Consort of Destined Death Chapter 31 (Patreon)

HARRY POTTER: PLOTTER?

It has been a week since the Wizarding World was thrown into turmoil by the sensational claims that a certain, deceased Dark Lord has miraculously returned. These claims, pushed by Harry Potter with the help of Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, along with his many allies, have sent the public into a predictable frenzy of panic.

But one must ask something about this questionable series of events, such as who stands to benefit from it all?

Harry Potter has, by his own admission and that of numerous Hogwarts sources, displayed an increasingly troubling pattern of behavior since his arrival at Hogwarts four years ago. Time and again, young Mr. Potter finds himself at the center of the most sensational events the wizarding world has to offer.

And once again, he has conveniently found himself at the center of scandal right as the Triwizard Tournament comes to a close. He is now pushing the entirely unverifiable claim that the most feared Dark wizard of the century has returned, positioned as the sole witness, sole survivor, and the sole beneficiary of the enormous surge in public sympathy and attention that has followed.

“Potter has always been obsessed with being the center of attention.” Confided one Hogwarts student, who requested anonymity for fear of likely reprisal from the Headmaster's inner circle. "Every year it's some scheme he and Dumbledore made up, always ending with Gryffindor rewarded hundreds of house points in the process. I’ve told my father about it many times.”

It cannot have escaped the attention of even the most casual observer that Albus Dumbledore has shown Mr. Potter considerable favoritism since his arrival at Hogwarts. The Headmaster has carefully manipulated and guided the boy to his whims, and has now seemingly reached the apex of his masterful schemes, to declare the return of You-Know-Who in an effort to gain power and overthrow the current Minister and…

-

Daphne Greengrass flicked her wand, causing that morning’s Daily Prophet to turn to ash, the front page being incinerated before her eyes. The inflammatory article was one of many just like it in the past week, filled with nothing but lies and slander towards Harry.

It was all the Ministry and Fudge’s doing, doing their best to smear Dumbledore and Harry for claiming the Dark Lord had returned. Whether it was the Minister’s stupidity and paranoia directing it all, or something more malicious, Daphne did not know. Either way, Voldemort had chosen to remain in hiding rather than reveal himself publicly after his resurrection, gathering allies behind the scenes while having his agents weaken his enemies.

Just a brief look at the Slytherin table revealed what his plan was, as none of the students present spoke of the Dark Lord’s return, yet many failed to hide the eager expressions they had. Daphne had seen many of them - Malfoy included - get letters from their families giving them instructions for how to behave with Voldemort’s return. Clearly most of them knew the Dark Lord was indeed alive, but weren’t allowed to speak openly about it.

As for the rest of the student body, a large amount refused to believe Dumbledore or Harry, as the Daily Prophet’s many articles had propagandized a large amount of them already. Even the Gryffindor table was rife with disagreement, which only contributed to the gloomy atmosphere that had overtaken the castle since Cedric Diggory’s death.

Casting one last look over the downtrodden student body, Daphne stood up and left the Great Hall, all while intentionally clumping in with the crowds leaving the castle. A Hogsmeade weekend had finally come, giving many the much-needed break from the somber atmosphere as they took the chance to head down to the village.

Daphne Greengrass did not fully follow the crowds however, instead navigating a different route compared to most other students. She took a different turn that led towards the clocktower courtyard and across the wooden bridge to a different part of the grounds. While most students were passing through the main entrance to get to Hogsmeade, Daphne was instead leaving Hogwarts through the back entrance.

It was right as she reached the end of the covered ramshackle bridge and walked out onto the dirt path that a familiar voice reached her ears.

“Good, you’re here. All set to go?”

Daphne turned, finding herself faced with Susan, Fleur, Millicent, along with that mysterious woman named Melina. Yet in that moment it wasn’t the latter two that surprised her, but rather the strange horse that Melina and Susan were riding. It had gray fur and a white mane, along with two horns which looked most unusual.

The steed looked oddly familiar, and it was only after a moment that she recognized it as the one Harry had summoned briefly in the first task.

“…Yes.” She spoke after a moment, blinking away her shock as they began to leave the castle grounds. “What’s with the horse?”

“Harry let us borrow Torrent for the day.” Melina rode sidesaddle elegantly, while Susan didn’t bother, sitting behind the one-eyed woman and seemingly not caring about preserving her modesty.

“He iz ugly.” Delacour commented, causing the steed to snort in her direction.

“Hey, Torrent isn’t ugly!” Millicent petted the beast as if to console it. “He just needs a good grooming.”

“I’ll give him one when we get back.” Melina decided.

“Back where, exactly?” Daphne asked, trying not to let her interest show.

They were walking around part of the Black Lake, going unseen as they used dirt trails to exit the castle grounds and briefly enter the Forbidden Forest. Their destination lay approximately halfway between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, sitting in a tiny valley carved within the surrounding mountains.

“Malenia has us all staying in Volcano Manor currently, but we won’t be there long.” The brunette replied. “She and Harry have run into a… complication in their plan, and have decided to meet with Princess Ranni for guidance.”

“Princess?” Fleur voiced. “Should I be worried zat she will be competition?”

Millicent giggled. “Ranni does have an interest in Harry, although she’s nice, if a bit…”

“Bratty?” Melina finished for her, failing to hide her grin.

Susan let out a laugh. “She and Daphne will get along great then.”

“Hey!” She frowned. “Wouldn’t Delacour fit that description better?”

The French Witch tossed her long hair back, raising her chin with a frown. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Did Daphne just make a joke?”

“You must be hearing things.” She eyed a sign on the road ahead, directing them to cross a cobblestone road that the Thestral-drawn carriages usually used on the way to the train station. “We’re getting close.”

“I forgot to ask, but where are we going?”

“It’s an old keep called Falbarton Castle, which has been abandoned for centuries.” Daphne replied. “Harry approved of my idea, and I went through with closing the purchase for it several days ago.”

It had been an idea they came up with to have a Site of Grace accessible outside of Hogwarts. Falbarton castle just so happened to be for sale nearby, a ruined castle that hadn’t been maintained for centuries. While getting the place livable would be an ordeal, it would be good enough to lay low in for the time being.

Just then their group turned a corner on the dirt path, coming in sight of an old stone gatehouse and crumbling wall that was mostly overgrown. The gate itself was made of broken boards, as Millicent pushed it aside to allow them entry. Beyond that lay the courtyard, dirt and mossy stone, with the keep in front of them.

The keep was a tall stone structure with many windows, its lower part connecting to the outer walls. It had likely been an intimidating sight centuries ago, but time had worn it down, the roofs having long ago caved in with several of its outer sections having crumbled.

Millicent let out a sigh. “Just like Limgrave.”

“Limgrave?” Susan asked.

“It’s a region within the Lands Between, and looks a lot like this.” Melina gestured at the surrounding greenery and trees. “It’s one of the safer regions, ruled over by one of the demigods, named Godrick. He’s of the wretched sort, claiming the right to rule by being a far-off descendant of Godwyn.”

“Godwyn… The one who died, right?” Millicent frowned thoughtfully. “He was Malenia’s brother, right?”

“Yes.”

She tried to follow the conversation, only to find herself confused. “How could this Godwyn be Malenia’s brother, yet have so many descendants?”

In reaction, both Millicent and Melina looked at her as if she was the odd one. “Godwyn was born almost eight hundred years ago, and Queen Marika gave birth to Malenia about three hundred and forty years ago. It would only make sense he had children, who further gave birth to more descendants.”

“Morgana’s tits.” Susan breathed. “You guys live that long? Wizards and witches live long, but nothing like that!”

“Ah, I see the confusion.” Melina smiled. “The Elden Ring holds dominion over the Lands Between, and it was under Queen Marika that she controlled the aspects of life and death itself. Death is different in our realm compared to yours, something the Shattering only made more… precarious.”

None of them bothered asking for elaboration at that, her words only further emphasizing how different their two worlds were. And not just different, but dangerous, as Daphne’s mind thought back to Millicent’s speed and skillful swordsmanship, as well as the powerful magic Harry was able to handle.

They soon entered the stone keep, the main hall having a half-decayed Lord’s table along with several carpets and fabrics that rats had eaten through over the ages. In front of them all, Melina moved to the centermost part of the room, seemingly finding the right place to perform the coming incantation.

“It is time.” The mysterious woman voiced before kneeling down, pulling something from somewhere that made all of them step back in surprise and wonder.

In her hands, the finger maiden held an arching rod of violently glowing gold light. Whatever the artifact was, it was blindingly bright, making Millicent and Melina’s golden irises look dim in comparison. It was clearly something magical, and powerful at that.

Millicent gasped. “I-Is that a Great Rune?!”

“No.” Melina replied calmly, still holding the artifact between her hands. “It is a rune arc, a tiny fragment of what was once the Elden Ring.”

Without further explanation, the rune arc suddenly flared and then shattered in her grasp, its golden flakes falling to the floor below.

In the next moment, something seemed to sprout from the ground, a glowing flame that slowly came into existence. It grew and then floated a few inches above the earth, swelling then stabilizing in size until it had finally coalesced into being.

It looks just like the one in the Chamber of Secrets. Daphne couldn’t help but note.

“It is done.” Melina declared at last.

/////

The atmosphere within Malfoy Manor was especially tense as of late, the undercurrent of every terrible facet of pureblood culture seemingly concentrated in one place. But a break in the suffocating atmosphere had finally come when the Dark Lord left for several days on a trip to the continent. It provided her the relief she much needed, and an opportunity to speak with her family privately without fear of reprisal.

Narcissa Malfoy navigated the halls of her Manor with her spine straight and chin level, dressed properly for a pureblood matriarch of her station. But even then the frilly blouse failed to flatten her full, heavy bust, nor could it hide the way her narrow waist flared into thick hips and a rounded, generous ass. Beneath it came thighs that filled the skirt when she walked, leading down to long legs and high heels that clacked with every step.

It took a monumental effort for her to not show distaste on her face as she walked, especially as the air began to smell less like old wood and parchment, but instead like blood, sweat, and booze. And that effort to maintain her neutral expression only became harder as she turned a corner, passing by an open seating room where some of the newer additions to Malfoy Manor were present.

She recognized only two of the ten Death Eaters present - being Jugson and Rowle - with the rest being common street thugs. They weren’t the type of men drawn to Voldemort’s banner by ideology or the pureblood cause, but instead as an excuse to kill and gain power along the way. Even now they drank and boasted of their misdeeds, all while two paid Knockturn Alley whores serviced them.

The first to notice her was a werewolf, his face heavily scarred, eyes following her every movement and lingering on her chest and then down to her hips. The others soon noticed her too, grinning eagerly as they muttered among themselves about ‘highborn bitches’ and ‘expensive breeding stock’. One of the wizards who had a whore’s lips around his cock began to fuck her face harder, his gaze fixed firmly on Narcissa’s ass.

For all of it, the Malfoy matriarch refused to slow her pace, as to react to them in any way was to show weakness. Instead she continued on through the manor, leaving the filth Lucius had welcomed into their home behind.

Soon she walked into the Lord’s office, finding it was particularly messy compared to usual, the stench of alcohol filling the room. Her husband sat at his desk, several bottles drained with one half empty in front of him. It was a pathetic sight, made even worse by the poor state of the man sitting behind an overly large desk.

Her husband had returned from the Dark Lord’s resurrection with his body covered in bloody cuts and scratches, something the bandages and scars he now wore failed to conceal. It was only afterwards she learned that it was Potter in the graveyard who did all this, killing several of the Dark Lord’s men and nearly killing her husband in the process. Somehow the boy had been able to do all that as well as fight off Voldemort long enough to escape alive.

Lucius did not stand when she entered, only looking up with seedy eyes. He stared at her with plain bitterness, the way a man looks at something he could never afford, aware of its price and resentful because of it. That fact was only made more clear now, her husband’s dilapidated figure compared to her overflowing feminine curves that had only ripened with age. She was in the prime of her womanhood, at that age where her body demanded to be used before her age became too advanced.

"Narcissa." He acknowledged her presence like she was bad weather.

"We need to talk." She stated.

"We already are."

"We need to do so properly, and speak about those animals you have allowed into our home." She sat across from him without invitation. “They watch me, Lucius, dress me down with their eyes and make comments that I’d rather not repeat. Already, they’ve trashed the guest wing, and I believe it’s about time someone tell them that they’ve overstayed their welcome.”

He didn’t stop drinking the entire time she spoke, looking almost bored. “You think I don’t know this?”

“I’m asking you to do something about it.” She fought back her irritation. “A fool would notice what those men are up to out there. It’s just a matter of whether we choose to further put up with this.”

The both of them might have no say in Voldemort personally staying in their home, but that didn’t mean common scum had to live within their walls as well. That was what she was trying to get across to her husband, but for his part Lucius looked entirely uninterested.

In the background the fire crackled, as her husband finally stopped staring at his glass and instead looked up at her. “Shut up, woman.”

"I beg your pardon?" She stiffened.

"I ordered you to be silent." He reached for his glass again, and his hand was not entirely steady. “You dare bother me with such petty complaints? Coming in here with your list of grievances, as if I don’t have to deal with the same things you have to.”

She stared at the weak man across from her, looking into his bloodshot eyes and watching as he winced from the aching pain in his ribs caused by Harry Potter. In that moment she spoke the only words that came to mind. “You’re pathetic.”

In response, her husband trembled in rage. “Y-You dare insult me…”

“All these years of planning, of schemes, of bribing the Minister and making me hang off your arm at balls... When it came to the toughest part, you let cowardice win, choosing to sit in here and drink your failures away instead of facing them.”

He looked as outraged as he was shocked by how she rebuked him, as if his mind couldn’t comprehend what she was saying. “Y-You…”

“The Dark Lord already thought you were disloyal. And then you had to lose so badly against Potter in that graveyard, and now he’s found out about the diary.” She watched as he shivered at that last mention. “How long until we’re all dead, Lucius? Until the Dark Lord takes his anger out on us all?”

Narcissa had seen and met Voldemort before, back when she was a naive girl in Hogwarts and then hanging off Lucius’ arm several decades ago. He had been a charming and charismatic man of pureblood stature then, powerful enough to rally so many pureblood families to his cause. Yet the Dark Lord was different this time around, more akin to a rabid beast who could snap at any moment. He terrified her.

“Are you finished?”

She blinked in surprise, before realizing Lucius had used occlumency to forcefully calm himself. "Not remotely."

“You are finished.” He stood and circled the desk, before reeling his arm back and slapping her hard across the face. She fell out of the chair but managed to catch herself, getting up shakily and glaring at him while her cheek stung. “You won’t speak that way to me again.”

“Go fuck yourself.” She spat.

He grabbed his wand off his desk, and she pulled out her own, yet no spells were cast. Instead the two glared at each other with nothing but hate. “You think you can itemize my failures? That you can list out your petty grievances and expect me to fix them? I am not your equal, Narcissa, and certainly not some fool you can order around. Rather, I am the one in charge, and you will do everything I tell you to from now on.”

“So that’s what my life will be like from now on?” She nearly snarled. “Looked at like some broodmare and hostess? All while catering to your every whim?”

"I'm telling you the truth. You've always claimed to prefer it."

She might be able to survive the current state of things, to hide out in her bedroom while murderers roamed the halls of her own home. But that didn’t mean her son would be able to handle it, and his impending return from Hogwarts was one of the reasons she confronted Lucius like this. “And Draco? What will he think of all this?”

"Draco," Lucius smirked as if recalling an inside joke, "is a Malfoy by blood. You may try and make him forget that fact, but my son will know his place in all this. When he returns from Hogwarts, he will take the Mark."

Her breath hitched, eyes widening. “N-No! Y-You can’t-”

“It’s already been decided, and agreed upon by the Dark Lord.”

She looked away, mind whirling through the terrible implications before she realized something. “You did this, didn’t you? You gave our son to the Dark Lord as a way to repent for your own failures?”

The Dark Lord’s wrath had been terrible when he found out about the Diary’s destruction, and he had tortured Lucius for it. Yet her husband had survived and been able to somehow appease Voldemort, and it was only then Narcissa realized he had given the man Draco as recompense.

“Our son?” Lucius mocked. “He was always my son. Don’t try and fool yourself, woman, Draco might be born from your womb but was never yours.”

She raged internally, her face showing nothing but fury. Yet for all of it she knew her husband was right, and that Draco had never been hers. Lucius had always done his best to manipulate and influence the boy, pushing her away and doing it all under the guise of Lordship lessons. He was the one who made Draco worship the Dark Lord with grand tales in his youth, who paid for every toy the boy wanted, and used his influence to make sure Draco reigned supreme within the Slytherin common room.

For years she had held her breath, watching on as Lucius catered to Draco’s every whim, and spoiling him terribly. And it was only then she realized the sheer manipulation of it all, how he ensured that Draco would follow him until the end.

“You will trouble me no longer.” Lucius ordered at last. “And you will especially never trouble my son with your frivolities.”

It was rare for Narcissa Black Malfoy to ever be defeated in anything, yet she left her husband’s office in heavy defeat that evening. Rather than take the same path past the loitering Death Eaters, she instead turned and went to an exterior balcony that looked out onto moonlit manor grounds.

How did it come to this? One sister in Azkaban, another gone into the Muggle world, and the last sister trapped in a shit marriage. She was imprisoned in her current role like it was a cage, forced to live with murderers and madmen.

As if to prove her point, she heard loud male laughter come from deeper within the manor, accompanied by feminine screams. As if the Dark Lord wasn’t bad enough in his current, terrifying, state, the man seemed to have gained a newfound thirst for drawing in the worst scum he could possibly find. Gone were the days of high-status purebloods supporting You-Know-Who, as mercenaries and criminals were gathering around his banner like rats.

And the fact some of them were camped out in her home was even worse. Those men looked at Narcissa as if she were nothing more than a high-class whore, a piece of meat to be ogled and fucked. It was despicable, and she knew it was only a matter of time till one of them tried something.

I need to leave. It was a traitorous thought, yet she pondered it nonetheless. To flee Malfoy Manor would be seen as a betrayal of the cause, that she was siding with the mudbloods and blood-traitors against her kind.

And yet that option seemed better than staying here, waiting for further harm or death to come upon her person. Her son was already lost and pinned against her, her husband uncaring of her fate, and everyone else of note in her life was either dead and gone. It was only a matter of time till she befell a terrible fate herself, and Narcissa was not ready to quietly give in.

////

He exited the Site of Grace in a flash of golden light, his hand subconsciously going to his pocket, only to realize that he had left Torrent’s summoning whistle with Melina for the day. It meant he was forced to trudge the rest of the way on foot, walking out of some overgrown ruins that he and his two companions had visited several months prior.

Turning his head to the right revealed the swampy lakes of Liurnia, with the Academy of Raya Lucaria sitting further in the distance.

But none of those were Harry’s destination, as he instead set out for the large sprawling estate down the path from his current location. Just like before, Caria Manor looked less like a home and more like a fortress. He knew it was built like that on purpose, its overlapping battlements constructed to fend off any attackers, with the main area where the Carian Royals resided sitting on the far side of the upper castle, protected and secure from the rest of the world.

It was a long walk, but gave him the much-needed excuse to stretch his legs. If it wasn’t his lengthy recovery and subsequent battle with Voldemort that made him sore, then it was the sex with his demigod lover which did it. The two of them might’ve taken things slow and easy for their first time, but a woman of Malenia’s caliber would leave any man sore and struggling to walk.

Just the thought of her long red hair, those kissable lips, and mouthwateringly fit body was enough to make his cock twitch, and Harry ruthlessly pushed the memories of their coupling away. It was hardly the time for him to reminisce, to be caught unaware with his mind in the gutter, especially when the approaching guards had caught sight of him.

Like before, two massive trolls guarded the entrance to Caria Manor, being fully-fledged Carian knights sworn to guard Ranni’s family.

“It’s Brol and Grol, right?” He asked the two as he got closer, remembering their names.

“Correct, Tarnished, and thou are Harry Potter.” Brol didn’t show the least amount of antagonism. “Art thou here seeking audience with Princess Ranni?”

“I am.” He blinked in surprise. “Don’t tell me it was that obvious?”

“Hardly.” Grol seemed amused. “We may be more intelligent than most of our kind, but not even we could guess that.”

“…Then how did you know?”

“Princess Ranni commanded this invitation be extended to thee, upon thy arrival.” Brol pulled out a letter that looked comically small in his massive hands. “According to the Princess, the stars foretold of thy arrival, and so she requests thou head to the Academy of Raya Lucaria for an audience with herself and Queen Rennala.”

“Of course she said that.” Harry didn’t know why he expected anything different, as it was totally within Ranni’s personality to make things more complicated.

It didn’t help that when he opened and read the letter from Ranni, it commanded him to arrive at the Academy with Malenia in tow.

Disclaimer: All Characters are over the Age of 18

A/N: Harry’s new home, Falbarton castle, is inspired by a similar location in Hogwarts Legacy