A Riddle to be Solved Ch. 14 (Patreon)

Cleopatra lay on the floor, the torchlight flickering in and out of view as the asp slithered away, having fulfilled its role and choosing to exit stage left as the final moments of this great drama played out.

Blood was leaking from the wound in her arm as Cleopatra took short, shallow breaths. Her body felt numb, her tongue felt heavy, and she could feel a strong fever coming on to whisk her away from this mortal coil.

And then she spoke. 

“After all that pomp and theater, he was thrown into the dustbin with such ease.”

One of her eyes filled with blood as her throat squeezed, her voice changing. 

“He has yet to enter my realm, dear sister. Do not count your chickens before they have come home to roost.”

“You forget that you are Death and I am Fate. I know better than you what is to come, and I see no outcome where that mortal escapes his eternal prison.”

“You know as well as I do that there are things even beyond us. Things that the great void obscures from us. You have dealt with countless mortals undone by their hubris, surely you would-”

“We are not puppets of flesh and bone, attached to this mortal coil to flicker on and off in mere instants, sister. Their toils do not apply to us.”

If Cleopatra could have sighed, she would have. Her eyes did roll into the back of her head as blood began pouring out of the sockets.

“Very well. What about the other? You have made him very powerful, and he is quite ambitious.”

“He is but a child playing with toys. I do not fear him. He will meet his end. They all do.”

“...sister, what do you wish to accomplish with this? What is your goal?”

“Like you said, Death, there are things that the void obscures even from us.”

The conversation ceased as Cleopatra swallowed her tongue and began to choke. But all had been said that needed to be. Death and Fate went their separate ways.

…

“Wow! This is incredible, sir! I've been to the replica back home, but the real thing just feels so magical!” The teenage girl squealed as she snapped a picture of one of the suits of armor that lined the interior of the castle. She wished she could record a video of it all. Hell, she wished she could live stream the entire thing, but Mr. Potter had placed an embargo on any leaks from the new universe until all of his content was posted. He did allow her to take pictures and ‘leak’ them, though, as it helped build up the hype. 

“Yeah, what can I say, can’t beat the classics.” Harry said absently as he eyed the blue-haired teenager’s ass as it swayed under her strange looking skirt. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand the new generation’s fashion choices nor their new lingo, but he could definitely exploit them. 

Harry watched as Lara walked up to the window. It was quite easy to see why the blue-haired teenager had amassed sixteen million followers in under a year. Her perky tits strained against her top, her pert bum bouncing under her skirt. She was a beauty, though of course she was born in a generation where that wasn't enough, hence why along with the dyed hair, she'd permanently transfigured onto herself some bunny ears and a puffy tail.

Harry still remembered the first time he'd been shown a video of a teenager ‘feralising’ themselves. He'd been pissed, going on a long, obscenity laced rant about the new generation lacking even a modicum of brains.

Nowadays, it was all he ever jerked off to.

“Mr. Potter!” Lara exclaimed. “What's going on in the grounds?”

Harry walked up behind her and looked out the window, where a team of house elves were levitating massive metal obelisks into place, gradually blocking out the view to the forest. Which was good, because Harry planned on converting everything within the forest into pure magic concentrate, which would leave it visually barren and unappealing.

“I'm doing this to all the ley lines in this world, I'm turning them into server farms. In the end, this entire planet will be one huge server farm.”

“Woah.” Lara exclaimed. “And what will that do?”

He'd forgotten that she wasn't the most tech savvy girl.

“It'll free up some room in our world, but more importantly, it'll supercharge the entire system. Things will run faster, what was once thought impossible will be done with just a swipe on your phone. It'll be an upgrade several orders of magnitude greater than anything you've seen before.”

“Wow. That sounds really cool.” She said. The teenager let out a little squeak when Harry closed the last bit of distance between them, pushing his crotch up against her bum, his cock wedged against her fluffy little bunny tail.

“M-Mr. Potter?”

“You're one of the best creators on the platform. I've told you that before, right?” Harry asked as his hands drifted up her sides, making the girl shiver.

“Y-Yes, sir.”

“In fact, I'd say you're the best.”

“I-I don't really do anything special, all I do is some stupid dances.”

Harry pressed his nose against her hair, inhaling deeply before letting out a long, slow breath. “There's elegance in simplicity, isn't there?”

Harry turned her around forcefully, pinning her against the window as he claimed her lips. Lara placed her hands on his chest and made a weak attempt at pushing him off, but Harry was too much. He grabbed her ass and gave it a rough squeeze before his hand went up and gripped her round, puffy tail.

“You've never put out before, have you, Lara? All those slutty little dances and yet you're still a virgin.”

“M-My dances aren't s-slutty.”

“Oh please, you know exactly what you're doing when you post those videos.” Harry lifted the girl up, and her legs automatically wrapped around him for support. “Now come on, lets see if you can dance the same with a cock in you.”

Harry tugged at her knickers from the side, tearing and stretching them just enough to expose her pussy for him. His hand reached down between them, lowering his fly and feeling her wet lips against the back of his palm.

“You're wet for me. I bet you've been fantasizing about this, haven't you?”

“N-No sir.” She said, her face flush as she squeezed her eyes shut. Harry lined his hard cock up against her pussy and thrust in, breaking through her maidenhood and plunging deep into her teenage cunt.

Perhaps the loser Harry had a slight point after all. He was master and ruler of two worlds now, what was wrong with indulging in a few sex slaves for himself? Harry had used his power and influence for sex a few times before, but never to this level. As the teenage bunny squealed, her tufted ears standing on end as his cock rammed home once more into her cunt, he thought of all the other little bitches he could make his.

“Sir, what are you doing?” Lara squealed as she opened her eyes only to see Harry holding his phone out with one hand while the other held her up against the wall, recording every sordid detail as his cock slammed in and out of her virgin pussy.

“Come on, let me see you dance.” Harry urged as he held up the camera. Lara's face flushed in embarrassment, but after a moment, she began to grind against him, gyrating her hips with a hypnotic smoothness that drove Harry wild.

“A-Am I doing alright?” 

Harry had to grit his teeth in order to cope with the sheer pleasure of the little bunny-slut's pussy grinding away at his cock. “You're doing fucking great.”

Lara screamed as Harry slammed back home into her again, his cock jackhammering into her pussy, short-circuiting her movements as the teen could only brace herself as the older man beat the back out of her pussy.

With a grunt, Harry felt his balls empty, and this orgasm was so much better than any he'd had before. There was something about coming undone, about losing his veneer of civility and indulging in his most perverted fantasies, that made it all the much sweeter. The pretty little teen could only mewl and whine as his seed deposited deep into her pussy, his phone now hovering in place, recording every single moment and zooming in on the spot where Harry's balls began to drip with his seed as it leaked out of her snatch.

When Harry finally pulled out of her, the girl began walking a bit bowlegged, like a newborn deer. Harry looked on with pride at what he'd just done and smacked her on the ass. “Why don't you go back and wait for me in my office?”

“S-Sure thing, Mr. Po-”

“From now on, I'm master, understood?”

“...Yes, master.”

Harry watched the girl stumble back the way she came, his seed leaking down her inner thighs. Then his eyes met the two women standing by one of the pillars.

Minerva McGonagall and Walburga Black.

“Yes?” Harry cleared his throat as he placed his cock back in his pants.

“Nothing, sir, you… you wanted to know when the elves were finished.”

“Yes, yes, good. Well… tell them to take a break, I'll get to all that later.”

Harry walked after his teenaged toy, his libido on the rise once more. 

“Minerva… Do you feel strange?” 

Minerva blinked a few times at her companion. “What do you mean?”

“I… My head is a mess. I hate daddy, but I don't… sometimes. I can't make any sense of my thoughts.”

Minerva shook her head. “He was a bastard, and it's a good thing that he's gone.”

“...right.”

Walburga turned around and left, and Minerva closed her eyes, colors dancing around in the back of her eyelid as she tried to slow the rapid spiraling inside of her head.

…

The empty white plane stretched on for eternity. Or it appeared so, at first glance.

Lyra was the one who noticed the small dot in the distance. The others squinted, Fleur and Delphi said it didn't look like anything, and they weren't sure if they wanted to walk that far, but Lyra had snapped at them and said that there wasn't much else for them to do here, and they'd quieted down.

They'd walked for quite a while. There was no real way of knowing how long, as time did not seem to matter here. Harriet cradled Bella in her arms, and as always, the baby was calm and quiet as could be, staring ahead with her purple eyes, dead set on the same point in the distance that Lyra had picked out.

As they drew nearer, it was like it grew exponentially. First, there was a hospital bed with a man laying on it, a white bandage over his eyes. The rise and fall of his chest was almost imperceptible, but it was there, letting them know he was alive.

A little ways off, there were a pair of couches, a small desk, and a grand piano.

Harriet was taken aback when she saw it. The piano was very large. It was black, sleek and shiny, looking as if it had just been polished. Its top was closed, and there was a black, cushioned bench in front of it.

“Did you guys ever see daddy play the piano?” The wolfgirl asked her sisters, who shook their heads.

“Maybe he was pants and made this place to practice until he got good at it?” 

Fleur snorted at Delphi's little quip. Lyra rolled her eyes, but Harriet noticed her lip quiver upward ever so slightly.

The two youngest plopped down on the couch. “How long until daddy and mommy come get us, you think?” Delphi asked.

“We're not going to sit around here and wait.” Lyra said as she approached the desk and pulled one of the drawers open, finding it empty.

Fleur bristled. “What are you saying? That daddy's gonna lose? Daddy never loses!”

Harriet placed Bellatrix on the floor, who crawled over to the piano.

“Fleur, calm down, please. We all heard what they told us… we have to act as if the worst has happened.” 

The blonde's eyes became watery, bright veela tears falling down as her face scrunched up. “B-But daddy can't lose!”

Delphi wrapped her arms around her sister, herself sniffling deeply, and Lyra went over to them, pulling them both tight into a hug.

“Daddy brought us here for a reason. He wants us to help him and aunt Emily. Whatever those people did, we can fix it from here, I know it.”

“But what can we do?! We're just kids!” Delphi screamed in despair as she joined her sister in the waterworks.

Lyra was putting up a strong front, but she was clearly falling into the depths of despair herself. 

Harriet felt it as well, she truly did, but she was different. The others had only known joy, triumph, they'd grown up in a world that was their playground, catering to their every whim. Harriet had suffered, she'd been in the bleakest of situations. She'd been waist deep in shit and been forced to wade her way out of it, alone and unprepared.

She could meet adversity head on. Greet it like an old friend. She could notice how baby Bella really wanted to climb up onto the piano.

She rushed over, the goosebumps on her arm telling her Bella wasn't just being a curious baby. 

Bella had always been a strange baby, the strangest.

Harriet hiked Bella onto her lap and plopped down on the bench. She lifted the keyboard cover, exposing the long row of ebony and ivory keys. 

Bella stretched her hands out, reaching out above the keys, pudgy fingers wiggling as she pushed against Harriet's arm.

“The lid?” Harriet asked as she reached out, her finger sliding under the slight gap as she pulled the lid up.

The lid rose majestically, revealing the piano's inner workings. The wooden stick that propped it up rose along with it, and Harriet stood up from the bench, continuing to raise the lid until the prop clicked into place.

There, inside the piano, was a folio of sheet music.

Harriet's breath caught as she picked it up. It was made out of the same thin, brittle paper she remembered from all those years ago, a lifetime ago, when her cousin Dudley had thrown a tantrum after a single piano lesson and thrown his beginner songbook against the wall.

Harriet had grabbed it then, and it had all seemed like gibberish, but there had also been a magic to it, back then. She felt the same magic now.

“Harriet?” 

Lyra and the girls were behind her now. Fleur and Delphi were drying their tears on their sleeves, but they'd calmed down a bit.

“What is that?” Lyra asked.

“It's a book of sheet music.” Harriet said as she opened it up. There were only a few pages of meticulously written musical notes. Ruffling through them, there were three songs in total.

“Do you know how to play?” Harriet asked Lyra as she slid in next to her.

“Not really.” Lyra said. 

“I sort of know what each note represents.” Harriet said. The memory of staring at Dudley's old book, her eyes straining as she used the barest crack of light that leaked in through her cupboard door, was burned into her memory.

“What are the songs?” Delphi asked. She slipped onto her older sister's lap, while Fleur took Bellatrix and sat down on Harriet's side, half her bum hanging off the edge of the bench.

Harriet flipped through the pages again and read out the titles.  “Back in the Saddle.”, “Spring and Autumn.” and “Memories of Home.” 

Fleur sniffed. “We should play one of them.”

“We don't know how.” Delphi told her sister.

“It's not hard.” Harriet told them. “At least… we can figure it out, I know we can.”

Lyra placed her hand over hers, giving it a squeeze. “We can. Which one should we try to play?”

Harry glanced down at the book. Something told her that picking the right song was important, crucial even.

“Definitely not the saddle one. Those notes look really complicated.” Delphi said as she went over the pages.

Harriet agreed. Not for that reason, but just because it didn't feel right. Her gut was not agreeing with it, and Harriet had learned to trust that instinct.

“Memories of Home… do you think that one will bring us back home? Maybe it'll take us to where daddy is.” Lyra said, fingers softly caressing the notes on the page, as if she hoped to glean some insight from touch alone.

From a glance at the other girls, Harriet could tell that they were inclined towards that one as well. Harriet stared at the page, stared at the ink on the title… she wasn't really sure, but she supposed they had to pick one, and that one was as good as-

“Ow!” She hissed as baby Bella bit down hard on her finger, her baby teeth, still coming in, were surprisingly sturdy and sharp.

She flicked her finger in the air. It wasn't bleeding but it was bruised, and when she glanced down to glare at the baby, she was met with Bellatrix’s own cold, violet glare. It was as if the baby was disappointed in her.

Harriet stared back at her for a moment before she snorted.

“What is it?” Fleur asked her.

Harriet shook her head. “Spring and Autumn. That's the one we should pick.”

“Are you sure?” Lyra asked.

“I'm sure.” Harriet said with determination. Memories of Home did not evoke her time with her family, the love she shared with them. It evoked memories of a dark cupboard and hungry nights. Of dirty clothing and matted hair.

“Ok. How do we go about this?”

Harriet grabbed the sheet, muttering under her breath as she tried to turn over those elusive memories in her head. She remembered her occlumency training with Emily. She cleared her mind, diving deep into those memories until she could read Dudley's music booklet clearer than even her younger self could have.

She came out of her mind with a look of cold determination as she glanced at her sisters. 

“Let’s get to practicing, girls.”

…

“Daddy, you made it!” 

Harry grinned. “I wouldn't miss this for the world, baby girl.”

Lily Luna wrapped her arms around her father's neck and Harry spun her around happily.

‘Since when had his baby's body filled out so nicely?’

Harry almost dropped Lily right then, and it took him quite a bit of effort to keep his composure as he gently let his daughter down.

Lily giggled, her hair looking vibrant and her young, teenaged face looking gorgeous. She slipped her dainty hand into his. “Come on, daddy, everyone's here already!”

Harry chuckled, letting his daughter pull him into the familiar warmth of the Burrow’s kitchen.

Sure, the place had been remodeled multiple times over the years, mostly to accommodate the ever growing number of Weasley relatives; the big, happy Weasley family they always joked about, but it had never lost its charm. It might not be a creaky wooden shack held up by a spoonful of magic and a heaping helping of hope anymore, but it filled Harry with that same warm feeling all the same.

Tomorrow was Lily's graduation, and afterwards there would be a party for Lily and a few of her friends. Tonight, though, the extended family would have their own party, to celebrate the ‘baby’ of the family becoming an adult.

Harry had been held up at the Ministry with more bullshit that he would have liked. Ever since he'd returned from that adventure, short as it was, he'd grown increasingly irritated and restless with the monotony of work.

Harry patted his hip, making sure that wand was still there, safely at his side.

“There he is! Britain's top lawman!” Ron held up a pint as Lily and Harry walked into the kitchen.

“‘I think I have grounds to arrest you for being a public nuisance, mate.” Harry quipped back.

Ron made an exaggerated gesture, pulling a rosy-cheeked Hermione tight against his side. “Hey there, I've got diplomatic immunity!”

Everyone laughed, even as Hermione muttered about ‘children’ and ‘never growing up’. Harry greeted all his nieces, nephews and in-laws. He gave his sons a tight hug (Albus had portkeyed in from Romania that very morning.) and gave his wife a peck on the lips.

“Gave em hell? Stud?” Ginny asked.

Harry winked. “Those release forms didn't know what hit them.” 

Harry took his seat, Teddy tossed him a muggle beer (which the kids had started to take a liking to) and he settled in smoothly.

As the night progressed, Harry was enjoying himself, laughing and reminiscing about old times. 

There was an impromptu quidditch match out back. There were more than enough of them to field full teams, but it was dark out, and no one else wanted to deal with the pain of having to capture a snitch in those conditions. This was much to Harry's chagrin, who always looked forward to playing his preferred position.

Instead, he ended up as a chaser, on the opposite team to his wife, who seemed eager to remind everyone that even after three kids and nearly a decade post-retirement, she was still the Harpie's all time leading scorer.

It was a wonderful, magical evening of family fun. It was nearly perfect.

Nearly.

Two things. Two small, little irritants prevented Harry from having a completely blissful time. 

The first was an itch, a bit of a cold sweat, a jolt of adrenaline that made his head snap in the direction of the woods, searching them for any sign of incoming trouble, of a cavalcade of dark wizards storming in from the forest, ready to destroy all he held dear.

He didn't fear this scenario. He looked forward to it. He found himself itching for it to happen, his hand regularly going to his hip. Not searching for the holly wand, but for the other one, for pure power.

If it had just been that, he might have been able to handle himself better, but the second issue was so much more distressing.

He couldn't stop looking at Lily. He caught himself ogling Victoire and Rose and his other nieces as well, but he couldn't keep his eyes off his daughter.

His baby girl had grown so beautiful. She was slim like her mother, more delicate than athletic, a short little thing with dainty feet and ears that were slightly elfish. Her face was flushed, had been since she'd started drinking, and her tight bum and perky breasts filled out the cute dress she was wearing.

“They grow up so fast, don't they?” 

Harry choked as Ginny wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning into him. His wife looked up at him, misinterpreting the reason for his reaction. “Aww, are you getting choked up, honey? She's only graduating, she's still going to live at home for a good while. It's not like we're giving her away. Though, with how beautiful she turned out, I wouldn't be surprised if she brings someone home sooner rather than later.”

Harry felt his blood boiling in anger. The thought of his daughter being touched by anyone else, of her being sullied, made him irrationally angry. It wasn't a normal fatherly reaction, it wasn't just overprotectiveness. It was-

Ginny gasped and giggled as Harry spun her in place, lifting her up in the air. “H-Harry James Potter! Put me down!”

Harry placed his flushed wife back down onto the grass. He squeezed her waist as he saw others smiling at them in the distance. Lily in particular seemed happy that her parents were being so loving.

Harry rested his forehead on Ginny's head and brought his lips close to her ear, whispering quietly. “How about we go upstairs?”

His wife shivered, slapping him lightly on the chest. “Mr. Potter! There's children around!” She whispered, her voice carrying a husky tone that told Harry she was not at all opposed to the idea.

“We're just going up to relax a little, Mrs. Potter. We'll be right back down.”

Ginny grabbed his arm, and Harry felt like a teenager again as he took his wife upstairs, earning raised eyebrows, suggestive winks and a mock glare from Ron along the way.

Harry and Ginny practically ran into the house, and they hadn't even made it up the stairs when they began kissing. Harry just barely had enough restraint not to leave a trail of clothes behind as he snogged his wife senseless. He opened the first door he saw, stumbled inside and tossed Ginny onto the bed.

“Harry, what's gotten into you?” Ginny asked in a delighted tone as Harry threw his clothes off and jumped on the bed.

There was kissing and touching and biting and passion that neither had seen for years. Soon, Harry had Ginny on all fours, hips slamming against her ass as he fucked her. Harry kept a forceful hand on the back of her head, forcing it onto the mattress to muffle his wife's shrieks of pleasure as Harry pounded her with animalistic savagery. 

Ginny came, legs quivering below him as she could no longer arch her back, and she collapsed forward. Harry growled, laying atop her and beating her pussy raw as he forcefully tugged her hair back.

“OH DADDY!” Ginny screamed.

Something inside of Harry snapped at hearing those words, and he went into overdrive as his cock slammed into Ginny's pussy. His wife now whimpered, asking for him to slow down, but unable to stop the animal atop of her as Harry's lust continued to spiral.

Ginny actually began to cry, orgasms driving her mad as Harry thrust one final time, forcefully biting down on his tongue to stop himself from shouting out a name that was not her’s.

He collapsed onto her, and they were both panting and gasping. Ginny grabbed his arm and wrapped it around her waist as she tried to come down from her cloud.

“Merlin! Baby… that was incredible! Where did that come from?”

Harry couldn't find the words to speak. Ginny began rubbing his arms, content to just lay there with him as they both recovered.

Harry had snapped his eyes shut, trying desperately to steady the spiraling inside of his head.

…

The door to her cell creaked open, and Emily lifted her head, a bored expression on her face.

“Your day's coming soon, Riddle.” 

It was Granger this time. The woman bore a hateful look on her face.

And what a face it was. Hermione Granger reminded Emily of those dolls from back at Wool's. A girl would play with the doll a bit too much, or too roughly, and break its seams. Mrs. Cole would stitch the doll back together and return it, but it was never the same, the stitches would always be big and noticeable. The doll was forever damaged. Emily liked them better that way.

Granger's stitches were big and black and they ran all across her face and neck. Emily was sure that if the woman removed her clothing, every inch of her body would be covered in them. She looked like a sort of frankenstein's monster, the hair that had been plucked back onto her head eternally dry and bushy.

“Oh. It's you.” Emily said, rolling her eyes.

“You can drop the nonchalant act, you demon. It's over for you.” Granger smirked as she gazed at her chained up form. “We don't even need to keep you chained up, do we? Where would you go?”

Emily's eye twitched as Granger cackled madly. The other witch had reason to be confident. After all, they'd cut off all of her limbs.

Emily was nothing more than a torso and a head now, and she'd been forced to watch as they'd tossed her severed limbs onto an open flame. After hours of torture, of course.

“Why exactly have you been dithering on my execution? If it were me, I would have slayed you a long time ago.”

“I bet you wish you could, you villainous rat!” Hermione hissed, before her expression turned sickeningly sweet. “You will be glad to know that in death, you will be able to commit one good deed.”

“Oh?”

“Your immortality may not work here, but it still marks your soul as unique, unique enough to power a ritual, a ritual that will turn our world into an impregnable fortress, a bastion of light where justice reigns supreme, where no darkness can penetrate.”

“You'll be blinded, then?”

“Perhaps I should blind you? Or rip your tongue out so you can no longer speak?”

“Be my guest.” Emily said. “Hopefully, you will not be as clumsy as that redheaded oaf.”

Hermione snarled. “You can hold up that act all you want, Riddle. I've witnessed more executions than I wish to count, and in the end, when the reality of their fate dawns on them, everyone despairs, they all beg and wail and cry to not be cast into the void. You? Deep down, I know you're terrified of death.”

Hermione smirked as Emily remained quiet. “Enjoy your final few moments, because come tomorrow, your day of reckoning is at hand.”

Emily spat on the floor as Hermione turned around and slammed the door to her cell shut. 

Hermione left the jailhouse basement and passed by one of the upper interrogation rooms, though she doubled back when she heard strange sounds. 

She knew that inside of the room was a recently apprehended female suspect. Hermione had personally arrested her for her proximity to dark mages. Astoria Greengrass, sister to the deceased Daphne Greengrass, a supposedly ‘neutral’ witch who had tried to play the fence during the war but who's family had funded both sides.

Astoria was bent over the interrogation table, knuckles a pale white as she hung on for dear life. Her robe had been lifted all the way up, providing Hermione with a perfect view of her ass, which was raw and red and had clearly been on the receiving end of multiple lashes. Her ass was receiving no respite from its torture, as a thick, long cock was currently plunging in and out of her tight rosebud, causing the woman to groan and moan in pain that was edging far too close to pleasure for Hermione’s liking.

“Constable, what is going on here?”

The Constable grunted, hat tipped over so that Hermione could only see his magical eye when he tilted his head towards her.

“I am punishing a criminal, deputy.” He never broke his stride, continuing to give the squealing witch a long, hard fuck up her backdoor.

“Since when have we utilized this method, sir?” 

Harry glowered as he buried himself to the hilt in Greengrass’ asshole. His hand came down and gave the woman a hard, punishing slap, and Hermione could see her legs wobble. It was certainly a painful experience, but Hermione did not like how she could see clear liquid dripping down the criminal's legs.

“Justice evolves, deputy, our methods evolve with it. Now if you may, I must continue punishing the criminal.”

Harry resumed his hard reaming, and Hermione stood there for a few moments before she closed the door behind her.

That had been such a strange interaction. But, she had a ritual to prepare for, and everything needed to be perfect. Riddle's execution would be the culmination of everything they'd been working towards, a world of justice, a world where vile vermin like her could never hope to find a foothold.

…

“Hermione, talk to me, babe?”

Hermione was standing in his office, decked in her usual lab coat and sporting a bun that tried its best to wrangle her frizzy hair.

Hermione had always been his right hand. She wasn't a true genius like him, but she was smart enough, she knew how to follow orders, and she was a crippling workaholic, just who Harry needed to help run his technological empire.

“Harry, just wanted to bring up a few things.” The girl said, standing up just a bit straighter.

Harry gestured for her to speak.

“Well, the mass jynxes are becoming a bit of an issue. Old people keep falling for them and spreading them wider. I'm wondering if we should restrict their access to magitech.”

Harry waved that off. “It'll be fine. Go on.”

Hermione huffed, and Harry realized, perhaps for the first time, how cute she looked, in a sort of nerdy way.

It made sense for him to think along those tracks considering the fact that he had his teenage bunny under his desk, giving him a long, slow, sloppy blowjob. Before Hermione's arrival, he'd been scrolling through social media, trying to pick out the next little viral bitch that he would be adding to his collection, while his submissive little toy sucked him off.

Perhaps he could save that for later, though, perhaps he should just order Hermione to join the younger girl under his desk.

Hermione cleared her throat. She must have been talking, and it was obvious that Harry hadn't been paying attention.

“As I was saying, our study into dimensional travel has progressed by leaps and bounds since we've made connections with the other worlds. I believe that soon, we will be able to create a full matrix of all possible realities. From there to inserting them into a network that is easy to navigate should not take long.”

“Good, very good.” Harry said. “And all the juice we're going to get from that loser's world will definitely help that o-UT!”

“Are you alright, Harry?” Hermione asked.

Harry had had enough. He moved a slider on his desk, turning it transparent. 

Hermione gasped as she saw a head of blue hair and white rabbit ears bob on Harry's naked cock.

“I-Is that Lana Lovegood? She's a-”

“An enthusiastic cocksucker, but not a great one. Not yet, anyways.” Harry caressed Lana's face under the table. “How about you join her down there and help her out?”

Hermione looked stunned, mouth opening and closing as she found herself at a loss for words. 

“Well? Come on, ‘Mione, I'm sure you've always dreamed of doing it.”

Hermione looked back at Harry's eyes, always so defiant and brazen and uncaring for the opinions or feelings of others, qualities that had earned him a beating or three back in their Hogwarts days. 

“Ok.” She found herself saying. She's always wanted to be with Harry, but not like this. She wanted to be his wife, a marriage composed of intellectual equals who strived to improve upon magic, to create an edifice of knowledge.

That had all fallen away once Harry had proven to not be her equal. He was her superior. Vastly so.

But maybe… maybe this was fine…

Hermione knelt on the floor and crawled over. Harry moved another slider and the transparent desk became intangible as well, allowing Hermione to phase right through it on her journey to join Lara between his legs.

The bunny girl glanced up at her with wide, innocent eyes before scooting over. Hermione looked up at Harry, who smiled down encouragingly, and tentatively grasped his shaft.

She took one of his balls in her mouth and sucked, staring right back up at him, full devotion reflected in her chocolate brown orbs. Lara resumed sucking on his head, taking it down her throat until she felt like choking, and then bobbed up and down.

Harry reset the table, making it fully solid once more, his hands going under the table to caress both of his devoted witches. 

There truly was no pleasure quite like this.

His eyes drifted over to the edge of his desk, where his newest, most cherished paperweight now sat.

“How does it feel, to know that I'm enjoying what you no longer can have? How does it feel to know that in the end, you were the inferior Potter?” 

The snowglobe sat there, blacked out and unmoving, as it had been.

Harry snorted, the snort turning into an intake of breath as Hermione sucked his balls deeper down her throat and Lara applied more suction onto his cockhead.

“I guess it's a moot point, now. I almost wish I could bring you back, just for when we catch those daughters of yours and your bitch voldemort gets burnt at the stake. Oh well…”

Harry threw his head back, his balls ready to explode as the two witches worked in unison to get him off.

The snowglobe, meanwhile, remained inert, surrounded by nothing but darkness.

…

Harry closed the door to his cupboard. He was feeling exhausted after yet another long day of slaving away for his relatives.

He lay down on his worn and unrelentingly stiff cot. He stared up at the night sky, the stars brimming brightly above.

He reached out to one particular star and opened the door, walking out onto the carriage. 

The threstal's hooves clattered on the cobblestone as they led him up towards the prison. The rain was icy cold, wrathful arrows peppering the carriage with never ending volleys.

He wondered if the rain bothered the thestrals. Could they even feel it at all?

“Ye’ always been a curious boy, Harry.” A voice next to him rumbled.

Hagrid was there, his frame much too massive to fit in the carriage. Even hunched over as he was, he should have torn through the roof, taking up almost the entire space.

“Hagrid?” He whispered.

“Yer, dead. Harry.”

Harry frowned, feeling quite distressed by his words. “Sirius.” He turned to his other side. ”He doesn't really mean that, right?”

They were in the kitchen at Grimmauld's Place, and his godfather looked up from the mouse trap he'd been winding up to smile at him. His eyes were sunken in, his face gaunt.

“It's alright, pup, we all gotta go sometime.”

“Even me?”

“Even you.”

The mousetrap snapped shut on Sirius’ finger and he leapt up from the table, cursing up a storm as Walburga's portrait began to screech, insults flying from her lips.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Harry screamed.

She was silenced, and when he turned back, he smiled at Voldemort, who was cradling their baby.

Their other children were at the table, heads down in fear of their father's temper.

“Can you feed them, please, Harry?” Voldemort asked him, gesturing towards the kids.

Harry's face fell. “You know aunt Petunia won't let me.” 

Voldemort frowned. “Then how are we supposed to get out of here?”

They were on the rooftop of his school. Harry walked over to the edge as Voldemort hung back with the child. He peeked over, his stomach twisting into knots as he saw nothing but endless abyss below.

His broom had broken. Splintered up by that dragon. 

Harry began to panic. He screwed his eyes shut. “I know how I got here, but I don't know how to get out.”

“That is very unfortunate, Harry. I warned you of the dangers of the mirror.”

“The mirror?” Harry opened his eyes.

He was with Dumbledore, standing in front of the Mirror of Erised as the battle of Hogwarts raged on behind them.

“The mirror shows only your deepest desire. Tell me, Harry, what do you see in the mirror?”

Harry stared at it, becoming mesmerized. “I see a graveyard.”

He found himself sucked into the image on the other side. He was fourteen, tied up on a gravestone in a dark, sinister graveyard.

Underwater, he was tied up underwater. He wasn't supposed to have woken up. Someone should have come for him. He wasn't going to survive the entire hour.

He was going to drown.