The Elden Lion - Of witches and promises. (Patreon)

Narcissa Malfoy, Malfoy Manor – England

As she did every day, Narcissa stood before the mirror, observing the perfection that was her body. Even at her age, Lady Malfoy knew she looked magnificent.

Her naked form stared back at her—her full breasts, slender waist, and generous hips would be the envy of any witch half her age. She was a living Venus, an embodiment of fertility and femininity.

The body of Narcissa Malfoy was perfect.

And yet…

No one enjoyed it.

She did not have a handsome wizard at her side to warm her nights. She had luxury, she had gold…

And she had Lucius.

Her husband.

Who, having Narcissa entirely at his disposal, preferred the company of younger wizards to satisfy his carnal appetites.

That detail of her marriage had always been a blow to her pride—that a woman such as Narcissa Malfoy, a veritable monument among witches, desired by any wizard to share his bed…

Had not been touched in over a decade.

Finding solace only in the familiarity of her own touch.

Her turbulent thoughts were interrupted by the persistent sound of someone knocking at the door, followed by the cold, irritating voice of her husband.

“Narcissa, make haste. The Wizengamot session will begin shortly, and I will not be late because of your foolishness.”

Lady Malfoy simply rolled her eyes.

Always politics.

It was the only thing Lucius could think about since the sudden rise of Harry Potter as Lord of his clan.

That… was a real problem.

Even more so after word spread of what Lord Potter had done to the ambitious creatures of Gringotts.

After such an overwhelming display of power, it was only natural that her husband was deeply unsettled—especially considering the two vineyards and the Mooncalf breeding stables Lucius had “acquired,” which in truth belonged to the Potters.

It was more than evident that the young Lord would seek restitution.

And every member of the Wizengamot who had benefited from such arrangements was… deeply concerned.

Including her husband.

Narcissa?

She simply enjoyed the spectacle.

Yesterday, during tea with Imelda and Anastasia, both had said the same—Alonso and Cyrus were in trouble and were desperate to prevent Lord Potter’s ascension at any cost.

Something that would be entirely impossible.

Harry Potter was already at least seventeen years old, and if he had activated the wards, it meant that the Potter ring had already acknowledged him as its Lord.

Her husband was in a precarious position.

And Narcissa knew it.

Now?

What remained was damage control.

For her daughter.

And for herself.

For that very reason, she was dressing to captivate—just as Imelda and Anastasia were doing. The three of them could sense the shifting winds.

After all, only an exceptionally powerful wizard could accomplish the feat of breaching Gringotts, placing a curse upon an entire race… and survive to tell the tale.

Narcissa would be lying if she claimed she did not feel a certain anticipation at the thought of meeting such a man.

A young Lord.

Powerful, lustful and manly.

Newly arrived upon the island.

Someone who would undoubtedly require guidance to navigate the treacherous political landscape of magical Britain.

Someone like her.

Narcissa thought, as she raised her wand and summoned an exquisite white gown onto her body, the fabric embracing her sensual figure like a second skin.

It revealed no skin, nothing scandalous.

But Narcissa had no need for that.

Her silhouette was so flawless that even fully covered, she appeared utterly radiant.

And she knew it.

With calm composure, Narcissa left her room, finding herself face to face with Lucius and her daughter, both of whom looked at her with visible exasperation.

“Must you take so long? The Wizengamot session is about to begin,” Lucius said with a frown, prompting Narcissa to roll her eyes.

“Spare me your complaints, Lucius. Even if you had arrived two hours early, you would not be able to prevent Harry Potter’s ascension. We both know it,” Narcissa said dismissively, before turning her attention to her beloved daughter.

Druella was dressed exactly as Narcissa had instructed—an emerald robe adorned with silver accents, elegant and refined, accentuating her slender and feminine figure, just as Narcissa intended.

“Come, Druella. Today’s session will be most… enlightening, and I have no intention of missing a single moment,” she said, ignoring Lucius’ displeased expression as she took her daughter’s hand and led her toward the fireplace, disappearing in a burst of emerald flames, followed shortly after by Lucius.

During their walk toward the observation balcony, Narcissa remained silent, lost in her thoughts. She had no clear notion of what would transpire during this session.

Upon reaching their destiny, Narcissa halted abruptly at the sight of two familiar figures.

Red-haired.

With mesmerizing green eyes.

Clad in exquisite golden robes tailored to perfection, circlets of enchanted gold that moved like liquid, crowned with brilliant emeralds that shimmered with a form of magic unknown to Narcissa.

Both women sat with composed elegance, wearing fitted chokers bearing the medallion of House Potter, displayed with unmistakable pride.

They looked… as though they had finally become the Ladies they were always meant to be.

Their expressions were cold, their green eyes surveying the Wizengamot with restrained disdain and quiet mockery.

Beside her, Druella frowned, recognizing them immediately.

“Potter…” she muttered under her breath, though she had enough sense not to cause a scene in such a place.

Narcissa glanced around before levitating gracefully toward where Imelda and Anastasia were seated, both accompanied by their respective daughters—Daphne and Pansy, if she remembered correctly.

“Lady Parkinson, Lady Greengrass,” Narcissa greeted with refined elegance, inclining her head in acknowledgment.

“Lady Malfoy,” both women replied in unison.

Narcissa took her seat, awaiting the beginning of the session, though inevitably her gaze drifted toward the most important man in the room.

Seated among the highest-ranking Lords of the Wizengamot.

The man of the hour.

Lord Harry Potter.

And what Narcissa saw…

Merlin.

Her entire being shivered at the mere sight of him.

“Are we certain he is only seventeen?” Narcissa asked cautiously, disbelief laced in her voice, shivering faintly as she felt Lord Potter’s gaze fall upon her.

He possessed heterochromatic eyes—one unmistakably the emerald green of his mother, powerful and striking.

The other…

A radiant gold.

The iris seemed almost alive, as though it contained an overwhelming, unfathomable magical force, observing everything with indifference and subtle disdain.

As if his very presence in this place required an effort beneath him.

Perhaps it did, Narcissa thought with growing interest, just as the session began.

Albus Dumbledore opened proceedings as was customary, following the formal protocols and making the usual introductions.

Until they reached the moment of announcements.

“Is there any matter of importance to address?” he asked, his gaze settling directly upon the seat of House Potter.

At that moment, Lord Harry rose to his feet.

“Yes. Full reparations, with interest, for the blatant theft carried out by several Lords against House Potter for more than a decade,” he stated simply, though the power behind his voice was undeniable.

At those words, whispers spread rapidly throughout the chamber.

Narcissa observed how her husband frowned, visibly uneasy despite his attempts to conceal it.

Lucius stood, clearly prepared to deliver a carefully crafted response.

“If I may, Chief Warlock, I—AHHH—”

His voice was cut off before he could utter another word.

And in a manner utterly humiliating.

His lips vanished.

No wand.

No incantation.

No visible spell.

A single glance.

And Lucius Malfoy no longer had lips.

Narcissa inhaled sharply at the sheer precision and dominance of the display, her mind already analyzing the reactions around her.

“Silence, dog. The adults are speaking. Your time to answer for your actions will come,” Harry said calmly, his tone devoid of arrogance—only certainty. The certainty of a man who knew he was the apex presence in the room.

Narcissa observed the chamber.

The other Ladies stared in shock at the blatant humiliation Lucius had suffered—everyone except Lily and Dalia Potter, who watched with open satisfaction.

“I am not here to speculate or indulge in pointless discourse. We all know who among you has taken advantage of House Potter during my absence. That ends now. I have reclaimed all lands and activated the blood wards in question. I will not waste time on trivialities or useless assemblies,” he declared, before directing his gaze toward the now visibly terrified Minister Fudge.

Harry Potter made a dismissive gesture.

Fudge was torn from his seat, letting out a most undignified shriek as he floated helplessly through the air like livestock before slaughter.

At this, Dumbledore, several Lords, and all Aurors raised their wands, prepared to intervene, their expressions filled with outrage and determination.

Lord Potter’s response?

A snap of his fingers.

The sound cracked through the chamber like thunder, followed by a spell unlike anything Narcissa had ever witnessed—spreading throughout the Wizengamot with devastating effect.

The Aurors—and even Dumbledore himself—moved their wands, performed precise motions, spoke correct incantations…

To no avail.

Not a single wand functioned.

They had become… inert.

As though they were nothing more than lifeless sticks in the hands of frightened men.

“Oh… Merlin,” her daughter whispered.

Narcissa did not correct her.

She was thinking the same.

With a mere snap of his fingers, Lord Potter had rendered powerless the most formidable wizards in the country—including Albus Dumbledore himself.

“You,” Harry said softly, his voice carrying effortlessly, “in your boundless greed, exploited my mother and sister’s position and issued decrees to strip House Potter of its rightful holdings. Magic itself demands restitution.”

His eyes glowed faintly as the very air seemed to thicken with power.

And then—

Cornelius Fudge began to scream.

His body slowly transformed.

Turning into solid gold.

A statue.

Frozen mid-agony.

Placed at the center of the Wizengamot as a grotesque monument—a warning.

“Here lies Cornelius Fudge. A foolish coward who believed he could interfere in the affairs of House Potter… and live to tell the tale.” Harry said calmly, as the inscription etched itself into the base of the statue.

Moments later, Lord Potter rose into the air, dominating the chamber entirely with his presence alone, his cold gaze sweeping across everyone present.

Narcissa was not looking at a man.

She was witnessing something greater.

Something… transcendent.

She was witnessing a God.

And as she glanced toward Lucius, trembling uncontrollably, she felt only faint amusement.

“My name is Harry Potter, Lord of House Potter, Elden King of Leyndell, son of Lily, brother of Dalia. My blood and my house demand restitution.”

His tone remained calm.

As though discussing the weather.

“I have no interest in this council, nor in your petty games of power. I will reclaim what belongs to my family—by reason or by force. You know who you are. Malfoy, Greengrass, Parkinson, Nott, McMillan, Ogden, Abbott, Diggory…”

A pause.

“You have twenty-four hours to return everything you have taken, with interest. I expect generous reparations. Otherwise, the fate of Minister Fudge will seem merciful… compared to what awaits you and your houses.”

With his ultimatum delivered, Harry Potter enveloped his body in powerful golden flames, vanishing completely—leaving behind utter chaos within the Wizengamot chamber—and reappearing moments later in the observation gallery, mere steps away from Narcissa and the other Ladies who had witnessed the entire exchange.

“We are leaving,” he ordered.

At once, Lady Lily and Lady Dalia rose to their feet and approached him with their heads held high.

Several Lords exchanged satisfied glances—Lord Black and Lady Bones among them. Others remained indifferent, having found the display entertaining.

But others…

Others were deeply unsettled.

Including her husband.

Lucius’ lips had returned, yet he did not utter a single word, still shaken and visibly trembling from the ultimatum he had just received.

Narcissa, however, felt not the slightest trace of fear.

Quite the opposite.

Her magic stirred as it never had before, her entire being alight with sensation, her feminine energy heightened, filling her with a warmth she had not experienced in decades. Her pupils widened as her gaze devoured the exquisite form of Lord Potter—who, in turn, seemed to take equal note of every witch present.

This was her opportunity.

Without hesitation, Narcissa stepped forward, masking the subtle tension within her body, and spoke with poised confidence.

“A pleasure to meet you, Lord Potter. I am Narcissa Malfoy,” she said smoothly, extending her hand in accordance with proper protocol.

To Narcissa’s amusement, Lily and Dalia Potter frowned, both opening their mouths, clearly prepared to object—at least until the young Lord placed his hands upon them in a firm and possessive manner, silencing them instantly. A silent command that both red-haired women obeyed without protest, though their looks toward Narcissa remained cold.

“I would like to say the same, my Lady,” Harry replied, his gaze fixed upon hers, granting her the opening she sought. “However, the actions of the man you call your husband have left your family’s standing in… a rather compromised state.”

Narcissa allowed a faint expression of disappointment to cross her features, accompanied by a measured sigh.

“I understand that Lucius’ actions have been… less than prudent, my Lord. And after such a decisive demonstration of power, you may rest assured that the Malfoy family will acknowledge its missteps,” she said, her tone warm yet calculated. “An official dinner—this very evening, at Malfoy Manor. I will personally ensure that the honor of House Potter is properly restored.”

There was more sincerity in her voice than she had felt in years.

Harry Potter held her gaze like a predator assessing its prey—measuring, claiming, deciding.

Narcissa had never felt so… alive.

“Eight o’clock,” he said at last. “I will arrive directly at your estate. I expect both you and your daughter to be… dashing my Lady. Clear your schedule for tomorrow—you will require the rest once our negotiations conclude. The fate of your house may well depend on it.”

The implication was unmistakable.

And Narcissa had to summon every ounce of composure not to betray the effect his words had on her.

She inclined her head gracefully in acceptance.

Harry then stepped back into place between Lady Lily and Lady Dalia, his hands settling upon them without restraint, before the three vanished together in a swirl of golden flames.

Leaving behind a gathering of Ladies—

Frustrated.

Intrigued.

And profoundly aroused.

With renewed determination, Narcissa took her daughter by the hand and, without bothering with farewells, made her way out of the chamber.

There was much to prepare.

After all, they would soon receive their new Lord.

Amelia Bones – After the meeting, Bones Manor

The emerald flames of the fireplace roared to life, allowing Amelia to return to her home, where she was received by her beloved niece, who, it seemed, had once again slipped away from Hogwarts.

A private arrangement that Susan had negotiated with Pomona, in exchange for working after classes within the greenhouses.

And judging by the eager expression on Susan’s face, an interrogation was imminent.

“Auntie! You’re back! What happened? Has a new Lord Potter risen? The entire school is ablaze with rumors! I need first-hand information!” Susan said eagerly.

Amelia could not help but shiver at the mention of Harry Potter—the intensity of that night, the intoxicating power, the exquisite sense of surrender… merely recalling it stirred her once more.

“Harry Potter is the new Lord of House Potter, niece, and on his very first day holding the title, he executed the Minister of Magic for theft against his lineage. An emergency selection will take place in a few weeks to appoint a replacement, but I am certain the rest of the members have far more pressing concerns,” Amelia said, recounting everything that had occurred to Susan.

As expected, her adolescent and spirited niece paid little attention to the death of Fudge or the ultimatum directed at the houses opposing the Potters, focusing instead on the fact that Harry Potter was powerful, magnetic, and that, evidently, he was assembling a circle of formidable witches.

Amelia included.

It was simply inevitable—when Harry spoke, it was as though magic itself whispered to you, making your very core respond, stirring something deep within at his mere presence. He dominated every place he entered with alarming ease, and that particular display—

That ability to render wands useless—

That alone placed him as the most dangerous man not only in England, but in the entire magical world, and that was a man Amelia desired both as an ally and as a lover.

“I will prepare an official dinner to announce a formal alliance between the Bones and the Potters. It is highly likely that a contract will be signed, and that I will be given to House Potter as part of that agreement, so that his blood may ensure the continuation of House Bones,” Amelia confessed.

Susan raised an eyebrow with amusement.

“Please Auntie, I am not a child. I know perfectly well that if you did not desire it just as much as I do, you would never agree to such an arrangement. But it will not be easy—nearly all the witches at Hogwarts are desperate to gain his favor. We must make the first move and secure our position,” Susan said firmly, already beginning to devise plans in that sharp mind of hers.

Amelia simply smiled with quiet amusement and shook her head before beginning to make her way toward her chambers.

“I will take a long bath, Sue, and afterward I shall retire. Tomorrow we will discuss our plans,” Amelia said, prompting her niece to nod.

“Yes, Aunt, rest well. I will return to Hogwarts and begin gathering witches for our cause. I am certain the Patils and Greengrass will attempt something similar,” she said, frowning slightly before departing, lost in thought.

Amelia exhaled softly, her thoughts drifting once more to Harry—to his hands, his magic, his words, the way he had subdued her instantly, lifting her pride only to cast it aside moments later, acknowledging her as a capable and powerful witch, only to return her to reality in the next breath.

At the feet of her new Lord.

A Lord who, even though Amelia would have offered herself without hesitation, had not claimed her, but instead had assigned her a task.

To catalogue and locate as many species of magical beasts and plants as possible.

For every twenty species Amelia gathered…

Her new Lord would grant her a full night of his undivided attention and passion devoted solely to her.

And after the… indulgent demonstration in Harry’s office a few days prior…

Amelia had become utterly enthralled by her new Lord.

By the way those large hands touched her...

By the very essence of his body.

By the intoxicating manner in which his magic dominated and subdued hers almost instantly…

And she needed more of it.

Even if she had to employ every ounce of her influence, she would fulfill Harry Potter’s peculiar request without hesitation.

She would not allow Lily Evans to take his attention from her again.

She would not lose twice to the same woman.

That…

Was a promise.

Amelia drew in a deep breath and moved toward her private fireplace, using it to initiate a Floo call. It was time to bring out her most valuable resources—there were favors to be claimed.

She cast the powder and waited for her contact to respond.

Seconds later, the image of a graceful and refined Asian woman appeared within the flames.

“Amelia? Is everything in order?” asked Mei Chang, her trusted apothecary, who would assist her in obtaining samples of hundreds of plants for her Lord.

“We need to talk. It is time to call in that favor,” Amelia said with solemn resolve.

“I am listening,” Mei replied, her tone sharpening with focus.

Amelia smiled with quiet confidence.

She had not risen to become Director of the DMLE by playing fairly.

She had risen by playing intelligently.

This…

Was only the beginning.

And the greatest prize…

Would be hers.

One way…

Or another.