A Devil’s Training and Familiar Revenge

It had been three years since Hadrian first learned the truth about his heritage, and in that time, his life at Devil May Cry had taken on a distinct rhythm. Days were spent training and learning; nights, though quieter, were filled with plans and lessons, all in preparation for the dangerous life that awaited him.

Now at ten years old, Hadrian had grown accustomed to the fast-paced life of a devil hunter-in-training. His skills with a sword had increased dramatically, thanks to Dante's constant guidance, and Sirius's lessons in magic had added layers of complexity to his understanding of spells, potions, and the darker aspects of wizardry.

Hadrian wasn't just a devil hunter or a wizard. He was both.

A Morning at Devil May Cry

The sun had barely risen over the city, casting a golden hue through the windows of the Devil May Cry office. Hadrian stood in the main room, running a cloth over the barrel of the Desert Eagle he'd received from Lady as part of his weapons training. Dante had decided that mastering just one type of weapon wasn't enough—no, Hadrian needed to be proficient in all types: swords, knives, spears, and even the Devil Arms that Dante kept lying around in the weapons vault.

"You've got to be flexible, kid," Dante had said more than once. "In this line of work, you never know when your favorite weapon might get smashed to bits. Always good to have options."

Hadrian had taken that advice to heart. Over the years, he'd mastered wielding a blade, but he was also becoming adept at using various other weapons, from daggers to spears. Yet, despite all the weapons training, it was the lessons in potions that he found surprisingly satisfying.

Sirius had introduced him to potions when they'd hit a snag with his spellcasting. Since Hadrian didn't have a wand yet, Sirius had focused more on theory and wandless magic for subjects like transfiguration and charms. But when it came to potions, the lack of a wand didn't matter.

"You're a natural at potions, kid," Sirius had once said, watching him brew a flawless Pepperup Potion. "Just like your mother. She had a gift for potions—one of the best I ever knew."

Hadrian found peace in potion-making. There was something calming about the precision of mixing ingredients, waiting for just the right reaction to happen. And while his demonic heritage made magic come easier to him—he had already mastered Reparo, Accio, and Wingardium Leviosa wandless—potions were something he could control entirely. Each ingredient, each stir of the cauldron had a purpose.

Hedwig, perched on his shoulder, let out a low caw of boredom as Hadrian meticulously cleaned the barrel of his gun.

"You know, kid, I don't get why you spend so much time fussing over these weapons," Hedwig remarked, her eyes glowing faintly. "If you ask me, claws and flames get the job done faster."

Hadrian chuckled, setting the gun down. "Not everyone can be a walking inferno like you, Hedwig."

"Ah, well," she said, preening her wings, "You're learning. But keep in mind, when the time comes, fire and lightning will always trump bullets."

The Wandless Magic Mishap

Downstairs, Dante lounged on the worn-out couch, lazily flipping through a magazine with his feet kicked up on the table. He had a particular fondness for demonstrating his mastery of the Accio charm—mainly to summon beer bottles from across the room.

"Accio beer!" Dante called out, his hand outstretched.

A bottle of beer flew across the room and landed perfectly in his grasp, much to Hadrian's annoyance.

"You're supposed to use that spell for important things, you know," Hadrian remarked, watching from the top of the stairs. "Like summoning a weapon in the middle of a fight, not for grabbing your drink."

Dante took a swig and winked. "Kid, when you've been doing this as long as I have, beer is a weapon. Besides, it's good practice. Every spell should be useful, don't you think?"

Hadrian rolled his eyes, but before he could respond, there was a sharp crash as another bottle of beer hurtled across the room, missing Dante's hand entirely. It flew straight into Hedwig, drenching the bird in beer and sending her feathers into a furious fluff.

Hadrian froze, wide-eyed, as Hedwig gave Dante a look that could only be described as murderous. Her feathers crackled with electricity as she slowly turned her gaze toward the offending bottle. Dante, however, merely grinned, thoroughly amused.

"Whoops," Dante said, unfazed by the thunderous stare of the bird. "Guess my aim was a little off."

Hedwig didn't explode into flames as Hadrian had expected. Instead, she gave a low, ominous caw, her eyes glowing fiercely before she flashed back into her tattoo form on Hadrian's arm.

"Vengeance will be mine," Hadrian heard her whisper through their bond.

The Revenge of Hedwig

The next day, Hadrian had nearly forgotten about Hedwig's cryptic words—until Dante, looking smug and carefree as usual, headed out to grab his favorite treat: a strawberry sundae from the shop down the street. He left the shop whistling, clearly unaware of what was to come.

Hadrian, meanwhile, busied himself with maintaining the Desert Eagle. Twenty minutes passed in relative peace before Hedwig materialized next to him, perched proudly on the stand.

Hadrian raised an eyebrow at her. "Alright, Hedwig, what did you do?"

"Who, me?" Hedwig replied, her tone dripping with innocence. "I didn't do anything."

Before Hadrian could press her for more details, the doors to Devil May Cry slammed open with a loud bang. Dante stomped in, looking like he had been through a storm—his clothes were drenched, his hair plastered to his face, and worst of all, he was covered in bird shit.

Hadrian bit back a laugh as Dante cast a filthy look at Hedwig, who perched herself higher and let out an uncharacteristically loud caw of laughter.

"What the hell, Hedwig?!" Dante snarled, shaking off his jacket. "You set the damn birds on me!"

Hedwig, still laughing, fluffed her wings and puffed out her chest. "Vengeance achieved," she declared proudly. "I convinced the local birds to give you a little… present in exchange for some bread crumbs. And then I may have summoned a few storm clouds to add some flair to the situation."

Hadrian couldn't hold it in any longer. He burst into laughter, wiping his eyes as Dante gave him a pointed look.

"And you're just gonna let her get away with this?" Dante demanded, gesturing wildly at his soaked clothes.

"Hey," Hadrian said between laughs, "you did kind of deserve it. Plus, she did warn you."

Dante muttered something under his breath about fiery birds and payback before storming upstairs to take a shower. As soon as the door shut, Hedwig's restrained laughter erupted into full hysterics.

"I warned him," she said, tears of mirth in her glowing eyes. "But did he listen? No. No one ever listens to the firebird until they're covered in bird shit."

Hadrian shook his head, still chuckling. "You really outdid yourself this time, Hedwig. Remind me never to get on your bad side."