JoJo-sus wept I never thought I'd see the end of this.
Seriously I had no idea how hard it would be coming back to an old story after years of procrastinating and writers block, especially considering most of my original notes for it were lost.
I have to confess, when I first wrote this, I was flying by the seat of my pants, since DMC4 was the latest game in the series and the franchise was as good as dead after what Ninja Theory did to DmC.
Then Capcom came out of nowhere with that one game where Vergil hires Vergil's brother and Vergil's son to defeat Vergil so Vergil can become Vergil, featuring Vergil from Devil May Cry and that just messed everything up.
See, for those of you who don't know me, I like to try and make my stories have some sort of timeline of sorts, and while the exact dates of the DMC games are never given, there is enough time between events for people like The4thSnake to at least determine people's ages.
Normally, this would mean DMC 5 completely upsets the flow of the story...except Vergil's presence already did that, so yeah, just assume that things deviated from Potter Canon to explain some people's ages. kay?
Epilogue - 2017
Hogwarts Castle, Headmaster's Office, September 1st.
If there was one thing that brought a strange sense of comfort to Albus Dumbledore, it was that no matter how much the world changed around him, it would always be raining this time of year in the United Kingdom, especially so for Scotland.
Now while Dumbledore wasn't one to sing his own praises, unlike a certain former celebrity, as one of the most influential wizards of the Modern Age he had, in some shape or form, been present for many events that would shape the Wizarding World.
While he had initially acted through his friend Newt Scamander, in the end it had been Dumbledore who had brought an end to Gellert Grindelwald's aspirations, claiming the Death Stick from his former friend in a duel that, to this day, still gave him night-terrors.
While he failed to prevent young Tom Riddle from treading down his dark path as a teacher, as the leader of the Order of the Phoenix Dumbledore had ensured the then fledgling Voldemort and his Death Eaters hadn't run roughshod over Wizarding Britain.
While he had regrettably failed to protect the Potters and Sirius, allowing the latter to suffer for a crime he hadn't committed, he had at least ensured that young Harry was kept safe long enough to see the day everything was set right.
Indeed, despite his many, many failures when it came to the Boy Who Lived, some of which the boy would never forgive him for, Dumbledore was proud to say that Harry James Potter was his greatest success.
Of course, with that being said, it wasn't as if he could take all the credit for Harry's development. After all, setting aside the young man's own natural talents and the traits he inherited from his parents, the boy had possessed many teachers.
Indeed, you would be hard-pressed to find a single Professor at Hogwarts, current or former, who hadn't in some way influenced the Boy Who Lived, for better or worse, with Severus Snape being the only one in the latter category still living.
Of course, it should also be noted that Harry's growth had not been limited to within the halls of Hogwarts. Indeed, it could be argued that everyone he encountered had imparted some vital lesson to the Boy Who Lived.
From the Weasleys he learned the importance of family he'd long since been ignorant of. From Hermione Granger he learned the importance of planning ahead, a rare trait among Gryffindors, as well as the importance of not jumping to conclusions.
From Neville Longbottom, he learned the importance of loyalty and doing the right thing, even at cost to oneself, while Hagrid taught him the importance of never judging a book by its cover…and being mindful of what you said around others.
Of course, not all of Harry's experiences had been positive. Indeed, to this day it chafed the headmaster that, aside from the time spent under his Aunt's roof, most of the trauma Harry had endured had been within the supposedly safe walls of Hogwarts.
That being said, as much as Dumbledore would have liked to have sheltered the lad from the darker side of their world, in the end it had proven a necessary sacrifice to prepare him for what was to come…and perhaps one day he might even come to believe it.
Perhaps the most damning lesson the boy had learned was to never place your absolute faith in authority. After all, how could he completely trust those in power when almost every one of them had failed him so spectacularly?
Not even Dumbledore had escaped unscathed from this revelation. After all, setting aside his schemes to prepare the boy for his battle with Tom, it had been he who entrusted the boy to his Aunt's 'tender mercies'.
Hell, even his parents weren't truly exempt. Setting aside Severus' revelations of his father's true nature, had they simply trusted Dumbledore with the true identity of their Secret Keeper, he could have taken steps to prevent Pettigrew from selling them out.
Of course, the rest of the Marauders were far from innocent, for while Remus' 'condition' prevented him from becoming Harry's Guardian, he could have still checked up on the boy after his Godfather's desire to avenge his parents landed him in prison.
And so from a young age Harry Potter learned one of the harshest lessons life could possibly give: that intentionally or not, sometimes the ones closest to you were the ones who hurt you the most.
This held true even among his peers, the trials and tribulations he was forced to face during his time at Hogwarts made all the more daunting due to his ignorance of the magical world and the drama faced by every young witch and wizard coming of age.
And that wasn't even taking into account the gamut of Defence Professors that had, in some shape or form, tried to kill or otherwise harm the lad during their tenure, though it could be argued that Harry had learned his harshest lessons from them.
From Quirinius Quirrel he learned how easily greed and power could tempt the weak at heart, while Gilderoy Lockhart revealed the dark allure of fame and how far people were willing to go to obtain it.
While unintentional, Remus Lupin taught young Harry the importance of tempering his expectations, whilst Barty Crouch Jr, in his guise as Alastor Moody, managed to drive home the importance of Constant Vigilance, albeit in a roundabout fashion.
But perhaps the Professor who had the most impact on young Harry, insofar as truly preparing him for his eventual battle with Voldemort, had been the one who turned the Wizarding World on its head in the space of a single evening.
Dumbledore would willingly confess that he had taken a gamble when he decided to reach out to the elder Son of Sparda, relying on what little he recalled of the man's sire and Eva's kind nature to lure him to Hogwarts with the promise of knowledge.
After all, knowledge is power, and while there were as many types of devil as there were stars in the sky, in the end there was one thing that bound them all together, and that was their inability to resist the allure of power.
Fortunately, it appeared his assessment of the lad hadn't been that far off, for despite emulating his sire's prideful detachment, he had yet to truly cast aside the humanity he inherited from his mother, as evidenced by his interactions with Harry and Hagrid.
Perhaps it was the similarity between them that had allowed the three to connect? After all, as much as he despised the title, the three of them were half breeds, after a fashion, with Harry and Vergil even sharing the burden of a legacy to live up to.
The key difference was that where Harry resented the role fate forced upon him, wishing only for whatever normality a wizard could hope to live, Vergil embraced his heritage and would go to any lengths to achieve what he perceived as his destiny.
It was this drive to take fate by the reigns that Vergil had passed down to Harry, the Boy Who Lived no longer content to allow others to choose his path for him, choosing instead to stand up and become the architect of his own destiny.
It hadn't been easy, but then such things never truly were, and to this day the sacrifices he had paid cut deep, but still the boy had pressed on, heedless of the trials put in his path or the machinations of those who sought to bring him low.
And in the end, having torn down his defences, cut off his escape and put his acolytes to the sword, the Boy Who Lived had faced down the Dark Lord Voldemort and walked away the Man Who Conquered. All before he'd even sat his NEWT Exams.
Yes, you heard right. In what would forever be known as the 'Shortest-lived comeback in History' Voldemort's attempt at a second War was cut short before the Dark Lord could even muster the forces necessary to do so.
And while the Daily Prophet was quick to attribute this to the swift, decisive actions of Harry, Dumbledore and the Ministry, not particularly in that order, in truth it simply came down to a lack of funding and influence.
For you see, planning a revolution requires considerable political and financial acumen. This holds true even for muggles, and they didn't even have to worry about the political quagmire that was inter-species relations.
And at the end of the day, for all his power and mastery of the Dark Arts, Tom Marvollo Riddle was simply a Half-Blood Orphan with barely a Galleon to his name, the Gaunt fortune having been spent long before he tracked down his Uncle Morfin.
Even Gellert Grindelwald, with his knowledge of the Dark Arts and one of the Deathly Hallows at his command, had spent years building up his forces, gathering people to his side who not only shared his vision, but had the funds & influence to bring it to fruition.
Indeed, it wouldn't be unfair to claim that Tom had plagiarised Grindelwald, whispering honeyed words to lure the Elitist Pure Bloods into the fold, all for the purpose of gaining access to their coffers and their political connections.
Put simply, it could be argued that, rather than his mastery of the Dark Arts, Voldemort's greatest weapon was the influence of his followers, their wealth and status allowing many to escape punishment for their crimes following his initial defeat.
And while his most dedicated followers were incarcerated in Azkaban, their wealth and status as purebloods not only ensured they were spared the Dementors' kiss, it also prevented the Ministry from seizing said wealth until he could return to set them free.
In short, without the backing of his Death Eaters, the bulk of Voldemort's forces were the dregs and outcasts of Magical Britain or monsters like Fenrir Greyback who the Ministry wouldn't hesitate to kill on sight even before he allied with the Dark Lord.
With that in mind, you can probably imagine how quickly the Dark Lord's plans for a second Wizarding World War fell apart following the disastrous events that transpired in the Department of Mysteries on June 20th, 1996.
The plan, at least what Dumbledore had managed to determine between conversations with Harry and his own deductions, had been ingenious, if simple: Use Harry's love for Sirius to lure the boy to the Department of Mysteries.
There, a team of Death Eaters, led by Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange, would force the boy to claim The Prophecy that had eluded their Master for so long, the self-same Prophecy Voldemort himself had set in motion the night he killed the Potters.
A simple, yet ingeniously twisted plan, and one that might have worked in another life, had Tom not underestimated the influence of young Harry's companions or the desperation of a certain former Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic.
Indeed, in another lifetime, Delores Umbridge might have thrived under Voldemort's rule, for while she was never a Death Eater, she shared many of his ideologies and prejudices, particularly when it came to Muggleborns and Non-humans.
Prejudices, it should be noted, that would indirectly lead to the downfall of the Dark Lord, for as a result of her actions it was not the Boy Who Lived his Death Eaters encountered in the Department of Mysteries that day, but rather a Son of Sparda.
While Dumbledore had not been present for…confrontation due to being forced to watch Cornelius' entire political career go up in flames, it was clear from the aftermath that it hadn't been a one-sided route so much as an absolute slaughter.
Put simply, by the end of the day there a new Minister for Magic in office, one that was certain to take Dumbledore's words to heart, especially considering how several key seats of the Wizengammot were recently vacated due to...unexpected deaths.
'I do believe they're still trying to get the blood off the ceiling.' Dumbledore mused as he gazed out at the rain, wincing as his withered right hand ached from the chill 'Then again, I suppose I'm in no place to judge Vergil for his tactics.'
Indeed, while Dumbledore would have preferred to have taken the Death Eaters alive, if only for the sake of their children, the fact remained they had known what they were getting into when they sided with Voldemort, and had enjoyed every minute of it.
How many children were orphaned as a result of their actions? How many people were forced to bury their loved ones, knowing those responsible had managed to avoid justice because of their wealth and status whilst claiming to be under the Imperious Curse?
Dumbledore had never considered himself a saint, his hands had long since been stained from as early as his fallout with Grindelwald and he had made countless more mistakes since then, mistakes that had cost many a good man and woman their lives.
And so, despite his practice of offering his enemies a chance at redemption, a practice he held no delusions of reducing the weight of his own sins, he could not bring himself to fault Vergil for slaughtering the Death Eaters.
Sadly, the rest of the Wizarding World were not so understanding as the Supreme Mugwump, for regardless of their true allegiance, the fact remained that the Pureblood Heads of several Ancient Noble Houses had been brutally murdered.
To make matters worse, in their desperate bid to escape, the Death Eaters had apparently dragged the battle through the entire Department of Mysteries, resulting in several vital sections being completely destroyed, particularly the room of Prophecies.
Needless to say, it was a good thing Vergil hadn't stuck around long enough to be arrested, as even Dumbledore lacked the political clout to protect the Son of Sparda from an enraged Amelia Bones throwing the book at him.
Hell, considering how whatever means he used to escape had apparently damaged the wards that kept the Ministry from being discovered by the outside world, Albus wouldn't be surprised if Amelia hurled an entire Library at the man.
While time had led to his true calling as an educator, Dumbledore had not forgotten the lessons of his political aspirations, and so as much as he would have loved to try and smooth things over, this was sadly one of those times where his hands were tied.
By the end of the day, Minister for Magic Rufus Scrimgour's first act, other than vowing to 'purge corruption from the ministry', had been to issue a bounty. Dead or Alive, for the errant Son of Sparda.
A bounty that, to this day, no-one had claimed, though not for lack of effort. Indeed, during the first month the Ministry even offered a reward for anyone who could provide information as to Vergil's whereabouts.
Needless to say, the reward was soon cancelled due to Ministry being swamped by a horde of would-be informants seeking to make a quick profit, which did little to appease the already irate Madam Bones.
Naturally, as Vergil's employer, Dumbledore had already been questioned as to his whereabouts and had honestly confessed, under Veritaserum no less, to having no idea where the man might have gone.
After all, while he'd promised to reveal the origins of the book used to proposition the Son of Sparda, that didn't mean Vergil couldn't have figured it out simply by reading it or asking around. There were only so many places it could've come from after all.
Indeed, given how the Temen-Ni-Gru resurfaced not long after Vergil's disappearance, and boy did Dumbledore not envy the MACUSA President during that cluster-fuck, it was safe to say Vergil managed to track down the Order of the Sword in Fortuna.
'I do hope he managed to find some closure.' Dumbledore sighed, shaking his head at the thought of being unable to dissuade yet another young man from throwing his life away in the pursuit of power 'A shame I couldn't convince his brother to replace him.'
While Dumbledore was aware of Dante's existence, he had had avoided approaching him specifically because despite Vergil's claims to the contrary, the older twin was a lot easier to manipulate than his volatile sibling.
For you see, while Dante was driven by the same desire for revenge against the Demons that killed their mother, Vergil was the only one actively seeking to grow stronger and thus could be baited with the knowledge of how to achieve his goals.
By contrast, Dante's Devil-May-Care attitude and lack of respect for authority made him a nightmare to reign in without some form of leverage that Dumbledore lacked, meaning any attempt at bribing the younger twin would likely end with a bullet to the face.
However, in the wake of the Temen-Ni-Gru Incident, Dumbledore had opted to keep an eye on the younger Son of Sparda whenever he could, partially out of a sense of obligation and partially because of his habit of selling Devil Arms on the Black Market.
It took some finagling, made all the harder due to Voldemort being forced to accelerate his plans out of desperation, but in the end Dumbledore used his connections within MACUSA to have Dante listed as a Freelance Consultant under Auror J.D Morrison.
It wasn't a perfect arrangement, given the world's current stance on Devils, but it provide Dante with a steady source of income without the risk of a would be Dark Lord getting their hands on a Devil Arm.
And that had been the status Quo for over a decade, Dumbledore opting to take a backseat, content to watch over Vergil's hot-headed sibling from afar whilst occasionally stepping in to advise Harry and his peers as they set about rebuilding their society.
And then the Red Grave Disaster occurred, an event that so publicly televised it left MACUSA scrambling so hard to ensure the integrity of the Statute of Secrecy that no-one but Morrison noticed when all traces of Dante seemingly vanished into thin air.
'Well…perhaps not all traces…' Dumbledore mused, turning from the window at the chiming of a bell, glancing briefly at the neon-blue business card on his desk with a twinkle in his eye as he made his way to the Start of Year Feast with a spring in his step.
Hogwarts Castle, Great Hall, Post Sorting.
To say that Albus Vergil Potter was a nervous wreck would be an understatement, a fact not helped in the least by the judging stares he was receiving from the other students after he'd been sorted into Slytherin.
As the second son of the 'Man Who Conquered', he and his siblings had constantly found themselves in the spotlight despite their father's best efforts to ensure his family's privacy, even going so far as to make their home unplottable.
Some might think that, growing up with a Living Legend as a father would have desensitised the boy to such things, and while it was true that his brother, James Sirius, seemingly thrived on the attention, to Albus it had always been suffocating.
Oh make no mistake, he loved his father more than anything and was proud to be his son. But therein lay the problem: He was the Son of the Man Who Conquered, and he just didn't feel he could measure up to such a legacy.
His father had, naturally, been more than understanding, going out of his way to ensure his children lived as normal a life as possible, even going so far as to have them enrolled in Muggle Primary schools so they could experience life on both sides.
Albus would confess he'd rather enjoyed living in the Muggle World, mostly because he was able to make friends who didn't care who his father was but also because he wasn't expected to compete with his older brother.
While his relationship with James was hardly bad, the older Potter's more outgoing personality and penchant for teasing his siblings clashed with Albus' introverted nature, to the point he'd breathed a sigh of relief when his brother's acceptance letter arrived.
However, between his own curious nature and his parents' constant praise for their Alma Matter, his father even going so far as to claim it as the first true home he ever had, Albus soon found himself looking forward to the day his own letter would arrive.
James certainly wasn't afraid to rub salt in the wounds, the elder Potter regaling them with wild tales of his time within those hallowed halls, until Albus was practically chomping at the bit by the time his letter finally arrived.
However, in the time between receiving his letter and the build-up to boarding the Hogwarts Express, Albus' sense of self-doubt had slowly begun to return, not helped at all by the fact that none of his friends would be coming with him.
After all, the moment he got on the train, he wouldn't just be 'Albus' anymore. He'd be Albus Potter, son of Harry James Potter, the Man Who Conquered and with that realization all the anxiety he'd been ignoring up until now came crashing down.
What if he wasn't good enough? Would the teachers be harder on him than the other students because it was only natural the son of Harry Potter would excel at everything he put his mind to?
Would he even be able to make any friends? While James outgoing attitude and charisma had allowed him to make friends even in the muggle world where no-one knew who their father was, Albus had a harder time of it due to his introverted nature.
And of course, what would happen if the Sorting Hat didn't place him in Gryffindor? While Harry has assured his son that it didn't matter, James had been rather vocal about the stigma attached to the other houses.
With that in mind, you could probably imagine how Albus felt when the Sorting Hat called out Slytherin, the poor boy sitting frozen on the stool for several minutes until an exasperated Professor McGonagall guided him sternly but gently to his new table.
'A Potter in Slytherin?' someone hissed, Albus doing his best to block out the rest, hunching his shoulders against their judging stares, unable to bring himself to meet the gaze of James and their cousin Rose after seeing the look of betrayal in her eyes.
"Welcome!" an aged voice called out, drowning out the whispers to draw attention to the speaker, none other than Albus' Namesake, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, who had gotten to his feet the moment the last name was called.
"Welcome, one and all, to a near year at Hogwarts!" he called out, his arms spread wide, as if to embrace the entire hall "Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And they are-!"
Whatever the Professor had been about to say was cut off by the sound of a car horn, the students crying out in alarm as the doors to the great hall slammed open with such force they were ripped off their hinges, sending those closest scrambling for cover.
'What on earth-?' Albus exclaimed, the younger Potter slowly raising his head above the Slytherin table as the noise slowly died down, only to blink in disbelief at the sight of the intruder that so violently breached the Great hall 'Is that…a Motorhome?'
Sure enough, parked in the middle of the Doorway was a battered looking Motorhome, or an RV as the yanks apparently called them, it's engine slowly ticking over as the dust and debris slowly settled around it.
As Albus looked on, a door on the side swung open to allow a tall man with short-cropped white hair and a dark blue jacket to stagger out, waving his hand in front of his face to clear the dust out of his face.
"Jeez Nico, why don't you just aim for the wall next time?" the man groused as he glared back into the car, Albus dimly recalling how Americans apparently drove on the left for some odd reason, before turning to level a glare at them with his shocking blue eyes.
"Yo, sorry about the door." He called out, seemingly heedless of the looks he was receiving from the students, his eyes locked onto professor Dumbledore, the only person who hadn't moved from his spot, though he had lowered his arms "You Dumbledore?"
"I am indeed." The Headmaster confessed, his eyes twinkling merrily in a way that Albus' father had half-jokingly warned meant nothing but trouble as he beamed down at the young man "I trust you had no problems getting here?"
"Would've been here sooner, but we ran into some interference." The man confessed, Albus' eyes widening as he suddenly whipped out a revolver and fired at thin air, much to the students shock, only to blink as a little man popped into view with a pained cry.
"That's Peeves, the poltergeist!" Scorpius Malfoy exclaimed, Albus' fellow Slytherin looking on in disbelief as the horrible little man howled like a stuck pig as he rolled on the floor, holding his bleeding knee "How on earth did he manage to hurt him."
"Looks to me like you've got an infestation on your hands." The man noted offhandedly, tilting his head towards Peeves without taking his eyes off Dumbledore, "If you expect me to clean it up, that'll cost you extra."
"We can discuss that later." Dumbledore assured him with a smile before gesturing to the Staff Table "For the time being, why don't you and your assistant join us? We were just about to begin the feast."
"Sounds good to me." The man shrugged, returning the revolver to his holster even as the driver door opened to allow a bespectacled young woman, her tanned skin covered in tattoos, to disembark "You hungry, Nico?"
"Does a Bear shit in the woods?" the woman replied in what Albus suspected qualified as a 'Southern' accent across the pond, a coy smile on her face as she took a drag from a lit cigarette "Just don't expect me to eat any dick, spotted or otherwise. I'll just move the Van first..."
"I shall have the House-Elves move your vehicle as we dine, miss." Dumbledore assured her, earning a shrug from the young woman as she made her way up to the Professor's table, before turning to address the dumbstruck students along with the man.
As they passed the Slytherin table, however, Albus got a good look at what the man was carrying on his back, the younger Potter's eyes widening at the sight of the massive Zweihander, so similar to his father's own, albeit with a custom grip & red markings.
"It would appear I have some introductions to make." Dumbledore chuckled with a twinkle in his eyes "Everyone, permit me to introduce your new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Nero Sparda, and his Assistant, Miss Nicoletta Goldstein."
As the students gaped at the pair in awe, a sudden spark drew Albus' attention back to the Motorhome, the younger Potter looking on in awed silence as a neon sign on the side of the vehicle lit up to display three glowing words:
Devil May Cry.
And with that, we close the chapter on another fic.
Thank you all for sticking with it for so long, I know some of you may be disappointed, but this was the best I could come up with after losing my original notes.
For those of you wondering, yes, Harry still had to die to Voldemort to destroy the last Horcrux, but he got better and cut Tommy Boy's head off with his sword instead of 'disarming' him with his wand.
Another major change is that Dumbledore is alive, since without the Malfoys Riddle had no means of coercing Draco, and without his Death Eaters he was forced to rely on the likes of Greyback.
Hope you enjoyed the ride, and no, this isn't a hint for a sequel, don't bother asking.