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Harry Potter, Leyndell – The Lands Between.

“The reconstruction of the academy is progressing smoothly. The capital is recovering its former splendor at a slow but steady pace, and the… humans that my mother and you created are beginning to populate the city, Your Grace,” said Melina, pronouncing the word human as if it were… strange and exotic.

Harry, the Sovereign and God of these lands, nodded calmly from his throne, his irises burning like living flames—a consequence of his past actions.

Years? Decades? Centuries? He was not certain. He had stopped counting long ago.

He remembered those days with a hint of nostalgia—the disaster this place had once been, Melina’s gentle guidance during those terrifying moments, Ranni’s manipulations and Marika’s whims, all the headaches he had endured to finally free himself from the damned control of the Golden Order.

“Why is Melina overseeing the reconstruction of the academy? I am the one with experience in magic—I should be in charge of such an important and noble task,” asked the red-haired sorceress, frowning as she looked at her husband.

Harry, accustomed to the sorceress’s whims, simply responded:

“Because I have ordered it,” he said, fixing his cold gaze on the most mischievous and manipulative of his consorts, making the witch fold her arms and avert her gaze from her husband’s eyes.

“I already told you I was sorry. I thought all that nonsense about the Age of Stars was my only way to be free. Who the hell would have thought you would bend the will of the Greater Will? That’s something I never thought possible—at least not in the… direct way you did it, my love,” said the sorceress, instantly changing tactics in an attempt to get what she wanted.

Harry responded firmly, though with patience:

“I have given you the task of rebuilding and nurturing the fields, filling them with the trees that Marika has created to nourish the land—a task you have yet to complete. If I cannot trust you with the simplest duties, how do you expect me to assign you greater projects?”

The words of the Sovereign of Leyndell silenced the beautiful redhead—at least until the doors of the throne hall opened calmly, and elegant, familiar footsteps echoed across the polished floors of the Celestial Palace—the seat of Harry’s rule since the fall of the Golden Order.

Since that day when Marika and he severed the Greater Will’s connection to the Erdtree…

And where they fornicated for forty days without pause to give life to the new order.

The Age of Winds—ruled by Elden King Harry the Magnificent and Queen Marika, the Mother of Mothers.

Swiftly, Ranni and Melina knelt—one on each side of the Zephyr Throne, located at the highest point of Leyndell, in the Palace of the Skies—both lowering their heads as the imposing footsteps of Queen Marika approached the throne.

“My husband, what is taking you so long? We need to perform our dance and continue forging this beautiful new canvas we call the Lands Between,” said the queen solemnly—though she hid it well, she was clearly irritated at having to wait for Harry to come to their marital bed.

And although normally the Elden King would abandon everything to go and bed Marika for another forty days, the meeting with Ranni and Melina had been truly important.

“Your daughter is supervising the reconstruction of the new academy. The damaged parts of the city have been repaired, and our children now walk the streets of Leyndell. Their faith and prayers nourish us—our power continues to grow. We can begin creating more powerful things,” said Harry as he stood and approached a more than pleased queen.

“So… we can begin?”

However, Harry interrupted her firmly, knowing exactly what she wanted.

“Yes. We can begin with your… experiments,” said the dark-haired king calmly, though inwardly he watched the goddess with amusement, who now looked completely satisfied with herself—and more than ready to begin procreating at that very instant.

Marika, once known as the Eternal—an extension of the will of the now-forgotten Greater Will—now bore the title of Mother of Mothers, and although she still held the official title of Queen and Ruler, she spent most of her time planning future races to inhabit her new kingdom—one that truly belonged to her and her Husband.

The last time Marika had looked at him the way she was looking at him now, they had copulated for forty months without rest, culminating in the creation of the Arboreal Nereids—massive maidens of nature, half human and half tree, nearly five meters tall, who now inhabited the lands south of the academy his wife Melina was rebuilding.

All of them, of course, without any form of curse.

Without any shame whatsoever—and with a radiant smile of excitement—the Mother of Mothers let her dress fall without hesitation and walked with elegance toward the Golden Throne, seating herself on the Elden King’s lap.

“I was thinking of a race of water maidens, to inhabit and nurture the Emerald Sea and the lake of Liurnia, or perhaps daughters of fire and stone—lava warriors to dwell in Mount Gelmir—or perhaps we can create both! An absence of eighty months would go unnoticed—you can leave these two in charge,” said Marika in a seductive and playful tone, clearly more than willing to manipulate him through his lust.

As she had done before, Harry thought with amusement—indeed remembering the marathon of lovemaking that had resulted in the creation of the Nereids.

And then, Marika went straight for the jugular. Now that she no longer answered to anyone, the sky was literally the limit—the Lands Between were theirs to shape and reshape at will.

“Or perhaps we can begin planning that race of dragon maidens you always wanted—protectors of Leyndell and loyal servants and pets to the Elden King,” the queen purred, rubbing her divine womanhood against Harry’s lap, making the sovereign of these lands place his hands upon her hips.

“And what about creating a normal race, with male and female, completely self-sufficient? Wouldn’t that be a better idea, my dear?” Harry asked with amusement, fully aware of Marika’s answer.

The blonde queen pouted and crossed her arms beneath her generous chest, clearly finding the idea distasteful.

“Oh, my dear, why would you want to ruin such a perfect world? Your magnificent virility is more than enough to all of us” said Marika, caressing Harry’s face.

“And how exactly do you expect our subjects to reproduce if there are no men to do the job, my love?” Harry replied with amusement.

Marika’s face lit up with triumph—as if she had been waiting for that question for a long time.

“I’m glad you asked, because the answer is simpler than you imagine—we will organize monthly orgies, where the Elden King will grant his seed and blessing to the minor races for reproductive purposes. The humans during the first moon, the Nereids during the second, and so on,” she said, clearly satisfied with her “plan.”

And to be fair… there was no real need for men to exist in the Lands Between. Since the Great Reset, all the land had been completely purged of chaos and infection.

The only ones who had remained from the Old Order were Melina, Ranni, Marika…

And, of course, Harry himself.

“My husband, I wish to be the next to create a race with you. I have several ideas—beautiful women with four arms and pale skin, elegant, slender, and devoted to their King, skilled in magic. You could design them as my personal attendants, and I could train them to please their father and king,” said Ranni from her kneeling position at the foot of the throne.

Harry looked at her with amusement, while Marika observed with pride.

The Elden King shook his head and shifted his gaze to Melina—his first guide when this land had been a place without light and utterly cursed.

Centuries had passed since that time, or millennia, he wasn't really sure—when Melina had nearly made the mistake of immolating herself to burn the tree, believing it was her only path.

Harry was truly grateful that he had been able to make her see reason and support his plan before it had been too late.

In the end… everything had turned out far too well.

“Dear Melina, do you have anything to add?” he asked, gently caressing her chestnut hair, making the most submissive and devoted of his wives shiver before looking at him with a soft smile.

“I wish… to populate the great plains of our realm with noble and powerful beasts alongside you—grant them our grace and give them a place among the vast expanses of our kingdom,” she said, her voice soft—but filled with determination.

Harry smiled, satisfied, and opened his mouth to respond.

When… it happened.

A mysterious blue flame—magical in nature, yet foreign and entirely unknown to the rulers of Leyndell—appeared in the Throne Hall.

“Harry Potter,” said a voice—old and male—never before heard by the inhabitants of the Palace.

However, all of them recognized the name—the name of the sovereign of these lands.

“This reeks of foreign magic. Be careful, my husband,” warned Ranni, frowning as she stared at the mysterious flame.

“I do not detect divinity in this magic, but… it is strangely familiar,” Harry murmured, observing the blue flame directly, his curiosity more than evident.

The Elden King felt how the mediocre magic of this flame tried to impose its will upon him—an act Harry stopped instantly, manifesting his divine aura and subduing the pathetic magic.

“This is… interesting,” said Marika.

“I agree,” said Harry, observing what appeared to be some kind of hall, which contained four enormous tables with hundreds of young people looking around in complete confusion.

“HARRY POTTER!” the old voice called again, holding what appeared to be a parchment, looking around desperately.

“How do these people know your name, dear husband?” Melina asked with curiosity.

“I have no idea,” Harry said cautiously—but there was something… familiar about all this, as if a part of him, deeply buried beneath his newfound divinity, felt that this was… important in some way.

Ranni, who had been analyzing the flame, looked at her husband with a frown and said:

“It is translocation magic—not necessarily powerful, but quite ingenious. It will function as a threshold between Leyndell and wherever these people are, calling your name.”

Harry nodded calmly, his gaze fixed on the mysterious old man, while the flame itself seemed desperate—almost pleading—for his cooperation.

“You should go,” said Marika, putting her dress again—surprising Harry, Ranni, and Melina alike.

“What?”

“This is the most interesting thing that has happened in centuries. Besides, if what Ranni says is true… it would be a good opportunity to explore other thresholds. Perhaps there is interesting magic… or one of those delicious humans you might want to bring back as a pet,” Marika purred, staring intently at a particular young girl dressed in blue, with golden hair like her own.

Harry did not respond immediately, analyzing the situation.

“There is something… familiar about this place,” he said calmly, watching as the flame seemed on the verge of disappearing—pleading for an affirmative response.

So, without hesitation, his eyes began to glow with a golden radiance, and, enveloping his wives within his divine aura, he touched the flame.

The flame instantly changed—from its natural blue… to a divine golden fire.

And in the process—

Changing the fate of an entire world.

Forever.

Albus Dumbledore, Great Hall – Hogwarts.

“HARRY POTTER!!” he shouted for the third time, looking around with the faint hope that the young Potter would appear.

A hope that, apparently, would be entirely in vain.

With bitterness, the old man turned his head toward his History of Magic professor, watching as Lily’s face—which had held a small spark of hope—completely collapsed, as she wiped away treacherous tears from her eyes.

The act was mirrored by the young red-haired girl sitting at the Gryffindor table, who was being comforted by Miss Weasley and Miss Granger.

With fury, the headmaster turned around, looking across the entire hall with the greatest disappointment and anger he had felt in his life.

“Who was responsible for this disgusting prank? Who thought that adding the name of the deceased young Potter would be a good idea?” the headmaster demanded, his furious gaze sweeping across the hall, scanning the faces of every student.

The murmurs had begun—witches and wizards of Hogwarts turned to one another, whispering, their disapproval more than evident. Professor Lily was beloved by the vast majority of the school—this… joke was in extremely poor taste for everyone involved.

“I inform you that the professors and I will get to the bottom of this. We—”

However, the headmaster’s words were interrupted by a powerful explosion, originating from the Goblet of Fire itself.

Dumbledore and the rest of the students and professors watched the ancient artifact in surprise—which quickly turned into terror as the blue flames shifted into a deep golden color, and slowly, the Goblet began to crack.

And before Dumbledore could utter a single word, the ancient artifact simply exploded—shattering into pieces with immense magical force, as a kind of unknown runic circle, made of golden flames, appeared at the center of the hall.

Strange and colossal runes began to manifest, and the magical power they emitted was so immense that Dumbledore felt the castle’s wards tremble—on the verge of collapsing.

And then…

A kind of silhouette began to manifest within the circle.

It was enormous—taller than Hagrid—masculine in nature, and radiating such overwhelming magical power that the headmaster could not help but shudder and take a step back.

The being that emerged could be described with a single word:

A god.

He was… extraordinarily handsome, in an ethereal and supernatural way, with elegant pale skin and long black hair. His high cheekbones revealed noble origins, while his eyes—one emerald, one golden—filled with magical power, studied the hall where he had appeared, before focusing on Dumbledore.

“You are the wizard who has summoned me,” said the imposing being, his deep and masculine voice—laden with magical power—making Dumbledore tremble like never before, feeling utterly insignificant.

“Harry?” Dumbledore asked, filled with both hope and disbelief, unable to process what he was seeing.

“That is my name. How do you know it?” said the imposing man, looking at Dumbledore with curiosity before scanning the Great Hall in detail.

The old man opened his mouth to respond, but the overwhelming presence silenced him instantly—at least until the sound of a chair falling to the ground and hurried footsteps broke the tension.

"Harry? is that you?"

Lily Potter approached like a frightened doe, looking at the imposing man who called himself Harry Potter with naked hope, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

The immense man looked at the woman first with surprise—which slowly shifted into compassion.

“That is my name, my Lady. Do I know you?” he asked, his deep voice filled with magic—but that face… so familiar. So James.

So Potter.

“It’s you… my son?” the redhead asked with trembling hands, stepping closer, trying to touch Harry’s abdomen with devotion.

At least—until a feminine and imposing voice interrupted.

“Hands off my husband, madam. You may look all you wish, but you may not touch without my explicit permission,” said a blonde woman, nearly as tall as Harry—beautiful and seductive—who appeared in a golden flash behind the "young" Potter, accompanied by two other unknown witches, just as colossal and imposing as he was.

Lily looked at the woman in disbelief, opening and closing her mouth, at the same time that Miss Potter arrived, staring at the stranger with fascination and hope.

“Husband? My little boy is married?” she asked, causing the three unknown women to snort with amusement.

“Oh, believe me, there is nothing little about the Elden King, dear,” one of them said with amusement, looking Lily up and down, analyzing her completely.

“Elden King? What… what is that? What is happening? Son, where have you been?” the redhead asked desperately, staring at Harry’s face with naked fascination.

“That… is a long story. You claim to be my mother—I have no memory of you. I believe… we should have a private conversation. As soon as possible,” he said, making it clear that it was not a suggestion—but an order.

Lily fell silent, while Miss Potter took her hand gently, filled with hope.

“Yes… yes, I will answer everything you wish to know,” said the redhead, and Dumbledore quickly intervened.

“We may use the trophy room for your conversation, Mr. Potter. It is evident that you and your mother require privacy,” said the old wizard firmly, gesturing toward a door at the back of the hall.

At those words, the powerful and penetrating gaze focused on Dumbledore, who, for the first time in decades, felt completely insignificant and overwhelmed—the sheer magical power emanating from this man was… terrifying.

Instinctively, Albus moved his hand toward his sleeve, where the Elder Wand rested. Normally, touching it brought him comfort and serenity—but this time, in the presence of Mr. Potter, the wand felt completely inert—almost… cowed.

As if even it were wary of the presence before them.

“That is an excellent idea, Albus!” said Lily with a smile, before looking pleadingly at the towering man, her expressive eyes begging for a chance to connect.

And apparently, the mysterious man granted it.

Nodding with elegance, Harry looked toward the three mysterious women behind him and ordered:

“Adjust your avatars. We will be here for some time,” he said, making the three nod simultaneously—before beginning to shrink slowly.

An act that left Albus completely stunned.

What… what kind of magic was this? he wondered, unable to comprehend it.

Harry mirrored the process of the women, reducing his size to an impressive—but no longer unnatural—height of 6’10”, still taller than Albus and the majority of those present.

“That… that is very impressive magic, Harry,” Lily said, pride evident in her voice—though it was clear that neither she nor Albus had any idea how such a feat was even possible.

At those words, the blonde woman beside Harry laughed softly, as if Lily’s statement had been utterly amusing.

“Oh, dear… you haven’t seen anything yet,” she purred, her voice laden with overwhelming magical power—making Hogwarts itself tremble for a brief moment, as she looked at Lily with amusement… and cold, calculating eyes.

Lily frowned, clearly picking up on the dismissive tone in the woman’s words, and in a less-than-friendly tone asked:

“And who exactly are you supposed to be?”

The blonde woman only smiled wider.

“Me? I am Marika,” she said enigmatically, as if that name alone should mean something—clearly entertained that neither Lily nor Albus recognized her.

“One of my wives,” Harry interjected, looking at the blonde with severity, making her step back with a playful smile, raising her hands innocently—finding the entire situation amusing.

Harry simply sighed and turned his gaze back to Lily, gesturing toward the trophy room door.

“After you,” he said politely—though without a trace of warmth or affection, as if she were a complete stranger.

Which made sense, considering the young Potter had disappeared when he was only an infant.

And yet… Lily did not seem affected in the slightest by his tone—far too happy and relieved to see him alive.

“Yes… let’s go,” she said, beginning to walk, followed by the mysterious and powerful visitors.

Things at Hogwarts were about to become very interesting.

They had no idea what they had gotten themselves into.

At all.