Chapter Text
The summer of 1996 arrived in Little Whinging with a heat wave that melted the pavement on Privet Drive and turned the Dursleys' lawns yellow, despite Aunt Petunia's best efforts to hose them down. Harry sat in his room—the same cramped cubbyhole under the stairs where he'd been returned after Hogwarts—staring out the window at the drab suburb. His scar didn't hurt, but the weight of the prophecy still lay on his shoulders like an invisible burden. The Dursleys were behaving as usual: Uncle Vernon puffed over newspapers, Aunt Petunia wiped nonexistent dust, and Dudley lounged on the sofa with another helping of crisps. But something was different this year—and that something was called Blue.
After the events at Hogwarts and their conversation by the lake, Harry hadn't expected her to find him here, among the Muggles. But one morning, while Uncle Vernon was yelling at the lawnmower and Aunt Petunia was moaning about the neighbors, there was a knock at the door. Harry went downstairs, expecting another shop assistant or the postman, but instead he saw her—Blue, in the illusion of "Sandra," with her red hair tied in a messy ponytail and a mischievous smile. She was wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans, but her eyes—even under the illusion—betrayed her true nature.
"Hey, little one ," she said, leaning against the doorframe. "Did you miss me?"
Harry froze, and then smiled so widely that he almost forgot about the Dursleys, who were already peeking out of the living room.
“How did you get here?” he asked, lowering his voice.
"Magic, Potter," she winked. "And a little cunning. I'm a succubus, remember? I know how to find those I need."
***
The Dursleys, of course, weren't pleased to see their guest. Uncle Vernon blushed when he saw "that red-haired girl" on his doorstep and muttered something about "neighborhood bullies." Aunt Petunia pursed her lips, looking at Blue's scuffed sneakers, and Dudley simply stared until the crisps fell out of his mouth. But Blue, with her innate talent for chaos and charm, didn't give them a chance to throw her out.
“Oh, you must be Uncle Vernon!” she said, bursting into the house with the confidence of someone inviting her in for tea. “Harry was telling me what a… big man you are. And is this Aunt Petunia? You have such a lovely house, just like in a magazine! And Dudley, huh? I have a feeling we’ll be friends.”
She plopped down on the sofa next to Dudley, taking the bowl of chips from him and propping her feet up on the coffee table. The Dursleys were dumbfounded, and Harry stifled a chuckle as he closed the door. This was the beginning of something incredible.
"Who are you and what do you want?" Uncle Vernon barked, clutching the newspaper like a weapon.
Siniya shrugged, crunching on chips.
"I'm Sandra, Harry's friend from school ," she said, her voice light but with a hint of mischief. "I thought I'd pop in and check on him. You don't mind, right?"
Aunt Petunia opened her mouth to object, but Siniya had already turned her attention to her.
"Oh, what are those flowers in the vase?" she said, standing up and sniffing the artificial lilies on the mantelpiece. "You preserve them so well! My aunt's always wilt, but yours look just like the real thing!"
Petunia blinked, her cheeks turning slightly pink at the unexpected compliment, and she muttered,
- Well... it's just leaving...
Harry watched Siniya spin around the living room as if it were her own home, and felt a warmth spread through his chest. She was here—not at Hogwarts, not in battle, but here, among the Muggles, and it felt so… right.
Once the Dursleys had recovered somewhat from their shock, Blue dragged Harry into the backyard, where they sat on an old bench beneath a crooked tree. The sun was setting, painting the sky orange, and she finally shed the illusion—her dark skin and fiery eyes revealed themselves like a painting from beneath a canvas. She stretched out her legs, looking at him with a soft smile.
"What a family you have, little one ," she said, her voice warm, without the usual mockery. "They're like something out of a comedy. But you know, I understand them. They live in their own little world, afraid of everything beyond it."
Harry chuckled, looking at the grass.
"They hate me ," he said quietly. "They always have. To them, I'm a loser who ruins everything."
Siniya turned to him, her eyes narrowed, not with anger, but with something deeper.
"A loser, huh?" she said, her voice growing serious. "Then we're a match, Potter. I'm a loser too. I spent five centuries wandering through hell and earth, losing everyone I loved, and I thought that was all I had left. And then you came along—with your Dursleys, your scar, and that stupid heroism. And I suddenly realized that losers like us… we can be something more."
Harry looked at her, feeling her words cut through his armor. He reached out and touched her palm, just like he had by the lake, and she squeezed his fingers back, her claws gentle but warm.
"You're not a loser, Siniya ," he said quietly. "You... you're like a light. Even here, among all this crap, you make me laugh. And I... I'm glad you came."
She smiled—not a smirk, but a real, soft smile, and her eyes sparkled.
"And you make me feel human, Harry ," she said, her voice breaking. "Not a demon, not a beast. Just... Blue. And I want to be around you, even if it means hanging out with your crazy Muggles."
He laughed, and she laughed too, and this laughter was like a light wind, carrying away the shadows of the past year.
The evening was unexpectedly cheerful. Blue, returning to the living room, persuaded Dudley to play cards with her—a Muggle game she'd immediately reworked, adding her own rules, like "lose—eat a spoonful of mustard." Dudley, to Harry's surprise, laughed when he lost and didn't even seem angry when she called him "Dudley." Aunt Petunia, watching this, suddenly brought out a tray of cookies—real ones, not store-bought—and Blue praised her so sincerely that Petunia became embarrassed and muttered something about an "old recipe."
Uncle Vernon grumbled, but when Blue praised his lawnmower ("Powerful thing, just like a dragon!"), he suddenly relaxed and even showed her how it worked. Harry watched in disbelief: the Dursleys, those cold, evil people, were melting under her charm—not magical, but human, something she herself might not yet have realized.
When she left—through the door, like a normal guest, promising to return—the Dursleys were silent longer than usual. Petunia suddenly said:
- She... is not like those... wizards of yours.
Dudley nodded, chewing on a cookie.
- Cool. Not like you, Harry.
Vernon chuckled but remained silent, looking out the window as Siniya disappeared into the twilight. And Harry realized: she hadn't just cheered them up—she had shown them something they hadn't seen in themselves. The possibility of being better. Not immediately, not loudly, but that evening had planted a seed in them—as it had in her, where goodness, long forgotten, began to grow under the influence of their friendship, their love.
Harry went to bed smiling, feeling her warmth even from a distance. Summer promised to be less lousy than before, because he had her—Sinia, his light in the shadows. And somewhere deep inside, he knew: their story, which began with failure, would lead them to something greater—to hope, to redemption, to the realization that even in a world of magic and darkness, the light of true truth, or at least a reflection of it, could be found.
***
Summer on Privet Drive continued, and the heat only intensified, causing Uncle Vernon to grumble about the "damned sun" and Aunt Petunia to water the lawn with manic persistence. But for Harry, this summer was different—bright, despite the shadow of prophecy hanging over him. The source of this light sat next to him in the backyard, munching on an apple and lazily tossing a small fireball, which promptly went out in her palm. Blue, who had shed the illusion of "Sandra" in a secluded corner of the garden, looked like the embodiment of fire and darkness: her dark, red-tinted skin glistened in the sun, her long scarlet hair flowed down her back, lightly brushing the ground, and her black, red-streaked horns proudly jutted from her head. Her pointed ears twitched as she listened to the Dursleys' grumbling from the house, and her long, spiky tail swayed lazily, curling around her waist. She wore a black leather suit with red accents that accentuated her figure—formal yet with a hint of daring, with gold epaulettes on her shoulders, as if she were a general in some hellish army. Her eyes, bright red with slit pupils, looked at Harry with a soft warmth he was increasingly noticing.
"Why are you so pensive, little one?" she asked, taking another bite of apple. Her voice was light, but there was concern in it. "How do you think your Muggles will accept me if I suddenly forget about the illusion?"
Harry smiled, shaking his head.
"They're barely coping with 'Sandra' as it is," he said, looking at her. "If they see the real you, Uncle Vernon will probably call the police. Or a priest."
Siniya laughed, her laugh like the ringing of bells, but with a low, warm note that made Harry's heart skip a beat every time.
"Let him try ," she said with a wink. "I can put on such a show that he'll forget how to speak."
***
A few days later, Privet Drive became the scene of events the Dursleys would certainly never forget. The first surprise was a letter from Ron, delivered by Hedwig, who proudly landed on Harry's windowsill, ignoring Aunt Petunia's indignant hiss. In the letter, Ron wrote that he and Hermione were going to visit him, and, to Harry's surprise, Hermione's parents would be with them. Harry showed the letter to Blue, who had already become a frequent visitor to the Dursleys' house, much to their dismay.
"Oh, this will be fun ," she said, her eyes lighting up with mischief. "Muggles, wizards, and me. Your Dursleys will go crazy."
And she was right. When Ron and Hermione arrived, along with Mr. and Mrs. Granger, the house at 4 Privet Drive turned into a circus. Ron, with his red hair and freckles, burst into the living room shouting,
- Harry, old man, how do you survive here?!
Hermione, more reserved, hugged Harry, her eyes shining with joy.
“We were so worried ,” she said, and then noticed Siniya, who was sitting on the couch munching on Dudley’s chips. “Sandra! Are you there?”
Siniya winked, her illusion was in place, but she deliberately added a couple of sparks to the image that flashed in her hair.
"Where else would I be?" she said. "Someone has to keep an eye on our hero."
Mr. and Mrs. Granger, both dentists, looked slightly taken aback, but their manners were impeccable. Mrs. Granger, a short woman with warm brown eyes, handed Aunt Petunia a box of chocolates.
"Thank you for taking Harry in ," she said sincerely. "We know it must be difficult."
Aunt Petunia pursed her lips but took the box, muttering something unintelligible. Mr. Granger, tall and slightly balding, looked around the house curiously, then turned to Uncle Vernon.
"Your place is very... neat ," he said, clearly trying to be polite. "My wife and I always wanted to get a lawn, but it always gets overgrown with dandelions."
Uncle Vernon, to Harry's surprise, straightened his shoulders and even smiled.
“Oh, it’s a whole science ,” he said, and five minutes later he and Mr. Granger were discussing fertilizers like old friends.
But the real chaos began when Neville and his grandmother, Augusta Longbottom, appeared on the doorstep. Mrs. Longbottom, in her formal robes and hat adorned with a stuffed vulture, entered the house as if she were about to inspect it for cleanliness. Neville, holding a pot of mimblus mimbletonia, gave Harry an embarrassed smile.
“Hello,” he said. “Grandma wanted to see where you live. She’s… um… very curious.”
Mrs. Longbottom looked at Aunt Petunia, who was fiddling nervously with her apron, and nodded.
“Hmm,” she said. “You Muggles have such strange houses. Where are your wards? And your robes? Do you always walk like that?”
Aunt Petunia turned pale and Uncle Vernon began to turn purple, but Sinya jumped up from the sofa, her illusion still holding on.
"Oh, Mrs. Longbottom, you look like a real witch!" she said with an admiration that was half sincere, half mocking. "And that hat is simply stunning! Where did you get that?"
Augusta Longbottom blinked, but her stern face softened.
“It’s a family heirloom ,” she said, clearly flattered. “And who are you, girl?”
"Sandra, Harry's girlfriend," Siniya replied, winking at Neville, who blushed.
But the real apotheosis came when the Lovegoods showed up on Privet Drive. Xenophilius Lovegood, in his bright yellow robes festooned with anti-Nargle charms, and Luna, with her dreamy gaze and radish earrings, entered the house as if they were giving him a tour. Xenophilius immediately began telling Uncle Vernon about the "Ministry conspiracy against Wrackspurts," and Luna, seeing Blue, smiled.
"You have a very beautiful aura, Sandra ," she said. "It's all fiery. Have you by any chance met any fire-tailed dragons?"
Siniya blinked, but smiled back.
“Nah, but it sounds like me ,” she said, and she and Luna immediately began discussing imaginary creatures like old friends.
The Dursleys were shocked. Uncle Vernon tried to argue with Xeno, but he only smiled and offered him a copy of The Quibbler. Aunt Petunia, to her horror, discovered Mrs. Granger and Mrs. Longbottom discussing her flowerpots, and Dudley, succumbing to Ron's charm, was playing Muggle football with him in the yard. Harry watched it all, feeling his heart fill with warmth. This wasn't just chaos—this was life, real, alive, full of laughter and oddities.
***
As the guests began to leave, Siniya remained behind, helping Aunt Petunia clear away the dishes. Petunia, still slightly stunned, suddenly said:
"You... you're not like his other friends. You're strange, but... not evil."
Siniya smiled, her illusion flickering to reveal her real eyes for a moment.
"I just want Harry to be happy ," she said quietly. "And maybe you, too. You're not that bad, are you?"
Petunia didn't answer, but her gaze softened, and she turned away, hiding a faint smile. The Dursleys, without realizing it, had begun to change—not because of magic, but because of the light Blue carried within her, a light that grew ever brighter under the influence of Harry and their friends.
Harry walked her to the end of the street, where she was going to Apparate. The sun was setting, painting the sky scarlet, and he suddenly said:
— You made this summer the best summer of my life.
Siniya looked at him, her eyes glittering, and she stepped closer, touching his cheek with the tips of her claws.
“You make me a better person, little one ,” she said quietly. “And I won’t stop until we win. Together?”
“Together,” he nodded, and their smiles were like a promise—of light, despite the darkness that was already gathering on the horizon.
***
Summer on Privet Drive continued, and with each passing day, Harry felt his connection with Siniya deepen. She came almost every day, sometimes bringing Muggle sweets, sometimes sharing stories from her long past, which she told with a touch of mockery, but increasingly with warmth. The Dursleys, to Harry's surprise, began to get used to her presence. Aunt Petunia even began leaving extra cookies for her, and Uncle Vernon, though he grumbled, no longer tried to throw her out of the house. Dudley seemed to think she was actually "cool," especially after she taught him a couple of Muggle card tricks.
One evening, near the end of July, Harry and Blue were sitting in the backyard again, hidden from the Dursleys' view by an old tree. The sky was strewn with stars, and the air smelled of mown grass and jasmine. Blue had shed the illusion of "Sandra," and her true self shone in the dim light: dark skin with a reddish tint, long scarlet hair flowing down her back, black horns streaked with red, pointed ears twitching slightly, and a long tail that lazily curled around her waist. She sat cross-legged, wearing her leather suit with gold epaulets, which made her look like a warrior from another world. Her red eyes with slit pupils looked at Harry with a softness that increasingly made his heart beat faster.
"You know, little one ," she said, tossing a small fireball into the air, which immediately went out in her palm, "I used to think that evenings like this weren't for me. Sitting, chatting, looking at the stars... that was for people, not for people like me."
Harry turned to face her, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose and he adjusted them, smiling.
"You are human, Siniya ," he said quietly. "Maybe not quite ordinary, but... you feel, you laugh, you get angry. And you're here, with me. That means something."
She looked at him, her eyes flashing, and suddenly she leaned closer, her claws lightly brushing his hand. Her tail, as if of its own accord, slid along the ground and curled lightly around his wrist—not squeezing, but embracing.
“You make me a better person, Harry ,” she said, her voice quieter than usual, and with a vulnerability she rarely showed. “I lived centuries hiding from myself, from who I could be. But with you… I want to be more than just a succubus. I want to be… yours.”
Harry felt warmth spread through his chest. He squeezed her hand back, her claws warm, and he wasn't afraid of them—they were a part of her, like her laughter, her strength, her light. He leaned closer, their faces close, and he could smell her breath—hot, with a faint scent of sulfur and the apples she'd been eating all day.
"You're already mine ," he said quietly, his voice trembling but full of confidence. "And I'm yours. I don't know what will happen next, but I know that with you I can do anything."
Siniya smiled—not a smirk, but a genuine, soft smile that made her eyes even brighter. She leaned even closer, and their lips met—carefully, tenderly, like a first step into the unknown. The kiss was brief, but it held everything: promise, warmth, hope. Her claws lightly touched his cheek, and her tail tightened softly around his wrist, as if afraid he would disappear. When they pulled away, her eyes glittered, and she laughed—quietly, almost shyly.
"Damn, Potter ," she said, looking away, but her smile remained. "You make me feel like a girl instead of a five-hundred-year-old creature."
Harry laughed, his cheeks turning red, but he didn't let go of her hand.
“You’re not a creature ,” he said. “You’re Siniya. And I… I love you.”
She froze, her eyes widening, and for a moment he thought he'd said something wrong. But then she leaned over and rested her forehead on his shoulder, her horns brushing his hair, her tail curling a little tighter around his arm.
"You're a fool, little one," she whispered, but her voice trembled with happiness. "But I love you too."
They sat like that, hugging each other, under the stars, and at that moment the world seemed bright, despite the darkness that was already gathering on the horizon.
***
While Harry and Siniya found light in each other, darkness deepened in the wizarding world. Voldemort, knowing that the Ministry, under Fudge's leadership, continued to deny his return, exploited this to his advantage. He took his time—his plans were cold, calculating, and he knew that Fudge's puppet at Hogwarts, Dolores Umbridge, was playing into his hands. The more the Ministry turned a blind eye to the truth, the easier it was for his Death Eaters to infiltrate their ranks, sow chaos, and pave the way for the coming war.
These news reached Harry and his friends through the Daily Prophet, which, despite its loyalty to the Ministry, couldn't completely ignore the troubling events. One morning, as Blue sat in the Dursleys' living room, munching toast and teasing Dudley about solving a Rubik's Cube, Hedwig brought in a fresh copy of the newspaper. Harry unfolded it, and the headline made him frown:
Mysterious Disappearances: Ministry Denies Link to 'He-Who- Must-Not -Be-Named' Mysteries
Rita Skeeter's article was full of sarcasm and innuendo. She described how several wizards and Muggles had vanished without a trace in recent weeks, including a Department of Mysteries employee rumored to be working on a "secret project." The Ministry, through Fudge, claimed these were "ordinary crimes" unrelated to "the fabrications of Potter and Dumbledore." But at the end of the article, Skeeter added:
"Some sources claim to have seen strange men in black robes near the disappearance sites. Could this be a coincidence, or is the Ministry burying its head in the sand again?"
Harry handed the paper to Siniya, who read it with a frown. Her claws lightly scratched the paper, and she looked at him, her eyes darkening.
"That pink toad still rules Hogwarts ," she said, her voice deepening. "And your snakehead is taking advantage of that. As long as the Ministry pretends he's not there, he can do whatever he wants."
Harry nodded, feeling his scar ache as if to confirm her words.
"He's cooking something ," he said quietly. "I can feel it. But we don't know what."
Siniya squeezed his hand, her claws warm but firm.
"Then we'll be ready, little one ," she said. "Together."
***
That same day, Harry received a letter from Ron, delivered by the Weasleys' owl, Pigwidgeon, who nearly crashed into the window before flying into the living room. The Dursleys, accustomed to owls by now, sighed, and Dudley even tossed Pigwidgeon a piece of bread. In the letter, Ron wrote:
"Harry, something weird is going on here. Dad says the Ministry is a complete mess—Fudge just yells at anyone who mentions Voldemort. But we heard from Kingsley that Death Eaters have been spotted in Diagon Alley, and no one's doing anything! Mum's going crazy, she wants to take us all to the Burrow, but I told you we need to be with you. How are you? Is Sandra still with you? Hermione says she'll be over in a couple of days, wants to discuss it face to face. Hang in there, mate!"
Harry showed the letter to Siniya, who snorted, but her eyes were serious.
"Your redhead is right ," she said. "We need to stick together. And if that pink toad is still running the school, we need to figure out how to overthrow her before your snakehead makes his move."
Harry nodded, feeling the warmth of her hand comfort him. They were together, and that gave him hope, even as Voldemort's shadow grew ever closer. Summer wasn't over yet, but he knew their light would shine even if darkness fell upon the world. And Siniya, with her fire and love, would be there to fight for them both.
***
Late July on Privet Drive smelled of burnt grass and hot asphalt. Harry sat in his cubicle under the stairs, leafing through an old Charms textbook that Blue had somehow swiped from Hogwarts ("Don't ask, kid, I'm just good at persuasion," she said with a smirk). Outside, Uncle Vernon puffed over the lawnmower, Aunt Petunia polished silver spoons no one ever used, and Dudley watched some stupid cop show. But in this house, where only cold and swearing had once reigned, something new now lingered—the warmth that Blue had brought.
She reappeared that morning, as usual, through the backyard window, shedding the "Sandra" illusion as soon as she stepped into the shadow of the old oak tree. Harry had already become accustomed to her true appearance: dark skin with a reddish tint, as if the sunset were reflected in the midnight sun, long scarlet hair that flowed like molten metal, black horns with thin red veins, pointed ears that twitched at the slightest sound, and a long tail with a sharp end, which she sometimes wrapped around her waist, sometimes swayed lazily in the air. Her costume—black leather with red accents and gold epaulettes—made her look like a general from some hellish army, but there was something soft, almost homely, in her movements. Today, for the first time, he saw her face in detail: high cheekbones, a slightly pointed chin, a thin nose with a barely noticeable hump, and those eyes—red, with vertical pupils like a cat's, but full of a depth he was increasingly noticing. Her lips, dark and full, stretched into a smile, revealing sharp fangs as she caught his gaze.
"What are you staring at, Potter?" she said, plopping down on the bed next to him and jabbing him in the side with her claw. "Did you decide I'm too pretty for this barn?"
Harry blushed, looking away, but smiled.
“It’s just… you look different ,” he said quietly. “I don’t know, calmer, or something.”
She snorted, but her tail gently touched his hand, as if in agreement.
"Maybe it's you who gets to me, kid ," she said, her voice dropping slightly. "Before, I'd have set something on fire just for fun. But now… I'm sitting here with you, and I like it."
He looked at her, feeling the warmth of her words spread through his chest. They were silent, but this silence was alive, full of what they had already said to each other under the stars. Siniya was changing—not abruptly, not loudly, but he saw it in her eyes, in the way she now looked at the world not only with mockery, but also with something akin to hope.
***
That day might have remained just another warm memory, if not for a knock on the door late in the afternoon. Uncle Vernon, already tired from mowing the lawn, opened it with his usual grunt, but froze when he saw Albus Dumbledore standing there. His long silver-blue robes shimmered in the sunset light, his beard billowing like a cloud, and his eyes, behind his half-moon glasses, held a faintly amused expression. Behind him stood Sirius Black, leaning casually against the doorframe with a smirk that promised trouble, and Remus Lupin, whose shabby robes and tired gaze contrasted with his warm smile. Tonks, with her bright green hair, brought up the rear, waving cheerfully at Harry, who had already run out into the hallway.
"What the hell—" Uncle Vernon began, but Dumbledore raised his hand, and his voice, soft but authoritative, interrupted the tirade.
"Mr. Dursley, I am Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of your nephew's school, " he said. "We are here on important business. Could you please let us in? It will take a little while."
The Dursleys were dumbfounded. Aunt Petunia dropped the spoon she was cleaning, and Dudley, poking his head out of the living room, muttered, "Are these your other psychos?" Harry suppressed a chuckle, but the tension in the air was palpable. Blue, still in the "Sandra" illusion, emerged from the closet, her red hair smoking slightly with pent-up magic.
"Oh, hello, old man ," she said to Dumbledore with a wink. "Thinking of throwing a Muggle party?"
Dumbledore smiled, his eyes sparkling as if he knew more than he was letting on.
"Sandra, glad to see you're well ," he said, and Harry realized he'd probably figured out her secret long ago, but he remained silent. Sirius, noticing her, grinned wider.
"Are you still hanging around with that brat?" he said, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "Good taste, girl."
Tonks giggled and Lupin cleared his throat, trying to remain serious.
"We're here for a reason ," he said, looking at Harry. "The Order has something to discuss, and this place... has suddenly become safe."
"Safe?" Harry asked, frowning. "But why here?"
Dumbledore nodded, stepping into the living room where the Dursleys still stood like statues.
"The Ministry has stepped up surveillance of Hogwarts and the homes of Order members ," he said. "Madame Umbridge, though she remains at Hogwarts as High Inquisitor, is no longer teaching—she's been replaced by a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, about whom we know little yet. But her influence is growing, and she watches our every move. But your relatives' house, Harry, protected by ancient blood magic, remains beyond her reach. Voldemort, too, is avoiding it for now—he knows about the wards and doesn't want to risk it. We've decided this is the ideal meeting point."
Uncle Vernon flushed, but to Harry's surprise, he remained silent as Sirius plopped down on the sofa and propped his feet up on the coffee table.
"Not a bad place ," he said, looking around. "As clean as a hospital. Are you actually living here or just pretending?"
Aunt Petunia pursed her lips, but Blue, wasting no time, jumped up to her.
"Oh, Aunt Pet, let me help with the tea!" she said with such sincerity that Petunia nodded, flustered. Harry watched as Blue, still in her illusion, deftly grabbed the tray and began pouring the tea, winking at him over her shoulder.
As the Dursleys grumbled off to the kitchen (Dudley remained peeking from behind the door), the Order assembled in the living room. Dumbledore sat in Vernon's chair, Sirius stretched out on the sofa, Lupin and Tonks stood by the fireplace, and Harry and Blue sat cross-legged on the floor. Blue dropped the illusion as soon as the Dursleys disappeared, her tail swaying lazily as she listened.
"Voldemort is gaining strength," Dumbledore began, his voice calm but heavy. "He's exploiting the Ministry's blindness. Fudge continues to deny his return, and Umbridge, from Hogwarts, reinforces his illusion of control. But we know the Death Eaters are already at work—the disappearances Skeeter reported are their work. They're looking for something... or someone."
Harry felt his scar ache and squeezed Siniya's hand. Her claws tightened slightly in response, warm and firm.
"A prophecy?" he asked quietly.
Dumbledore nodded.
"Perhaps," he said. "But I suspect his plans are broader. He wants to weaken us, to divide us. And Hogwarts under Umbridge's rule becomes vulnerable."
Sirius snorted.
"That pink toad thinks she's got it all under control ," he said. "But she's actually opening the door for Tom. She needs to be taken out."
"It's not that simple," Lupin countered. "She's under Fudge's protection. And the new teacher... we need to find out who he is and whose side he's on."
Siniya, who had been silent until then, suddenly leaned forward, her eyes flashing.
"Give me five minutes with this toad ," she said, her voice hoarse but alive. "I'll burn her brains out and she'll forget how to breathe."
Tonks laughed, her hair changing from green to orange.
"I'd like to see that ," she said. "But we need a plan, not a fire."
Dumbledore smiled, looking at Blue.
"Your passion is commendable, child ," he said. "But we must be more sensible. Harry, Blue, you will both be our eyes at Hogwarts. Umbridge doesn't know what you are capable of together."
Harry nodded, feeling Siniya's hand tighten around his. He looked at her, and in her eyes he saw not only fire, but also determination—not just to fight, but to protect.
***
When the Order left—Dumbledore through the Floo, Sirius with a wink, and Lupin and Tonks through the back door—Blue remained with Harry in the living room. The Dursleys returned, but upon seeing her true form (she'd forgotten to revert to the illusion), they froze. Petunia dropped her tray, Vernon turned purple, and Dudley choked out, "Cool!"
"Oh," Siniya said, her tail twitching as she quickly reverted to her Sandra illusion. "I forgot to change. Don't worry, I don't bite... usually."
But instead of screams, something unexpected happened. Petunia, trembling, lifted the tray and said:
“You… you’re not like them,” her voice was quiet, but there was no malice in it. “You’re strange, but… not evil.”
Siniya blinked, her illusion flickering, revealing her real eyes for a moment.
"I'm trying to be better ," she said quietly, looking at Harry. "Because of him."
Vernon chuckled but remained silent, and Dudley suddenly asked:
— Can you set something else on fire? Like, for fun?
Siniya laughed, her laugh warm, and with a snap of her fingers, she created a small ball of fire that transformed into a dancing figure of Dudley. He laughed, and even Petunia smiled faintly.
Harry watched, feeling his heart fill with light. Blue was changing—not for herself, but for him, for them all. Her past, full of pain and fire, was giving way to something new—the goodness she found in him, in their love. And he knew: whatever lay ahead—Umbridge, Voldemort, war—they would face it together, with her fire and his hope.
***
Early August on Privet Drive was hot and muggy, but there was a sense of foreboding in the air, like the prelude to a storm. Harry and Blue spent their days together, sometimes hiding from the Dursleys in the backyard, sometimes discussing the increasingly grim news from the Daily Prophet. Voldemort remained in the shadows, but his presence was felt—in disappearances, in rumors, in the nagging of Harry's scar. The Order braced itself, but no one knew from which direction the blow would come. And Blue... she grew ever closer to Harry, her fire softened by the warmth he ignited within her.
One evening, as they sat in the closet under the stairs, she suddenly fell silent, looking at her claws. Her tail, usually so active, froze, curled around her waist. Harry noticed this and touched her hand.
“What happened?” he asked quietly.
She sighed, her red eyes with vertical pupils darkening, and for the first time he saw in them not only strength, but also old pain.
"I told you about him, didn't I?" she said, her voice hoarse but soft. " About Edmund ."
Harry nodded. She'd mentioned him once, that night by the lake when she'd first revealed herself to him. Edmund was the man she'd loved five centuries ago, when she was still mortal. He'd died at the hands of demon hunters—people who'd hunted her down after she'd become a succubus against her will, succumbing to a curse cast by a Dark wizard. Edmund had tried to protect her, and it had cost him his life.
“They called themselves the Order of Twilight,” she continued, her claws lightly scraping the floor. “Not a church, not an Inquisition, but something of their own. They hunted creatures like me—demons, spirits, creatures from the shadows. But they had their own rules. They didn’t just kill—they studied, sought to ‘cleanse’ the world. They killed Edmund because he stood in their way. And they… let me live. They said I was ‘not completely lost.’ I’ve hated them ever since.”
Harry squeezed her hand, feeling her warmth mingle with his own.
"You're not lost, Siniya ," he said firmly. "You're here with me. And I won't let them take you."
She smiled, weakly but genuinely, and her tail curled softly around his wrist.
“You don’t know what they’re capable of, little one ,” she said. “They’re still out there. And I feel… they’re close.”
***
The next day, her words proved prophetic. The morning began as usual: Uncle Vernon was reading the newspaper, Aunt Petunia was scrubbing pots and pans, and Dudley was munching on toast. Blue was sitting in the living room with Harry, tossing a fireball and teasing him about his attempts to teach her the Muggle game of tic-tac-toe. But suddenly, the air thickened, as it had before her arrival, only this time it was cold, almost icy. Hedwig hooted, floating to the ceiling, and the door to the house swung open of its own accord.
Three people stood in the doorway. They didn't look like wizards or Muggles—their clothes were formal, black, with silver markings on their chests: a circle crossed by three lines, a symbol of balance. The first was a tall man with gray hair and a scar across his left eyebrow, his eyes cold as steel. The second was a middle-aged woman with short dark hair and a thin dagger at her belt; her gaze was keen but not malicious. The third was a young man, almost Harry's age, with dark skin and a nervous smile, holding something like a compass that glowed faintly. They didn't look threatening, but their presence weighed down like a heavy sky.
Uncle Vernon jumped up, turning purple.
"Who the hell are you and why the hell are you breaking down my door?!" he barked.
The gray-haired man stepped forward, his voice even but commanding.
"We are from the Order of Twilight ," he said. "We seek Harry Potter and the one called Siniya. We will mean no harm unless you give us cause."
Harry stood, clutching his wand, and Siniya leaped to her feet, her "Sandra" illusion wavering, revealing her true form: dark skin, scarlet hair, horns, and a tail. Her claws flashed, and she snarled, her eyes glowing brighter.
"You bastards," she growled, stepping towards them. "I knew you'd come. What do you want? My head? Or are you trying to play your games again?"
The woman with the dagger raised her hand, her voice calm but firm.
"We know you, Siniya ," she said. "I'm Eliza Crowe, this is Victor Rain (she nodded at the gray-haired man) and Lucas Thorn (the guy with the compass nodded awkwardly). We're not here to kill. We've been watching you all year at Hogwarts. You've changed."
Siniya froze, her tail twitching, but she didn't lower her claws.
"Changed?" she snorted. "You killed Edmund, and now you're telling me I've changed? Fuck you!"
Harry stepped towards her, placing himself between her and the hunters.
"If you touch her, you'll have me to deal with ," he said, his voice shaking with anger but firm. "She's not your prey."
Victor Rain looked at him, his eyes narrowed, but something like respect flickered in them.
“We’re not hunting her, Potter ,” he said. “We know what’s happening in your world. Voldemort is a threat not just to wizards, but to us as well. His darkness is spreading, and demons like her are becoming his pawns. But Siniya… she’s different. We’ve seen her fight for you, for good. And we’re willing to offer a deal.”
The Dursleys, dumbfounded, huddled in a corner of the living room, but didn't intervene—the presence of the Order of Twilight was overwhelming even for them. Blue squeezed Harry's hand, her claws digging lightly into his skin, but he didn't pull away.
"A deal?" she asked, her voice full of suspicion. "You've never offered me anything but death."
Eliza stepped forward, her gaze direct.
“We know your story ,” she said. “The curse that made you a succubus wasn’t your choice. You loved Edmund, and he died protecting you. We were wrong then, and we regret it. But now we share a common enemy. Voldemort is using demonic power to strengthen his armies. We can help you stop him—we have knowledge, weapons, and magic that your wizards lack. But we need you, Siniya.”
Harry frowned.
“What do you want from her?” he asked.
Victor looked at Siniya, his voice became quieter.
“We can lift the curse ,” he said. “Restore your humanity completely. But there’s a price. To defeat Voldemort, we need to destroy his source of power—the artifact he created by feeding on demonic energy. You must help us find and destroy it. It’s dangerous. Possibly fatal. And if you survive… you will become mortal. Vulnerable. Ordinary.”
Siniya froze, her eyes widening. Harry felt her hand trembling and squeezed it tighter.
“What if I refuse?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
Lucas, a young man, spoke for the first time, his voice soft but serious.
"Then we'll leave ," he said. "But Voldemort will find you. He already knows about you, Siniya. You're too powerful to be left alone. He'll either subdue you or kill you."
Silence hung in the room, heavy as lead. Siniya looked at Harry, her eyes shining—not with anger, but with fear and hope.
“I don’t want to lose you, little one,” she whispered. “ But if I stay like this… I could become a threat. To you, to everyone.”
Harry shook his head, his throat tightening.
"You're not a threat ," he said firmly. "You're my strength. And if you do this, I'll go with you. We'll do it together."
Eliza nodded, her gaze softening.
"We'll give you time to think ," she said. "But not for long. Voldemort doesn't wait."
The hunters left as quietly as they had arrived, leaving behind a cold wind and questions. The Dursleys were silent, but there was something new in their eyes—not fear, but respect mingled with concern.
***
Harry and Siniya sat in the backyard under the stars, her head on his shoulder, her tail curled around his waist. She was silent, but he felt her warmth, her struggle.
“I want to be human, Harry ,” she said finally, her voice quiet, almost broken. “For you. So that we can live… truly. But I’m afraid. What if I don’t come back?”
He turned to her, his arms encircling her, unafraid of her claws, her horns, her fire.
“Then I will find you ,” he said, his voice full of determination. “In this world or the next. I love you, Siniya. And I will not let you go alone.”
She smiled, her eyes shining with tears she couldn't hide.
“You are a fool, Potter,” she whispered, but her lips found his, and their kiss was a promise – to live, to fight, to find light even in the darkest shadow.
They didn't know what lay ahead—sacrifice, redemption, or the paradise they would build together. But in that moment, under the stars, they were happy, and it was the beginning of their journey—to war, to love, to what could become their little piece of eternity.