the weight of something new. Something powerful. And for the first time in a long while, it felt like everyone was exactly where they were meant to be.
The sharp crack of Apparition echoed faintly in the stillness of the street as Albus Dumbledore appeared just outside the concealed entrance to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. His robes fluttered around his ankles, a faint shimmer of enchantment settling in the air behind him. With a slow breath, the aged Headmaster adjusted his half-moon spectacles and looked up at the dark brick façade of the ancient Black residence.
He hadn't been here in some time.
Though the house now belonged rightfully to Sirius Black once more, Dumbledore could still feel the old shadows that clung to the stones—echoes of its long, tumultuous past. He reached into his pocket and produced the enchanted note that revealed the home's true location, murmuring the address aloud under his breath before stepping forward.
He had come with a purpose.
Molly Weasley's last letter was still folded neatly in his pocket, its words etched deeply into his mind:
"Albus, I trust your judgment, but I must say this arrangement unsettles me. Draco Malfoy? Living under the same roof as Harry? Are you certain this is wise?"
The concern had been laced with motherly worry, but also genuine disbelief. To her, and to many others in the Order, Draco Malfoy's presence at Grimmauld Place seemed inconceivable.
And perhaps, a few months ago, Albus would have agreed.
But the world had shifted. Lines between enemies and allies blurred in ways few could predict. And yet... this warranted a conversation.
With a knock of his cane against the heavy door, Dumbledore waited patiently. It didn't take long. Within moments, the door creaked open, and Sirius Black appeared—disheveled, shirtless beneath a black robe loosely tied at his waist, his long dark hair tousled from where it had been resting on Rodolphus's shoulder just moments ago.
The two men blinked at each other.
"Albus?" Sirius asked, startled but not unwelcoming.
"Good evening, Sirius," Dumbledore said kindly. "I hope I'm not intruding. I wished to speak with you... regarding Harry."
Sirius raised a brow. "Harry's fine. He's here. Safe."
"I don't doubt it," Dumbledore said calmly, his tone gentle but deliberate. "May I come in?"
A woman's voice drifted from the corridor behind Sirius, poised and authoritative. "Who is it, Lord Sirius?"
Dumbledore blinked. That voice was not one he recognized.
Sirius turned slightly over his shoulder. "It's Albus Dumbledore, Your Highness."
"I see. Let him in, Lord Sirius."
With a resigned sigh, Sirius stepped aside and gestured Dumbledore through the entrance. "Come in, Albus."
Dumbledore inclined his head and crossed the threshold. As the door clicked shut behind him, a curious quiet greeted him. No howling portrait. No dark mutterings from ancient furniture. Only soft footsteps and the scent of polished wood and magical incense. For the first time, Grimmauld Place felt like a sanctuary instead of a tomb.
Sirius led him toward the second drawing room—not the one with the enchanted Muggle television still paused on a dinosaur mid-roar. This room was darker, more elegant, yet entirely alive with quiet energy. Dumbledore stepped inside... and froze.
The sight before him was unlike anything he'd expected.
Harry sat comfortably on a settee, curled up beside Draco Malfoy. A tea tray rested before them, and between the two boys sat a little girl with long dark hair and vibrant green eyes, tapping intently at a glowing screen. Harry's tablet. The child's small fingers danced over the display as colorful bubbles burst with soft chimes—Witch Bubble 3, if he wasn't mistaken.
To the side, Sirius lounged with Rodolphus Lestrange, his posture relaxed, a rare peace softening his expression. And across from them, perched in quiet regality, sat Princess Jessica Lightning Kuran Mikcloud—the Second Crowned Princess of the Magical Realm.
And beside her... was Tom Riddle.
No mistaking it. Older, alive, and different than the monster Dumbledore had once faced, but unmistakably him.
Riddle's crimson eyes flicked up and met his. There was no hatred—only amusement curling at the corners of his mouth like smoke.
"My, my," Tom drawled smoothly. "Albus Dumbledore. Still meddling, I see. And what business do you have here today, concerning Lord Black's household?"
The air tensed. Jess didn't speak, but her fingers lightly brushed Tom's hand in a silent reminder: be civil.
Harry bit his bottom lip, struggling not to laugh at the Headmaster's stunned expression. Even Draco looked vaguely smug, sipping his tea like this was the most entertaining thing he'd seen all week.
Dumbledore composed himself quickly, but not before his eyes darted once more to the child sitting between Harry and Draco. "I... came to discuss Harry's summer plans," he said carefully, glancing between Jess and Sirius. "I had hoped he might consider joining the Weasleys for the remainder of the holiday. But—uhm—Princess... do you know who is sitting right next to you? And right next to Sirius Black?"
Jess took a slow sip of her soda and then set it down with a soft clink. "Why yes, I do, Albus Dumbledore," she said casually. "The Dark Lord, Tom Marvolo Riddle. Or now—Tom Marvolo Mikcloud Riddle." She smiled faintly. "I should know who my husband is."
Dumbledore went still.
For a brief moment, it looked as though the air had been knocked from his lungs. His gaze flicked toward Tom—who only smiled faintly, his red eyes calm, calculating, and deeply amused. Jess sat beside him like royalty, unshaken, poised, her expression unreadable save for the quiet satisfaction gleaming in her eyes.
"Husband?" Dumbledore echoed, the word barely above a whisper. "You... married him?"
Jess tilted her head slightly. "Not in the traditional sense. But yes. A magical union, witnessed and sealed by ancient forces. Bound by Hecate herself."
"That's impossible," Dumbledore said, though his voice lacked conviction. "There hasn't been a magical marriage marked by Hecate in—"
"Centuries," Tom finished, crossing one leg over the other, his tone smooth. "But here we are."
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed, confusion turning slowly into calculation. "Does the rest of the world know about this?"
"No," Jess replied calmly, her nails tapping softly against the glass she held. "And it will remain that way until we decide otherwise."
"You're risking everything," Dumbledore said tightly, his gaze locked onto her. "You're aligning yourself with someone who—"
"Enough."
The word cut cleanly through the room, calm yet thunderous in its authority.
All eyes turned as Frank Valkyrie stepped through the doorway, his presence radiating with the kind of ancient power that made even the air feel sharper. He bowed with the grace of a knight. "Princess, I have arrived as you requested. I'll head upstairs now to assess Lord Regulus, as instructed." Then he turned his steely gaze onto Dumbledore.
The old wizard visibly stiffened.
"You were given direct orders not to meddle further in Harry Potter's personal affairs," Frank said evenly. "You are nothing more than his Headmaster now. Nothing more."
The words landed like a blade drawn with care, each syllable pronounced with a quiet finality.
Jess crossed one leg over the other slowly, elegantly, her expression unreadable—but everyone in the room felt it. A pulse of raw, powerful magic—neither light nor dark—radiated outward in a subtle wave that hummed against the bones.
Grey magic.
Tom's eyes flicked toward her, widening just slightly before the smallest, proudest smile curved his lips. "Oh, my dear wife," he murmured, voice low with something near reverence, "you're a Grey."
Jess turned to glance at him for a brief moment, her smile soft but controlled—then shifted her narrowed gaze back to Dumbledore.
"And you," she said, her voice cool as steel, "dare to come into this home, under the protection of the Magical Royal Family, to discuss Harry Potter's summer arrangements? Really, Albus?" Her tone curled like smoke. "Who put you up to this? Was it Molly Weasley? Or your own paranoia?"
Dumbledore didn't answer. Couldn't.
Jess leaned forward slightly, the weight of her magic pressing in. "You will answer to me now. And to my husband. The Prince."
A beat passed.
She turned toward Tom without missing a step. "Harry lives here. He is safe here. I trust my husband doesn't intend to kill him anymore... do you, love?"
Tom lifted his teacup to his lips with eerie calm, his crimson gaze locked on Dumbledore. "Indeed not. I was out of my mind then—unbalanced, fragmented. A sliver of a soul twisted my reasoning." He set the cup down delicately.
Harry blinked in disbelief, his head spinning slightly. Even Draco was staring.
Jess leaned back again, utterly composed.
"Do you understand now, Albus?" Jess asked, her voice low and commanding. "Your time of puppeteering is over. The world is shifting. And we—" she glanced at Tom, her hand resting on his—"we are its future."
She tilted her head ever so slightly, her next words delivered with pointed curiosity.
"Oh, by the way... where is your nephew?"
Dumbledore blinked, visibly taken aback. "You mean... Aurelius?"
Before he could elaborate, a small voice cut in sharply.
"Where is my Credence?!"
Nagini had raised her head, eyes fierce, her small hands clenched tightly into the fabric of her dress. Her high-pitched voice carried a serpentine edge that drew everyone's attention.
Dumbledore's brows furrowed. "How do you know that name, child?"
Nagini jumped off the couch with surprising agility. "It's me! Nagini!" she hissed, her little fists balled at her sides, eyes blazing with intensity.
Dumbledore's expression faltered, his composure slipping as realization dawned. His lips parted—but no words came.
"Where. Is. My. Credence!" she demanded again with a hiss, her voice trembling with more than just rage—it was heartache, longing, desperation.
Jess inhaled softly, gently cutting in. "Nagini, dear... little girls do not hiss."
Nagini blinked up at her, looking sheepish. "Oh... I'm sorry..."
Tom, seated beside Jess, extended a hand with a warm smile. "Come here, dear."
Without hesitation, Nagini stepped forward and climbed onto Jess's lap, curling into her comfortably as Tom rested a hand lightly on her back.
Tom narrows his eyes to Dumbledore, his expression dark. "So. Answer Nagini's question, old goat. Where is he?"
There was a heavy pause. Then, Dumbledore finally spoke, his voice subdued.
"He's living with my brother... Aberforth. At the Hog's Head Inn, in Hogsmeade."
Jess hummed softly, her tone unreadable. "Thank you."
Then her smile vanished.
"Now leave. Seb," she called calmly, never looking away from Dumbledore, "show him out. Now."
Seb popped into view with a low bow, his voice calm but firm. "This way, Headmaster."
And with that, Albus Dumbledore—still reeling—turned and was led from the room under the watchful eyes of not just royalty, but something far older and more powerful than he had anticipated.