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Cross-over from various games, books, anime, manga, and movies.
The familiar characters you see here belong to their respected authors and owners.
"Speech"
Time*
Arc 1: Payback - Chapter 4
"10th Period — Philosophy: If Not, Then: You're my partner, Perona, who has been waiting for me until now."
Alaric's voice rang with unwavering certainty, the statement itself becoming a declaration of truth, not of what was, but of what must be, enforced by the mechanics of Hell Lesson's 10th Period: Philosophy.
The spell wasn't one of raw force or piercing insight. It was one of ontological persuasion—bending the question of reality not by dissecting it, but by asserting a condition so absolute it rewrote the context. If the entity in the mirror was not Perona, then it must become her. That was the rule. And Alaric had just set it.
A second ripple burst from him, gentler than the Confusion Pulse, but infinitely more invasive. It wrapped around the mirror's frame like ivy woven of paradox and conviction, crawling into the silver surface and suffusing the glass with warm pink-red hues.
The mirror's silver shimmer deepened, the image within warping, folding in on itself, and then it broke like a thin film of ice cracking under certainty.
The figure inside reappeared, but this time, the change was immediate.
Gone were the hollow eyes and sewn mouth. Gone was the echo of agony.
Instead, standing confidently within the mirror's reflection was a short young woman, radiating a different kind of presence, one steeped in gothic charm and unbothered confidence.
Her big, round black eyes sparkled with mischief beneath asymmetrical lower eyelashes, bold with heavy eyeliner and red lipstick. Her waist-length pink hair, tied into pigtails with black-and-white flower hairpins, bounced slightly as she tilted her head. A red crown adorned with a black cross rested atop her head like a declaration of personal rule.
She wore a white cropped shirt with three black heart motifs, exposing her midriff without care. A red mini-cape was fastened with a pink ribbon, flowing just enough to match her striped black-and-white tights, which stretched beneath a mini-skirt and a red-and-gold heart-shaped belt. Her red buckled boots gleamed, freshly polished despite being inside a haunted mirror.
Most notable of all was the red parasol she carried, styled like a devil's head, cute and almost cheeky, with tiny horns and a stitched-on grin.
She looked up at Alaric through the glass, blinking once.
Then she smiled.
"Took you long enough, partner." She said, her voice light, teasing, and just a little theatrical. "Were you really going to let me rot in that creepy stitched-mouth look forever? Ugh."
"Today is the second day since I've arrived in this world, Perona." Alaric said calmly. "Now, are you going to come out of that mirror or what?"
Perona let out a dramatic snort, rolling her eyes with a playful huff. "You could at least say please, partner." But despite this, she obeyed without hesitation.
With an effortless stride, she walked out of the mirror as if stepping through a curtain. The surface of the glass rippled behind her, returning to its dull reflection once she passed. Her parasol twirled lazily in her hand as she took a few steps forward, boots clicking softly against the creaking floorboards of the antique shop.
She looked around briefly, nose wrinkling at the dust, at Julian still wandering about aimlessly in the background, before turning her eyes back to Alaric, head tilted slightly.
"So..." Perona began. "Is it just us two, or are you planning to bring the others into this world as well?"
"For the time being, it's just us two… and a new helper." Alaric said as he flicked his wand with a twist. The mirror behind them shuddered once, then gleamed, all the dust and age vanishing in an instant, its surface now pristine, as if newly forged. It no longer pulsed with malice or haunted residue, merely a flawless, ordinary body size mirror.
Without sparing it another glance, Alaric turned and walked away, coat rustling softly behind him as he declared.
"Before you ask, he's a native of this world. And a kid at that. But…" He paused briefly, his voice carrying weight. "He's also a wizard."
Perona's eyes glinted with interest, her parasol clicking rhythmically against her shoulder as she floated beside him, entirely ignoring the forgotten antiques, the confused Julian, and even the lingering chill of their earlier encounter. "Ho? Do tell."
Alaric's gaze turned slightly toward her, just enough to catch her expression, a gleeful curiosity, tinged with her usual mischief. He sighed lightly before obliging.
"His name is Harry Potter."
Perona blinked. "That Harry Potter?"
"Yes, that one, though not quite the same as the tale you may remember." Alaric began walking slower, allowing his words to settle in properly as he explained. "Canonically, he's The Boy Who Lived. A tragic hero marked by prophecy, fated to destroy a Dark Lord. Brave, loyal, occasionally reckless. Wears his heart on his sleeve. Struggles with fame, guilt, and the weight of legacy."
He stopped for a moment as he opened the door, exiting the building with Perona right behind him as the door closed behind them.
"But the Harry in this world?" Alaric's tone grew thoughtful and analytical. "He's young still, has yet to enter Hogwarts. He isn't just the boy from the stories. He has the drive to make his life better."
Perona walked in step with Alaric, her parasol twirling lazily above her shoulder as if shielding her from a sun that wasn't even shining. She let a silence settle for a few beats before humming softly.
"So… emotionally repressed orphan wizard with a complex destiny? Sounds like your type."
Alaric raised an eyebrow at her, noticing the teasing in her voice. "He's useful in a way. And what exactly do you mean by that?"
Perona turned her head toward him with a mischievous smile, the kind that looked innocent at first glance but carried barbs if one listened too closely. "Well, you did force yourself into quite a few complicated destinies just to get your revenge, didn't you?"
Alaric's lips pressed into a thin line, though there was no real irritation behind his expression. "I adapted to life's rules." He replied calmly. "That's not the same as chasing after fate."
"Mmm. You adapted. Sure. But you didn't have to smile while doing it." Perona gave him a sidelong glance, parasol now lowered and resting against her shoulder like a weapon. "You talk about Harry like he's walking into a prophecy, but I wonder if you're still trying to outmaneuver one."
There was a brief pause between them, filled only by the distant sound of the wind brushing against rooftops and old chimneys.
Alaric eventually smirked faintly, golden eyes glinting. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just making sure someone else doesn't get eaten alive by the same pattern."
Perona didn't respond immediately, but she leaned a little closer and added with a mock-sweet tone. "Well, when he starts turning mirrors into allies and speaking in pseudo-philosophical poetry, I'll know you've rubbed off on him too much."
"Unlikely for him to obtain Hell Lesson like I did." Alaric replied with his usual measured tone. "Nor would I pass on my knowledge of it."
He adjusted his coat as they turned a corner, the street ahead quieter now, less cluttered with foot traffic. Then, almost casually, he added, "Anyway, just to inform you, I'm now in the ghostbusting business."
Perona stopped mid-step, staring at him with an unimpressed deadpan expression, her parasol lowering slightly. "…Very funny, Alaric…" She muttered, her voice flat but her cheeks betraying her with a faint blush of pink. A second later, she looked away and bumped her shoulder against his arm, a small pout tugging at her lip.
Alaric allowed a brief smirk to form. "Of course." He continued smoothly. "This is a one-time thing. I needed a genuine ghost to be used to bring you over in this world." His gaze flicked to her.
Perona's parasol spun once in her hand. "…Guess that makes me your lucky ghost girl, huh?"
Alaric chuckled under his breath. "Don't let it go to your head. You're still technically dead."
"Technically fabulous." Perona repeated with dramatic flair, flipping her long pink hair with a flourish as she skipped a step ahead. Her boots clacked confidently against the cobblestone, and her parasol twirled like she was on stage rather than in a dusty street. She cast a playful glare over her shoulder, her black-rimmed eyes narrowed slightly. "And don't think I didn't catch that dirty joke you slipped in. You aimed that one at me, didn't you?"
Alaric remained unfazed, his expression as composed as ever. "Moving on." Brushing invisible dust from his coat sleeve. "I'm going to need your help scouting a number of locations. Some old. Some abandoned. Some… difficult to explain."
Perona puffed out her cheeks in mock indignation, turning fully to face him as she floated backward a few steps. "Of course you do." She said, folding her arms. "You always do. 'Oh, Perona, help me find the haunted gateway!' 'Perona, be my spiritual anchor!' 'Perona, infiltrate that twisted ghost realm and maybe don't get vaporized this time!'"
Alaric gave her a sidelong glance. "You're the one who called yourself 'technically fabulous.' I'm simply utilizing the talent available."
Perona let out an exaggerated sigh, then spun once before resuming her place beside him. "Fine, fine. But I'm not doing any of that exorcism stuff unless I get to keep those cute dolls. And maybe a chair or two."
"Just don't try talking to them again. I'd rather not have another séance at three in the morning." Alaric muttered dryly.
"No promises." Perona beamed.
Alaric and Perona turned the final corner as they reached their destination.
Just ahead, a young boy with messy black hair and round glasses was walking by at a hesitant pace.
He looked utterly out of place and deeply uncomfortable.
"Oh?" Perona squinted, tilting her head and lowering her parasol just enough to get a clearer view. "Is that the Harry Potter?"
"Yeah." Alaric replied. "Don't scare him badly or cause him to spiral into a permanent depression."
Perona pouted dramatically. "Tch. You act like I always do that."
"You do."
"…Fair enough." She admitted, flicking her parasol closed with a snap. "But I'll behave. Mostly."
Perona waved at him casually, a sharp but not unkind smile. "Hey there, Boy-Who's-About-to-Get-Involved-in-Things-Way-Above-His-Year-Level."
Alaric sighed softly, but didn't stop her. He stepped forward and unlocked the door with a quiet click, the old mechanism giving way with a low groan. He pushed it open and walked inside without a word.
Perona followed immediately behind, gliding through the threshold with a mischievous grin already stretching across her face. Her dark eyes gleamed as they locked onto Harry, who flinched and visibly tensed under her unwavering gaze.
The boy shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable, but still entered the building with courage most kids at his age wouldn't dare.
Still, that didn't save him from what came next.
With a dramatic spin and the theatrical grace only she could manage, Perona reached out and slammed the door shut behind him, the sound echoing like a ward being sealed.
"Horo-horo-horo~!" She let out her signature haunting laugh, spinning her parasol with glee as she circled the boy. "You should see your face! So tense, so twitchy! Are all famous wizards this adorably awkward?"
Harry, caught off guard but trying to salvage his dignity, adjusted his glasses and muttered, "I'm not awkward and not a wizard. You're just… a lot."
Alaric, already halfway across the room, spoke without turning. "She is. And she'll only get worse if you encourage her."
Perona stuck out her tongue playfully. "Pfft. You love it."
"I tolerate it."
Harry gave them both a deeply uncertain look.