Supportive (Harry/Fem Riddle One-Shot. No Smut) (Patreon)

Wrote this as a bit of a palate cleanser for all the smut I've been writing recently, and giving my favorite pairing some much needed love. Another one in the annals of my fluffy/humorous fem!Riddle fics. Hope you guys enjoy. 

“Emily, dear, are you quite alright?”

Emily snapped out of her trance, realizing that the rotund woman was looking at her with her usual condescending smile.

“Yes, my apologies Madame Smith. It's just… quite a shock.”

Hepzibah Smith covered her mouth as she giggled in a way that the woman surely thought was cute.

“Go right ahead and touch it.” The woman said, urging her on.

A flame began to burn behind Emily's eyes, though as always, her composure did not break,  “Are you certain?”

The blonde waved her off. “Please dear, you're practically family.”

Emily walked over to the dining table, where a small golden cup sat. It was unremarkable, looking much less impressive than the myriad of jewel-encrusted silverware, glassware and plates that adorned the cabinet behind the table.

But Emily knew better. She grabbed it by

Both handles, lifting it gingerly as she noted the badger engraved on its side.

This cup had belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. There was no doubt about it. Her palms tingled as she couldn't stop the smirk that sprouted on her face.

“It's rare to see someone so young have an interest in history.” Hepzibah's fingers rested on the other side of the cup, her stumpy, sausage-like appendages contrasting greatly with Emily's thin, spidery fingers.

Hepzibah pulled, and for a split, imperceptible moment, Emily resisted. But then, she eased her grip and the cup slipped into the older woman's hands.

“It's been in my family for generations, you know, father always said we're descended from her.”

“Fascinating.” Emily said, her eyes never once leaving the cup.

“Tea, madam?”

Emily's coal black eyes jumped to the only other living being in the home, Smith's elderly house elf, Hokey.

Emily waved the elf off and the creature turned to its Mistress, who placed the cup on the table and gladly took the offered tea along with some scones.

“I think you'll get a kick out of this, Emily.” Hepzibah said between bites as she went over to the treasure-filled cabinet, opening a small drawer stuffed with jewelry.

Emily kept her hands behind her back, her wand hand twitching as she had to suppress her urges. The elf stood next to her, the creature holding its tray and staring simply at its mistress.

Smith returned, placing something next to the cup that absolutely took her breath away.

The woman knew it too, her eyes glinted with amusement as she took a sip of her tea and watched as Emily's carefully guarded persona broke down.

A golden locket hung off a thin gold chain, a serpentine ‘S’ formed by emeralds adorning the front.

“Slytherin's locket.” She gaped.

“I purchased it from your old employer,” Smith said.

Emily cursed old man Borgin under her breath. How dare he sell off something as invaluable as this as if it were some common trinket.

“Its quite fitting isn't it? Slytherin besides Hufflepuff, just like you and your strapping young fiancée.”

Emily ignored the flare of rage she felt as this woman dared try to mention her fiancée. She cracked her wrist behind her back and sent Smith a shark-like smile.

“That is a very astute observation.”

“Oh Emily, you are far too serious for your own good sometimes.” The woman laughed. “You must admit, he is quite the catch. And that restaurant of his, oh my! The food was absolutely divine! It is quite a miracle that you are so slender.”

“I make sure to stay in shape.” Emily's face had fallen into a neutral mask. If she hasn't already been planning on killing this woman for weeks, she would have done so now.

“Could you ask him if he is willing to do catering? I have a social event coming up, and his services would be greatly appreciated.”

“I don't think that will be necessary.” Emily brought her hands forward, her palms facing inward, hiding the wand that had slipped down from its holster.

“Oh?” Hepzibah asked in genuine confusion.

Emily raised her wand and pointed it directly at her. Hepzibah blanched, looking at her in shock.

“Emily?”

“Don't fret, I'll make sure that your funeral will be well catered.”

Her mouth opened just as the words escaped Emily's lips and the flash of green light overwhelmed her.

Her body fell to the floor with a heavy thud, and Emily continued to wave her wand in intricate patterns. She wasn't about to squander a perfectly good murder, after all.

…

Emily had a deathgrip on the handrails as she made her way up the stairs to her flat. She was feeling very lightheaded, and things were lightly spinning as she adjusted her satchel over her free shoulder.

After she dispatched Smith and turned the cup into a Horcrux, all she had to do was place a few memory charms on the elf and erase all traces of her magical signature before she took her leave.

In her bag, she now carried her new horcrux, along with her next one.

It had been years since she'd made one. The diary had been made in her fifth year and the ring had been the summer immediately after. Five years had passed since then, and she'd forgotten the immediate aftermath of creating one of her soul vessels.

Her entire body felt cold, unnaturally so. She was close to being magically exhausted, and there was a light fog over her mind. Worst of all, there was a wound, somewhere deep inside of her. She knew it wasn't physical, and yet it still ached, it still bled and was caused discomfort. She knew it would be weeks before she was back to normal, or her ‘new’ normal, anyways.

She reached her door and turned the knob. The moment she pushed the door open, her nose was assaulted with the smell of stewing chicken and cooked rice.

And just like that, the numbness she felt receded ever so slightly. It was patently ridiculous, that the smell of food would be a panache to the splintering of her soul. How could something so mundane possibly be able to affect such high-level, esoteric magics?

It almost made her angry.

“Emily? You home?”

She rolled her eyes as she headed for the kitchen. “No, I am a stranger who has managed to bypass the warlock-grade wards I have placed over our apartment.”

She walked into the kitchen just as her boyfriend chuckled, an innocent, genuine laugh from an innocent, genuine man.

“Have I ever told you I love your sense of humor?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I have a sense of humor?”

Her fiancée was standing over the stove, where he had multiple pots cooking away. He was shirtless, showing off his swimmers physique, honed from years of playing quidditch and exercising.

His emerald eyes lit up as he took her in, and she couldn't help the flutter in her heart as he ran a hand through his eternally windswept hair.

He walked over to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in for a kiss, which she easily melted into. She let her satchel slide off her shoulder, placing it on the kitchen counter.

His hands ran up her back, and Emily shuddered lightly, leaning harder into the kiss. He always ignited this passion in her, this passion that annoyed her, but that she was unable to extinguish.

Harry suddenly pulled back from their kiss, and she grumbled in displeasure, reaching up to forcefully grab his face, but then she caught the look in his eyes.

Harry was almost never serious, and Emily gulped as she saw the hard look in his eye.

She was so sure he wouldn't notice.

“Emily.” He said in a warning tone. “You feel kind of cold to the touch “

“It was a windy day.” She said. She had always been such an excellent liar, except when he was involved.

“Emily.” His hands went to his hips as he gave her a scolding look. “Did you split off your soul again?”

She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, her head still spinning as she tried to center herself. “So what if I did?”

He blinked twice before sighing, “Oh, babe. Why didn't you tell me? I would have made sure the food was ready quicker.”

Emily yelped as he suddenly swept her off her feet, picking her up bridal style as he headed towards the bedroom.

“What do you think you're doing?” She protested.

“You're in no condition to be standing around! You need some bed rest, and I'm not going to take no for an answer.”

“I'm perfectly fine!” Emily responded as he carried her into their room. He placed her on the bed, and the moment Emily's body touched the soft mattress, it was like the weight of everything that had happened took its full toll on her body. Her limbs felt heavy, and she knew there was no way she was getting up.

“Now, stay there, and I’ll bring your dinner in once it’s ready.” He said, wagging his finger in her direction.

Off he disappeared into the kitchen, and Emily grumbled before she got comfortable, grabbing his pillow and cuddling up to his side of the bed.

She was more messed up than she initially thought, because it felt as if the next fifteen minutes passed in the blink of an eye. One moment, she was settling in, and suddenly Harry was carrying a plate of food into their room and she found that she did not remember what had happened in the interim.

“Could you scoot over a bit?” Harry asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed, holding up a fork with yellow rice and chicken.

Emily did just that, and as much as she wanted to protest that she could feed herself, she knew it was futile, as her blasted boyfriend would not budge on this.

Harry fed her, and with each bite of his fragrant, hearty meal, she felt more and more of the emptiness filling up. She couldn’t help getting slightly pissed again. She had permanently mangled her goddamn soul! Some rice and chicken shouldn’t be doing such a good job of mending her back together.

Once she’d finished and he’d given her some water, Harry had looked at her, serious expression returned to his face.

“Was it Lady Smith?”

She nodded. Harry sighed. “I hope it was quick and painless.”

Emily rolled her eyes. He was such a bleeding heart.

A few hours later, Emily had recovered quite well. She remembered how shellshocked she'd been at fifteen when she'd made her first two horcruxes, and it it had always taken weeks for her to feel comfortable.

Now, after a hot meal and some cuddling, she was almost fully herself.

It must have been because she was older and stronger. Perhaps each successive horcrux had a lessened impact as well? She was in uncharted waters, so it could be anything.

Emily spent about an hour before bed in the living room reading a tome on long-term and concept-based jynxes. An interesting topic, even if it lacked the macabre tilt that she usually preferred for her light bedtime reading.

She marked her spot in the book and headed off to their bedroom.

“What the hell are you doing?” She barked when she stepped past the threshold.

Harry had lined up her diary, the Gaunt ring, and Hufflepuff's cup on top of a cushioned footstool. He'd covered them up with a blanket, and the idiot was in the process of kissing them while wishing them a good night.

“Hey babe. I I'm just kissing your horcruxes good night.”

Emily marched over to him and roughly grabbed him by the arm, tugging him back towards the bed.

“Why would you do such an idiotic thing?”

Harry looked at her as if it was obvious. “They have a part of your soul, and I love your soul!”

Emily smacked her forehead. “They're vessels, Harry. They don't actually feel anything.”

The moment the words left her mouth, the three objects began to trash around on the footstool, protesting her words.

Emily growled, wandlessly banishing the stool out of the room and slamming the door shut. “You are not to do that again, understood? Your affections are mine and mine only.”

Harry wanted to argue that the horcruxes were her, and that he would be neglecting her if he didn't love them as well, but his fiancée grabbed him roughly and tossed him on the bed. She jumped on top of him, and Harry never did get a chance to plead his case.

…

“I have managed to bribe quite a few officials, the legislation restricting dark items shall not pass the first vote.”

“Well done, Abraxas.” Emily said.

The blonde puffed out his chest rather proudly, and Voldemort, as she was called by her followers, smirked. She had turned all of these powerful pureblood scions into nothing more than her lap dogs, jumping through hoops just for a sliver of approval from her.

Back at Hogwarts, they had all wanted to fuck her, but Emily had been quick to crush any single hope they would have had, while still keeping them on a leash.

“Mistress, are you sure we can't move forward as we are? Is it really necessary to wait so many years to set out plans in motion?” Asked Yaxley.

“Are you questioning my instructions, Corban? Or worse, calling me a coward?”

Yaxley paled considerably. “N-No, of course not, mistress!”

“We will strike when we are ready. There is still much I need to learn to be able to topple Dumbledore, hence why I will be departing for my travels soon. In the interim, I expect you all to follow my will and lay the groundworks for my return.”

“Yes, mistress.” Her followers said in unison.

Emily smiled malevolently, her eyes turning a deep crimson. “Good.” She looked over at Yaxley, who gulped, knowing what was coming.

“Yaxley, stand up for your punishment.”

“Y-Yes, mistress.”

The stocky pureblood stood on shaky legs, and Emily relished in the feeling of power as she brandished her yew wand at him.

“Crucio!”

Yaxley screamed in pain as he began to writhe on the floor. His fellow purebloods flinched, but did not move a muscle as he was kept under the torture curse.

For a few seconds, the only sounds that could be heard were Yaxley's shrieks and his body thrashing about.

Then, the door to Abraxas’ basement flew open, and a loud, cheerful voice called down into the darkened room.

“Alright, who wants cupcakes?!”

Emily's head snapped over as she broke her curse on Yaxley, who began wheezing heavily as he lay on the floor.

“Potter!” Abraxas glared hatefully at the handsome raven haired man as he descended the stairs.

Harry waved cheerfully at the dozen or so purebloods that made up his fiancées circle of friends. They'd been a bit mean to him during their Hogwarts years, but things had improved drastically when he'd started to talk to Emily back in sixth year.

“They're chocolate chip. Abraxas, your mother tasted them, she said they're divine!” Harry held out a tray full of freshly baked chocolate chip cupcakes.

“Harry, dear, we're in the middle of an important meeting.” Emily told her boyfriend calmly.

“Oh sorry, sorry! I know how important your club is, babe.”

“Club? Club?!” Abraxas was fuming. “The Knights of Walpurgis is no mere club!”

Harry scrunched up his nose. “Sorry if I'm overstepping, honey, but that name could use some work.”

Now it wasn't just Abraxas. Crabbe, Rookwood, Montague, McNair, they were all glaring at Harry with pure hatred.

Emily looked thoughtful. “You do not like it?”

Harry shrugged. “Just think it lacks punch. Makes it sound like you guys are some stuffy historical society.”

“And you think a buffoon like you could come up with better?” Abraxas finally erupted.

The others instantly froze stiff. Abraxas’ jaw snapped shut as he realized what he'd just said. He sent a pleading look towards his mistress.

“CRUCIO!”

Yaxley's ordeal looked like child's play compared to Abraxas’. The intensity of the torture curse seemed to have have increased tenfold. The Malfoy scion was agonizing on the floor as Emily glared down at him, her expression full of violence and hatred.

Harry waited until Emily had cooled down slightly, though she still hadn't lifted the curse from Abraxas.

“Yeah, I don't know, I think you need something a bit stronger. Something like… Death Eaters.”

“Death Eaters.” Emily mused, ignoring Abraxas’ now hoarse shrieks. “What do you think, my followers?”

The lot of then jumped, with Parkinson being quick to speak up. “I-I think it's wonderful, mistress! Has a very nice ring to it!”

Emily smiled, reaching out and pinching Harry's cheek. “You never cease to amaze me, my love.” She then leaned forward and pecked him on the lips.

Somehow, despite the love and affection that flowed through her at that moment, the intensity of her torture curse on Abraxas never wavered.

…

“Emily, you look stunning!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Potter.” Emily said demurely as her soon-to-be mother in law gave her a hug and a kiss.

Emily had never been the best at affection, but she'd learned to accept it with the Potters, who were very much into constant displays of love, a habit that had rubbed off on their son.

“You've got a good one there, Harry.” Charlus Potter had an arm around his son's shoulder as he grinned at his wife and future daughter-in-law. “Don't you ever let her go.”

“Wouldn't dream of it, dad.”

The Potters had come over to their flat. Harry had recently revealed that their “Honeymoon” after the wedding would actually be a long-term backpacking trip across most of Eastern Europe and Asia. Euphemia had been distraught when Harry had said they might not be back for another decade or longer, but they'd quickly warmed up to the idea of the young couple expanding their horizons. Charlus in particular seemed to like the idea of his son becoming ‘world-weary’.

To make up for the years they'd be missing, Harry's parents insisted on visiting the young couple every Saturday until they were set to leave.

“After that, we plan on spending a few months in Albania exploring the forests.” Emily explained to Euphemia.

From across the table, a hard look fell over Charlus’ face. “You two should be careful out there. The Albanian wilderness is famous for itinerant dark wizards. Some of the nastiest curses known to wizardkind originate from there.”

Emily had a readymade response about how they would be sure to be careful and avoid any dark wizards or strange apparitions, but her boyfriend's mouth was quicker.

“That's actually why we're going, dad. Emily really wants to become the greatest dark lady in history, she wants to learn from those people.”

Charlus and Euphemia chortled, completely missing the serious look Emily shot Harry from across the table.

“Harry, you're not supposed to reveal that. Especially not to your parents.”

The green-eyed man pouted, “But I'm proud of what you do, honey.”

“And that's adorable, but it undermines my work if my intentions are made public too early.”

Harry's face turned bashful, “I'm sorry, babe. I just really want to be supportive.”

“No worries. I'll just wipe your parents memories and no harm will be done.”

The Potters, who had been gawking at the ridiculous exchange with a dawning sense of terror, snapped over to Emily.

“The hell you will, young lady. I don't know what you're doing to our-”

“Obliviate!”

Her wand was far too fast for even the old war veteran, and the two eldest Potters ended up glassy eyed while Emily removed the past few minutes from their memories.

Charlus shook his head, lifting a fog that had suddenly come over him. When his eyes refocused, he saw that he was in his son's flat, sitting around the kitchen table with his wife, son and his fiancée.

“What were we talking about?”

“I was saying that I was planning on giving the restaurant over to Harmon.” Harry said casually.

“Oh, dear, are you sure he'll be able to manage it? He's a nice boy, but he's not quite the cook you are.”

Harry went on to explain how he would leave a detailed recipe book behind to help his coworker along. As the discussion continued to branch off and Harry gushed about the rare ingredients he would be able to experiment with in their travels, Emily smiled. She loved just looking at her soon to be husband as he talked passionately about food.

He supported her ambitions, he didn't try and dissuade her just because they might be deemed a little unpleasant, the least she could do was support him in his own passions.

…

Ten years later…

Emily stomped into their home, absolutely fuming.

Even after all these years, after all her growth, all her transformations, that bastard Dumbledore was still able to get under her skin, to make her feel like a child being scolded.

Why have you come here, to request a job we both know you don't want?

The nerve of that stupid old goat, to assume that she went to the interview with no intention to become the defense professor.

Well, the joke was on him. Right before leaving, she'd placed a curse on the defense position. Good luck filling that post now, you old fucker.

She would have also placed her latest horcrux in the secret room that only she knew about, but as always, her husband had axed her plans.

She passed by the mantlepiece where the diadem shone, having just been polished. The cheeky little thing had the nerve to pulsate with glee when she passed it by, and she had to resist the urge to destroy one of her own soul containers.

To think, she was jealous of her own horcruxes.

They were living in Potter manor, Harry's parents having passed during their travels. As sad as it was, a part of Emily felt relived. It would have been impossible to hide the changes she had undergone during their travels, and now that she was about to begin her campaign of terror in earnest, it would have definitely led to some awkward dinners with the in-laws.

Before they'd left on their journey all those years ago, Emily had floated the idea of handing some of her horcruxes over to her most loyal followers. It had been the first time she had ever seen Harry angry with her, with him adamantly refusing to do so.

And so, they had sat in his room in Potter Manor for a decade, and now they were here.

Emily caught sight of herself as she passed by a mirror.

There were still glimpses of that beautiful young woman she had once been, but she had changed radically, to the point where she was bordering on the inhuman.

Her nose had almost completely disappeared, her skin had turned chalky white. Her once wavy hair now slithered about with a life of its own, almost like a gorgon's. Her eyes were now permanently crimson.

She frowned. She did not regret the choices she'd made, but she sometimes wondered how her change in appearance affected her husband.

Harry was in the parlor, rifling through a magazine with moving pictures of baby kneazels.

“Hey, honey, look at this one! He's hanging from a tree brach!” Harry said as he saw her walk in.

One glance at the sour look on her face, and he jumped to his feet, magazine forgotten.

“Interview didn't go well?” Harry asked as he wrapped his arms around her thin waist.

“No.” She grumbled.

“Well, Professor Dumbledore never really liked you. Though I would have hoped that he'd see just how qualified you are. I mean, who better to teach kids how to defend against the dark arts than someone that uses them all day!”

“That's precisely my line of reasoning.” Emily responded, already feeling better as she nuzzled her face into Harry's neck.

Struck by her previous thoughts, Emily pulled back and inspected her husband's face.

“Harry, do you still find me attractive?”

She looked into his eyes. She'd never used legilimency on him.

Not from a lack of trying. Her best guess was that his mind was so simple, it had become impenetrable.

Not to say her husband was stupid. Harry was far from it, and he always done very well in school. But he was… uncomplicated to such an extent that it rendered his mind a fortress not even the greatest legilimens could break through.

Being unable to read his mind wasn't much of an issue, though. Harry wore his heart on his sleeve, and his face was an open book.

His eyes filled up with love as he cupped her face. “You grow more beautiful each and every day.”

He was absolutely and completely earnest. There was no doubting his words.

“Even with my altered features?”

“I love you, Emily. Each and every version of you.” He kissed the tip of her barely-there nose, “And I think your little snake nose is cute.”

…

Harry was casually strolling along Diagon Alley. In the year since they’d returned from their travels, he hadn’t gotten out much. His old restaurant had unfortunately folded, as it seemed that Harmon hadn’t been up to the task. He’d thought of opening a new one, but he had instead thrown himself into supporting Voldemort (as she liked to be called by everyone but him.) in her endeavors.

It did him good to get out every once in a while, though. He whistled lightly as he passed by store fronts he hadn’t seen in years. He nodded and smiled at the people he passed by as he enjoyed this wonderful, sunny day, though he was a bit taken aback, as it seemed that people were giving him a very wide berth.

“How much for these tomatoes?” Harry asked the witch manning the produce stand on the corner next to Fortescue’s.

The lady looked a bit nervous for some reason, wringing her hands as she watched Harry with trepidation. Perhaps he was handling the produce a bit too much?

“Free of charge, Mr. Potter! Take as many as you want!”

Harry beamed at her, “Wow, really? Is it free tomato day or something?”

“Sure, sure. Take them all!” She pushed a half-dozen tomatoes towards him. Harry didn’t need that many, though he guessed he could keep them fresh under a stasis charm.

As he moved away, someone’s shoulder bumped hard into his back.

“What’s where yer’ going, you bloody-”

The gruff looking man froze completely as he saw who exactly he'd bumped into.

“I’m sorry, sir, I wasn’t looking-”

Harry’s apology was cut off as the man clasped his hands together and fell to his knees. “I’m so sorry, sir. Please, please spare my life!”

Harry wasn’t sure how to respond to that, though thankfully for him, an explosion near Gringotts spared him the need to.

Screams rang throughout the alley as over a dozen masked figures fanned out, peppering dark curses all around the ancient, cobblestone streets. In the blink of an eye, smoke began to rise as buildings burned, people shrieked in agony as they were struck down, and the masked wizards and witches cackled in maniacal glee as terror spread quickly down the alley.

At the center of it all stood a tall, terrifying figure, who looked very beautiful in the black robe Harry had laid out for her that morning.

“That’s my wife, you know.” Harry said proudly as he produced a camera from his bag. The witch cowering in the alley next to him didn’t really say much in response.

Harry had forgotten that his wife was working in Diagon Alley today. He should have gone to Hogsmeade, he didn’t want to become a distraction, after all. But, he was already here, and she looked so damn sexy as she launched into a megalomaniacal speech in a high, cold voice.

He had seen her practice the voice in the mirror over the past week, she’d really nailed it down.

Harry snapped the photographs as she spoke and people cowered before her. It was definitely going in their photo album.

Then there was a swirl of flame in the middle of the alley and Albus Dumbledore made his presence known, his trusty phoenix at his side.

“Dumbledore!” Emily hissed as she brandished her wand like a sword, ready to strike him down.

Dumbledore shook his head as his phoenix took flight, leaving him alone in the middle of the alley. “You have not changed from that little girl I once knew, Emily.”

Harry made a mental note to write the headmaster and see if he could owl him some memories from when he first visited Emily. Maybe he could do some sort of pensieve collage for their anniversary.

Emily and Dumbledore raised their wands, and the world stood still as the two titans of wizarding Britain did battle.

…

“Aaaargh!” Emily hissed as Harry plucked another porcupine quill from her bottom.

“Gotta say, I didn't think the headmaster would use storefront items for your battle. I'm sure Quality Quidditch Supplies and the Apothecary are going to send him a hefty bill.”

“That crooked-nosed old goat ruined my debut! I'll be the laughingstock of Britain!”

Harry placed a soothing hand on his wife's back, which was a bit sticky from where Dumbledore's ice cream golem had struck her.

“Come on now, honey, you did great! I was there, everyone was terrified of you. Besides, you gave as good as you got!”

“I didn't even touch him!”

“His phoenix took a killing curse, and I'm pretty sure you burnt his robe a little.” Harry assured her. “I will say though, babe, maybe you shouldn't rely so much on the killing curse.”

“But its the best!” Emily whined.

Harry kissed her on the cheek. “I know, I know, but its a bit of a mouthful, isn't it? Besides, you learned so much cool stuff in your travels, I'm sure you don't want people to think you're just a one-spell-pony.”

Emily was pouting petulantly up at him, and Harry chuckled as he placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

“You remember Freddy Presley?”

Emily furrowed her brow. “Your former sous-chef? What about him?”

Harry smiled gently. “He works for the prophet now. I gave him a floo call, and he gave me this.”

Harry produced a rolled up piece of parchment. Through Emily's continued confusion, Harry held the paper up in front of her face.

The headline wasn't centered, there were blank spots on the margins and at the bottom, but there was a large picture of her as she spoke, terrorizing the crowd as her Death Eaters stood proudly around her.

The headline read: “Terror in Diagon Alley as Dark Lady makes move.”

“This is tomorrow's headline?” She asked in a hopeful tone.

Harry nodded. “He said they'll talk about how Dumbledore barely managed to hold you off, says it sells more papers that way. By tomorrow afternoon, the people of England will be more terrified of you than ever before!”

Emily's face lit up in a genuine smile. “Dumbledore got in some lucky shots anyways. Next time, I'll show him all that I've learned, I'll show them all!”

“That's my girl.” Harry grinned.

As his wife's mood brightened, Harry felt a great sense of pride. He loved her so much, he knew she would succeed. He would make sure of it.

He'd told her a little white lie. Well, more like he'd omitted the full truth. Yes Freddy worked at the Prophet, but it had been Harry that had snuck in and memory charmed the entire staff until they remembered things in his wife's favor.

He'd also memory charmed all the eye-witnesses in Diagon Alley, along with her wife's followers. Hopefully, when Emily next faced Dumbledore, she would heed his advice, and she would knock the kindly old man down on his ass.

And if not, well, Harry would figure something out. Perhaps he could exploit the Headmaster's sweet tooth? He could send him baked goods until the old man succumbed to diabetes, or at least slowed down enough for his wife to gain the advantage.

Either way, no matter who it was, even the great Albus Dumbledore, no one would stand in the way of Harry seeing his wife happy.