Epilogue Part 2 (Patreon)

Chapter 92 (Epilogue Part 2)

Harry’s arrival on the Hogwarts grounds caused a localized storm of whispers that followed him like a wave. The teen had returned several times throughout the course of the year to visit with Daphne, and in the beginning, his presence had been met with a stifling, terrified silence. News of his exploits across the continent—the fall of the British Ministry, the systematic subjugation of European magical governments, and the grim fate of Grindelwald at Nurmengard—had been a profound shock to his former classmates. To them, he was no longer the boy who lived in a cupboard, but a conqueror who had helped The Dark Lord seize control of a continent.

As he moved toward the castle, the students parted like the Red Sea. Having observed him come and go without incident over the months, they had begun to understand that he had no desire to quarrel with those residing at Hogwarts, provided they stayed out of his way. He walked with a cold, refined confidence, a sharp contrast to the boy who had once roamed these halls in oversized hand-me-downs. Now, his robes were of the finest silk, and his presence radiated a predatory magical energy that made the air around him hum.

Of course, the staff remained a different matter entirely, treating him with a frozen, professional indifference that barely masked their contempt. More than a few times, Harry caught Professor Flitwick glaring at him from the shadows of the corridors, his hand twitching toward his own wand. Professor McGonagall was even less subtle, her lips thinning into a hard line as she looked disapprovingly at the pale wand he carried—a weapon that more than a passing familiarity to the old witch. To them, he was a fallen hero, a dark lord who had betrayed everything the school stood for. Harry, however, hardly gave them any mind; in his eyes, they were relics of a broken curriculum, nothing more than obstacles he had already surpassed in his journey toward true power.

It was late June 1998, and the oppressive heat of the summer sun seemed to penetrate the thick stone walls of Hogwarts as Harry made his way toward the Dungeons. He adjusted the cuff of his silk robes, noting the bows of acknowledgement from some of his old friends as he passed. This walk, once so familiar and filled with the mundane anxieties of a student, now felt like a ceremonial procession through a conquered territory. Harry knew with a detached certainty that this would be one of the last visits he made to the castle on anything less than official business.

The nostalgia he might have once felt for these halls had been cauterized by the last year of war and the cold necessities of his ascent. Once Daphne graduated and they left these grounds behind for their future in the new European order, he would have no personal reason to return. Any future appearance would likely be at the behest of Tom, should the Dark Lord have specific orders to enforce within the school's ancient wards, or if Augustus required a more direct hand in dealing with staff members who were proving to be a little too outspoken in their dissent.

As he considered his memories of Hogwarts, he reminded himself to be grateful for how the years had treated him.  He had once been a lonely, friendless boy, without a soul in the world to guide him.  Daphne, Tracey, and Blaise had changed that, but they weren’t alone in that.

Hestia and Flora Carrow were among the first students outside of Harry's own year to offer him their allegiance. Both sisters were now flourishing beyond the walls of Hogwarts, thanks in large part to the career guidance Harry had provided. His initial priority had been ensuring their independence from their aunt and uncle; the elder Carrows, having escaped Azkaban, had attempted to terrorize the twins' family, deeming them insufficiently loyal to the Dark Lord during his initial rise.  When Hestia had written to Harry about the situation, the teen confronted the two Death Eaters, and told them under no uncertain circumstances were they to hinder the development of the two girls, and had subsequently informed the teen witches that they would be serving as his liaisons to the Ministry.  

Flora would be sitting in on Wizengamot meetings in his absence, taking notes, and keeping him informed of changes and attitudes in the Ministry at large. Her position was completely incognito, a quiet shadow in the galleries of the high court, but Hestia was the opposite. With Harry’s help the young woman had taken the position as Lady Carrow after she beat down her uncle in a duel that had left the elder wizard broken and humiliated. Under the Dark Lord’s new regime, power was everything, and the young woman had become Harry’s voice in the Wizengamot, a sharp and unwavering proxy for his interests.

The transition from students to political instruments had been seamless. After all, they had spent months training under Harry during his fifth year, honing their reflexes and their resolve. They even had opportunities to cross wands with him in their final year, while he was visiting Hogwarts between his exploits across the continent. Harry had personally seen to it that their magic was sharpened into a weapon, much like he had with Daphne’s and Tracey’s. They were all too eager to serve in a larger capacity, viewing Harry not as the boy who lived in a cupboard, but as the conqueror who had helped the Dark Lord seize control of their world. Harry, in turn, compensated them financially and politically to ensure their absolute loyalty, securing his foot hold on the Ministry's legislative heart through their ambition.

When Daphne had found out about the extent of the Carrow sisters' new responsibilities as Harry's direct proxies within the Ministry, a sharp, icy streak of jealousy had taken root. While she understood the strategic necessity of having loyal eyes in the Wizengamot, the idea of Hestia and Flora spending so much time in close professional proximity to Harry—sharing secrets and executing his will—grated against her possessive nature. The girl had been borderline cold to Harry when he had visited her for her birthday back before Christmas, her usual warmth replaced by a brittle, polite distance that hadn't gone unnoticed.

The teen, however, had spent enough years navigating the complexities of Slytherin dynamics and Daphne’s own moods to quickly deduce what was wrong. During a private moment away from the prying eyes of the others, he had smoothed over her insecurities with a calm, focused intensity. He promised her that while the Carrows were useful instruments for his current political needs, he had a much larger and more significant role in mind for her future within the new European order they were building. He made it clear that her place was at his side, not as a mere liaison, but as a leader in the power he was consolidating.

This assurance had satisfied the girl somewhat, softening the hard edges of her resentment, but she was not one to leave things to chance. Daphne had made a point to corner both Hestia and Flora during the holidays. With a voice like velvet-wrapped steel, she had reminded both Carrows exactly what would happen to them if they attempted to make a move on Harry or mistook his professional investment for something more personal during the long hours they spent together. It was a clear marking of territory that the sisters, who had seen Daphne's own magical growth under Harry's tutelage, were wise enough to take seriously.

Adrian Pucey was another of Harry's former Slytherin associates who had thrived in the new climate. Currently serving as an Auror, Pucey was being rapidly promoted within the department due to his alignment with the views of Pius Thicknesse. As the Dark Lord's handpicked leader for the Aurors, Thicknesse demanded strict adherence to a specific methodology—a vision Harry was more than willing to instill in Pucey. The young Auror had really grown into his own after being pushed in the right direction, and was a far cry from the young foolish teenager that Harry had battled in a common room brawl.  Their alliance had been brokered by Tracey, and Harry had often reminisced on the night they had brokered peace over a bottle of firewhiskey during their school years. Now, that alliance of convenience had matured into a pillar of Harry's intelligence within the Ministry.

Derrick and Aaron Vaisley had been some others that had dedicated themselves to Harry’s ascent to King Snake, and they had both received similar fast tracks in the Ministry that Pucey had. Vaisley, in particular, had been a mainstay in Harry's inner circle since their fifth year, helping to consolidate power within Slytherin House. Their loyalty during those formative years was now being rewarded with high-ranking administrative roles, ensuring that Harry's influence permeated every level of the British magical government.

Blaise Zabini was, naturally, the next vital disciple Harry intended to establish within the new world order. Their relationship had been tempered in the heat of their third year when they stood defiant against older students, and it was further solidified by the ancestral connection between the Potter and Zabini lineages—a bond Blaise’s grandfather had been particularly eager to revive. Harry anticipated that the teenager would possess the necessary ambition for his grand design; Italy would require a fresh Minister from among their own ranks, and Blaise was the ideal candidate to become the youngest in history. By leveraging the Zabini family’s political prestige alongside Harry’s personal endorsement, incorporating the Italian Ministry into the Dark Lord’s domain would serve as a definitive success for their collective vision of a unified Magical Europe.

Putting thoughts of the future aside, Harry hissed at the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room, and he descended the stairs after the large snake had subsided at his arrival. As he entered the common area, his arrival went largely unnoticed. Exams were over, and the students were lounging about in a post-test haze of relief and exhaustion. Daphne was in his old spot, by the large pane window that looked out into the depths of the Great Lake, and around her was Blaise, Theo, Astoria, and a 6th year girl Harry knew was Daphne’s chosen successor, Alicia Rowle.  

The seventh years were donned in neatly pressed black robes, with Slytherin Green ribbons on their attire, symbolizing their status as the graduating class. Harry could tell Daphne had put a little extra effort into her appearance for the occasion; her hair was styled with a precision that matched her heightened unnatural magical abilities, and her gaze held a glow that only those who had survived ritualistic magic could possibly have. She stood as a beacon of the new order that was being built all around her.

The sight of them gathered in this particular area brought back a sharp memory of his third year, a time when the dynamics of the house were far more volatile. He recalled the night he and Blaise had stood back-to-back in this very room, outnumbered three-to-one by older students who had sought to put the "half-blood Potter" in his place. It had been the night their alliance was truly forged.

Harry approached the group with a measured stride, his presence finally drawing Daphne's eyes. She offered him a smile that was both welcoming and possessive, a silent acknowledgement of the power they now wielded together. Alicia Rowle, a sixth year, watched him with wide, reverent eyes, clearly aware that she was being groomed to maintain the order Harry and Daphne had established. As he took his place beside Daphne, the subtle shift in the room's atmosphere was palpable; even in their leisure, the students of Slytherin knew better than to ignore Britain's newest budding Dark Lord.

“Hey beautiful, miss me?” Harry asked softly, taking her hand in his, and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“Hardly.” The blonde witch teased. At Harry’s hand squeeze, she instantly relented, with a grin, “Well, maybe a little”. She leaned into him, her warmth a grounding presence just as it had been years prior when the weight of Dumbledore’s assassination first began to settle on his shoulders.

“Theo, Blaise, congrats on finishing your exams,” Harry said easily, his gaze shifting to his two oldest male friends.

“It was hard to care about them with everything going on,” Theo said with a sigh, his expression reflecting the disappointment of not being powerful enough to participate in the changes of the New World.

“No disagreements here,” Blaise added, leaning back with a trace of his usual practiced indifference.

“I admit,” Harry began with a grin, “The positions I have in mind for the two of you mean your grades will make little difference. I have seen enough to know you are both qualified”. He thought knowing their loyalty had been tested through rituals and political upheaval, which was far more valuable than any mark a professor could bestow.

The two young men shared a grin before offering slight bows of their heads to Harry, while Theo said, “I look forward to serving.  I feel like I have missed most of the excitement by remaining at Hogwarts.”

“You were exactly where I needed you most.” Harry promised, assuring the young man, “I promise you there is plenty of excitement left to be had.  The Dark Lord, and I, have only just begun our conquest.  You will both have your roles to play in the coming days, you all will.”

Blaise and Theo both held their heads a little higher at this, the weight of Harry’s praise settling over them like a mantle of purpose. Daphne just nodded in understanding, her sapphire eyes gleaming with a mixture of pride and calculated anticipation. She had long known that their graduation was merely a formality before their true work began.

Addressing his girlfriend now, Harry spoke softly, “Can we speak in private for a moment?”

“Of course.” Daphne said simply raising to her feet, her movements fluid and obedient. 

“Good luck out there.” Harry offered, “Not that any of you need it, but I will be sitting with the Headmaster during the ceremony, so this will be our last chance to speak until after.”

Theo and Blaise offered their thanks, their expressions now a mix of anticipation and pride. Harry offered a final nod of acknowledgement to Alicia, wordlessly communicating the weight of the responsibility she was soon to inherit, and the young woman just returned it with a confident smile. 

Harry then took Daphne by the arm, his touch firm but gentle, and guided her back toward the exit of the common room. Behind them, the low hum of student conversation resumed, but the air in their wake felt changed—charged with the anticipation of the future that was on the horizon.

The two ascended the final steps in silence. The heavy stone snake slab at the exit swung shut behind them with a muffled thud, sealing them away from the lingering student noise. They stepped into the Dungeons, where the air was immediately colder and dense with the smell of damp earth and ancient stone, a chill that seemed to seep straight into the skin. Faint, shifting light illuminated the shadowed corridor from the brazers. Harry immediately turned, placing a hand gently but firmly behind her back, and pulled her close, eliminating the oppressive space between them for a deep, possessive kiss. Daphne didn't hesitate; she leaned into his possessive intensity, wrapping her arms around his neck to deepen the moment, her fingers catching on the silk of his robes. For a breathless moment, the rising tension of the new world outside dissolved, leaving only the fierce, grounded reality of their shared presence. As they broke apart, the cool, damp air of the corridors felt thin compared to the heavy, predatory magic that always seemed to coil around Harry lately, a physical manifestation of the power he now wielded, yet one she found deeply comforting. “You look beautiful,” Harry said softly, when he separated from his girlfriend, resting his forehead on hers. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were softened by an intense, intimate focus as he took a moment to simply look at her, realizing that the girl who had stood by him during the darkest hours of his fifth year was now a woman ready to help him take on the world.

Daphne flushed slightly under his intense gaze, her fingers lingering at the nape of his neck. “And you look like you’ve already won the world,” she whispered, her voice thick with the shared history of their ascent. She smoothed the front of his silk robes, her touch lingering on the heavy fabric that denoted his status.

"It's starting to feel like I have," Harry murmured. He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss against the girl's slender neck that caused a sudden eruption of goosebumps across her skin.

Daphne leaned back prepared to kiss him again, uncaring if anyone saw or stumbled across them, but as she leaned in Harry stopped her with a soft tone of his voice, “I was going to leave it as a surprise,” Harry began, his voice dropping an octave as he moved his hands to her waist, “but I want you to be prepared for what’s coming today. A special guest will be in attendance for the ceremony. I think you can hold your head a little higher that this particular graduating class managed to drag my master from the war efforts in France.”

Daphne’s eyes widened, the sapphire depths sparkling with a new, sharp edge of anticipation. The inclusion of the Dark Lord in the day’s events elevated the ceremony to a historic milestone, a validation of everything they had sacrificed. 

“Blaise and Theo will be excited.  This is exactly the validation they needed after sitting out the fighting.  May I warn them?” Daphne asked softly, her eyes remaining locked onto his.

“Up to you.” Harry returned, “If it will improve your standing among them, do it.”

“I think I will.” Daphne said, before biting her lip, their faces still a mere inches apart.

Harry could see the puzzlement on her face, and he gripped her waist a little tighter in his hands, “What is it?”

“Why did he decide to come to our graduation?  What does it mean?” Daphne asked her eyes, searching Harry’s for an answer, “He hasn’t attended any of the others.”

“He comes to audit the power I have cultivated,” Harry explained, his breath ghosting over her ear, making the hairs on her neck stand on end. “This is not merely a formality, Daphne. It is an inspection of my promises. He expects to witness the strength, the confidence, and the ambition in those who stand with us. And you my love, are my crowning jewel in this.”

A pleasurable chill seemed to go down Daphne’s spine at this, but she did not flinch. Instead, she leaned into the weight of his words, the gravity of the Dark Lord’s impending arrival sinking in. This was the validation of the years they had spent in the shadows of Hogwarts, sharpening their minds and their magic under Harry’s tutelage.

“I will not disappoint him, Harry,” Daphne whispered, her voice regaining its steady, aristocratic edge. “None of us will. We have spent too long preparing for this world to falter at its threshold.” She thought of the rituals, the secret duels, and the quiet consolidation of Slytherin House that had led to this moment.

Harry’s grip on her waist tightened, a flash of something fierce and predatory flickering in his green eyes. “I know you won’t. Today, the world sees what we have become. After today, there will be no more hiding in these halls.” He stepped back slightly, offering a kiss to a hand he took in his own gently, “I will see you in the Great Hall.”

.o.

The Great Hall’s staff table had required some adjusting for this graduation, transformed from a place of academic oversight into a seat of absolute imperial authority. At the center of the table, where usually the Headmaster would sit, sat Tom. The Dark Lord was wearing a long, fancy dark, duster-style coat with vertical pinstripes with a lighter trim along the edges and cuffs. The inner attire was a dark leather, leaving his ensemble quite dark and gothic. His presence seemed to pull at the very magic of the room, drawing every eye with a mixture of awe or absolute terror.

To his right sat Augustus, and the man was wearing traditional dark colored dress robes, much like Harry who sat to the man’s left, and the other Death Eater professors that flanked each side of Augustus and Harry. The alignment was deliberate, a visual representation of the new hierarchy that now governed their world. The rest of the staff table was spread out in a U shape with a variety of colors and robes contrasting the group that sat in the center of the table, making the traditional faculty look like colorful relics against the obsidian core of the current regime.

The seventh years that had arrived were whispering among themselves, a fervor of murmurs rippled through the student body. Some were brazenly staring in shock and fear at Tom’s arrival, their faces pale as they realized the war they had heard about had finally stepped into their sanctuary. While the majority of the houses sat in a stifling, terrified silence, the Slytherins were talking excitedly among themselves, their eyes bright with the realization that their loyalty was being rewarded with the ultimate recognition.

Augustus leaned in and whispered something that Harry could not hear to Tom, the elder wizard’s face a mask of inscrutable nonchalance as he leaned in to the Dark Lord. Harry glanced at the exchange with a detached curiosity, but soon distracted himself by offering Daphne, whom he made eye contact with in the crowd, a wink. She caught it, her expression softening for a fraction of a second before the cool, regal mask of a Slytherin heiress returned. The young man had thought Augustus would begin the opening speeches, following the traditional protocols of the Headmaster’s office he now inhabited, but instead Tom rose to his feet, a wide smile crossing his face that for once seemed to actually reach his predatory crimson eyes.

The silence that fell over the Great Hall was absolute, a heavy weight that seemed to swallow the very sound of breathing. Tom surveyed the room, his gaze lingering on the faces of the graduating seventh years. He stood as a leader of the new European order they had spent the last two years carving out through magic and violence.

“I believe congratulations are in order.” Tom announced, offering a clap of his hands together, while continuing to address the room, “With all that has happened in our world over the last two years, it assures me that Hogwarts, my first home, is still helping create witches and wizards with astounding fortitude.  Each of you should be proud to be sitting here today, because each of you undoubtedly faced many trials and tribulations to remain among your peers as the world has changed around us.”

Tom paused for a long moment before continuing, his voice amplified by a wandless subtle sonorous charm that made his voice reach everyone with ease, “I too began my magical journey inside these halls, just as all of you did. I was just an orphan boy sorted into Slytherin house, with no idea of my noble ancestry, and no resources beyond my own wit and ambition to guide me to greatness.”

“Each of you has what it takes to be capable witches and wizards,” Tom said simply, his voice carrying an effortless authority that commanded the absolute attention of every student in the Great Hall. “To make your own way into society whether you are from the oldest wizarding family, or whether you are the first of many. If you are brave, wise, hardworking, and cunning, then some of you may even have what it takes to be great. I see it in some of you—on your faces, in your magic—I feel the potential. I am excited to see what becomes of it, it makes me feel honored to stand above you all, prepared to show you a way to begin your journeys.  You must only be strong enough to rise to the challenge. While many of you have only just begun that journey to greatness, one among you is already reaching its conclusion.”

When Tom finished, the silence was so profound it felt like a physical weight pressing down on the gathered students. He slowly turned his head, glancing over his shoulder back at Harry. The Dark Lord held his gaze for a long, calculating moment, his crimson eyes gleaming with a mixture of pride and expectation that made the air around the staff table hum with nervous energy.

“Harry,” Tom said, his voice dropping to a tone that was almost intimate yet resonated through the stillness of the hall, “will you join me up here?”

A ripple of visible surprise and whispering broke out among the students, a wave of shock that contrasted sharply with the frozen, professional indifference of the remaining faculty. Harry remained seated for a heartbeat longer, his green eyes locked with Tom’s. He felt the weight of every gaze in the room—Daphne’s sapphire eyes wide with anticipation, the other Slytherins reverent stares, and the professors’ thinly veiled contempt.

Slowly, Harry stood, his silk robes rustling as he moved with the refined, cold confidence of a conqueror, a sharp departure from the boy who had once roamed these halls in oversized hand-me-downs. As he stepped toward the center of the dais to stand beside his master, he could feel the magic of the room shifting, acknowledging the two figures who had already dismantled the old world to build a new.

Harry stared at the man, his mind working with detached curiosity as he wondered what further revelation the Dark Lord intended to unveil. The air in the Great Hall seemed to thicken, charged by Tom's proximity and the sheer gravity of his presence. "You all of course know this young man’s story," Tom continued, his voice silky yet carrying to the furthest corners of the enchanted ceiling. "It has been printed in nearly every major publication in the world by now. We have spared few secrets from the public in how our stories intertwined, of how the Boy-Who-Lived became the Dark Apprentice."

The Dark Lord placed a long-fingered hand on Harry’s shoulder proclaiming loudly, "And now he stands among you today. While in another life he would be crossing this stage to receive a diploma for graduating Hogwarts, in this one, he has far surpassed even the most prodigious of students that have walked these halls, and now, he will be granted an honor far more enduring than a simple diploma." Tom turned his gaze from the sea of confused faces back to Harry, his crimson eyes burning with a dark, triumphant light. "Today, we do not celebrate the completion of a curriculum, but the ascent of a peer. Harry Potter has proven that greatness is not gifted; it is forged in the fires of ambition and tempered by the courage to cast aside the world that was for a world that can be."

Harry remained still, his expression a mask of cold, refined confidence as he looked out over his former peers. He could see Daphne in the front row, her chin lifted, mirroring his own poise, while the rest of the hall waited with bated breath for the Dark Lord to reveal the true nature of this final, unprecedented honor.

“In honor of his achievements on the battlefields across Europe, and in the liberation of our country, I grant you, Harry, the title of a Master in the Dark Arts. No longer are you merely just my apprentice, but a powerful ally that the rest of the world will undoubtedly call A Dark Lord. Wear this title, my young friend, with a badge of honor, because anyone that whispers it in fear, will soon know the true knowledge that magic is might!”

A heavy, suffocating silence followed Tom’s proclamation, broken only by the sharp, collective intake of breath from the faculty and the stunned students of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. To be dubbed a Master in the Dark Arts was a feat unheard of for one so young, but to be acknowledged as a peer—a Dark Lord in his own right—was a seismic shift in the magical world’s hierarchy. Harry felt the weight of the title settle over him, not as a burden, but as the final piece of armor he had been forging since he first stepped into the shadows of the Dark Lord’s tutelage.

The Dark Lord’s hand remained on Harry’s shoulder, a gesture of both paternal pride and terrifying solidarity that signaled to everyone present that the two of them now stood together at the apex of power. From the staff table, Augustus watched with a mask of inscrutable approval, while the remaining traditional faculty, including McGonagall and Flitwick, looked on with faces etched in pale, helpless horror. They were witnessing the final death of the boy they had failed to protect and the birth of the sovereign who would now dictate the terms of their existence.

In the front row, Daphne Greengrass sat with her spine perfectly straight, her sapphire eyes burning with a fierce, triumphant light that mirrored Harry’s own. Beside her, Blaise and Theo shared a look of profound realization; the path Harry had laid out for them was no longer a theoretical ambition but a concrete reality. The title of Dark Lord was a promise of the new world to come, and as Harry looked out over the Great Hall, he knew that the world would soon be his to command, and with the Dark Lord at his side, the mantra of "Magic is Might" would become the law of the land.

(A/N) Guys for all intents and purposes this story is done.  This completes the arc of Harry becoming the Dark Apprentice.  Next week I am going to post an Epilogue Part 3, the last part, but it is going to be 5 years in the future, and talk about what happened in the aftermath of Harry and Tom conquering the Magical World, and where they turned their eyes too next.  There will be some explicit content with Harry and Daphne, as heavily requested by many of you lol, and honestly it can mostly be skipped, so this is where I want to share with you my final thoughts on this story.

I want to start with the good.  I feel like the relationship between Harry and Tom worked out better than I actually originally imagined.  Many people waited for Harry to turn on Tom, but in this ONE story I just really wanted the teen to remain dark from start to finish.  No turning on each other, no wavering loyalty, just a real, non slash story of Harry and Tom working together for completely selfish reasons.

The pacing of this story is a little slow in some parts, way too much detail, which was my actual goal in this story, but I over did it.  I wanted to really expand and develop my scenes deeper than I ever had before. I feel like I accomplished this, but I also feel like I need to find a happy medium between stories like The Survivors, Fleur De Lis, and this ridiculously long story like Dreams of Home.

Now let's talk about the bad, because honestly I feel like it's A LOT.  Let’s start early with Tracey.  I honestly liked her character a lot.  Looking back on it, I should’ve just made her the main pairing and not killed her, or link her with Daphne and let them both be on Harry’s arm.  I think in the end killing Tracey was a mistake, and I regret it in hindsight.

Mistakes I made along the way:

Daphne’s parents.  In my brain I had been setting up Daphne to kill them since the very beginning of the story.  What I didn’t do for you, the readers, was make them look like the villains I wanted them to be.  Daphne’s dad was supposed to be a total piece of shit, and I wanted you guys cheering when she finally offed him, but honestly I just kind of forgot to write some of those scenes.  If it was a real book, and I wasn’t posting week to week, I would’ve gone back and added these scenes before finishing it, but that is one of the disadvantages to giving you guys consistent week to week updates, mistakes like this are just bound to happen.  The difference between me and writers like TBR, is that their stories are probably just a lot better planned out, so these mistakes happen a lot less, something I will definitely work on in the future projects.

Snape, I actually had to go back and write his death scene in a flashback, because I had overlooked the obvious problem that if Harry was the Dark Apprentice, then there was no way he would be able to keep that from the Greasy Haired Git.  This kind of falls back in my planning problem.

Now let’s talk about the reason why I think this story failed the popularity contest, and hit some tree branches on the way down.  Daphne.  It’s not that her character sucks in this story, it’s just that I developed their romance in such a shitty way, that I really wasn’t sure how to fix it.  Harry kind of just magically jumps from Tracey to Daphne, and honestly, it’s kind of messed up.  I should’ve developed them together way better, and I really should’ve focused on Harry training her to be a legillmens.  This could’ve added a lot of trust and intimacy in their relationship, that probably would’ve made the pairing a lot stronger.

Guys, writing is a learning process.  One that never ends.  Each story I will get better, and that happens a lot easier with your feedback.  Now I’ll be honest, I’m sensitive, so if you are mean with your criticism I probably won’t take it well, but if you just give an honest, chill, opinion, I am happy to hear it.  It will probably even resonate with me when I write, and can affect how I do things going forward, so feel free to voice your opinions, just do so kindly…please lol.

Your support means the world to me, all of you.  Even the silent keyboard warriors most of you claim to be.  Without your financial support, I really couldn’t justify continuing this in my incredibly busy life.  I am a husband, a father, and a full time worker, and trying to stay in marathon running shape to keep myself mentally and physically healthy.  I rarely ever take breaks, and I love this lifestyle.  I wouldn’t change it, so thank you, all of you, no matter what your contribution is, I really do appreciate it.

I can not wait to share what I am working on with you guys, and while A Star Is Born won’t be a super long story like this one, you can bet it will be an improvement from this one.  Cheers everyone, and I will see you all next Tuesday!