Chapter 3: Icon
Notes:
New chap!
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(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The castle grounds were filled with the sounds of merriment. Men and women drank from bottles, flagons and flasks. They sang songs, arm in arm, as the resplendently white marble castle shone in the background under the multitude of torchlights.
Morale was still high in Grindelwald's camp. There had been some missteps in Russia, precipitated by the muggle puppet's incompetence and his rapidly deteriorating mental state. But still, in the summer of 1943, they had full confidence in their lord. As long as Grindelwald was around, setbacks were nothing but molehills.
This past week they had defeated an ICW coalition force that had come in from England, the largest concerted effort the resistance had been able to muster up in years. There had been many killed, captured and wounded, and it was a stark reminder for the rest of Europe that Lord Grindlewald was inevitable. They had suffered minimal losses, almost all raw recruits. Grindlewald's army felt truly indestructible.
Strewn across the lawn were brooms, bludgers and quaffles from an impromptu quidditch match they had held earlier. Everyone was happy and a little buzzed, but all were alert. They would not over indulge and give in to drunkenness, their lord had drilled that into them long ago-
Suddenly the bludgers that had been laying inert on the ground sprang to life. The closest men to them had only enough time to jump away before the hard stone spheres smashed through their heads at ridiculous speeds.
The army sobered up rather quickly, and dozens of spells shot off toward the two bludgers. But the stones moved with a mind of their own, weaving around spells as they continued to pick up speed until they were simply blurs. One burst through a man's chest, another scalped another clean, the top half of his brain instantly turned to mush.
Shields went up, and the deadly orbs crashed violently against them. One witch's wand clattered to the floor from the impact and a bludger sliced her in half at the waist. Someone threw a wide arching cutting curse and managed to bisect one of them, only for the two halves to act independent from each other, their now rough ends becoming like razor blades.
From the edge of the grounds, two figures emerged.
A tall, broad shouldered man wearing black robes with a green trim had his hands at his side, wand nowhere to be seen as he casually walked forward. In front of him, her yew wand held firmly in her grip, a slim, dark-haired teenage girl sported a sadistic smile.
The Gaunts had made their entrance
Pinpointing the source of the surprise attack, a few of the witches and wizards apparated away from the carnage and formed a semi-circle around the duo.
Their wands shot off spells with blistering speeds, but Harry never raised his wand to defend himself, nor did he stop his march forward.
Instead, Emily waved her wand like a conductor's baton, redirecting all of their spells back at them. One wizard was able to dive out of the way of his own bone-shattering curse, only to be hit square in the chest by a sickly-yellow light. He hunched over, eyes bulging out and becoming bloodshot before he lunged at one of his comrades and tore her throat open. As Emily and Harry passed him by, a simple descendo to his head left it crushed like a watermelon.
The grounds were a bloodbath. Emily's bludgers finally petered out, reduced to pebbles as their magic faded and they fell lifelessly to the ground. The field was bathed in the blood of Grindelwald's army, and their blood had formed a perfect pentagram. A pentagram that the duo stood at the center of.
Emily jabbed her wand at the ground and the blood rune glowed a deathly crimson. A translucent barrier surrounding the castle flared up to an intense blue before it shattered violently with a loud explosion.
The wards had been obliterated.
Emily blasted the large front door open. A tight, pitch black corridor stretched out endlessly in front of them. They stepped into the castle, Emily leading the way.
They could see perfectly well in the dark, and so when the two figures in the middle of the hall fired twin jets of green light, Emily was prepared. She twisted her wand clockwise, and the very hallway constricted in on itself until it collapsed into a single point, snuffing out the killing curses and crushing the two men instantly. The hallway uncurled, all the aged stone and marble now cracked beyond repair.
As they passed by the mangled corpses, Emily waved her wand and hissed in parseltongue, " King of Limbs!"
The dead bodies of the two men rose and began to merge, their shattered bones cracking grotesquely as one's jaw unhinged to partially swallow the other, the lead man's face deforming into an approximation of a snake. Emily's creation slithered along with them, a human snake with limbs jutting out from its torso. As they walked down the hallway, the corpses from the grounds flew in, attracted to the abomination like magnets.
The necromantic construct grew and grew. When they reached the end of the hallway, it was the size of a basilisk, with hundreds of limbs twitching and writhing on its back.
They were again bombarded with spellfire.
Harry did not seem to be dodging, but somehow every single spell missed him as the man stopped a few paces ahead of Emily. Emily had stopped in place, taking a two footed stance as she unleashed some truly nasty curses while her corpse-snake burst forth to cause mayhem. Many ran away in fear at the unholy monster. Some threw killing curses to no avail, others threw blasting curses that punched holes in the beast, holes that were quickly patched up by a fresh new corpse.
The creature fed itself.
Emily pouted as she stopped firing spells.
These were Grindlewald's elite troops, his inner circle. Yet they were completely helpless against her snake, to the point where she could pick them off one by one if she wanted to. But that was no fun.
Finally, a large, burly wizard leveled his wand at the monster and screamed out an incantation. A large plume of deathly-red flame burst from his wand. The shapeless mass quickly coalesced into the forms of chimeras, dragons, abraxans and manticores.
Fiendfyre.
Emily grinned evilly as her snake was consumed by the demonic flames, which took on a purple color as they covered her King of Limbs.
The man shouted triumphantly, the remaining troops rallying to face her. Emily conjured a large stone umbrella that floated over Harry and her.
The smoke from the purple flames suddenly condensed into a liquid, a liquid that rained down and ate through everything it touched. Everything except for Emily's umbrella.
The Gaunts stood patiently as the last of Grindelwald's vaunted army died in agony, dissolving in a shower of acid, their shrieks echoing through the chamber.
The rain stopped and Emily flicked her umbrella, shooting off a splash of vile dark gunk that ate a teardrop shaped hole through the wall, revealing the hidden bunker.
Standing there on the other side, hands behind his back and an impassive look on his face, Grindelwald awaited them.
Harry slowly went to his hip and pulled out his wand. "Very well done, my love. Now it is my turn to play." He twirled his holly wand as Emily grew excited. She'd shown daddy her power, now it was time to see how close she was to him.
…
It turned out the gulf between them was still quite vast.
Even after having single handedly destroyed the greatest magical army in the world, it took only a few moments of observing the duel for Emily to see that Grindelwald, and by extension Dumbledore, were still leagues above her. The man's control, casting speed, creativity; his ability to have multiple enchantments running at once, they were all beyond her current level.
And daddy had wiped the floor with him.
Grindlewald had thrown everything he had at Harry, and Lord Gaunt hadn't broken a sweat. Emily thought she knew the extent of her uncle's power, she hadn't even scratched the surface. She was soaking wet as she stood next to him, standing triumphant over the dark lord, who was on one knee, bloody and beaten.
Grindelwald stared up at the other man with hatred. It was all lost, even the deathstick was now in the other man's possession. Knowing he was bested, he could only hope to ruin his carefully laid out plans by driving a wedge between him and his protege.
"It seems fate has favored you today, Mr. Potter."
He didn't expect anger, he knew the man was too practiced at controlling his emotions for that. But he hadn't expected the both of them to break into laughter.
Harry looked down at the defeated wizard. "I must admit. That was a good effort."
Emily looked down on him with a mocking smile. "Daddy told me all about his past. About the other me, that pathetic little boy that turned into a freak." Her dark eyes flared. "He doesn't keep secrets. Not from me. Not from his soul-mate."
Once she'd finished, Harry raised his wand up to Grindelwald's head. "Cheers."
A burst of green light snuffed the man's life out in an instant.
"Now, I believe we alert the ICW." Harry went to cast a patronus when Emily's warm hand went over his. Harry looked over to see her dark eyes staring intensely at him.
"All this death and destruction has made me incredibly horny, daddy." She breathed out.
Harry smiled before he sprung into action. He rammed into her and pushed her up against a stone wall, their lips locked in a violent embrace as they dug their hands into the others hair.
Harry broke their kiss to suck at her neck.
Emily was fifteen now. What had once been a budding but still not developed girl was now a tall teenager with soft curves. Neither knew which one of them had done it, but their clothing burned off and Harry attacked her supple breasts, capturing a nipple in his mouth and licking and biting while his other hand roughly kneaded the other.
They'd made love so many times now, over all these years. And yet the fire they had for each other still burned so intensely. Before, the dynamic had been uneven, and though it still was, now they were closer to equals. As close as they'd ever be.
Emily wrapped her long legs around him as Harry held her up against the cold stone wall. She shivered at the contrast of the biting cold at her back and the warm flesh in front of her.
Harry lined his cock up with her entrance, the head pressing against her lips. Emily looked up at her daddy, her gaze intense and needy.
"I'm ready daddy. Fuck a baby into this evil little cunt!"
Harry's eyes widened as a primal urge exploded in him. He shoved himself deep into her, her sharp nails digging into his back and drawing blood as Emily felt his thick cock fill her.
Harry had always told her they would have a child whenever she told him she was ready. He'd assumed the girl would wait until a few years after Hogwarts, a few years after they married. But right now, in the heat of their greatest triumph to date, with both of them reeking of the most sinister of magics, it felt like the perfect moment.
Emily's tight cunt gripped him like a vice. With every pull Harry felt as it tried to suck him back in. The glorious friction made him see stars as Emily bit down on his shoulder hard. The wet sounds of their rutting filled the room.
Her cunt had molded just for him, it was the only thing that made sense to him in the moment.
Emily shrieked in orgasm, her velvety walls convulsing around him so violently that Harry lost his balance and fell ass first onto the stone floor. He felt a dull ache of pain behind him but that was quickly overwhelmed as Emily began bouncing on his cock. Her erratic, desperate movements looking to milk him of his seed without letting her orgasm overwhelm her.
Harry's hand shot out and gripped her by the neck. He gave her a hard squeeze as they fell sideways. Staring at each other, Harry tightened his grip on her throat as he lifted the leg that was facing up over his shoulder. Placing his free hand on her bum, he resumed his thrusts with vigor, his eyes moving from her clouded eyes and rapidly reddening face down to their joining, where his thick shaft pistoned rapidly into her battered little lips.
Emily was rapidly losing oxygen as her daddy's powerful hand constricted her airway and her little cunt was violently railed. Usually she would happily pass out, a violent orgasm usually preceding the loss of consciousness. But this time she had a different idea. Lunging forward, she bit down on Harry's forearm, hard. Her daddy hissed in pain and his eyes narrowed. Emily's eyes gleamed triumphantly as he once again shifted them around, with him lying on top of her.
"What a viscious little snake." Harry said as he reared his open palm back and swung hard at her jaw. His slap rattled her brain. Emily felt a delicious stream of blood trickle down her jaw just as the next slap came. Harry's thrusts became almost unhinged. The impact of his hips on hers against the unforgiving stone floor was as punishing as it was pleasurable.
Emily was still riding the waves of her orgasm as she grinded her hips against his own, rubbing her sex on his like an animal in heat. Harry leaned forward and kissed her roughly once more, violating her throat with his tongue before quickly pulling back and biting her bottom lip. With a shudder, he lost control of his body as a torrent of cum erupted from his cock. His whole body spasmed as he filled Emily up with his milk, knowing that this time was special, that this time he was knocking his baby up.
They lay there for a while, his cock still twitching intermittenly and shooting small spurts of cum into her. Finally, the two made to stand up, Harry holding his hand out to help Emily to her feet.
The results of his slaps showed on Emily's face. Her lips was busted, her mouth was bloody and the left side of her face was beginning to swell terribly. Harry couldn't help but chuckle.
"What?" Emily asked as a small smile formed on her face.
"Don't fix up those bruises. You were just in a mighty struggle with Grindlewald's men, after all"
…
Harry walked into the teacher's lounge early afternoon on the first of September.
He'd left Emily, Walburga and Lyra back in his quarters. As he approached the staff table, he saw he was the last one to arrive.
A booming round of applause welcomed him, everyone beaming at him as Harry bowed his head in mock embarrassment.
"Please, please, I've had enough of that over the past month." He begged off, a light smile on his face.
"And you'll have it for another decade, If I have any say in it!" Headmaster Dippet exclaimed. That actually surprised Harry, the man was usually so uncaring.
He got a firm handshake from everyone and a deep hug from Horace. The man looked as if it was him who had defeated Grindelwald. Dumbledore shook his hand and smiled, but Harry could tell it didn't reach his eyes. There were many emotions swirling inside the man's blue eyes, Harry could only hope things went the way he wanted them to.
Dumbledore was a touchy subject, while he was sure now that he could defeat the other man, if not after a heavy struggle, it would royally screw up his plans.
Well, maybe not now with his newfound status, but it would certainly be a pain. He also noticed how Albus' eyes flashed but for a second over to his shirt pocket, where the elder wand was tucked in, clear as day for anyone to see.
If Dumbledore had wanted to ask something, or ask many things, the man held his tongue and offered a simple congratulation.
Soon the mood lightened. After five years, Harry had built an easy rapport with the rest of the staff. It was Professor Garlick, the friendly old Herbology teacher, who brought up the other, potentially thorny, subject.
"All this hero talk aside. I must also congratulate you Harry, I heard of your engagement!" The woman said without a hint of disgust or malice.
"Oh true! True! You and Ms. Gaunt are sure to make quite the pair!" Slughorn cut in. Soon everyone else, even Dumbledore, congratulated him on his engagement.
He'd officially gotten engaged to Emily early in the summer, a few weeks before they took down Gridlewald's entire army. It had the intended effect. Any displeasure others might have felt over him marrying his young niece was buried after their actions that night. It helped that their assault had helped make Emily seem much more mature. In the end, they were Gaunts, a marriage between uncle and niece was par for the course, but the way Harry set it up helped smooth things over with the lighter side of the aisle. By the time the shine on their Order of Merlin plaques wore off, Emily would be an adult and no one would think much about him having raised her.
Being revered had its perks.
He'd also had a very productive meeting with Lord Black. Their relationship had been fruitful since that day all those years ago. Harry had proven to be a shrewd politician and businessman. Pollux may have been coerced into their alliance under less than savory circumstances, but the man had not regretted it once Harry had gotten up and running. Harry had done what seemed impossible, he'd entrenched himself deeply in the traditionalist faction, while still being a friend to the progressives. He'd expertly walked the tightrope, culminating last year in a Werewolf bill that had left both sides of the aisle feeling victorious.
The Werewolf Registration and Integration bill was a masterpiece, and his heart swelled knowing that Emily had secretly co-written it with him. The bill created a national registry of werewolves, aided by a new enchantment similar to the trace that was able to track anyone afflicted with lycanthropy. This control satisfied Pollux's side. On the light side this was spun as a positive, all thanks to the integration part of the bill. Werewolves were to be made full members of society, with the ministry ensuring them gainful employment. No one besides Harry knew the true endgame, an army of werewolves that would answer only to the Chief Warlock, a position Harry was sure to receive shortly.
All of that to say, Lord Black had reason to be happy with him, but since the Grindelwald affair, Pollux was firmly Harry's vassal. Harry had emerged as the leading figure in not just England, but all of Europe.
Later on, Harry entered his chambers to a familiar sight, Lyra nursing from Walburga's swollen breasts.
His daughter was four, but she still breastfed, and so Walburga still produced milk. Childbirth had done the now fifteen-year old girl well. Where Emily was tall and athletic, Walburga was shorter with nice, supple breasts and wider hips.
"Hey Daddy!" Both girls greeted him.
Harry chuckled. "How are my girls?"
"Great!" Lyra chirped. She had long, dark pigtails along with his signature green eyes, though her eyes were larger than his. Harry had performed a rare blood adoption ritual before her birth. She was already his biological daughter, so performing it was ultimately five hundred of Cygnus' galleons in the rubbish bin, but for Harry it ensured no one would question why the girl looked so much like him.
Harry smiled and ruffled her hair. Milk was leaking from her mouth, and Harry dipped down to lick it off, earning a giggle from his daughter. Turning to Walburga, who looked up at him with adoration while her breasts continued to leak milk, his cock began to harden.
"Daddy's had a long day." He unbuckled his pants, dropping them to the floor to reveal his long, stiff erection. "I'd love some warm milk,"
"Oh goodie!" Lyra clapped in excitement as she ran to sit on the opposite couch. Walburga blushed as she stood up. She never wore clothing in their chambers, so it was a simple task for Harry to slide into the seat she'd been occupying and have her climb onto his lap, her cunt sinking down onto his cock as Harry began to greedily suck milk from her tits.
Walburga breathed heavily, but tried to remain as quiet as she could. It amazed Harry, how the screeching woman he had once known was now this meek, submissive girl. One of his proudest accomplishments.
Walburga was slowly bouncing on his cock when the door to the room opened. "Started without me?"
Emily was walking in, an amused smile on her face. Neither Harry nor Walburga stopped their rutting to acknowledge her arrival, so she simply headed over to Lyra.
"Hey auntie Em! Daddy's loving mummy!" She declared happily.
"That he is," Emily scooped the girl up and plopped down on the seat with her on her lap. "In a few years time, that'll be you, Lyra. Aren't you excited?"
Lyra looked up at her aunt with her large eyes, nodding enthusiastically. "I can't wait! Hopefully daddy doesn't wait til I get my wand like he said,"
Emily glanced over at the fucking couple, where Harry was now setting the pace and Walburga had her head thrown back in pleasure, the obscene slapping of their flesh filling the room.
"I don't think you'll have to worry about that, my little star."
…
Harry smiled proudly as he observed his students.
He'd started a dueling club during the second term of his first year. Coupled with his excellent charms instruction, it led to a generation of students that venerated him.
"Well done!" Harry clapped his hands as the two teams ceased their practice duel, many with their wands still aglow, spells ready to be cast.
"Team Three, your teamwork was excellent. You did very well to cover for Miller once he suffered his injury,"
The five fifth years nodded reverently at his praise, all of their faces filled with pride.
"Team twelve, you need to communicate better. I recommend you take some time to feel each other out more. Having said that, excellent firepower from your end,"
The firepower had come from one source, Cadmus Prewett, but the students had long since accepted that no matter what the individual did, praise and punishment would all fall upon the group equally.
"Excellent work everyone. Now, onto the fourth years!"
Two groups of fourth year students, one clad in white and the other in black, began to find their positions in the center of the room.
Harry sat on a high chair, elevated enough to referee the action from above. He waited until they had all found their spots before he tapped his wand on the chair. A loud bang sounded off, and they began to duel.
The fourth years were obviously not as well drilled as the fifth years, but they were impressive nevertheless. Harry was certain that not even the Aurors or Hit-Wizards understood teamwork as deeply as even his third years did.
The dueling club had been a stroke of genius. In one body, he had solved many of the problems that had once seemed insurmountable.
The most obvious boon was that he was slowly building a large base of capable witches and wizards that were loyal to him. After five years, all of these students saw him as a father figure. He'd molded them, trained them up into some of the most skilled teenagers in all of Europe. His kids had already begun dominating the junior and senior dueling circuits, and he'd received many glowing letters from the head of the DMLE about the supreme competence of recent graduates, all of whom credited him with their success.
The real genius was in dividing them up into teams. He had created three teams: Team Three, Team Seven and Team Twelve, the three most magically significant numbers.
There was no one on one dueling in his club, it was all team based. He personally placed first years into each team, and the team became a sort of family, integrating them into the hierarchy and providing mentorship.
In this way, he created his own parallel structure that circumvented the house system. Being a dueling club, all the pureblood scions had jumped at the chance to join and prove their mettle. Harry teamed them up with muggleborns. It was very tense at first, and many threatened to leave the club entirely. But Harry's personal magnetism kept it all together.
Now, after five years, it was all slowly coming together. Having the purebloods and the muggleborns work together in such close quarters, forcing them to depend on each other and trust each other with their lives, created a grudging camaraderie that was slowly morphing into respect.
And then Yaxley had inadvertently helped him even more a few years ago when he'd said his father wished to sponsor Team Seven. That had led to an influx of patronage from all the rich pureblood magnates.
Every June, right before the end of term, Harry and his students held a showcase in honor of their patrons, an event which had ballooned into one of the most important in the English social calendar. It was a festival of pomp and importance, feeding the egos of all the Lords that had supported his little club.
And during these events, muggleborns were prominently displayed, working side-by-side with their own heirs.
It wasn't a perfect process, but it was slowly making headway. The old aristocracy might still see these muggleborns as inferior, but they put stock in them, they were invested in their growth, they saw them as assets. They'd bought the most promising ones wand holsters and dragonhide armor, they'd showered them with expensive gifts for a job well done. Slowly but surely, he was weaving the wizarding world closer together.
He was aiming to achieve the same goal as the man whom he'd killed this past summer. But he was going to do it right.
He heard a commotion in the area where the younger years were going through their drills. Catching a glimpse of Emily and her evil smirk, he decided it might be best for him to interfere.
"Danvers," Harry called out and a dark haired seventh year boy, a Ravenclaw muggleborn, stepped up to him.
"Yes, Professor?"
Harry jumped down from his perch. "Continue judging, if you could."
The boy nodded firmly and immediately climbed up the ladder to the elevated seat. Danvers was not the most powerful of wizards, but he had an excellent tactical eye, he could be trusted to observe.
Harry crossed the room briskly as he heard bits of a heated argument. A thick Scottish accent clued him into who was involved.
"You're nothing but an evil, twisted bully! No one can stand you, you know!" The first year Gryffindor yelled at the top of her lungs.
Emily had one of her sadistic smirks, a hand on her hips as she gazed down at the small, wavy haired girl. "Those are some very hurtful words. Does she speak for all of you?" She turned her gaze to the other first years, who shook their heads nervously as they backed off.
The girl squeezed her wand and raised it threateningly, which only seemed to excite Emily further. "I hate you!"
"Show me, show me how much you hate me." Emily egged her on, a wild look in her eyes.
"That'll be enough." Harry stepped in. Emily looked disappointed by his interruption, though a stern glare made her bow her head. Rounding on the younger girl, who was looking at him with a blush on her cheeks but a defiant glare in her eyes, Harry sighed.
"Miss McGonagall, Miss Riddle, you will both stay after club hours so we can discuss discipline."
Minerva bowed her head, the intensity in her gaze never wavering. "Yes, Professor."
Harry nodded and turned to Emily, who's smile had now returned. "Of course, Professor." The seductive lilt in that last word was not missed by Harry.
After another twenty minutes, where both girls were forced to sit on opposite sides of the room and watch the proceedings. Harry was alone in the vast dueling chamber with both girls standing in front of him.
It was cute how young Minerva did her best to maintain a stiff posture and an unwavering gaze. It had worked for her older counterpart. On the little eleven year old, not even five foot tall with wavy brown hair cut into a bob; it looked rather comical.
"Now, I want to know what happened." Harry raised his hand before either of them spoke. "We will do this in an orderly manner, and we will begin with Miss McGonagall."
Emily crossed her arms and pouted as Minerva smiled triumphantly.
"I was practicing my casting with my friends, and like always she kept making comments and jokes about me. About my height, and my heritage and my skill." She glared at the older girl. "She's been bullying me since I got here. And she keeps hitting me with tripping jinxes in the hallway!" The scottish girl was becoming more and more enraged with each passing moment.
Harry turned to his niece. "Is that true, Emily?"
Emily smirked. "She missed the time I vanished her knickers during lunch,"
"That was you?!" Minerva bellowed.
Harry rolled his eyes, sighing lightly as he pointed his wand at the first year. "Now, now. Stay where you are, Miss McGonagall."
It looked like it was taking every fiber of Minerva's being to not lunge at the dark haired Slytherin, who looked tauntingly at the young girl.
"I think I understand what is happening here." Harry's commanding voice brought their attention back towards him.
Harry glanced between them, allowing a small silence to build up. "My niece seems to have a crush on you, Miss. McGonagall."
"She what?!" The young girl's eyes were darting between the two of them as if they were both insane. For her part, Emily had a light blush on her cheeks.
"How did you know, daddy?"
Harry chuckled. "You're still a bit stunted in these matters, my love. You seek out toys with a bit of fire to them, you enjoy snuffing out that little flame."
Emily blushed even deeper now, her head tilting to the side. "You know me so well, daddy."
Minerva was frozen in her seat, unable to believe they were having this conversation, and right in front of her too! Like the rest of the school's female population, she liked Professor Gaunt, but the man was clearly not all there.
She fidgeted in place, wanting to get out of here as soon as possible. "I-I have to leave, I need to do my home-"
The Gaunts turned to her, and their unsettling gaze kept her frozen in place. "Now, now, Miss McGonagall, we need to sort this out. You wouldn't want for things to continue the way they have, would you?"
Minerva shivered under the handsome professor's emerald eyes. "Professor, I-I don't like girls." It was the first thought that came to her mind to get them off her back. Not that she should have needed to even say that, she would never like that evil bitch Gaunt. And besides, she and the professor were engaged for Merlin's sake!
"How would you know, have you ever even kissed one? Hell, you've probably not kissed a boy either." Emily taunted.
"She has a point, you have no point of reference, Miss McGonagall." Harry added.
These people were insane!
"I don't feel comfortable right now!" Minerva spoke, hoping this would knock some sense into the Gaunts. Instead, their smiles turned just a bit more twisted.
"We can make you comfortable," it was Emily who spoke, and Minerva suddenly realized the girl was much closer that she'd been just a second ago. Minerva panicked, brandishing her wand. But she was a first year, barely a month into classes, there was nothing she could do.
She felt Emily's long, spidery fingers grip her chin and forcefully tilt her face. She was paralyzed with fear and shock as the other girl's pale face loomed closer and closer, her dark eyes clouded with lust and something else, something much darker.
Emily's lips were hot on her own. Minerva was jolted back into action, trying to pull back from the other girl, but she instantly bumped into Professor Gaunt's solid frame. He put his hands on her shoulders, keeping her in place while Emily pressed their lips closer together.
The hand holding her chin in place now squeezed hard on her cheeks, forcing Minerva's mouth open. She felt Emily's long tongue invade her mouth, finding her own tongue and wrestling it to submission.
Minerva let out a muffled gasp. She struggled against her captors but couldn't move. Not willing to give up, she clamped her teeth shut, biting down hard on Emily's tongue.
Emily hissed in pain as she pulled back, a venomous look on her face as she glared at the defiant Gryffindor. Harry chuckled from behind Minerva as Emily cast a quick healing charm on her rapidly swelling appendage.
"She has more bite to her than Walburga did." Harry commented, full of mirth as his pissed off niece looked ready cast a dark curse on Minerva. That wouldn't do.
Harry lifted the girl's chin up until she was looking straight up at him. He dipped his head down and caught her in another kiss, his tongue leading the way.
This time Minerva did not attempt to bite as Harry forcefully snogged her. He turned her and knelt down until they were face to face, wrapping an arm around her slight figure as he forced his tongue down her throat. Minerva regained enough of her senses enough to weakly flail her arms, but her resistance was crumbling rather quickly.
Harry broke the kiss, leaving a dazed first year looking back at him through hazel eyes. Harry spun her around, leaning forward to whisper in her ear, "Now let's try that again, try to cooperate this time."
Emily lunged forward and once again kissed her, this time much more forcefully. Harry was proud that she didn't bite Minerva's tongue in retaliation, instead opting to rougly nibble at the younger girl's lower lip in between kisses.
Harry was running his hands up and down the girl's sides, feeling the light goosebumps when he hiked her shirt up and his hands trailed across bare skin.
Maybe it was the sensory overload, but Harry saw Emily's eyes snap open triumphantly as Minerva began to kiss back. The young girl tried to dominate their kiss, but Emily easily batted away all her attempts at gaining the upper hand, her tongue expertly tangling and pushing Minerva's into submission.
Both girls moaned.
Harry licked at Minerva's earlobe. "Isn't it all so wonderful? Give into that passion. That fire. We can feed it, we can make it grow until it's a blazing inferno."
Minerva's entire body was flushed red by this point. Harry took a hold of her woolen shirt and lifted it completely off of her, breaking her kiss with Emily.
Minerva gasped as her flat chest was exposed, the drafty room making her nipples harden instantly.
"Oh, Merlin… Professor, what are you-"
Whatever resistance she was still trying to muster crumbled rather quickly. Both Harry and Emily were on their knees now, and they each captured one of her nipples.
"GODS!" Minerva squealed. Her legs trembled as she felt true pleasure for the first time in her life. Her head was thrown back, mouth left open in a silent scream as two expert mouths sucked at her undeveloped chest.
She felt large hands roughly pull down her skirt. She put her hands on their heads, meaning to push them off, but she was far too weak by now. Instead she gripped their hair as two pairs of hands snaked all over her lower body. Long, thin fingers slid down her thighs while a thick, powerful hand palmed her pert little arse. A hand tickled the inside of her legs, while another was getting dangerously close to a sacred area.
All the while, the tongues swirling around her nipples were driving her crazy.
She didn't know if the orgasm came before the finger touched her folds, or if that was the trigger that set her off.
By this point, it was all she could do to hold on to reality.
It was all so unfair. They were older, much more powerful. She had never stood a chance. She wanted to weep, not for her lost innocence, but for her lost freedom.
Because she knew that even if they let her go right now, if they vowed not to touch her ever again, she could never be anything but theirs.
Minerva bucked wildly, her small body convulsing while Harry and Emily kept her upright, all the while still violating her with their skilled hands. Emily had a finger buried to the second knuckle in her virgin cunt, making tight circles that drove the scottish girl wild.
They finally released her nipples, and the two of them shifted until Harry was once again behind her and Emily was crouching in front. They trailed kisses down her body, and Minerva felt compelled to watch as Emily's dark head of hair went lower and lower.
Suddenly, she felt a wetness in her butt as something thick burrowed into her rosebud.
"No! No! Stop!" She gasped, trying to pull away from the tongue violating her anus.
It was all futile. As Harry's tongue firmly lodged itself within her ass, making her toes curl and her body tense up, Emily's tongue punched into her cunthole.
"UUUUH!" It was finally too much. Her legs ceased to work. The Gaunts easily maneuvered around it, resting her legs on Emily's shoulder as their tongues tunneled into both her holes.
She was helpless, a passenger to the pleasure that was overloading her young body. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her vague hope for a reprieve was dashed when a violent orgasm struck her, discharging a slick coat of cum onto Emily's face and making her asshole twitch and squeeze the life out of Harry's tongue, only for the duo to continue their ministrations right through it.
They kept assaulting her through her next three orgasms, until finally, her broken, gasping form was spared the excruciating pleasure. They pulled back and she fell bonelessly onto Harry's waiting arms. The Professor cradled her, and Minerva looked up at him lovingly through her haze as she thought her ordeal had finally ended.
She was placed onto something soft. A bed. There hadn't been a bed in the Dueling room before.
Emily's face now filled her vision, the older girl looking like a dark angel as she looked down at her with a kind smile. A smile that looked eerie coming from her. "Don't worry pet, It's almost over." She leaned down for a kiss, softer and more delicate than the ones before. Minerva leaned into it, basking in the tenderness her fried nerve endings so craved.
Emily pulled back and placed her hand behind her head, lifting it up. Minerva looked at her questioningly and Emily nodded towards the side. Minerva's eyes trailed down her own body.
It was a monster. A large, thick, girthy monster that was hovering over the entrance of her small cunt.
She wanted to beg, to plead with him, but she was defeated. She looked up into Professor Gaunt's lovely emerald green eyes and gave him a tearful smile.
"Good job, pet." He smiled down at her as he pushed his length into her.
Minerva was so small. Smaller than even Emily when he'd first taken her. Only a third of his cock could fit into her royally tight little cunt, and even that was stretching her to her limit.
Minerva's eyes were glazed over. Emily stroked the girl's hair as Harry slowly began moving his cock inside of her, his movements slow and deliberate, though he still seemed to be rattling Minerva's brain every time he pushed in.
"You're doing wonderful, pet." Emily cooed, "I'm proud of you." Minerva was gazing back at her, as loving a look as he unfocused eyes could provide.
Harry grit his teeth. He tried to hold on, but just the view of his veiny cock looking like a billy club aa it stretched her tight young snatch past its limit was overwhelming. He gave one more deliberate push until he bottomed out in her cunt, then he allowed himself to twitch inside of her, letting loose his release.
Even the first spurt was too much, and by the time he shot his fourth wad in her virgin pussy, a large gusher of cum was leaking out of Minerva's raw cunt.
Harry pulled out of her slowly, and as he looked up he saw the girl had passed out. Emily laid her head down lovingly and crawled forward, her eyes zeroed in on Harry's still hard cock.
Emily was bobbing on Harry's quickly hardening cock as he looked down at the passed out girl, her mouth drooling openly as her pussy drooled his cum.
He couldn't help but think about the Minerva McGonagall from his old world. He had no doubt this one would be much more fun.
…
"Well, that was exhaustingly boring." Harry sighed out as he put his feet up on the table.
"For a man who's spent so much time in the Wizengamot the past few years, you seem to have little patience for ceremony." Albus chuckled as he sat down opposite him.
Harry waved him off. "I'm used to the pomp and circumstance in England, but the French take it to a whole other level. Six hours sitting on my ass and not a single thing of import was said."
Dumbledore raised his glass of gillywater. "Welcome to the ICW, Lord Gaunt." He smiled, though the twinkle in his eyes was not there.
Harry sank down into his seat, grabbing his glass of wine from the table.
It was mid-december. Hogwarts was still in session, but Albus and Harry had gone off to Paris for the weekend for a special session of the ICW council. Finally, the dates had aligned and the bureaucracy had moved enough for the international community to meet and settle the post-Grindelwald order.
It was also heavily rumored that Lord Gaunt would be made Supreme Mugwump at this summit.
Unfortunately for Harry, saturday had passed with absolutely nothing happening. Hours of dignitaries tripping over themselves to praise him, followed by hours of countries bickering over minutiae. The Lord Chancellor of the German Empire wished to pay no reparations, claiming Grindelwald had held him under duress. The King of Serbia was seeking to separate from the Russian sphere. The Americans came in, wanting to put their fingers in every pie.
Meanwhile, The war in the muggle world had not ended. The tide had certainly turned, decisively even, but the war was still ongoing. And all of these great and important wizards acted as if that was none of their concern. As if the muggle war was just some minor spat between children.
"A lot on your mind, Harry?" Albus asked.
Harry blinked a few times. "My apologies, Albus." He refocused on the auburn haired man. "I was actually thinking about my daughter."
"Young Lyra is quite the delight. I do find myself curious about how she will turn out. The first child ever raised at Hogwarts."
Harry chuckled. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Albus. I cannot fathom the thought of leaving her at the manor, seeing her only on weekends and during the summer." He shook his head. "Family. For all our individual strength, nothing will ever trump the power of familial love."
Albus nodded sagely. "Wiser words have yet to be spoken." A dark look fell over his eyes. "The power of love, magic which we have yet to comprehend."
Harry fixed Albus with a contemplative look. "Albus, may I ask you a personal question?"
"You may."
Harry pulled out the Elder Wand and placed it on the table. Albus' eyes couldn't help but be drawn to it, his gaze turning intense before he managed to break contact, looking back up towards Harry.
"This wand, I took it when I defeated Grindelwald. That first staff meeting, it held your interest, and ever since then I've seen you looking at it." Harry folded his arms, "I take it it holds some sentimental value?" He asked softly.
Dumbledore took his time before speaking, "It…interests me. It is no secret that I was once great friends with Gellert. The wand is a link to that past." He stated mutely.
Harry was always impressed by Dumbledore. Not many could look Harry straight in the eyes as they lied through their teeth.
"I see." Harry glanced down at the wand before looking back up. "I need to return to the castle, Lyra will not miss her bedtime stories, and I'm afraid neither Emily nor Walburga are very good at acting them out properly." He pushed the wand towards Albus. "I can give you some time alone with it."
Dumbledore's eyes actually widened in surprise. He made to protest only for Harry to raise a finger.
"I've had enough performance for one day, Albus. I will leave you to grieve. You may return the wand to me tomorrow morning." Harry stood and put a hand on the older man's shoulder. "Good night, Albus."
Harry pulled out the cigarette lighter that served as his international portkey and activated it, leaving Albus Dumbledore alone in the private lounge on the fourth floor of the Hôtel De Flamberge , deep in the heart of Paris, with the wand of destiny at arms reach.
Dumbledore bore a hole through the wand as his eyes took in every fine detail, every smooth curve of the elder wood, the texture of the grain. His eyes basked in it all as outside, Paris was bustling with the sounds of music. Drunken witches and wizards partied and danced the night away.
The wards that separated the Quartier des Sorciers from the muggle side of Paris kept the other reality at bay, the reality where German soldiers drunkenly walked the streets of Paris, a tenuous peace ever constant in the occupied city.
Albus tried, he truly did. But before he knew it, the wand was in his hands.
The power he felt was immeasurable, but there was still something missing. He wasn't it's master.
Not yet.
Harry would return in a few hours, exhausted after a night with his women, and Albus would be ready, ready to fully claim the Deathstick as his.
There was a wave of heat and a blinding light. The wards of magical Paris held for maybe a second, before they were vaporized, along with the rest of the city.
The city of lights had stood for well-over two millennia. It had been the premier city in the world since the middle ages. The city had been a center of arts and learning. It had seen a half dozen revolutions, It had been sacked and burned only to be rebuilt, each time grander than the one before.
Now, in the same spot where men from Francis the First to Napoleon had once stood, where the Revolutionary government and the Paris Commune had once set out to completely transform the world, there was nothing but glass and rubble. The city burned, the Seine was nothing but a quickly rising cloud of steam, not a single building still stood.
Paris had been completely silenced. A nuclear bomb had been dropped.