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For Love of Magic
Harry P. - Words: 812,577 - Rated: M - English - None - Chapters: 56 - Reviews: 10461 - Updated: 13-08-2018 - Published: 15-12-2015 - Complete - by Noodlehammer (FFN)

It seems I failed to anticipate one possible reaction to the previous chapter, and the reaction is sufficiently stupid and common that I feel the need to address it here.

Harry is now 'suddenly racist' apparently.

Have you dumb twats even been paying attention? Like, at all? He has never been a shining example of tolerance, to put it mildly. Literally the only thing that's happened is that you got to see his unfiltered thoughts for the first time instead of catching glimpses through actions and conversation.

Next up, he doesn't give a shit about race and never has, it's intelligence and reasoning ability that he judges by. You can wail about it all you want, but places like Africa and the Middle East are not exactly beacons of enlightenment these days. The backstories don't matter. Even if we humor the delusions some of you have and say that it's all the fault of the evil Europeans and USA and that those places would be utopias otherwise, Harry just doesn't care. He would sneer at a slave for not casting off their own chains or die trying.

Furthermore, you may recall that he's taken 'the only good is knowledge, the only evil is ignorance' as his personal creed. Do you daft cunts think he only said that because it sounds cool? As far as he is concerned, all religions are inherently and irredeemably evil because they peddle not just ignorance, but also false knowledge. He has no respect for religious people whatsoever and I don't mean the kind of lack of respect you or I would feel for a person we don't like. I mean the type of lack of respect one feels for a fly buzzing in your face just before you squash it.

By Slaanesh's dribbling futa-cock, I can't believe this actually has to be pointed out to you congealed wankstains, fifty-fucking-two chapters into the story no less.

Yes, I obviously hold some variation of these beliefs myself. Congratulations, you've discovered the concept of author bias. What an earth-shattering revelation. The very fabric of reality echoes with shock at the thought of an author whose writing is influenced by his personal opinions, especially on a hobby website.

That being said, you have never received a 100% accurate representation of my own views through my writing. All you got was characters that I find amusing to write. You wouldn't expect a Muslim to write about his vaunted prophet eating ass on a street corner for shekels, would you? Why would you expect me to write a protagonist that likes or tolerates things I hold in contempt? If I tried that, Harry would have died in his first year. That was the entire fucking point of altering his backstory at an early stage of development – so that I could fuck him up however I pleased, because the original is goddamn annoying.

Finally, do remember that this is a piece of fiction based on another piece of fiction and that you can chill the fuck out anytime now. It really has nothing to do with you or the sad state of real life.

I could say that I hope that this will at the very least make you briefly think before you start REEEE-ing all over your keyboard, but in my heart I know that you're nothing more than emotionally-driven animals and that the hostile tone of this AN was enough to classify me as an enemy in your minds – and therefore wrong about everything by default. The sky is green, by the way.

So I suppose that my final word on this is that you should go fuck yourselves, because I'm not writing for you, I'm writing for me.

And yes this was kind of petty, thank you for noticing. I was overdue for one of these pointless rants and just about blew my load when I was presented with such magnificent stupidity.


Curious – because that would be a lot of work and I'm lazy.

B. Netanyahu – hate to break it to you, but Harry only despises Jews less than Muslims because they don't make as much noise.

And as always, much appreciation goes to Joe Lawyer for his help in polishing these things up. The story wouldn't be as good without him.

A little credit also goes towards my friend Milennial for providing some advice on the Czech Republic and the city of Ostrava.


February 8th, 2019. Ravenhead, Hyperbolic Time Chamber, also known as the Room of Ultimate Cheating.

Luna, Fleur and Dora were quietly, and rather disinterestedly playing cards. Before that, they had been disinterestedly reading books and snuggling. Fleur had tried to get a bit grabby but soon gave it up as a bad job because her heart just wasn't in it.

How could they possibly focus on anything except the constant pound of hammer on metal, knowing what it would mean if anything disrupted the rhythm?

Harry had explained to them what went into spellforging. They had immediately taken back their word about wanting their own Discs, but he wouldn't hear of it. So here they sat, slowly going insane with worry. Only the reasurring steady pulse from the bracelet bound with his blood kept them reasonably calm.

It was especially bad for Dora, because it was her Disc that he was making this time. Fleur's and Luna's were already done, laid down on a nearby table. One was emblazoned with the image of a bright sun on a clear sky, with white clouds on the edges and nude winged veela going all around the rim. The other was of a blue moon in a clouded dark sky, unicorns and thestrals depicted galloping along the rim.

Dora knew that hers would be a quetzalcoatl curled around a column of wind. They had in the end each chosen a design that would represent the cores of their staves. Luna had just wanted the thestrals added because she liked them. It had taken some convincing to get the petite blonde to refrain from asking that Harry put every magical critter she liked on it.

They didn't have to be here. Harry had even suggested that they wait outside for him to be done, but they wouldn't hear of it. If he was going to be doing something dangerous then they wanted to be close, even if there was nothing they could do. They had already been in here for a subjective ten days and would be spending another three while Harry recovered.

The hammering stopped and all their heads immediately snapped to the hallway that led to the forge. They had been expressly forbidden from going there under any circumstances due to how dangerous even a momentary slip in focus could be for Harry. That the bracelets remained intact, meaning that he was still alive, prevented them from running there anyway.

A few minutes later Harry shambled out, leaning on the wall to support himself, and the three of them jumped to help him.

"S'done." He mumbled.

"Nevermind that now." Dora scolded worriedly, holding up nearly his full weight. His bare upper body was slick with sweat and his muscles were trembling uncontrollably. She hated seeing him like this and felt irrationally guilty knowing that it was because of something he made for her.

"The bath is ready." Fleur said unnecessarily. Of course the bath was ready, It had been ready for the past three hours and they had been obsessively checking to make sure the temperature stayed just right the whole time.

The two of them nearly carried him towards said bath while Luna just held one of his hands. Levitating him would be easier, but the physical contact was more reassuring.

Getting his pants off was only mildly difficult despite him being dead weight. Magic was useful like that.

Then all four of them were soaking in the hot water. Dora had her back to the wall of the tub with Harry leaning on her while Fleur and Luna immediately began massaging his arms and shoulders.

With a final sigh, Harry relaxed and let himself slip into unconsciousness.

"I'm glad that's over." Dora said, holding her arms tightly across his chest. It wasn't the most comfortable position given their size difference but she didn't care. Harry's usually tremendous magical presence was so muted and weak that it made him seem unusually fragile.

"Hopefully forever." Fleur agreed. She did not appreciate Harry's interpretation of 'worthwhile risk' any more than the metamorphmagus.

"No, Harry takes pride in creating great works of magic. He'll never stop." Luna contradicted serenely.

"He's going to get himself killed one day." Dora said darkly, squeezing him tighter.

"Yes." Luna nodded.

"What do you mean 'yes'?" Fleur asked irritably. "We don't want him killing himself doing dangerous magic."

Luna cocked her head sideways, looking as if she was trying to decipher a particularly baffling puzzle. "But that's the kind of death he wants. He won't accept going peacefully in his sleep, it wouldn't be useful."

The other two exchanged glances and sighed.

"She's right, goddamnit." Dora huffed. "And self-sacrifice is the most powerful magic there is. Of course he's going to commit ritual suicide or something."

"So how do we stop him taking risks like this all the time?" Fleur asked, frowning at the unconscious man in front of her and his priorities.

"Make him promise to wait until after we die?" Luna suggested.

"Should work, but damn do we need to get out of this place. Being stuck in here is making us gloomy as hell."


February 10th, 2019. Spellhaven.

There were twenty couples in the room and the oldest woman was twenty-six. That was deliberate so that time wasn't wasted with women whose fertility had already begun declining.

"Good morning." Harry greeted the room. "I trust you've all had a good night's sleep?"

He received a loud mutter of return greetings and affirmations. Some were looking at him with nervous hope while others looked downright awed. A quick Legilimency scan revealed that all of the women and most of the men were very excited about magic. A handful of men weren't as enthusiastic as their partners, but had nothing against it either. A full six couples were here as a group, neo-pagans from Ireland; they were the ones most in awe of him. No spies in this batch.

Harry was going to have to remember to compliment Penny on her choices. These were all good picks. Using a website and E-mail applications had also worked out surprisingly well.

"Alright, let's get to the point. You all want magical children and have volunteered to be the test group to see if my idea to give them to you is viable. Have any of you changed your minds after seeing the place you'll be staying in over the course of the experiment?" He asked.

Nobody spoke up, not that Harry had expected them to. The resort was as luxurious as any five-star hotel and it was essentially free. It had no electronics, but practically every square inch of the place was enchanted up to the gills and the house elf room service was unmatchable. He'd actually bought two dozen extra house elves at a steep cost just to keep everything in top shape. He'd even assigned Fleur and several of the more skilled veela enchantresses to do the spellwork on the place, so that the particular flavor of their magic would make the residents more randy.

He was just about to continue speaking when one of the less magically impressed men raised their hand.

"Yes?" Harry prompted.

"Will we be able to move around the island or are will we be confined to the resort?" He asked.

"You'll be able to move around as you wish of course, although I will remind you that this is not a tourist location, so don't act like it. You'll be made aware of any dangerous areas if you agree to stay."

The man nodded, apparently satisfied by the answer.

"There was something about a contract we would have to sign?" One of the women asked after raising her hand.

"I was just about to get to that." Harry nodded. "The world has changed a great deal over the past month and will continue changing for a long time, so I feel that I need to take some precautions with this idea of mine."

He pulled a roll of parchment from one of his pockets. Although he generally preferred using paper, parchment was indisputably superior for holding magic.

"To summarize." Harry said, unrolling the scroll. "The contract specifies that any magical children born as a result of this experiment are citizens of Spellhaven. This is done to protect them from any unscrupulous elements in your home countries that may seek to use legal means to control these children, as well as to give me the ability to legally use violence on their behalf with should it be required. Furthermore, the contract requires you to return here to give birth and says that you consent to the creation of a blood phylactery that will alert me if they're in danger and allow me to track their location should someone get ideas about kidnapping them."

This term was put in because the legal status of first-generation magicals was going to become very murky soon. The magical and mundane worlds were basically still feeling each other out for the moment, but pretty soon jurisdiction disputes were going to start coming up and magical children with no background in the magical world were going to be one of the bigger issues. He couldn't openly do anything about most of them except to try luring them to Spellhaven, but he damn well could make sure that the ones he was responsible for creating were firmly within his power.

"That seems a bit extreme." Another of the women frowned.

"I'm a cynic." Harry shrugged. "The blood phylactery would be presented to your children once they reach their majority and can look after themselves, which brings me to my next point. The contract also stipulates that the children will come to Spellhaven to receive their education. I've already begun to set up a schooling system designed to teach things both mundane and magical, as I've never been too impressed with the singular focus of the other magical schools."

"So our children would basically have to come live here." The same man as before grunted. "And I notice that you specified magical children. What if this doesn't work and they're born non-magical?"

"Then there isn't much I can do for them that your home governments can't." Harry replied with another shrug. "And no, they wouldn't have to live here exactly. They could either board or some kind of steady transportation could be arranged if you want them to come home every day, although that would be inconvenient and possibly uncomfortable."

"How much would it cost to pay for their schooling here?" A different man asked.

"Nothing." Harry said firmly. "I don't believe in keeping knowledge behind paywalls."

A sentiment that was much easier to maintain when you had infinite gold via a Philosopher's Stone

"Do you make the people who live here sign a contract like that too? Or insist on making these 'blood phylacteries' for their children?"

"Of course not." Harry scoffed. "But they also don't live outside of Spellhaven."

"Would it be possible for us to move here then?" One of the neo-pagan women asked, leaning forward eagerly.

Harry wasn't caught by surprise. He had expected that question eventually.

"Normally I would say no." He said. "Spellhaven is small enough that I can't really afford to accept non-magical immigrants, but I have made exceptions in the past for family members of my people. If your child is magical and you want to stay here then I would allow it."

All of the neo-pagans burst into excited chatter upon hearing that and Harry got the feeling that he might soon have a small group of wannabe druids on the island. The others looked pretty interested as well.

"But," He said sharply, quieting them again. "there are some things to keep in mind if you decide to immigrate. The first is that Spellhaven is not a democracy. I am effectively a king and my authority is unlimited."

That...actually didn't seem to have as much impact as he'd expected. A lot of them just looked at each other and shrugged. He had the distinct feeling that they were not really getting it. Ah well, he'd warned them. It wasn't his fault if they failed to grasp the implications.

"Would we be treated as equals or would we be some kind of second-class citizens since we're not magical?" The presumed husband of the woman who'd asked about immigrating asked.

"There are some people here who might look down on you for that," Harry admitted. "but I doubt they'll say or do anything since they're a powerless minority and must still be smarting from the slap down they got when they tried to kick up a fuss about the werewolves and the veela."

"There are werewolves living on Spellhaven?" Another of the neo-pagan women asked with sparkling eyes.

"Yes, and they are not cuddly in case you were wondering." Harry responded dryly, getting a little laughter in return. "That's one of the things you'd be warned about if you decide to sign the contract – the nights of the Full Moon belong to the werewolves. There is a curfew and everyone has to lock themselves indoors."

Harry decided to continue when nobody spoke up. "Next, the men will be expected to find some work to do and job opportunities could be somewhat limited since you don't have magic and there's not much technology either. I may be able to find you something to do, especially now that magic is known to the world at large, but it may not be whatever it is you're trained for."

"Why only the men?" Came the next question, sounding a little accusatory.

"Because magical society has always carried the expectation that even if women with families do work, they will do it from home until their children are at least old enough to look after themselves for a few hours and I have no interest in changing that. Keep in mind that, while I may have been born in Britain and I may look and sound British, this is not Britain. The culture here is different and if you want to live here you're going to have to adapt to it. You ladies can still get jobs if you insist, but don't be surprised if you face some disapproval from the community as a result."

Harry didn't mention that while he wouldn't stop them from working, he was certainly not going to attempt making it a palatable option either. If a particular job didn't require magic and they had the skill to do it then fine, but he had a feeling that many of the women he'd be getting here were going to have a rather unrealistic, Disney-esque view of the situation with few useful skills to speak of. Being a housewife might not sound so bad to them when the alternative wasn't being a princess in a magical castle, but something dull or difficult instead.

Plus, he was going to have the veela enchant their homes anyway. Even with contraception, heightened arousal combined with a lack of technological toys to use as a distraction was likely to result in more than a few unplanned pregnancies. He'd just have to make sure that those pregnancies resulted in magical babies, but other than that he had no problem contriving a situation where they wouldn't have time to work.

If they still decided to stay that was. He saw that his words had dampened some of the enthusiasm and it would get even damper once they figured out what lack of technology really meant.

"Is it even financially viable for only one person to work?" One of the hitherto silent men asked skeptically.

"Absolutely." Harry nodded. For all of its faults, the magical world's economy was a good bit more stable than the mundane one. Since witches had always had the power to assert themselves, they had always been part of the working population, even if not to the same extent as men, and never needed an analogue to the women's rights movement, which meant that the labor market had never suddenly been flooded with new workers and the value of labor had thus remained steady rather than essentially getting cut in half as it had in the mundane world. It was perfectly possible for even a large family to live on a single income, the Weasleys being a prime example.

"Any more questions on this or can we get back to the contract?" He asked once he explained this, sweeing his eyes over the group. "Alright, the contract then. There are a few other minor things in it but that's the main parts. The important thing to know about it is that it won't just be legally binding, it will be magically binding. If you decide to sign it, you will do so in blood. This isn't something to be done lightly. If you sign a contract in blood with me here, in this place where the land knows me as its master, violating it will have dire consequences."

"What kind of consequences?" One of the women asked with trepidation.

"All your memories connected to Spellhaven will be sealed away, and yes that includes your memories about your children." That had been a bitch to enchant.

An outcry of horrified protest followed, everyone in agreement that it was too harsh.

"Shh." Harry hushed and the room fell silent.

"Yes, I know it's extreme." He began implacably. "Perhaps I'm being overly paranoid, but I expect that establishing my clear jurisdiction over those magical children I am responsible for making magical as well as preventing betrayals by their parents will be necessary in the future. As long as the contract is signed in good faith then you have nothing to worry about. If you choose to emigrate to Spellhaven, then I would be willing to destroy your contract and the phylactery, but do keep in mind that you would not be allowed to leave later without signing another one in that case."

Harry sent copies of the contract flying towards each of them. "Take all the time you need to read, discuss and think about it. I'll answer any more questions you have and feel free to ask anyone else living on Spellhaven as well. We'll continue this once you've made a decision."

In the end, after three days of deliberation, only six couples decided to walk away without signing the contract. The remaining fourteen wanted their children to be magical badly enough to accept the terms laid out.


February 15th, 2019. Spellhaven.

They had game night at least twice a week. Luna had insisted on it and none of them could really say no to her when she wanted something. Besides, they all had to admit that it was fun. Even Fleur, who was usually in a hurry to rush them to the bedroom, enjoyed them.

They each got to pick what kind of game it would be on a rotating schedule.

Harry usually chose mundane board games with a fantasy setting, such as Dungeons & Dragons or Warhammer Fantasy, much to Dora and Fleur's exasperation. In retaliation, they often played chaotic evil crazies or annoyingly lawful good paladins to mess with him, sometimes both at the same time. And they never broke character when they did that.

Fleur, unsurprisingly, tended to pick party games like spin the bottle, strip poker, or others with a sexual overtone. She was also strangely fond of Monopoly, if only because she adjusted the rules so that people without money could pay with sexual favors. It was hardly the only game whose rules she adjusted either.

Dora preferred more competitive and physical types of games. Some of them that could be played indoors, such as Twister, and other ones being more outdoorsy like paintball or water fights.

Nobody had as of yet managed to figure out by what logic Luna made her choices.

Case in point, they were currently having a juggling competition. Not just any kind of juggling competition though, it was a magical juggling competition with special rules. And stripping.

They went one at a time and the juggling itself was done via Will Manifestation, although using one's hands was not forbidden if you knew how, which none of them did. More balls were added over time and the players that weren't juggling that round did their best to distract the one that was. One player was the designated game master each round, charged with adding new balls and upholding the rules.

Everyone started with a pool of ten points. The more balls you were juggling when you screwed up, the more points you retained for your next round. Losing all your points would cost you an article of clothing, at which point the point pool was reset back to ten for the next article of clothing. Being reduced to full nudity meant elimination from the game.

The game was oddly appealing to all of them. Dora got into it quickly because she could be riled up into competitivesness pretty easily, Fleur liked it mostly for when it was her turn to be a distraction and Harry liked it because moving around multiple balls with Will Manifestation was an excellent exercise in parallel thinking. Luna just liked any game she could play with people she loved.

Fleur was already completely naked, being the most susceptible to distraction. Dora and Luna were down to their panties. Harry had managed to retain both of his socks in addition to his underwear, largely thanks to his greater skill at Will Manifestation.

Luna was currently the game master and it was Harry's turn to juggle.

Said wizard was scowling in deep concentration as he kept the six balls he was juggling from either colliding in the air or falling to the ground.

"Just look at them jiggle!" Fleur said admiringly.

"Fleur, these things are heavy and it's not working." The metamorphmagus groaned out a complaint, trying and somewhat failing to support her gigantic H-cup udders with her forearms.

Harry determinedly ignored the shuddering masses of boobflesh as Luna added a seventh ball. He wasn't going to be distracted that easily. The more innocent distractions had long since become sexual as more and more clothing got removed.

"Fine, do something else then." Fleur said in a slightly pouty tone that probably meant that the ridiculously oversized tits hadn't been a distraction meant for him alone.

Harry's eyes narrowed to slits in utter focus as he brought the seven balls into a harmonious movement. There was a pattern to it, a certain order. Now if he could just keep that order balanced between being loose enough to incorporate the next ball and firm enough to not collapse, then he would be fine.

Dora spent a moment thinking before she suddenly grinned evilly. "I got it... This'll work for sure."

Harry tried not to look, but she was standing right in front of him and his cursed curiousity was just too much, so he spared a moment of focus for his shapeshifting lover.

The giant breasts shrank rapidly until they were back to their usual out-of-combat perky C-cup, but her nipples started deforming until they had the distinct look of...

Dora's scrunched up expression of concentraction turned to smugness and she thrust her chest out trimphantly. "Behold...lipples!"

The newly-formed lips on her breasts parted and tongues wagged out...either seductively or disturbingly, depending on your preferences.

Harry nearly dropped the balls, salvaging the pattern he had established by the skin of his teeth. In the back of his mind, the desire to thoroughly investigate this fascinating new transformation bubbled like boiling water, but he ruthlessly focused his mind away from the boob-mouths. Sweat poured down his face from the mental effort.

"That's new." Fleur said with interest, bending down to inspect the new orifices. "Are they fully functional?"

"Well I didn't give them any teeth and I'm certainly not going to eat anything with them, but other than that, they should be." Dora shrugged, scratching at her head.

"Hmm." Fleur hummed and leaned forward to French kiss one of them.

"Gyah!" Dora yelped and jumped back like a spooked deer. "That's so weird!"

Fleur giggled, took a look at him and skipped forward eagerly. "I've got another ideaaaaa..."

As Luna added yet another ball and Fleur whispered in Dora's ear, Harry desperately hoped that it wouldn't be anything as weird as the lipples. He didn't think he could maintain this level of focus much longer anyway, but he wanted to try getting to ten balls.

"Ohhh, that'll work for sure." Dora nodded with a smirk. "Alright, let's do it."

Nothing obvious happened. The lipples reformed back into regular nipples, which was hardly going to distract him. Fleur leaned down to suck on the same one she'd French-kissed earlier, but that was an amateur tactic that had no hope of working either.

This went on for some time, long enough for Luna to add ball number nine. Harry could almost feel his brain cooking from the mental strain.

"Alright, I've got it!" Dora declared.

"Then let's do it!" Fleur said with equal enthusiasm, wiping her mouth and moving to stand behind the metamorphmagus.

To Harry's bemusement, she took hold of the breast and aimed it towards him.

"Milk Cannon, fire!" She cried and squeezed hard, sending a highly pressurized stream of human dairy spurting towards him.

As the streak of white travelled towards him, Harry had a moment to realize that Fleur had probably been sucking on the nipple so that Dora could figure out the right internal biology to pressurize it as well as to hide what they were doing.

Then it splattered across his chest and the balls he was juggling fell to the ground all at once.

"Oh, come on!" Harry exclaimed in disgust. "A milk cannon? Really?!"

"Now you know how I feel when you splash my tits with your spunk." Dora retorted smugly.

"Complete waste of an orgasm too." Fleur added in a mutter.

"Both of you shush!" He commanded, pointing a finger at Dora. "One, those tits of yours are practically begging to be jizzed on and two," his finger moved to point at Fleur. "you lick it off anyway. But that's not why I'm pissed off! You broke the fucking rules, and just when I was about to finally get the tenth ball too!"

"What do you mean we broke the rules?" Fleur demanded.

"There's no physical contact or direct spellcasting allowed."

"We didn't touch you!" Dora retorted indignantly.

"You shot milk at me!" Harry exclaimed incredulously. "I think that counts as touching."

In unison, all three of them turned to Luna, the one who had the final say.

"It counts." She said with a dreamy smile. "Sorry, Nymphadora, but you're disqualified. I did like the lipples though."

"Noooo, that's not fair!" Dora wailed. "It was all Fleur's idea!"

"Hey!" The veela protested the blame shifting.

"But you were the one that did it and she was already eliminated." Luna countered.

"Ha! Serves you right for cheating." Harry said smugly, engaging in the time-honored tradition of rubbing one's victory into the loser's face. "Now drop those panties, Dairy Queen."

Fleur and Luna giggled at the new nickname, but Dora just gaped for a moment before her hair turned an angry red.

"Dairy Queen, is it?" She growled. "I'll give you a dairy queen, take this!"

With lightning speed, she grabbed hold of her breasts and started squeezing them, firing out pressurized spurts of milk

"Hey, cut that out!" Harry barked, doing his best to block the pale projectiles with his arms. It would have been a much easier thing to do if he wasn't laughing at the absurdity of it all. "Woman, stop shooting your milk at me!"

"Never!" Dora cackled, her breasts re-inflating with milk just before she squeezed them and blasted it out again. "Die of lactose intolerance!"

"I'm not even lactose intolerant." Harry protested through his chortling. He didn't even try to defend himself with magic, this was just too funny.

Off to the side, Luna and Fleur had abandoned all decorum and were holding on to each other for dear life as they laughed.

"Then drown in...huh?" Dora trailed off, frowning down at her boob as it produced nothing but a sad little trickle of milk instead of the jets from before.

"Ran out of ammo?" Harry quipped, setting off a renewed bout of helpless giggling in Fleur and Luna.

"I think I might have." The metamorphmagus agreed. "I'm definitely feeling like I skipped both lunch and dinner."

"Well it was about time." Harry said with a grimace, looking down at himself. He was dripping with milk, his body hair and remaining clothes soaked in it. Some had even gotten into his hair.

He was just about to suggest a bath when his mirror started buzzing.

"Just ignore it." Fleur pleaded. She was quite obviously horny and not keen on the interruption.

"You know I can't." Harry shook his head and went to answer. Nobody ever called him for trivial reasons.

"At least put a shirt on." Dora rolled her eyes, but he ignored her. Anyone calling him this late had no right to complain about what they saw.

Much to his surprise, he wasn't the only topless person in this call.

"Ooh-la-la, I see I wasn't the only one having fun tonight." Adrastia grinned wickedly, bare breasts on full display. "I thought you didn't like milk?"

"It was an unexpected drenching." Harry replied dryly. "What's up?"

"I've just had a myteriously brief note mysteriously blown in through the window." She said.

"Bjomolf." He concluded.

"That would be my guess." She agreed. "It smacks of his particular brand of humor."

"What does it say?"

"A mere four words, 'he is in Ostrava'. I can only assume he means your pestiferous Dark Lord." Adrastia revealed casually. "And I can also only assume that he has guessed that our association has deepened and is using this information to gauge how close I am to you."

Harry scowled. Of course. If Adrastia hadn't been beholden to him, then she might not have been quite sure who it was referring to and would have had to investigate further, then she would have used this information to leverage something out of him. Both things would take time, so if he acted on it immediately, Bjomolf would get a much clearer picture of the situation.

And he couldn't just sit on the information to muddy the waters either. He wasn't Dumbledore.

That was especially true as Voldemort hadn't stopped after his little tantrum in Romania. He'd hit several other small towns and villages across Europe, seemingly taking delight in the Statute of Secrecy being broken. Either that, or his extremely volatile superiority complex was goading him into displays of power and cruelty as a way to prove that he wasn't losing. Needless to say, it wasn't improving relations between the magical and mundane.

"Nothing we can do about that now." Harry said decisively. "Thanks for telling me right away. And for the view."

"Anytime, darling." Adrastia said gaily, thrusting out her chest and giving him a little wave before breaking the connection."

"I guess playtime is over then?" Fleur pouted.

"Afraid so."

"Just one question." Dora piped up. "Where the hell is Ostrava?"


February 17th, 2019. Czech Republic, Ostrava.

These days, Ostrava was the third largest city in the Czech Republic, a status that it attained through its extensive ironworks industry in the 19th and 20th centuries, but prior to that its only real importance came from its strategic location on the ancient trade route known as the Amber Road.

It had also been a consistently attractive locale for wizards and witches. While the far older city of Prague was where the Czech Ministry of Magic was located and where its trade was centered, Ostrava had long been considered a place where wizards and witches could go live if they preferred something a little more provincial but not too isolated.

That slowly changed when the aforementioned ironworks industry got started up. While it was impossible to escape the pervasive influence of industrialization and magicals had generally learned to ignore it, Ostrava's exceptionally high focus on industry still drove away wizards and witches looking to settle down somewhere quiet and picturesque. They were slowly replaced by magical practicioners of a darker inclination that gravitated there exactly because the city had become unpopular as a place to live for their kind.

Knockturn Alley was actually highly unusual in the magical world outside Britain, almost cartoonish in its blatant shadiness. Many were baffled by the seeming contradiction of the British Ministry's desire to regulate the use of magic and Knocturn Alley's thinly veiled mustache-twirling evilness. The contradiction was resolved when one found out that many of the older families used Knockturn Alley as a place to conduct transactions of a somewhat more dubious nature. The Ministry tolerated the existence of Knockturn Alley because trying to do away with it would be too much trouble and encounter too much internal resistance. Plus, they preferred to keep the majority of their shady elements contained in one place rather than having them skulking in dark corners all across the country.

Knocturn Alley was also unusual because it was actually physically connected to it's more legitimate counterpart, Diagon Alley. Like a tumor.

Ostrava was a bit different. While it had acquired an unfavorable reputation over the years, it couldn't be conclusively claimed or proved that anything particularly illegal was going on in its small-ish and insular magical community.

Harry himself didn't know what Voldemort was trying to achieve here. He didn't know that many years ago, Tom Riddle had come through and acquired some interesting literature and items from a few of the local shops after using his charisma to convince the owners that he was truly interested. He didn't know that in his now thoroughly unhinged mind, that meant that the place was a prime recruitment ground for new minions. He didn't know – although he suspected – that Bjomolf had agents and interests in the area, nor did he know that the vampire had a hand in making the place appealing to budding Dark Lords to make them more predictable.

All he knew was that nearly two days of observation had confirmed that Voldemort was indeed here and seemed to have invited himself into one of the local's homes. There was no more reason to delay.

"You all ready?" He quietly asked the girls.

Fleur and Luna just nodded silently with looks of resolve.

"Let's finish this." Dora replied with an eager grimness. She was just as fed up with chasing a madman all over Europe as Harry.


When Voldemort felt the unmistakable restrictive feeling of Anti-Apparition and Anti-Portkey wards going up, his first, instinctive, reaction was fear. There was only one wizard in the world that would hunt him and any fear he had once felt for Dumbledore had long since been transferred to him.

The second reaction was rage, partly in response to the fear and partly out of sheer frustration because nothing was going right!

He had come to Ostrava to recruit more Death Eaters from among the local dark wizards, but they had all been evasive and not at all awed by him, clearly wanting to get away from him as quickly as possible. This was exactly contrary to what he had expected after his shows of power against the muggles recently.

Even the one who he had honored as a guest in his home was obviously not honored at all and wanted him gone as soon as possible.

Mere seconds after the wards went up, the entire roof of the house was torn off, leaving Voldemort staring at the open sky.

And there Harry Bloody Potter was, standing on a silver disc that hovered perfectly still in the air, staff in hand and lit up by the light of dawn. The disc was a strange thing, perfectly circular and not particularly special looking, just plain silver on the underside, yet Voldemort was wary of it. Potter had already proven himself more than adept at crafting powerful magical items.

"Good morning." His nemesis said mockingly.

"Potter." Voldemort hissed angrily.

"Are you ready for the end?"

"The only end here will be yours!"

Voldemort shot upwards furiously, wanting to get some space to fight and, although he would never admit it, to get away from the wards so that he could use the portkey that never left his side now.

He saw a glimpse of Potter's women on the way up, all standing on silver discs just like his, surrounding the house. They seemed to have various designs on the top side, the details of which he was unable to discern due to the angle and the brief glimpse he'd gotten.

All four of them gave pursuit, the discs moving through the air with an actually rather unnerving stillness and silence. Even their hair wasn't fluttering. In fact, they looked as if they weren't moving at all even when they obviously were. And they were fast, very fast. Too fast to get away.

Voldemort started firing spells at his nemesis, only to see them easily blocked by simply moving the disc under his feet into a vertical enough position to intercept and using it as an oversized shield. The gleaming silver didn't react at all as the destructive spells slammed into it and not even the slightest bit of damage or tarnish was visible. He would have tried something else, but Potter sent a crackling ball of lightning his way and forced him to dodge.

He thought he was momentarily safe, but then he felt the ball lightning spell slam into his back and eletrocute him quite badly. He was getting really tired of Potter's fascination with lightning spells.

He turned furious eyes on the metamorphmagus that had apparently managed to bounce Potter's spell back at him.

"Dodgeball." She proclaimed condescendingly.

"You will suffer for this insult." Voldemort hissed.

"Nope." She shook her hea, seeming almost amused!

Voldemort was both baffled and infuriated.

"So, how do you like the Discs?" Potter cut in, grinning. "I made them myself, you know."

The Dark Lord took another look at Potter's disc and could discern some kind of pattern made of numerous arrows on it that made no sense to him.

"Nothing to say?" The infuriating young upstart continue mocking. "Fine then. Girls?"

At his prompt, all three of the women as well as Potter raised their staves and then tapped the butts against the surface of the discs.

Voldemort's sneer was replaced by a look of dawning horror when the recently escaped restrictive feeling of wards blocking magical transportation reasserted itself. That shouldn't be possible! You couldn't just put up wards in thin air! Even temporary wards needed an anchor.

Wait, it was the discs!

With that revelation, Voldemort started throwing every destructive spell he knew around himself. Spells for killing and spells for destroying objects, nothing worked. The silver platforms seemed completely impervious to damage and allowed its riders to block his spells while at the same time charging up a very powerful spell of their own. Explosive area spells had no effect either, clouds of toxic gas were easily dispelled and conjured weapons smashed aside. He even tried Fiendfyre, but with four such powerful magic users around him it was smothered before it could form.

With an enraged yell, he tried to simply fly away, but the discs moved with him. A simple spell to connect the motion of two or more objects now used to devastating effect. And still they moved with the same creepy stillness and silence.

Voldemort started getting ever more desperate, throwing out spells with more fury and speed than he had ever done in his life, but what good was that when an impenetrable defense was only a tilt of the feet away?

Worse still, he was being constantly hit by spells from the three that he wasn't focusing on or by reflected spells. In his rising terror he didn't notice that many of the spells hitting him were merely painful and debilitating, but not truly injurious.a

Nor did he notice that his fraying focus was bringing him to the ground until nearly the moment when his feet touched the stone of a large square in the middle of the muggle city.

Their change of location gave Voldemort a glimmer of hope. They couldn't use the discs as shields if they were sitting on the ground!

He turned and aimed his wand at the youngest of Potter's women, the silly Lovegood chit.

Despite her harmless apperance the little whore was actually very powerful and parried away his hasty curse easily, so he gathered his power for something stronger.

A hand clamped around the wrist of his wand hand with iron strength and he was wrenched around to look into a pair of furious yellow eyes.

"Game over!" Potter snarled and drove his other fist into his stomach.

Voldemort wheezed painfully as the breath was knocked out of him and a deep ache spread out from the point of impact, almost more shocked by the utter muggleness of the action coming from such a powerful wizard than the blow.

His wand was torn from his hand and discarded on the ground like so much trash, then Potter grabbed him by his biceps and squeezed so hard that Voldemort could hear his ribs creaking in protest. He had never seen any point to brute physical strength and his thin, bony arms showed it. He couldn't hope to get away.

He tried to call up his hate and his magic, but it was matched and outmatched by the implacable will of nemesis and the ruined state of his soul wasn't helping. There would be no getting out of this that way either.

"I still have my Horcruxes!" Voldemort raged desperately, as much to reassure himself as anything else. "I WILL RETURN!"

"I'm not going to kill you." Potter said grimly as Voldemort felt another pair of hands grip his arms and wrench them behind his back. A kick to the back of the knees followed, forcing him to kneel.

Potter, his hands now free, grabbed his jaw and forced his mouth open. The veela abomination then stepped forward to stick a funnel down his throat and Voldemort guessed what their plan was.

He thrashed desperately, but the damn metamorph holding him was too strong.

Finally, the Lovegood girl approached with a vial of pale pink potion and unceremoniously poured it into the funnel.

Voldemort tried to keep from swallowing, but it was no use. The narrow end of the funnel felt disgustingly slimy and pliable, somehow slipping past his throat without even triggering his gag reflex. As a result, the Draught of Living Death poured into him without obstruction.

He raged against the approaching darkness of the enchanted sleep, to no avail. The potion was simply too powerful. His final thought was that he would have his vengeance as soon as he awoke. They couldn't keep Lord Voldemort the Immortal contained forever!



Staring down at the defeated body of his prophesied enemy, Harry felt...nothing. No sense of victory or relief, certainly no sadness at losing a worthy foe since he hadn't been one. The 'final battle' had been anti-climactic and ultimately unsatisfying.

Voldemort was almost completely one-dimensional and always had been. He had accumulated power since he was a child for the sole purpose of using it to lash out at the world. And even then all his power had been about destruction.

No creativity at all, just death and explosions. Might as well have been a cardboard cutout. What pride was there to be had in defeating an enemy like that?

"I have outgrown you." Harry said softly and it was true. Tom Riddle could have been a worthy foe or a respected peer, but Voldemort had been a rabid animal with a single-minded focus. A deteriorating rabid animal at that, since more cunning seemed to have fled him the longer their struggle went on for.

"This whole thing feels like we haven't won anything at all." Dora said with a frown from where she stood at his side.

"Because we haven't." Harry replied. You couldn't really win with morons like Voldemort, you could only try to lose as little as possible. Something that hadn't worked out this time.

With a grunt of exertion, he closed up the rune-carved lid of the stone coffin and activated the enchantment on it. A hundred years would now be only one year for Voldemort. It would be literal ages before he awoke on his own.

More than enough time for those last two pesky Horcurxes to surface and be destroyed. And if not then the humans of the future could deal with him, if there were any left.


"So, it's finished?" David asked.

"Mostly." Harry nodded. "His soul fragments might end up possessing some poor bastard in the future, but they should be easy enough to take care of if they do."

"I suppose you won't be needing me anymore, then?" The former soldier asked.

Harry did like that about David. The man got right to the point.

"Of course I'll need you." He replied with a small smirk. "Magic has been exposed and all the world's evils are now arrayed against us. The Raven Host won't be short of work for a long time and they'll need training."

"You need to tone down that drama." David snorted.

"Sorcerer's prerogative." Harry grinned. "So are you in or out?"

"I'm in, damn you. You might be a creepy son of a bitch, but I know those women of yours keep you on a tight enough leash."

"The only chains I will ever love." Harry agreed, running his hand over the three bracelets on his left forearm.


February 18th, 2019. Spellhaven.

"A lot of people are going to be very relieved to hear that this Voldemort character is gone." Laura said once the camera was turned off.

Harry had just finished giving an explanation on the events in the Czech Republic and that the Dark Lord had been handled. He didn't mention anything about him not being gone completely.

"I'm glad that he's gone." He exhaled noisily. "There's more than enough problems to take care of without that lunatic mucking everything up on top of it."

"No kidding." She agreed and then quite obviously changed the subject. "So I hear that you've set a date for the wedding."

"Yeah, we figured that there's no reason to delay now that one of our most pressing issues has been taken care of." He shrugged and then grinned. "Not to mention that Fleur and Dora would probably flay me if I put it off for too long."

Laura giggled slightly. "I'm assuming it'll be a big deal? Huge party, lots of important guests?"

"The ceremony itself will be fairly exclusive since marriages in the magical world are a strictly family affair, but the following celebration will be downright excessive if you ask me." Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. "I would have preferred something more subdued, but Narcissa was rather brutal in pointing out that I'm too important to get away with that. Personally I think she just wants an excuse to cause a big fuss, but fighting all the women that want a big wedding celebration would probably end up being more effort than going along with it, so I'm going along with it."

"Very pragmatic of you." The reporter said amusedly.

"Thanks." He snorted sarcastically, getting another laugh out of her.

They were quiet for a minute as they walked towards Laura's room in the cháteau before she spoke again.

"So, is there going to be any press coverage at this thing?" She hinted rather obviously.

Harry looked down at her in amusement. "You want to cover our wedding celebration?"

"Of course I do." She retorted incredulously.

"It just seems a bit...tabloidy."

"I suppose it does." She admitted. "But people love this stuff and not everything can be about deep philosophical topics."

"I thought you liked our deep philosophical conversations." He teased.

"I do!" She was quick to assure. "And on that note, we've been getting some requests to set you up in a debate with some people."

Harry sighed. He had a feeling he knew where this was going. "Religious people?"


"The problem with debating proponents of religion is much like having two mathematicians trying to solve the same problem at the same time, but one will only use base six math whether the problem calls for it or not, will refuse to acknowledge that any number higher than five exists and won't listen to anyone saying otherwise." He replied sardonically. "The religious argumenter builds everything on the assumption that his religion is true and no amount of reason or evidence will move them from that position, which makes talking to them pointless."

While Harry did truly believe that, there was another very good reason for why he didn't want to debate a peddler of religion. He would be far too tempted to rip out their tongue for spreading stupidity and that would be really bad PR.

"You wouldn't necessarily be trying to convince them that you're right, you would arguing against their points and speaking to the viewers." Laura persuaded. "These kinds of things always pull in great ratings and we usually only get atheists on the other side. You've got an entirely different perspective and could argue from a new angle."

"The ranting of upjumped zealots makes for tedious listening." Harry grumbled, but considered it anyway. With a little subtle Legilimency and a few spells he could easily obliterate whichever fool they found to pit against him. To what end though? It wasn't like winning a debate like that would serve much purpose that he could see. He'd need to get some second opinions. "I'll get back to you with an answer."

"Great, thank you!" She beamed. "There's also been a lot of interest from another direction. All sorts of technologists want to talk to you about the possibility of merging magic with technology. I know you said they're incompatible, but a lot of people want to try finding a workaround or at least a limited way of using the two concurrently. The idea that wizards might be able to make the space program cheaper and more viable is generating a lot of buzz in particular."

"Space travel, huh?" Harry muttered. "Well, we could try, but I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you."

"What? Why not?" Laura asked in surprise.

"I've explained to you about what souls are and how they work..."

"Yes, but what does that have to do with using those weight reducing charms to make space shuttles lighter or space expansion charms to give them more fuel?"

"Laura, just as every tree is part of its forest's soul, just as every germ in your body is part of your soul, all mankind is part of our world's soul. The key difference between magicals and mundanes is that while your spirits are deaf to the voices of the world around you, we hear them at all times. Few ever learn to listen, but we all hear them. If you put a wizard into orbit the silence of the Void would drive him insane or worse in an instant. For that reason, I don't expect that our spells would last long if removed from the planet's protection either."

"Oh." She said, looking disappointed, stunned and confused all at the same time. Harry knew that she had a lot of trouble wrapping her head around some of the spiritual concepts he talked about sometimes. She tried, but she was a dull stone.

"Don't worry about it." He waved off with a small grin and leaned down towards her with a suddenly husky voice. "We can still try, can't we?"

Laura's breath hitched and she probably only just noticed that they had been standing in front of the door to her room for some time. "Yeah, I suppose we can."

"Do you want to try, Laura?" He said softly, stepping into her personal space and brushing his fingers over her cheek. They were quite obviously not talking about enchanting space craft anymore.

"We shouldn't." She protested weakly. "You're getting married soon."

"It's not that kind of marriage." He chuckled and stepped closer.

He'd been slowly working on her for the past month and had even sent a quite a few naughty dreams her way via his Palantir. She was ready to be bedded, he saw it in her eyes.

"I don't want to be just another mistress for you." She said quietly, but didn't back away or push him off.

"You won't be." Harry said with a smile, making sure that it didn't look like a mocking one. As if he'd take her on as a mistress.

"What would I be then?" Their lips were nearly touching now and her voice was barely a whisper.

A means to an end. Harry thought but didn't say. Instead he closed the last bit of distance and kissed her fiercely. Predictably, she didn't fight and demand an answer.


March 3rd, 2019. Spellhaven.

Andromeda dabbed at her eyes and sniffled. She had promised herself that she wouldn't cry, but Nymphadora just looked so beautiful and happy. A stark contrast to the determined and occasionally even grim witch she had been during the fight against Voldemort.

There was no describing the relief she had felt when hearing that the monster was finished. The fear that her daughter would die fighting him, right in the thick of it as she was, had robbed her of more than a little sleep.

But it was over now, her daughter had come come through it all stronger than ever and now she was getting married since Harry had finally proposed.

Andromeda didn't advertise it and would deny it if asked, but she was a sucker for a happy ending. And this one was very happy indeed.

The ceremony was small, as was the custom among the old magical families. Only relatives and close friends were present. That meant herself and Ted For Nymphadora and a rather substantial collection of veela and their more permanent men for Fleur. Luna had nobody that was there for her alone, but everyone had let her know that she was part of the family. Andromeda had been glad to see the girl smiling at them happily with no sign of grief. Your own wedding was no place to dwell on past sorrows.

On the side of friends there were only Septima, Penelope and of course Etal. Andromeda hoped that they would make more friends now that they weren't focusing on fighting Dark Lords. Nymphadora, Fleur and Luna at least, now that Harry wouldn't have any reason to demand that they spend 75% of their time getting more powerful in one way or another. She didn't hold out much hope that Harry himself would start making friends.

Narcissa was here as well of course, but not as a guest. She was officiating the wedding.

It really was fortunate that marriages in the magical world were internal family affairs, as Andromeda was quite sure that Harry would never accept that an outsider had the authority to proclaim him married.

As it was, she suspected that he was only allowing Narcissa to do it because she was acting as a proxy for him. Usually it would be the head of the family officiating the marriage after all, but he could hardly officiate for himself, so it fell to the highest ranking member after him to do it in his name. That was technically Andromeda as the older sister now that she had let herself be convinced to accept a reinstatement, but she let Cissy do it. It was more her thing. A slight break in tradition, but none of them cared.

Besides, it was a negligible break in comparison to the others.

While multiple spouses weren't unheard of and protocol existed for the occasion, this ceremony was distinctly unusual in that the wives were also being married to each other instead of just to their husband.

Since marriage was an internal affair between families with the point being to join bloodlines through children, same-sex marriages had simply never been an issue. People of that inclination usually just lived together and questions were politely avoided.

That breach of protocol alone would have been enough to have the Blacks of old frothing at the mouth, but Harry hadn't stopped there with the departures from tradition.

He had decided leave behind the name of Potter and become Harry Black instead, reasoning that it was the older of the two families he was head of and that there was nothing left of the Potters except for him, while the Blacks still had herself and Narcissa. He had refused to split the bloodlines, reasoning that British magical society was heading towards oblivion anyway and that it would just cause more trouble in the long run.

Nymphadora had stage-whispered to her while Harry was explaining this to them that he simply thought Black sounded cooler than Potter.

Once again, the previous generations of the Black family would have been horrified. Allowing your own father's family to go extinct when you could easily save it would be unthinkable to them, especially over something like 'coolness'.

Harry didn't stop there either. He also committed the ultimate faux pas by changing the House heraldry. While the basic shape of the crest was left alone, the golden skeletal arm clutching a wand on a star-spangled field of dark orange was replaced by the runes Kenaz and Dagaz. The former representing knowledge, observation and clarity of thought and the latter enlightenment, awakening and conceptual realization. He apparently liked the three ravens that sat on a beige background beneath that on the crest, as well as the golden skull wearing a wreath of laurel above it, so he left them alone, but the family motto he did not approve of.

Now instead of the rather boastfully bigoted 'Always Pure', the crest proclaimed the somewhat cliché 'Knowledge is Power'.

The House of Black had now risen to heights undreamed of under Harry's leadership, but it barely resembled what it used to be. Its head was a halfblood that routinely sneered at anyone mentioning blood status in any way, who was married to the halfblood daughter of a once-exiled member of the family, a veela and another witch that previous generations would never have approved of. Its old heraldry and values had been discarded and its ancestral place in Britain abandoned.

Andromeda was very amused and could imagine no greater insult being given to the family that had cast her out for the crime of wanting to make her own choices. This new family was one she could be proud to be part of, especially since her daughter was married to its head.


Aurélie was enourmously pleased with herself.

After seeing her granddaughter married early on in the morning, the time had come for the much-anticipated celebration of the event. It was something that she, Narcissa, Andromeda and Apolline had worked hard to organize, with the occasional help from Fleur, Nymphadora and Luna, as well as a few others. Harry had contributed only minimally, but nobody held it against him. He'd already promised to smile and participate instead of hiding in a corner somewhere after all.

All that effort was paying off, as the celebration was turning out to be a resounding success. It was being held on the grounds of the rather recently named Cháteau Black, which were more than large enough to accomodate effectively all of Spellhaven. And it seemed that most of the island's population had showed up, too.

But Aurélie had bigger ambitions for this event than merely celebrating her granddaughter's marriage, however happy an occasion it was. It was also meant to be the beginning of a long and calculated effort to create a place for veela in Spellhaven's still developing culture.

Fleur had told her about the things that Harry had learned recently about the state of the world and what a certain ancient vampire was planning. It was not hard to guess that veela would not have a place in that world, so it was time to start securing one.

After a long and sometimes difficult discussion between herself, Fleur, Harry and that unapologetically predatory Adrastia woman, they had hammered out a plan of sorts.

While Aurélie didn't like the idea of confining her fellow veela's nature, she had to admit that their unrestricted behavior was definitely not helpful to societal stability. It had been foolish to think that they would be able to just do as they pleased forever simply because they were close to Harry.

Still, he was far more reasonable than the Ministries of Magic. They would not have to pretend they were human just to be tolerated among them.

The groundwork had already been laid simply by having so many veela living alongside humans instead of hiding away in their semi-secret communes as they did in mainland Europe.

The next step would be to befriend the witches of the island, they were the key to being accepted as part of the community. Jealousy had always been the primary thing that had kept them on the fringes before and it had to be worked around. The cooperative – and, for the magical world, unusually physical – games organized for this celebration already looked like they were having some effect.

Ideally, having a veela mistress in the family unit would eventually become normal and even desirable for both the man and woman. The veela themselves would not be bothered about the seemingly inferior position, caring little for family names or official pairings.

But that was likely to be far too ambitious. There were only so many bisexual witches out there after all. Or ones that would tolerate another, more beautiful, woman to sleep with their husband.

A more likely societal scheme to succeed was to make veela the ones that introduced young witches and wizards to the wonderful world of sex. They could easily show them the ropes and then bow out when the humans started looking to form serious relationships if it looked like they didn't want a veela mistress in the mix. Many would certainly get pregnant during this time and could either leave with the prize in their bellies or prod their 'students' into a marriage.

The insidious influence of the Joining could both cause some complications and solve some problems, but they would just have to deal with it. Harry might have some vague ambitions of teaching more people to be aware of their magic, but there was no chance that it would ever become a common ability.

It was a scheme that would definitely be facing some resistance even if people were never told what the end goal was, but there were also plans in place to mitigate that.

Harry had agreed to let them make today's games a more regular thing, as well as to expand them further over time. The point was to gradually make veela look less like sexual predators and more like very friendly neighbours. One day, they would have one of the winning veela ask Harry to breed her and start a tradition of it from there. Seeing the lord of the land doing such a thing would make everyone else more receptive.

Aurélie hoped that this would also draw more veela from the mainland to Spellhaven. They had historically not clumped together in too large numbers so as not to overwhelm the local magical population, but it just wasn't safe anywhere except under Harry's protection if things went the way the vampires planned.

But that was for the future. For now, it was enough to see her kind enjoying the day, giggling alongside human witches, watching their children play together and gossiping about how roguishly handsome the groom looked with his fine clothes contrasting his scars.

Aurélie found that last part terribly amusing. She had no doubt that if he wasn't rich and powerful, his scars would be considered disfiguring and ugly. People were such shallow creatures sometimes, humans and veela both. At least they had something in common.


The wedding celebration wouldn't peter out until some time after midnight, but the recently married foursome left a few hours before that.

"Thank you for celebrating this joyous occasion with us." Harry said with his most charming smile, trying to hide his relief at getting away from all the people congratulating him. "But now I think it's time that we get started on our honeymoon."

The crowd roared its approval, some of them rather bawdily, and then the portkey whisked them away to Black Island.

Dora slumped in relief as soon as they touched down on the sand.

"Man, if I'd known how many hugs and kisses on the cheek I'd get and how many hands I'd have to shake I would have never agreed to marry you."

"I'm just glad nobody had the balls to back-slap me." Harry snorted. It was good to be feared.

"It wasn't so bad." Fleur smiled.

"You would say that." Dora groused. "You've spent the whole day soaking up the envy like some kind of overly smug sponge."

"Don't pretend that you didn't get any satisfaction from it yourself." Fleur sniffed.

"Right now the only satisfaction I want is a nice long soak, a foot rub and an eight hour nap." The metamorphmagus said and started walking towards the villa.

Only to get snagged around the collar by Fleur. "Ah ah ah, don't forget that we still have to draw straws."

"Draw straws?" Harry blinked. "For what?"

"For which one of us has to sleep with you while the other two relax." Luna explained serenely and held up the required three straws.

"Has to sleep with me?" Harry repeated in bemusement. "If having sex with me is such a chore then you don't have to do it."

"Don't be ridiculous." Dora waved off. "We know what kind of animal you are. If we let your balls fill up for even one day you'll be unbearable the next one."

"I offered to take this burden upon myself, but Nymmie and Luna have too much female solidarity to let me make that kind of sacrifice." Fleur said mournfully and carefully picked a straw.

"I'm sure." Harry deadpanned, seeing what their game was now.

"Aw man." Dora moaned, not terribly genuinely, looking at her very short straw. "I lost."

"And I won." Fleur didn't quite manage to make her voice sound cheerful.

"Come along, Fleur, let's go enjoy our victory." In contrast, Luna managed to sound utterly convincing as she grabbed the veela by the hand and led her off. Then again, Luna's tone was often so inscrutable that you couldn't tell what she was thinking one way or another.


She was Nymphadora Black now and it was all she could do to not break into giggles as she watched her new husband look at the retreating backs of the wives they shared with a deadpan look.

"Well, come on." She said, grabbing hold of his hand and putting as much long-suffering resignation into her voice as she could manage. "No sense in putting off my wifely duties."

"Woe is you for 'losing'." Harry drolled. "Truly, you are a paragon of womanhood."

"We all suffer in the name of love." She said fatalistically, trying not to smile. It was supposed to be a joke to poke at his ego, but it was hard to keep up the act when he was being so cute.

"I'm sure Luna and Fleur appreciate your sacrifice."

"The knowledge that they will be spared from enduring the same as me for a little longer is what will keep me going through the coming ordeal."

They continued the increasingly hammy banter all the way to the master bedroom, where Harry suddenly grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close to him.

"That's enough out of you, wife." He growled, looking down at her with those glowing emerald eyes.

Dora felt a shiver of pleasure shoot up her spine at the form of address. In truth, nothing had changed between them, but being called that made her happy. Maybe it was because she was still a bit of a romantic at heart despite everything or because their relationship had been so bumpy at times or even because this official change in status symbolized the start of their well-earned happily ever after. Either way, she was determined to make her wedding night one to remember for both of them.

"Is that so, husband?" She challenged, feeling another thrill of happiness at being able to call him that.

Without another word his lips descended on hers and she responded eagerly, putting all her love and rapidly building passion into the kiss.

One hand gripped a firm buttock while the other reached for her breast and brushed over her nipple with his thumb, making her moan into his mouth at the sensation. She wasn't interested in keeping control of herself, so her metamorph powers acted up in response to her pleasure. Her breasts swelled in both size and sensitivity and the dress she was wearing suddenly felt far too confining.

As if in answer to her feelings, she felt him tense before his hands grabbed fistfulls of the offending fabric and ripped the dress right off.

"You beast." Dora gasped in pleasure, already feeling the arousal pooling in her panties, which were now the only bit of clothing she was wearing.

He grinned down at her, eyes briefly bleeding into bright yellow before returning to green. Then he lunged forward to bite her neck, making her whimper needily as his teeth worried at the sensitive skin.

All of a sudden he felt apallingly overdressed and she started pulling at his shirt, arms bulging with morphed muscle when she needed to the extra strength to tear it off him.

"Looks like I'm not the only beast, hmm?" He rumbled teasingly.

Not wanting to waste time with banter, Dora chose to press her lips to his hairy chest instead, kissing the scars that had defined his life. While she sometimes felt sad that the person he could have been had been twisted and changed by the runes carved into his flesh, she wouldn't trade who he was now. That other Harry might not have been hers after all.

She sank down to her knees and took off his shoes and socks before looking up at him again. There was a familiar dark lust in his face, the same one she knew he felt whenever he had a woman in a submissive position before him. When they had first been together his young age and gangly teenage body had made it funny and sometimes cute. As he grew into his body and power, it had become intimidating and even scary, as well as hot. Either way, she had long since gotten used to it. Besides, there were also ways to turn it around on him.

A brief fumble with his belt had it undone and then she was pulling his trousers and underwear down, allowing his rigid manhood to eagerly spring free.

Dora grabbed the thick member with her hand and gave it a few strokes before looking up at him again. Predictably, his hand found its way into her hair and he guided her to take him into her mouth.

She didn't try to resist and let him impale her orally, knowing that he enjoyed the control as much as the act itself. Her nose burrowed itself into his pubic hair while his shaft penetrated deep into her throat. Dora used her metamorph powers to constrict and squeeze around him so tightly that she could feel every pulse of blood and beat of his heart through his member. He groaned lowly in response and bucked forward slightly, hand pushing a little harder on her head as if he could somehow go even deeper. If she could have, she would have smiled.

Air naturally became a problem soon and she had to retreat to take a breath, but she didn't protest when he pushed her right back into position a few seconds later.

This went on for a few minutes and Dora felt her own body ache with arousal. Since her hands weren't busy, she used them to play with her hyper-sensitive nipples, moaning around his member in response to the stimulation. Inside her now soaking wet panties, her womanhood throbbed with need, but she resisted the urge to pay the area some attention as well. Harry would take care of that later, and anything she could do for herself now would just detract from his own efforts.

Soon enough, she knew that his orgasm was fast approaching. She was exceedingly aroused by that point and the temptation to let him release into her throat, to feel his hot seed sliding down her esophagus and into her stomach, was nearly overwhelming, but she resisted and stuck to her plan.

Despite his obvious reluctance, he let go when she stopped playing the part of a submissive little doll and allowed her to remove herself from his shaft.

"I think that's enough attention for now." She said mischievously, licking a bead of pre-cum from the tip and giving his nuts a light slap.

Harry reflexively grunted and flinched at the contact even though it couldn't have possibly been enough to hurt him. Then he pinned her with a look of frustrated lust that only came from a denied orgasm.

Dora ignored the look, stood up, kicked off her soaked panties, threw herself on the bed, and spread her legs to show him her glistening, puffy nether lips.

"Come get it." She said throatily, almost mauling a breast in anticipation.

He stalked forward with eyes that burned lustily, heightening her own arousal even as she wished that he would hurry up. The need throbbing between her legs was bordering on unbearable.

He might have intended to slowly tease his way up her legs, but he ended up licking at the edges of her labia within seconds.

Dora moaned and groaned encouragingly, gripping the headboard of the bed to keep her hands from grasping at his hair and pushing him more firmly into her sex. When he moved on to her clitoris, she got even louder, partly because she knew what it did to him and partly because he was genuinely just that good.

Her own traitorous body also acted to seek out even more pleasure. Her clitoris grew until it over an inch long and filled with nerve endings. It was far from the first time this had happened and Harry wasn't fazed by it, but Dora was nearly reduced to tears from the overstimulation.

Her orgasm built rapidly, but Harry let up and allowed it to subside before intensifying his efforts again.

"Please," She managed to say hoarsely after the third time it had happened. "don't stop."

But he did. He disengaged completely and moved up until he was laying on her and looking into her eyes.

"You deserve it, after what you did to me." He said softly. "Now, wife, you are going to beg me to fuck you."

It was a blatant power play, but Dora was far too worked up to fight back. Not to mention that being called 'wife' again sent another thrill of pleasure shooting up her spine that had nothing at all to do with sex and she was suddenly overcome with the desire to have him inside her.

"Take me, husband." She whispered.

Immediately, she felt his rock-hard shaft pushing through the soft folds of her sex. The sensation was exceedingly familiar and her body once again morphed to provide maximum pleasure for both of them. Her walls tightened until he only just barely fit, and every inch that he sank into her was gained labouriously.

Dora moaned loudly and sank her fingers into the skin of his back, reveling in his answering groans of pleasure and effort as he pushed into her.

Beyond the physical, their souls became more entwined the deeper he sank, until the powerful bond of the Joining snapped full into place just as he bottomed out.

The rush of his feelings for her was as addicting as ever. Not the frilly, romantic love that so many girls – herself at one point included – dreamed of, but an immensely complicated mass of emotions built around a core of iron resolve to set the world on fire without hesitation if it came down to a choice between her and it.

Her feelings for him mirrored what he felt for her. In a transient world of shadows and dust, where nothing was forever, these perfect moments meant everything. There was no greater glory.

The physical pleasure of their coupling almost faded into the background as they reveled in the spiritual union, but both remained well aware of each other's approaching climax.

Harry had shared with them what he'd learned from Adrastia and Dora now used that knowledge to project her desire for children to him loud and clear.

Just to be extra sure, she also gripped the back of his head and put her lips to his ear.

"Breed me." She whispered, putting her need into words as well.

However much Harry might be nervous about the concept of becoming a father, he was not beyond being instintively turned on by a woman, especially one he held so dear, broadcasting her desire to be impregnated by him on all channels.

Dora cried out in exultation as he erupted into her, shooting thick globs of his seed into her depths, her own orgasm being set off due to the Joining.

Once the pleasure subsided, the tension drained right out of her body and she sighed contently. In her mind's eye, she could almost see his hot, potently magical seed oozing into her womb through her wide open cervix, something that she'd learned how to do quite some time ago. She even helped it along by undulating her vaginal walls to move it along and if that stimulated Harry's shaft as well then that was just fine with her.

His lips sought hers and they engaged in a languid kiss.

It was several minutes before Dora came down from the blissful state of nirvana and started feeling insecure. She'd stopped taking the potion years ago, having figured out how to use her morphing powers to control her reproductive cycle. The egg had been sent out from her ovaries immediately after she'd 'lost' the straw drawing contest and was currently sitting pretty in her fallopian tube, just waiting for the huge swarm of sperm cells that had so recently been injected into her to make their way to it. She was definitely going to be pregnant soon.

Dora wanted that, wanted it more than she had ever expected she would. It would mean being benched from doing anything even remotely dangerous, but she was so very tired of the fighting and killing. There was no more Voldemort and if Harry had to go fight again he wouldn't need the kind of backup only she, Fleur and Luna could provide. They could afford to get pregnant and focus on their own lives for a change.

All four of them knew that this honeymoon was going to end with pregnancies. Fleur was in her most fertile years and had long since made it clear that either Harry, Dora herself or Luna polyjuiced as Harry would be knocking her up as soon as Voldemort was finished, she didn't care which. Seeing little Arielle had kickstarted Dora's own longing for children and Luna certainly wasn't going to be left behind, so all three of them had essentially outvoted Harry on the matter.

But now that it was about to happen she was suddenly assailed by doubts. Was it really fair of them to demand such a thing of Harry? He hadn't protested much, but still...

"What's got you frowning at a time like this?" The man in questions asked amusedly. "You'll damage my ego if you can frown after a shag like that."

Dora snorted in amusement, but sombered quickly and looked into those beautiful green eyes that she loved so much. "Are you really okay with this, Harry? Becoming a father I mean."

"Well I won't say that I'm not nervous, or that I'm not still dubious about being father material." He admitted. "But I'm the same age as you now, so it doesn't seem so scary anymore and I am kind of looking forward to teaching them all my cool magic stuff."

Dora smiled brightly at him and pulled him down for another kiss, heart almost bursting with happiness. Everything was perfect.

"And I'll finally be qualified to make lame dad jokes." He said once the kiss ended, grinning down at her. "Like this one: What's brown and sticky?"

"Harryyyyy." She moaned in despair. She'd thought that the age of bad puns had long since ended!

"Come on, guess. What's brown and sticky?" He insisted.

"I don't know, poop?"

"No, Dora. It's a stick."

Obviously, Harry was not at all okay with being a father and was choosing a cruel and unusual way to get his revenge.


Alrighty, two things to say.

Thing the First, I know that some of you wanted Zoe and a few other minor characters to appear again, but that's just not going to happen. They would add nothing of worth to the story besides perhaps random porn and as much as I enjoy random porn, it's not really worth extending the story by who knows how many extra words just to jam it in there.

Thing the Second, I can now say with relatively reasonable certainty that we are no more than one or two chapters away from the end. I could be wrong, as I have been wrong before, but we'll be going into timeskip territory in the next chapter. Granted, I could also take it slow, but then this story might drag on for another hundred thousand words or more and I am quite frankly ready to close this bitch up.

On an almost completely unrelated note, a dude going by the name of J. Krypt offered to take a stab at creating some cover art for this story. It's not done yet, but I'm dropping some Discord server links anyway.



I assume these links make some kind of sense to Discord users. The first one is apparently a fanfic server owned by him and a couple of friends and the second is just his for hanging out. Knock yourselves out you crazy extroverted people you.

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