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The Fox Hole 124
🕑 Added 2025-12-05 07:41:17 +0000 UTCChapter 124:
– Haru –
“This is boring as shite!” a shivering Hufflepuff student muttered nearby, huddling deeper into his black and yellow scarf.
My ten golden fox tails twitching with irritation behind me. I completely agreed with the random student. We were standing on the banks of the Black Lake in the dead of the Scottish winter. The Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament had kicked off five minutes ago, and honestly? It was the most underwhelming spectator sport I had ever witnessed.
Who planned this thinking it was a good idea.
I had watched Harry Potter—my favorite wizard customer and occasional little brother figure—cast a waterbreathing spell on himself he’d no doubt learned from his mistress Serana, and then he executed a splashing dive into the freezing, murky water. He had disappeared beneath the surface with a kick of his legs, off to rescue his girlfriend Hermione Granger from the clutches of the Merpeople who were keeping her hostage for this task.
And that was it. That was the whole show.
“We’re just supposed to stare at a flat surface of water for an hour? Who organized this!?” Another student said from nearby.
Unlike the First Task, which had been pretty epic as we watched teenagers face down fully grown dragons—this world’s version of dragons at least—this second task was literally just watching ripples fade on a dark lake. There were no magical screens, no commentary from under the surface, nothing.
Just hundreds of shivering wizards and witches staring blankly at the water, waiting for someone to either drown or surface.
And I was here too, supporting Harry pretty much on my own. His mistress Serana and her husband Agnar were busy dealing with a vampire nest in Skyrim, and Kunou, Tanya and Myrcella had been skipping too many of their own classes lately to be allowed to come.
So, it was just me who showed up so far to support him, but I did invite someone else who was running a bit late.
I turned back to the portable grill I had set up on a flat rock near the judges' table. If people couldn't be entertained, I was at least going to make sure they were all fed with some hot food in this cold weather. The cold didn’t bother me as a demon lord, but the humans were trembling and some even turned blue.
I grabbed a handful of skewers—marinated beef, chunks of green pepper, and onions—and laid them across the grate. The hiss of searing meat was the most exciting sound in the area. The grill in front of me was hissing and popping delightfully. I had lined up rows of skewers—marinated cuts of premium dragon meat I’d sourced from my personal inventory, alternating with chunks of crisp negi and sweet peppers. The fat was rendering down beautifully, dripping onto the hot coals below and sending up plumes of mouth-watering, savory smoke that drifted toward the stands.
I brushed a glaze of soy, mirin, and garlic over the sizzling meat, watching the sauce caramelize instantly against the intense heat. The aroma was intoxicating, a heavy, rich scent of umami and charcoal that cut right through the smell of damp lake water and wet wool.
Behind me, the students of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang were huddled together in their thick winter cloaks, shivering and whispering. I could hear their stomachs rumbling, their attention torn between staring at the empty lake and the culinary masterpiece I was creating right in front of them.
Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted. The murmurs of the crowd changed pitch, shifting from bored complaints to sudden, sharp gasps.
I looked up from the grill and smirked.
Strutting toward me across the damp grass was Irene Belserion.
And damn, did she know how to make an entrance.
She ignored the biting cold completely, dressed in her signature outfit that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The crimson fabric of her top barely contained her massive, voluptuous breasts, the deep cleavage on full display for every hormonal teenager in the stands to ogle. Her long, shapely legs were exposed by the high slits of her skirt, her thigh-high boots clicking rhythmically against the wooden planks of the pier as she walked.
Every eye in the stands was glued to her. Male students were practically falling over themselves.
I’d sent her a message earlier that morning, inviting her to join me. After the fun we’d had at the Yule Ball—and the subsequent night we’d spent together—I figured she might enjoy seeing what the rest of this tournament had to offer.
Apparently, she wasn’t impressed. Irene stopped in front of my cooking station, planting a hand on her hip as she looked out over the lake. Her full lips pulled down into a deep frown of dissatisfaction. "Haru," she said. "Is this it? Is this the 'Second Task' you spoke of?"
I chuckled, flipping a skewer that was sizzling particularly loudly. "Yeah. Pretty underwhelming, isn't it…?"
Irene scoffed, crossing her arms beneath her chest, pushing her breasts up even further. "This is absurd. How do they expect to judge a competition they cannot see? It is lazy magic."
"Agreed," I said, handing her a freshly grilled skewer. "Care for a snack while we wait?"
She took it delicately, her lips curving into a smile as she took a bite. "Mmm. Delicious, as always." She swallowed, her eyes gleaming with a sudden idea. "But I refuse to be bored, Haru. If these wizards are too incompetent to provide a proper viewing experience, then I suppose I shall have to do it for them."
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What do you have in mind?"
Irene didn't answer immediately. Instead, she finished the skewer, licked her lips slowly, and then turned on her heel, marching straight toward the judges' table with that same imperious strut.
I watched with amusement as Irene raised her hand gracefully. With a sharp crack that echoed like a whip breaking the sound barrier, her massive wooden staff materialized from thin air, gripping firmly into her palm.
She strode toward the judges’ table with a confident, hip-swaying gait that commanded attention, her staff tapping rhythmically against the wooden planks of the pier with every step.
I leaned back against my grill, crossing my arms over my chest.
This was going to be good.
When she reached the long table where the school heads were seated, she stopped directly in front of Minerva McGonagall. The Hogwarts Headmistress looked up, her stern expression flickering with surprise as she took in Irene’s formidable presence.
"Professor McGonagall, is it?" Irene asked, her voice smooth and imperious, carrying easily over the murmuring crowd. "This event is currently… lacking. I trust you would not object if I were to cast a high-tier scrying spell over the lake? It seems rather foolish to have a spectator sport where the spectators cannot actually see the participants."
McGonagall blinked, adjusting her glasses as she looked from Irene to the dark, rippling water. "A scrying spell? Over the entire lake?" She hesitated, clearly calculating the magical logistical nightmare such a feat would usually entail. "Well, I suppose if it were possible to project—"
"Preposterous!"
The harsh, barking interruption came from Igor Karkaroff. The Durmstrang Headmaster sneered, leaning back in his chair as his dark eyes raked shamelessly up and down Irene’s curvaceous figure. His gaze lingered lecherously on her ample cleavage and the exposed skin of her thighs before meeting her eyes with a dismissive, arrogant smirk.
"Do you take us for fools, woman?" Karkaroff scoffed, waving a hand at her as if shooing away a fly. "To monitor the entire Black Lake and project the image clearly for hundreds to see? Such a feat would require a dozen master wizards chanting in unison for hours. You are merely a guest here—do not presume to lecture us on magic you clearly do not understand. Stick to looking pretty, it is obviously what you are best at."
I felt my tails bristle instinctively behind me, a low growl building in my throat. But I didn't move. I knew Irene. She didn’t need me to fight this battle.
Irene didn’t shout. She didn’t scream. She simply turned her head slowly, fixing Karkaroff with a gaze so cold it made the freezing lake look like a hot spring.
"What I am best at," Irene said, her voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm whisper that somehow drowned out the wind, "is rendering arrogant little men into ash." A wave of raw, suffocating magical power exploded outward from her body. The air around the judges' table grew instantly heavy, vibrating with a crimson aura that felt like the weight of a collapsing mountain.
Karkaroff’s face went from smug to sheet-white in a fraction of a second. His eyes bulged, and he gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles cracked, sweat instantly beading on his forehead despite the winter chill. He gulped audibly, shrinking back into his fur-lined coat as if trying to disappear, the overwhelming pressure of a powerful Dragon Witch crushing his will to speak.
McGonagall, to her credit, merely stiffened, her eyes widening with respect rather than fear. She cleared her throat loudly, breaking the tension before Karkaroff could pass out from sheer terror.
"If you are capable of such powerful magic, Madam Belserion," McGonagall said, her voice brisk and professional, "then by all means. Hogwarts would be grateful for the assistance."
Irene held Karkaroff’s gaze for one second longer—long enough to let him know he was an insect in the presence of a queen—before she turned back to McGonagall and offered a polite, elegant nod.
"There is nothing complex about it," Irene muttered dismissively.
She turned to face the lake, raising her staff high above her head.
"World Reconstruction: Eye of the Heavens."
A massive, complex magic circle, easily fifty feet in diameter, ignited in the sky above the lake. It glowed with a brilliant, neon-teal light, the intricate geometric patterns spinning and interlocking with mesmerizing speed.
The students gasped, pointing upward as the circle began to shimmer. The air inside the ring distorted, turning liquid-like, before clarifying into a crystal-clear, high-definition image. It was like a massive movie screen suspended in the air.
The image split into four distinct sections, each one tracking a different champion as they swam through the murky depths of the Black Lake. We could see Harry battling grindylows, Cedric Diggory casting a bubble-head charm, Fleur Delacour dodging piranas, and Viktor Krum—who had apparently transfigured his head into a shark—tearing through the water.
The boredom on the shore evaporated instantly. Cheers and shouts erupted from the stands as the students finally saw the action they had been promised!
Irene lowered her staff, looking utterly bored by her own archmage display of magic, and sauntered back over to my grill. She flipped her long, braided hair over her shoulder and leaned against the wooden post next to me, crossing her arms and pushing her breasts up in a way that definitely drew my attention.
I leaned in close, bringing my lips right next to her ear so only she could hear me over the roaring crowd.
"You were amazing just then, especially making that gross man piss himself," I whispered, nipping at her earlobe with my teeth. "You saved us all from an hour of staring at dirty water..."
Irene’s composure cracked just a little. A lovely flush of pink spread across her cheeks, and she offered me a pleased, slightly shy smile that contrasted beautifully with her earlier arrogance. "O—Of course I was amazing," she murmured back, bumping her hip affectionately against mine. "I am the mighty Queen Belserion, the Dragon Witch of Despair. Did you expect anything less, my beloved?"
"Never," I chuckled.
My tails flicked playfully behind me, brushing against her legs as I turned my attention back to the grill. The skewers were perfectly charred now, the dragon meat glistening with rendered fat and savory glaze. I plucked them from the heat, the aroma of garlic and soy sauce wafting heavily through the cold air.
Around us, the spectators were in sensory overload. Heads were whipping back and forth on swivels—trying to watch the magical screens in the sky, trying to get a look at Irene’s incredible curves, and staring hungrily at the pile of sizzling meat I was stacking onto platters.
"Alright!" I called out, my voice cutting through the noise. "Show's on, food's ready! Get it while it's hot!"
As the students swarmed toward the food, I handed the first, perfect skewer to Irene. She took it with a wink, her lips wrapping around the meat in a way that made my breath hitch.
…To absolutely no one's surprise, Harry was the first to break the surface. His head breached the surface with a loud, gasping splash that echoed across the silent lake. His arm was wrapped tight around Hermione’s waist, dragging her into the waking world alongside him.
"And Potter is the first to return with his rescued hostage!" Ludo Bagman’s magically amplified voice boomed across the stands, though he sounded more relieved than excited.
Cheers erupted from the Gryffindor section!
I grinned, flipping another skewer on the grill. The kid had done good. He looked exhausted, hair plastered to his forehead, shivering violently as he paddled toward the dock, but he was alive, and he’d got his girl.
Viktor Krum surfaced moments later. The partial shark-transfiguration he’d used had faded, leaving him looking human again. He was towing a young French girl I didn't recognize, presumably a student from Beauxbatons or something. Cedric Diggory popped up right after him, gasping for air as he hauled his own asian girlfriend toward the wooden planks of the pier.
The crowd was going wild now, the tension of the last hour finally breaking into celebration. Towels and blankets were being rushed to the edge of the water.
But not everyone had made it back just yet.
A few yards away from the main group, the water churned violently. Fleur Delacour broke the surface, but she wasn’t holding a hostage. She was alone.
She was thrashing, her movements frantic and uncoordinated. Even from where I stood, I could see the dark ribbons of blood swirling in the water around her. Her long, slender legs were shredded, marred by deep, jagged bite marks and scratches where the piranas and grindylows had swarmed her.
She dragged herself onto the dock, collapsing onto the wet wood, her large chest heaving as she coughed up lake water. "Gabrielle!" she screamed, her voice cracking with pure terror. "Gabrielle! She is still down zere!" The cannon blasted, signaling the official end of the task. The sound made Fleur flinch, and she scrambled to her knees, grabbing the hem of McGonagall’s robes as the Headmistress hurried over. "My sister!" Fleur sobbed, her composure completely shattered. "Ze Grindylows... zey attacked me! I could not reach ‘er! You ‘ave to go back! You ‘ave to get ‘er!"
"Calm yourself, Miss Delacour, please," McGonagall said, her voice firm but gentle as she placed a hand on the girl's trembling shoulder. "The task is over. Your sister is perfectly safe."
"She is alone in ze dark!" Fleur cried, tears streaming down her pale face.
"She is not in any danger," McGonagall assured her, raising her voice slightly so the surrounding students could hear and stop their murmuring. "We have strict contingencies in place for this exact scenario. The Merpeople are under contract with Hogwarts for this task. No harm will come to the hostages." McGonagall stepped to the edge of the dock, pulling her wand from her robes with a practiced flick. "We shall simply summon her up to us right now. Stand back."
The crowd went silent, watching with baited breath. Even I paused, my tongs hovering over the grill, waiting to see the little girl pop out of the water.
McGonagall slashed her wand through the air, murmuring an incantation that sent a ripple of silver magic shooting into the depths.
We waited.
And waited.
Five seconds passed. Then ten.
The water remained disturbingly still.
Irene, leaning against the post beside me, let out a soft, unimpressed scoff. "Well," she murmured, arching a perfect eyebrow. "That’s probably not a good sign..."
We both turned our eyes upward, looking at the massive magical projection Irene had cast in the sky. The camera view shifted, diving deep below the surface to find the last remaining hostage.
What I saw made my blood turn cold.
Gabrielle Delacour—a tiny girl who couldn't have been more than eight or nine years old—was still tied up underwater and surrounded.
The Merpeople down there weren't releasing her. In fact, they were swarming around the stone statue she was tied to. They weren't untying the ropes—they were adding more. Thick coils of kelp and rough cord were being wound around her small wrists and ankles, binding her tighter to the rock.
And the way they were looking at her...
It wasn't the look of guardians protecting a charge. It was the look of predators securing a meal. Their spears were raised, creating a perimeter, and one of the larger Merpeople was running a long, clawed hand over the girl's face, baring needle-like teeth in a hungry grin.
On the dock, McGonagall cast the spell again, her movements sharper, more frantic. "Accio Hostage!" she shouted, abandoning subtlety.
Nothing happened.
Fleur let out a wail of despair that tore at the air. "Zey are keeping ‘er! Look! Look at ze screen!" She pointed a shaking finger at the sky, where the image of the Merpeople poking and prodding at her little sister was clear for everyone to see. "Zey are going to eat ‘er!"
The students in the stands began to panic, shouts of horror rising from the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw sections. Karkaroff looked pale. My tails bristled violently behind me, puffing out until they looked like a storm of gold.
I looked at the girl on the screen. Small. Blonde. Helpless. She looked exactly like Kunou.
A surge of protective rage slammed into me so hard I nearly snapped the metal tongs in my hand.
Irene hissed. She pushed herself off the post. Her staff materialized in her hand again. "If these wizards cannot control their own beasts, then I shall boil the lake until there is nothing left but steam and dead fish." She raised her staff, the tip glowing with enough destructive power to turn the entire Black Lake into a hot spring.
"No," I said.
Irene paused, glancing at me.
I stepped out from behind the grill, my movements deliberate and calm, though the magicules rolling off me were anything but. My ten tails fanned out, brushing gently against Irene’s legs as I walked past her.
"Save your mana, Irene," I said, my voice low but vibrating with a demonic edge that made the nearby students flinch away. I walked to the edge of the pier, ignoring the shouts of the professors and the crying of the French champion. I stared down into the murky water, my golden eyes glowing. "I'll handle this."
…
I stepped off the edge of the dock, not with a splash, but with a heavy, deliberate descent.
I sank straight into the freezing, murky depths of the Black Lake, yet not a single drop of water touched my skin. My magicules flared around me, forming an imperceptible, vibrating barrier that forced the liquid away. The water didn't just displace—it recoiled.
It hissed and retreated, creating a dry, cylindrical tunnel of air all the way down as I descended.
This lake was old—ancient, even. It had soaked in the ambient magic of Hogwarts for a thousand years. And right now, that consciousness was absolutely terrified of me.
I could feel the lake’s spirit trembling against my aura. It sensed the density of my soul, the sheer weight of a Demon Lord entering its domain. The grindylows scuttled into the mud, the giant squid retreated into the deepest trench it could find, and the water itself seemed to bow, parting to create a dry path for my feet as I touched down on the silty bottom.
I walked through the gloom, the darkness fading as my golden eyes adjusted instantly, cutting through the murk like high-beams.
Ahead of me lay the Merpeople village—crude stone dwellings looming out of the dark water, surrounded by swaying forests of black kelp. And in the center square, tied to a large statue of a mer-king, was Gabrielle Delacour.
She was thrashing against her bonds, a stream of silver bubbles escaping her lips as she screamed silently.
Surrounding her were dozens of Merpeople. They were hideous things—gray skin, tangled green hair, and yellow eyes that gleamed with malice. Their spears were lowered, not in defense, but in preparation for a slaughter.
"Stop," I commanded. My voice didn't bubble or distort. It traveled through the water with the force of a sonar blast, slamming into the Merpeople and making them flinch.
The largest of them, a chieftain with a necklace of pebbles and shark teeth, turned to face me. He hissed, baring rows of jagged, needle-like teeth. "Leave, outsider!" he screeched, his voice grating and harsh in the water. "This does not concern you, foreigner Demon!"
"You’re breaking the contract," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "That girl is a hostage for a school task. You are supposed to protect her, not eat her."
The chieftain laughed, a wet, gurgling sound. He swam closer, leveling his trident at my chest. He was obviously emboldened by his numbers seeing me all alone. "That contract is void! She is Veela-spawn! Our people and the bird-women are ancient enemies. In the old days, we feasted on their flesh whenever they dared dip a toe in our waters. Their meat is sweet... magical." He licked his gray lips, his yellow eyes darting back to the terrified little girl. "This one was foolish enough to enter our territory. She is prey. And you... you are trespassing."
I stared at him. I liked to consider myself a pretty chill guy. I cooked food, I fed people, I enjoyed life. But this bottom-feeding fish-man really thought he could look me in the eye, tell me to piss off, and threaten to eat a little girl who looked just like my sister?
"Is that right?" I asked softly.
Ultimate Skill: [Lord of the Kitchen]
It activated instinctively.
A grid of blue light flashed across my vision, expanding outward from my body in a perfect sphere, encompassing a radius of exactly half a kilometer. The water, the stone dwellings, the weeds, the Merpeople—everything within that dome suddenly felt... like they were part of my kitchen. They were under my absolute control.
In the eyes of my skill, they were ingredients.
The water pressure vanished. The currents stopped. Every single Merperson in the village froze instantly, their bodies locking up as if they had been encased in solid amber. Their eyes darted around in wild panic, but their muscles refused to obey. Their gills flared desperately, but they couldn't even twitch a finger.
My new Ultimate Skill was terrifyingly simple. Anything within my designated "kitchen" domain was under my absolute authority. Unless they possessed a very strong will or the power comparable to a Demon Lord—which these overgrown fish certainly did not—they were mine to fillet, boil, or discard as I saw fit.
The chieftain was frozen mid-laugh, his mouth gaping open, exposing his rows of needle-teeth. I stopped directly in front of him. His eyes were bulging, filled with a primal, suffocating terror as he realized he had lost control of his own body.
"You talked about eating," I said coldly, raising my hand. "But you forgot the most important rule of the food chain. The chef is the one who decides what is and is not food!"
I flicked my finger.
Snap.
The chieftain's trident shattered into dust. Then, an invisible force—sharp as a high-carbon steel santoku knife—slammed into him. He didn't die, but deep, precise cuts appeared across his scales, flaying the tough outer layer of his skin without damaging the muscle beneath. It was the technique of a master chef preparing a fish for the pan, executed instantly with a thought.
He tried to scream, but no sound came out. My domain wouldn't allow it.
"Disgusting," I muttered, looking at the gray, slimy flesh beneath his scales. "Rotten to the core. Not even worth cooking."
I turned my gaze to the ropes binding Gabrielle. With a mere thought, the thick kelp and cords sliced cleanly apart, falling away from her small wrists and ankles. She drifted free, weightless in the water.
I reached out and pulled her gently into my air bubble. The moment she crossed the threshold of my magicules, the water evaporated off her skin, leaving her dry. She started sobbing against my shirt and crying in french about how scared she was.
Then I looked back at the Merpeople. Hundreds of them, frozen, terrified, waiting for my judgment.
"You like the dark?" I asked them. "You like dragging things down to the bottom?"
I clenched my fist.
The water around the village grew heavy. My [Lord of the Kitchen] skill shifted the pressure within my domain, increasing it tenfold, hundredfold. The stone huts crumbled into dust. The Merpeople were slammed into the lakebed, pinned by the crushing weight of their own environment.
They would live, but every bone in their bodies would ache for a long, long time. They would remember this fear.
I kicked off the lakebed, shooting upward toward the surface with Gabrielle safe in my arms.
The water parted violently around us, unable to touch us within the barrier of my aura.
We breached the surface not with a splash, but with an explosion of displaced water that sent a geyser spraying thirty feet into the frigid Scottish air. I soared upward, hovering for a split second at the apex of the jump, before descending smoothly. My boots touched down on the weathered wood of the docks with a heavy, solid thud that vibrated through the planks.
I stood there, ten golden tails fanning out grandly behind me to shake off the residual moisture in the air, holding the shivering little girl securely in my arms.
"There," I said softly, setting Gabrielle down gently on the dry wood. "Safe and sound."
And then I noticed there was dead silence all around.
I blinked, looking around at the stands. The students from Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang were all staring at me. But they weren't cheering. Their faces were pale, eyes wide with genuine fear. Even the professors looked rattled. Karkaroff looked like he wanted to bolt, and Madame Maxime had a hand pressed to her mouth.
"Tough crowd," I muttered. Then I glanced up. "Ah."
Irene hadn’t cut the feed…
The massive magical screen floating in the sky was still broadcasting a crystal-clear, high-definition view of the lakebed. And it wasn't a pretty sight.
The camera was panning over the devastation I’d left behind. The stone dwellings of the Merpeople were reduced to rubble, crushed into fine gravel by the immense pressure I’d exerted. The Merpeople themselves—hundreds of them—were pinned flat against the muddy bottom, unable to move a muscle, their eyes rolling in terror as they gasped through their gills. The chieftain I’d flayed with my invisible knife was visible in excruciating detail, his scales peeled back in precise, culinary strips to reveal the raw flesh beneath.
It looked less like a rescue mission and more like the aftermath of a natural disaster mixed with a massacre.
I looked over at Irene. She was leaning against the wooden post near my grill, a skewer of dragon meat in one hand and a supremely satisfied smirk on her lips. She caught my eye and winked, not the least bit apologetic about broadcasting my brutality to a bunch of school children.
"A kingly display, my love," she mouthed silently, her eyes gleaming with pride.
I let out a long, weary sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. Whoops, I probably just scared a bunch of kids for life…
Before I could dwell on the traumatized student body, a familiar messy-haired wizard broke the line of stunned spectators. Harry Potter scrambled up the dock, water still dripping from his robes, his glasses askew but his green eyes shining with absolute, unadulterated awe.
"Haru! That was... that was bloody wicked!" Harry shouted, breathless as he skidded to a halt in front of me. He gestured wildly toward the screen in the sky. "Did you see the chieftain's face? And the way you just crushed all of them with the water pressure? I didn't even know magic could do that!"
I chuckled, reaching out to ruffle his wet hair. "Glad you enjoyed the show, Harry. You did good out there yourself."
"I want to be able to do that," Harry rambled. "The freezing them in place move you did? Someday, I'm going to learn spells like that! I wonder if Serana will teach me if I ask her!"
She probably would…
"Harry James Potter!" Hermione Granger marched up behind him, grabbing him by the back of his wet robes and nearly yanking him off his feet. She looked frantic, her bushy hair wilder than usual from the lake water, and her eyes darting nervously between me and the horrified judges.
"Stop cheering!" she hissed, though her voice was shrill enough to carry. She turned to me, wringing her hands. "Haru! Do you have any idea what you've just done? You didn't just rescue the hostage—you dismantled an entire sovereign settlement! The Merpeople are a recognized magical species with treaty rights protected by the Ministry of Magic!"
I shrugged, unbothered. "They tried to eat a kid. Treaty rights don't cover eating little girls."
"That's not the point!" Hermione squeaked, looking like she was about to hyperventilate. "This is an international incident! The International Confederation of Wizards is going to have a fit! You assaulted a protected species in their own territory! Atlantis might hear about this! If the deep-sea kingdoms declare war on the surface because of this..."
I paused, my fox ears perking up. "Wait. Atlantis?"
Hermione blinked, thrown off by my sudden interest. "Yes! The ancient city! It's rumored to be the capital of the deep-sea merfolk civilization, though its location is unplottable. If they find out you crushed a surface village..."
A slow grin spread across my face. My tails gave a happy little wag behind me. "Atlantis is real in this world?" I mused aloud, rubbing my chin. "That means deep-sea ingredients. Ancient, magically infused seafood that hasn't been touched by surface pollution." My grin widened, showing a hint of fang. "I wonder how good their sushi is? Do you think Atlantean tuna melts in your mouth? Or maybe they have giant crabs..."
Hermione stared at me, her mouth falling open. "You... you're thinking about eating them? We're talking about a potential magical war!"
"Right on," I said, ignoring her panic. "If they declare war, they're just delivering dinner to my doorstep…"
Hermione let out a strangled noise of frustration. She grabbed Harry’s arm, who was trying hard not to laugh, and started dragging him away toward the medical tent. "Come on, Harry! Before he decides to grill the Giant Squid next! Mistress Serana is supposed to be teaching you common sense too, not just magic!"
"But I want to ask him how he did the invisible knife thing!" Harry protested as he was hauled away.
I chuckled, watching them go. Then I felt a small tug on the hem of my shirt.
I looked down. Gabrielle Delacour was still standing there, wrapped in the large towel someone had thrown over her shoulders although she didn’t really need it since she was dry. She was looking up at me with wide, silvery-blue eyes that held zero fear.
Slowly, shyly, she released her grip on my shirt, though she didn't step back. "M-merci," she whispered, her voice tiny but clear. "Monsieur... Fox?"
I smiled gently, crouching down so I was at eye level with her. "You can call me Haru."
Her cheeks turned a bright, rosy pink. She fidgeted with the edge of her towel, then suddenly leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek—quick and light as a butterfly.
"You are... very handsome, Monsieur Haru," she said in a rush of French-accented English. "Like... a prince from the stories. My handsome fox man."
My heart melted a little. Okay, she was adorable. She reminded me so much of Kunou, who is entirely too cute for her own good. "You're welcome, little one," I said, patting her head. "Just stay out of the water for a while, okay?"
"Gabrielle!" A desperate cry tore through the air. I looked up to see Fleur Delacour sprinting down the dock. She was limping, her legs bandaged where the grindylows had bitten her, but she moved with a frantic speed that ignored the pain. She slammed into us, dropping to her knees and wrapping her arms around Gabrielle so tightly I thought she might accidentally hurt the girl. "Gabrielle! Oh, mon dieu, Gabrielle!" Fleur sobbed, burying her face in her sister's wet hair. She rocked her back and forth, speaking in rapid-fire French, checking her sister's face, her arms, her hands, making sure she was really there. "I thought I lost you! I thought zey took you!"
Gabrielle hugged her sister back, patting Fleur’s head consolingly. "I am okay, Fleur. Monsieur Haru saved me. He made the bad fish-men stop."
Fleur froze. She slowly lifted her head, her tear-filled blue eyes meeting mine.
Fleur took a step toward me. The raw Veela allure that usually radiated from her—the magic that made boys stumble and drool—was flaring wild and uncontrolled in her emotional state. I could feel it washing over me, a wave of magical attraction designed to ensnare.
But I just blinked. It didn't affect me. My soul was too dense, my heart already claimed by too many powerful women. To me, it just felt like a warm breeze.
Fleur seemed to realize this. She stared at me, seeing that her magic found no purchase, and her expression shifted from gratitude to something deeper.
"You saved 'er," she whispered. "When I was too weak... you saved 'er." Fleur held her sister tight, but her gaze lingered on me, intense and heated in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. "I will not forget zis, ‘aru," she whispered fiercely. "The Delacours always pay zere debts."
I smiled, gently extracting my hand. "Just keep her safe, Fleur. And maybe grab some of that dragon meat before the students eat it all. You look like you need the energy."
Fleur let out a wet, startled laugh, wiping her eyes. She looked back at me one last time, a lingering, intense gaze, before she turned and led her sister toward the medical tents, wrapping her own cloak around the smaller girl.
I watched them go, feeling my tails sway contentedly behind me.
"Well," Irene’s voice purred from my left. I turned to see her standing there, licking a bit of sauce from her thumb. She stepped into my personal space, her crimson eyes glowing with hunger that had nothing to do with food. "That was... undeniably heroic."
She ran a hand down my chest. "And watching you dominate those creatures?" She bit her lip. "It was incredibly arousing to see." Dragons were attracted to power after all.
I smirked, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Is that so?"
"Mmhmm," she hummed. "Perhaps we should head back to the restaurant? I believe I require... a private demonstration of that dominance."
"Your wish," I whispered, "is my command. It’s probably best if we leave for now anyway before everyone starts bothering us with questions once the fear wears off…"
….
Irene and I returned to The Fox Hole, the familiar jingling chime of the entrance bell welcoming us back.
Behind the bar counter stood a tall, strikingly handsome figure—me, in fact—my shadow clone sporting a crisp black chef’s apron embroidered with golden fox tails.
The clone glanced up from wiping down the countertop and grinned at me.
“Well, who’s this handsome bastard?” I joked, nodding approvingly at my own duplicate.
Irene stepped beside me, pressing her ample breasts against my shoulder as she laughed softly. “Perhaps we should invite your doppelgänger to join our private festivities, Haru? Twice the pleasure might be… intriguing.” Her voice was silky and suggestive, her fingertips trailing teasingly along my chest.
I chuckled, shaking my head as I moved towards the counter. “Afraid not. I’m not particularly into sharing you, even with myself.”
My clone mirrored my amused expression, offering a lazy, two-finger salute before dispersing into a puff of soft white smoke.
Immediately, a gentle rush of memories filled my mind.
Over the past few days, I had finally perfected the Shadow Clone technique that Naruko had been teaching me.
Unlike the Kitsune cloning method, which required severing one of my tails temporarily, draining me of a significant chunk of power, shadow clones required merely a small fraction of my magicules—approximately five percent, easily regenerable in mere minutes.
I still wasn’t a big fan of using clones—maybe because I was terrified they’d gain sentience and rebel, but at least shadow clones popped in one hit so that was less of a worry…
I sifted quickly through the clone’s memories, noting casually that only a few regulars had come by in the past hour—Reigan had stopped in for his usual, and Councilor Tevos had stopped by for lunch as well.
I expected Cortana and Master Chief to drop by as well today, but I figure they were busy getting used to their new lives here in Tokyo. Maybe enjoying peace for a bit. Although knowing Chief was a soldier, I didn’t expect him to sit around for long and figured he might end up joining Jane and Alice on their space adventures.
Irene leaned back against the counter, her eyes heavy-lidded, clearly fixated on me. Her cheeks were lightly flushed, her shapely thighs pressing together impatiently. Clearly, my powerful dragon queen was pent-up.
“You seem a little distracted, Irene,” I teased lightly, stepping closer. I lifted her chin gently with my thumb, running it slowly along her plush lower lip. “What’s on your mind, my queen?”
She parted those tempting lips, darting her tongue out to tease the tip of my thumb before drawing it gently into her mouth, sucking sensually while maintaining intense eye contact. Her lips felt velvet-soft, her tongue swirling seductively around my finger. She released me with a wet, lewd pop, smirking mischievously.
“What’s on my mind, dear Haru,” Irene breathed huskily, pressing her voluptuous body flush against mine, her breasts flattening enticingly against my chest, “is having you bend me over your counter and ravish me until I am a trembling, incoherent mess.” She whispered each heated word directly into my ear, sending shivers racing deliciously down my spine. “Can you fulfill that need for me, lover?”
My ten golden tails lashed excitedly behind me, brushing softly against Irene’s thighs. “Oh, I believe I can manage that quite easily,” I murmured into her ear, nipping gently at her delicate earlobe. I wrapped my hands around her slender waist, preparing to whisk her back toward my private quarters.
Just as I began steering us toward the doorway leading to my bedroom, the restaurant door was suddenly slammed open with frantic urgency.
Irene and I both turned sharply!
Standing in the open doorway, breathless and visibly shaken, stood a familiar older mage from Fairy Tail.
Macao—I think his name was?
My brows furrowed slightly in confusion. Fairy Tail members hadn’t set foot here in quite some time—ever since Master Makarov’s outright ban against me.
“Macao, was it?” I asked, my voice carefully neutral but subtly sharp. “You’re looking pretty distressed. What’s got you bursting into enemy territory?”
“This better be important!” Irene practically growled at him. Dragon’s didn’t like getting cock-blocked.
Macao swallowed hard, shifting nervously between Irene’s intimidating gaze and my own suspicious stare. “Fairy Tail needs Irene’s help urgently. It’s… It’s about Tenrou Island.”
I glanced at Irene, noticing her instant shift of intense focus. “Tenrou Island?” She said and she looked worried. “That is where my daughter Erza was going. The guild’s S-Class trials are underway there. What exactly happened?”
Macao’s face twisted with anguish, clearly on the verge of panic. “We lost all contact with the entire guild! Lacrima communication, sensory links—all severed! The entire island is just… gone, vanished off our magical radar entirely!” His shoulders sagged helplessly, eyes desperate. “We have no idea what’s happening—Makarov, Laxus, Erza, Natsu… everyone was on that island. Irene, please. Fairy Tail begs you for aid!”
Irene stood utterly still. I reached out, gently placing my hand on her shoulder, grounding her slightly. She glanced at me, the raw worry in her gaze made my stomach twist.
And if Erza was in danger of course I would help! It better not be that arrogant black and blue dragon again, or I would show it just how lucky it was to escape me last time!
…I stepped out of the Fox Hole and into the late afternoon sun of Magnolia, the transition between worlds washing over me.
Macao stumbled out ahead of us, looking like a man who hadn’t slept in a week. He was sweating, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he turned to ensure we were following.
"This way," he wheezed, gesturing frantically down the cobblestone street. "The guild hall... we have to get to the guild hall!"
Irene glided out beside me. There was a tension in her jaw, a tightness around her eyes that told me she was genuinely worried about her daughter.
I took a deep breath, letting my senses expand outward. "Whoa," I muttered, stopping in my tracks. "Irene... what the hell happened to this place?"
It felt really weird! The air was so much different than the last time I was here!
Magnolia didn't just feel like a magical town. It felt like a battlefield that had been nuked with mana repeatedly!
"That," she said coolly, "is the lingering stench of Fairy Tail’s incessant penchant for attracting catastrophe. My daughter’s guild does not know how to exist quietly."
To the naked eye, the town looked charming—European-style architecture, a canal running through the center, bright colors. But to my Demon Lord senses, the scars were everywhere.
"This feels recent," I noted, sensing a particularly strange, void-like emptiness lingering in the upper atmosphere, clashing with a jagged, aggressive magical scar etched into the very earth beneath the town. "What exactly went down here?"
Irene gestured vaguely with a wave of her hand. "The void you sense? That is the residue from when the entire town—guild included—was transmuted into a giant lacrima crystal and sucked into an alternate world called Edolas..."
I blinked, nearly tripping over my own feet. "I'm sorry, they were what?"
"Sucked into another dimension," Irene repeated with a flat look. "A world without magic, populated by people desperate to strip-mine wizards for power. They intended to turn the guild into a magical battery to power their kingdom. Erza and her friends had to go over there, fight a tyrannical king piloting a mechanical dragon, and reverse the spell to bring everyone back."
"A mechanical dragon?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Sounds like something straight out of a mecha anime."
"It was absurd," she agreed dryly. "But that is not all. The sharper, more aggressive magic you feel etched into the land? That is from the Phantom Lord war." She pointed toward the bay, where the guild hall sat in the distance. "A rival guild literally mechanized their own guild hall into a walking fortress," she explained. "They marched it across the water and fired a magical convergence cannon—the Jupiter Cannon—directly at the guild. They intended to wipe Fairy Tail off the map entirely."
My eyes widened. "A magical nuke?"
"Essentially," Irene said. Her voice softened, just a fraction, and a flicker of complicated pride passed through her eyes. "My daughter... Erza... she stood on the front lines. She used her Requip magic to summon her Adamantine Armor and blocked the blast head-on. She saved the guild, though it nearly killed her in the process..." she said, sounding a bit more agitated.
Yeah, I had a feeling Phantom Lord doesn’t exist anymore if they hurt Erza…
I stared at her, processing the sheer scale of the violence this town had seen. "And you're telling me all of this happened... recently?"
Irene stopped walking for a moment and turned to me. The wind caught her hair, blowing it across her face. She brushed it aside, her expression serious.
"...All of that happened within the span of a few weeks,” she told me.
Damn, Fairy Tail mages were living a life almost as exciting as mine if all that kept happening back to back!
Irene just chuckled at my expression. “I know exactly what you are thinking, and the reason I didn’t bring any of this up with you—or your harem’s group chat—” she paused teasingly for a moment. “—Is because it all ended up working itself out and remarkably not a single Fairy Tail mage has been critically injured or died so far…”
“And I’d like to keep it that way so please follow me!” Macao said and we followed him to the Fairy Tail guild hall, which as I suspected was now a completely different building.
I guessed the last one really did get destroyed. Multiple times apparently.
We pushed through the heavy double doors of the Fairy Tail guild hall.
The lively atmosphere I remembered from my brief previous knowledge of this place was conspicuously absent. There was no flying furniture, no fire-breathing idiots, no strippers made of ice, and definitely no blue flying cats harassing people for fish.
I swept my gaze across the room, my golden slitted eyes narrowing slightly as I took in the scene. It was exactly as Macao had implied—the heavy hitters were gone. No Natsu Dragneel, no Gray Fullbuster, no Laxus, and definitely no Gildarts. The guild hall felt hollowed out, populated only by what I could charitably call the "support team."
"Macao..." Wakaba was the first to find his voice, though it came out as a strangled whisper. The pipe fell from his mouth, clattering onto the table. "What the hell have you done!?"
"I did what I had to do," Macao said, his voice shaking but loud enough to carry. "We lost contact with the island. With everyone. The Master, Erza, Natsu... they're all gone. The link is dead."
"So you brought her?" A mage with purple hair—Laki, I think—stood up, pointing a trembling finger at Irene. "She abandoned Erza! And him?" She shifted her finger toward me. "Master Makarov gave us a direct order! No contact with the Fox Hole! He said that man was dangerous!"
I snorted, the sound echoing loudly in the silent hall.
"Dangerous?" I repeated, letting a smirk curl my lips. I took a slow step forward, letting a fraction—just a tiny, microscopic fraction—of my Demon Lord aura leak out. The air in the room instantly grew heavy, the pressure dropping as if a thunderstorm had materialized indoors. "Your Master has good instincts. But right now, 'dangerous' is exactly what you need."
The guild members flinched collectively.
Irene didn't even bother addressing them. She viewed them as beneath her notice. Her eyes swept over the trembling mages, dismissing them one by one as irrelevant. "Where is the communication lacrima?" She didn't shout, but her tone commanded absolute obedience.
"I-It's over there," Macao said, gesturing hurriedly toward the bar counter where a large crystal ball sat dormant on a velvet cushion.
Irene swept past the frozen guild members, her hips swaying with a confident, predatory rhythm that drew every eye in the room despite their fear. I followed close behind her, my tails brushing against the tables as we passed, knocking over a few empty tankards.
Irene stopped in front of the lacrima. She hovered her hand over the surface. "Tracing magic signature... Tenrou Island coordinates..." she muttered, her eyes narrowing in concentration.
The guild watched with bated breath. For a moment, the only sound was the low hum of Irene's magic.
Then, she hissed. A sharp, angry sound.
"Nothing," she spat, pulling her hand back as if the crystal had burned her. She turned to me, her expression tight with a worry she refused to show to anyone else. "It is as Macao said. The magical signature of the entire island has been... severed. It is not just blocked. It is gone. As if the land itself was erased from the map."
"Could they be dead?" Romeo asked, his voice cracking. The kid looked like he was about to cry.
"I—I do not know…" Irene said, her hand clenched tight around her staff. "My daughter is not weak though! I do not feel that she is dead…”
"So what do we do?" Wakaba asked, looking between us frantically. The others all spoke up wanting to know as well.
She turned her back on them. Her gaze shifted, scanning the guild hall, not looking at the people, but looking through the structure itself. Her eyes glowed with a faint, enchanting light as she peered into the magical architecture of the building. "There is something here," she whispered, more to herself than to me. Her gaze dropped to the floorboards beneath our feet. "A dense concentration of magical energy. It is resonating... calling out."
She started walking again, this time heading toward the back of the guild hall, toward a heavy wooden door that was marked with a 'KEEP OUT' sign.
"Wait!" Macao scrambled after her. "Where are you going!?"
"The basement," Irene stated simply, not breaking her stride.
"What? No!" Wakaba shouted, jumping out of his seat. "The basement is forbidden! Master Makarov said no one—absolutely no one—is allowed down there! It's a guild secret!"
"A secret?" I mused, falling into step beside Irene. My tails swished with interest. "Well, now I'm definitely curious. What are you hiding down there?"
"It is sacred ground!" Romeo cried out, spreading his arms to block the doorway. The poor kid was shaking like a leaf, standing in the path of the Dragon Queen. "Please! You can't go down there! All of us will get in big trouble!"
Irene stopped inches from the boy. She looked down at him, her expression unreadable. She towered over him, her presence overwhelming. "Move, child," she said softly. It wasn't a threat. It was a statement of fact. Like telling the tide to recede.
"I... I can't..." Romeo whimpered, tears welling in his eyes.
I sighed and stepped forward, gently placing a hand on the kid's shoulder. "Look, Romeo. Your dad came to get us because he wants to save everyone, right? We're here to help. But to do that, we need to know what we're dealing with. If there's something down there that can help us find them, we need to see it." I leaned in closer, my golden eyes locking onto his. "Do you want to follow the rules, or do you want to save Natsu?"
Romeo flinched at the name. He bit his lip, looked at his dad, then looked back at me. Slowly, reluctantly, he lowered his arms and stepped aside.
"Good kid," I said, patting his head.
Irene didn't wait. She pushed the door open. A gust of cool, damp air rushed up from the darkness below.
"Shall we?" I offered her a hand. She took it, her skin cool and soft against mine, and we descended into the darkness, leaving the panicked shouts of the guild members behind us.
The staircase was long, winding down into the bedrock beneath the town. Magical torches flared to life as we passed, casting flickering shadows against the stone walls.
"You feel it, don't you?" Irene asked quietly as we walked. Her grip on my hand tightened slightly.
"Yeah," I nodded. "It feels... powerful." There was a huge amount of magic resting down here, sealed away. High ultimate, maybe even Satan class…
We reached the bottom and stepped into a vast, circular chamber. Hovering in the center of the room, encased in a massive pillar of crystal, was a girl. She looked young, with long, pale blonde hair that floated weightlessly in the suspension. Her eyes were closed, her expression peaceful, like she was simply sleeping. Her body was encased in a white dress with frills, her small hands clasped over her chest.
She was the source of the magical power.
"Lumen Histoire," Irene breathed, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and recognition. She walked toward the crystal. "So the rumors were true. Fairy Tail's greatest secret... is the body of Mavis Vermillion. Too bad master Zeref betrayed me, he has been searching for this for over a hundred years, and now I’ll never tell him…" she added with a wry chuckle and squeezed my hand.
“Whoa? Is this her real body? And they just keep it down here?” I asked. I ran my fingers over the crystal and could feel that the girl inside was dead, but she was also somehow not dead?
Complicated magical shit no doubt…
Irene looked at me in surprise! “You know who this is, Haru? She’s supposed to be a big secret!”
“Yeah, this is Fairy Tail’s first master, I’ve met her ghost body before at the old guild building, but I don’t sense her spirit anywhere nearby right now,” I pointed out. “She’s also the one who didn’t want me coming around the Guild here anymore and Makarov followed her lead…”
I was still a bit salty about that…
“So she is capable of wandering around as a ghost—interesting…” Irene said before shaking her head and saying “that wasn’t important.”
I chuckled to myself and then turned to Irene. “What do we do with her?”
“You’re going to wake her up of course,” Irene told me. “That magic that you used on merpeople earlier. Your power forced their bodies, their souls, their very essences to obey your absolute will. If you demand that this girl should no longer be dead, then she must comply,” Irene explained to me and temporarily let go of my hand.
My eyes winded and my ears stood up on my head. She was able to sense all of that from only a brief use of my Ultimate Skill? On top of that—Holy Shit! I didn’t know my Ultimate Skill could bring back the dead!
“Will that work if her spirit isn’t nearby though?” I pointed out again.
“It should, since this is her real body,” Irene told me, explaining how the spirit and body were intrinsically linked and time and space shouldn't make a difference. At least, as long as she was somewhere on this planet.
…
A couple hours later there was a young girl with green eyes and long blonde hair wolfing down everything I served her at the counter.
"FOOD! REAL FOOD! IT’S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I COULD EAT! AND YOUR COOKING IS SO MUCH BETTER THAN I REMEMBER FOOD TASTING IN MY TIME PERIOD!" she whined and then choked a bit on her fried rice because you shouldn’t talk and eat. She took a second to clear her throat, gulping down some water before she spoke to me again. “I was wrong, I should have never prevented our guild from interacting with you…”
“Apology accepted, Mavis.” I would have told her to slow down a bit, but I doubted she would have listened.
Suddenly, another little blonde girl plopped herself down on the seat next to Mavis.
"Hi, I'm Kunou! We should be friends since we're the same age!" my little sister declared with no hesitation.
Mavis, the supposed 'First Master,' let out a disgruntled sigh. “I'll have you know,” she insisted, puffing out her cheeks, “I am actually a hundred years old!”
Kunou immediately responded with a dramatic pout. “Liar! You look even younger than Tanya-chan!”
Mavis shot me a pleading look, seeking confirmation for her unbelievable age claim.
I could have told Kunou the truth…but nah. I was still a little mad, and this worked well as revenge…
“She's just shy, Kunou-chan,” I said with a smirk. “This girl is only twelve and I'm sure she’d love to be your friend!” I then added, “And I think you'll have another new friend stopping by sometime soon! Her name is Gabrielle, and she's French!”
“Yay! More friends!” Kunou cheered, her eyes lighting up with delight.
Before Mavis could utter another word, Kunou grabbed the 'First Master' by the wrist. Despite her small stature, Kunou possessed very surprising strength, and Mavis was helpless as the exuberant little girl dragged her away from the comfortable bar counter and toward the small table where Tanya and Myrcella were already sitting. Otherwise dubbed… The little girls table.
XXX
Comments
KingSpy25i .
Welcome to the ELITE team Mavis! 🤣🤣👍 Thank you for the awesome chapter 🙏
paladar blade
Did they forget about saving the others on the island?
