Epilogue Part 3 (Patreon)

(A/N) This. Is. The. End.

Epilogue Part 3

“You were all given a chance to bow, and yet you resisted. The death toll that followed was foretold on the European continent for years before the war spilt over to your homes, your lands, your countries.” Daphne Potter said from her dais at the front of the room, facing down what was left of the ICW. Two men garbed in Death Eater masks flanked her sides, serving as her bodyguards, and that hardly the extent of her protection.  In the audience Theodore Nott sat in the seat representing the British Ministry, while Blaise Zabini sat in the one belonging to the Italians. Gabrielle Delacour had even taken her spot as the French Representative, the young witch having flourished under Harry’s tutelage, and of course slight manipulation via legilimency.  The numbers may not have been on their side, but this left Daphne with some very capable back up if this congregation turned into a firefight.

“You pretend, Representative Potter, that the Dark Lord and his plaything, your own husband, are anything but genocidal maniacs.” The representative from Brazil spoke with a voice like cracking ice, his eyes fixed on Daphne with a mixture of defiance and thinly veiled fear. He stood as one of the few remaining pillars of the old world, representing a government that had yet to fall under the shadow of the Dark Lord’s reach. Behind him, the influence as the Headmaster of Castelobruxo loomed large; the school had become a final bastion, offering sanctuary to those desperate to escape the inexorable advance of Harry and Tom’s new world order.

The chamber fell into a suffocating silence as the accusation hung in the air. Daphne did not flinch. Instead, she allowed a slow, predatory smile to touch her lips—an expression that mirrored the cold confidence her husband had perfected over years of conquest. She looked out over the assembly, seeing not just diplomats, but the crumbling remains of a hierarchy that had failed to recognize the changing tides of magic.

“The Dark Lord and the Master of the Hallows, my husband, have offered a chance for surrender at every battlefield they have fought on.” Her voice, once light and melodic during her years at Hogwarts, had been tempered into a cold, authoritative instrument of statecraft, echoing the same predatory magic that had long coiled around her husband. “Those that have bowed, have been spared, and sent home. Those that have stood against them, have been taught a lesson that the world is still being slow to learn.  Magic is might.”

She paused, letting the weight of her words settle over the assembly like a physical shroud. The transition from the girl Harry had trained during their fifth year to the woman presiding over the crumbling ICW was complete. Her sapphire eyes, once bright with youthful curiosity, now burned with a fierce, triumphant light that mirrored the cold, refined confidence Harry had perfected through years of conquest and the audit of power conducted by Voldemort himself.

“You speak of genocide, yet you ignore the liberation of our countries and the birth of a new, sovereign existence built on the foundation of strength these two Titans of magic have cultivated,” Daphne continued, her gaze sweeping across the room and lingering on those who still wore expressions of helpless horror. “My husband was forged in the fires of your failures as a collective society, tempered by the courage to cast aside a world that was for the better world that is now within our grasp . To resist is to ignore the changing tides of magic itself.  To resist, is to be swept away.”

“Big words coming from a little girl that only made it to her position, because she spent enough years on her knees to earn a position of power.” The Japanese representative said coldly. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his posture rigid as he looked upon the dais with undisguised contempt. His country was among the last in Asia to stand its ground, and that was only because Harry and Tom had chosen to attack on two fronts, stretching their resources across the globe while the Japanese Ministry fortified its mountain shrines.

Gasps echoed around the chamber, a sharp intake of breath from the gathered diplomats who knew the lethal reputation of the woman they were addressing. Daphne just stared coldly at the man as she adjusted the silk of her robes, the fabric whispering against the heavy silence of the room. Her sapphire eyes were not clouded with hurt or indignation; instead, they burned with the same fierce, predatory glare that Harry had often given to his enemies during his Hogwarts days—a look that promised a swift and absolute end to any who dared cross the line.

Before Daphne could rebuttal, a cold feeling washed over the gathered audience, a sensation so absolute it felt as though the very air had been stripped of its warmth. Powerful wards sprang to life around the chamber, sealing the exits and thrumming with a predatory power that made the stone floor glow. Loud whispers began to fall over the assembly like the rustle of dead leaves, but they were quickly silenced by a sharp, rhythmic clapping sound. It reverberated around the room, singular and methodical, echoing with a precision that was almost mechanical in nature, as if each strike were a tolling bell.

A new voice entered the chamber, cutting through the oppressive silence with the smoothness of a whetted blade. It was a voice familiar to Daphne, and when she felt a hand press against her back, she had to fight back the pleasant feeling that trickled down her spine.

“How bold you grow when you feel that you are safe,” the voice drawled, the sound seemingly coming from every corner of the room at once. “It’s a foolish feeling in this world, and a false one. My wife would rip you limb from limb before you could even draw your wand. Your audacity is almost comical. Almost.”

A new figure swirled into existence near the front of the dais next to his wife, as the hood of an ancient invisibility cloak was flipped backwards, revealing the amused figure of Harry Potter. He stood with a cold, refined confidence, his presence a show of power that demanded absolute submission from the crumbling hierarchy of the ICW. As he walked down from the dais, he turned and winked at his wife, before turning his gaze on the Japanese representative, whose rigid posture finally began to waver under the weight of a gaze that had seen the fall of nations.

“You have no right to be here, Potter.” The man snarled, but took a step back in defense, his wand sliding into his hand.

“I don’t?” Harry asked in amusement, “I believe I am the ruler of several sovereign nations that sit in this governing body.  At the very least I am an honored guest.”

The mocking nature of Harry’s comment caused some chuckles from European representatives that fell under his command.

The Brazilian leader who at least had the intelligence to look concerned said, “It is unseemly to be late, Lord Potter, and it is dishonorable to hide in the shadows of your…artefacts.”

Harry offered the slightest nod of his head towards the man, it couldn’t quite be considered a bow of acknowledgement, instead more of a glance that showed the note of an insect buzzing around him, “Dishonorable? Where was your outrage when your staunchest ally suggested that my wife, a woman of immense talent, only earned her spot on this council because she spent enough time pleasuring me. Something that I can assure you all is true enough, but I can also assure you all that I would not place anyone as my representative on the most powerful council in the world just because of her skills in the bedroom, regardless of how magnificent they are.”

The teasing tone in Harry’s voice caused further laughter around the room, but some still seemed incredibly nervous, and some even indignant at Harry’s crass comments. The Japanese representative, however, did not join in the mirth; his face twisted into a mask of purple-hued rage as he felt the weight of Harry’s predatory magic beginning to constrict the very air in his lungs.

“You mock this institution,” the Brazilian leader cut in, his voice trembling despite his best efforts to maintain a veneer of diplomatic neutrality. “You enter our chambers uninvited, bypass our ancient wards as if they were nothing more than cobwebs, and then have the gall to lecture us on outrage? You are a conqueror, Potter, not a statesman.”

Harry’s smile didn’t falter, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop several more degrees. He took a slow, deliberate step away from the dais, his boots clicking sharply against the stone floor. “A conqueror is exactly what this world required to sweep away the stagnant filth of the old ICW. You sat in these chairs while the European continent burned, debating semantics and protocols while nations were forged anew in fire and blood.” He paused, his gaze locking onto the Brazilian with an intensity that made the man’s wand hand shake. “I am here because I own the seats you pretend to govern. I am here because the world you knew is dead, and I am the one holding the shovel.”

Silence echoed around the room, and this time Harry grinned at the shock, “Oh you don’t believe me?  Your silence echoes your doubts.  Let’s see, how can I resolve this?  It is clear you are all smart enough to fear me, to fear the man I once called Master, but perhaps, you should learn to fear my wife, my most faithful.  Daphne, please teach our Japanese Representative some manners.  If anyone else interferes, they will be dead before they can plead for their lives.”

Daphne didn’t hesitate as she struck with her right hand wandlessly out towards the Japanese Minister. The man screamed in agony, a sound that tore through the suffocating silence of the chamber, as his hands clawed desperately at his eyes as if trying to physically dig out the intrusion. Daphne remained perfectly still, her spine straight as she held her right wandless hand out, the predatory magic Harry had once described as a physical manifestation of power coiling around her. Her assault was not one of fire or force, but a brutal assault of the mind, bypassing the man’s mental defenses with the ease of a master.

Harry oohed loudly, the sound echoing singular and methodical around the room like the rhythmic clapping that had heralded his arrival. “Ouch! I guess the Minister didn’t know my wife was a master of the Mind Arts. What a mistake! You see, her skills were refined by myself, and even tested by the Dark Lord personally.  My lady has gone through trials that most of you diplomats could even fathom, and now one of you pays the price for such insolence.” He leaned in closer, his expression a mask of cold amusement as he watched the representative collapse. “Is that blood coming out of his eyes and ears? What a pitiful resistance..”

“Enough of this, release hi-” The Brazilian representative started, before Harry reached out and began choking him with a slight flex of his wrist.

A few cries of disapproval rang throughout the chamber, one, a Canadian representative even stood to his feet, and attempted to curse Harry, but he was cut down by Theo Nott with a savage killing curse.

Screams were now echoing, but Harry’s people quickly took control, and none dared to cast a spell, knowing any further resistance would be their last move.  As the Japanese Minister slumped lifelessly to the ground, Harry turned his attention to the Brazilian that was losing his ability to remain conscious, “Headmaster Santos, please.  You only live at the will of my mercy.  I have known where Castlobruxo is located for weeks now, and if I so desired it, I could burn every man, woman, and child that has resisted us just for the love of the game.  The only reason you are going to breathe air after this meeting is because I want you to go home, and seriously consider what I am going to do to your tiny, insignificant little castle, if you continue to hide away from me.”

Harry released the man, watching with detached amusement as the Brazilian leader collapsed into a heap, gasping for the air that had so recently been denied to him, “I also want you to know that not making a decision is a BIG decision.  Choose wisely.”

Straightening his robes and putting on a big, predatory smile for the assembled crowd, Harry continued, “MACUSA has fallen, they answer to me now. My former master has conquered Uagadou, the last stronghold on the African continent. Japan’s most powerful leader was just washed away by my wife, this ends the resistance on five of the six continents with magical communities. South America has one final place of resistance—that tiny, insignificant little castle Headmaster Santos calls home—that will hopefully re-think its position before further blood is shed. There is no escape from the final collapse of democracy. Soon only the most powerful in the world will gather here. I have no doubt some of you will keep your positions, being the strongest from each of your respective homes, but for those of you who bought, co-erced, or were born into your roles…consider your final hours as rulers carefully. Think how you want to be remembered.”

Silence followed Harry’s declaration, a suffocating shroud that settled over the diplomats who had once debated semantics while the world burned. Harry’s smile widened, flashing teeth in the dim light of the thrumming wards. 

“This is not the end, my friends. The magical world has only nearly completed phase one of the changes that will change the world. Today it is the magical communities of the world, tomorrow we will take the fight to the Muggle World, and finally take our place on top of the world. We will sweep away the stagnant filth of the old world and forge a new existence built on the foundation of strength. Magic is Might, and soon, it will be the only law of the land.”

A smattering of applause followed Harry’s words, some much more enthusiastic than others, echoing through the hollowed-out chamber of the ICW. The representatives of the newly conquered European territories led the ovation, their claps sharp and rhythmic, while the few remaining dissidents sat in a stunned, heavy silence. Harry gestured with a sharp, regal movement to Daphne, signaling for her to dismiss the assembly.

Daphne rose from her dais, her sapphire eyes sweeping over the broken politicians one last time before she formally adjourned the session. The young man marched out ahead of the others, his ancient invisibility cloak draped over his back like a discarded trophy, his presence still vibrating with the predatory magic that had cowed the room. As he emerged into the grand foyer, the flash of cameras was blinding, a chaotic storm of light as journalists from around the globe scrambled for a glimpse of the Master of the Hallows. The frantic questions of the press—demands for details on the fall of MACUSA and the future of the Muggle world—echoed behind him, bouncing off the cold stone walls of the institution he had just effectively dismantled.

.o.

*Incoming Lemon*

Daphne kissed Harry passionately in her office, the door having barely clicked shut behind them before she was on him. Her hands were frantic, a sharp contrast to the cold, calculated poise she had maintained on the ICW dais only an hour before. She shoved him against the mahogany paneling of the wall with a strength fueled by adrenaline and a dark, triumphant hunger. Her lips crashed against his, tasting of expensive wine shared with their colleagues moments before the arrival into her office. Almost instantly, she was sinking toward the floor, her fingers fumbling with the buckle of his trousers.

Harry let out a low, guttural growl, his back hitting the wood as he looked down at the top of her blonde head. He reached down, his fingers threading into her golden hair and gripping the roots with enough force to pull her head back, forcing her to meet his emerald gaze. A dark smirk played on his lips. "Someone is anxious," he observed, his voice raspy and thick with a shared arousal.

Already Harry had hardened at the sight of the blonde dropping to her knees, and he felt his hormones spike from the subtle chemistry that had been crackling between them since they had departed Zabini's office a few floors below.

Daphne let out a breathless, needy sound as she finally managed to free his manhood from his pants. She didn't hesitate, immediately licking her palm for lubrication and wrapping her hand around him. She began pumping him sloppily, her eyes wide and dark with desire as she looked up at him. "Watching you face down the Wizarding Powerhouses of the world, really does it for me," she confessed, her voice a low, sultry purr that vibrated through him. "Plus you allowed me to prove myself once again in front of the ICW. No one else will ever think to doubt me again."

With a determined tug, Daphne yanked his trousers down the rest of the way, letting them pool around his ankles. She leaned forward, her tongue darting out to enthusiastically lick his cock from the base to the very tip. She took her time, savoring the taste and the way he jumped under her touch, running her tongue up and down the sensitive sides in long, wet strokes. Finally, she opened her mouth wide and took him inside, her cheeks hollowing out immediately as she began to suck with a desperate, voracious intensity.

Leaning his head back, Harry groaned, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as he surrendered to the rhythmic heat of her mouth. He allowed the young woman to continue her ministrations on him for a few minutes, his hands twitching at his sides, fighting the urge to take control too soon. The friction and the wet, sliding warmth of her tongue were nearly enough to break his iron composure, drawing a jagged breath from his lungs.

Finally, he reached down, his fingers threading through her blonde locks once more. He pulled her hair back firmly, a silent command for her to stop, separating her from his cock. As she looked up, drool pooling down from her lips, her sapphire eyes were clouded with a thick, heavy lust that mirrored the primal energy vibrating between them. He manhandled her with the rough, possessive intensity she liked, a physical affirmation of the power dynamic they had cultivated since his days as an apprentice.

Using a sharp, focused flare of his magic, he raised her back to her feet, the invisible force lifting her as easily as if she weighed nothing. Before she could complain about the interruption or suggest anything to deviate from the path he had set, Harry used his own physical strength to pull her flush against him. He stepped aside just enough to spin her around, pushing her against the mahogany-paneled wall of the office with a soft thud.

Hiking up the silk of her skirt until it bunched around her waist, he didn't waste time with further preamble. He relied on the slick lubricant from her saliva as he guided himself to her entrance. With one hand pinned against the wall beside her head and the other gripping her hip, he impaled her without hardly a second thought, his movements driven by the same predatory, absolute confidence that had allowed him to dismantle the ICW only an hour before.

Daphne moaned heatedly, her head tilting back in pleasure as Harry continued to ram into her from behind on repeat. Her fingernails dug into the wall, seeking refuge as the rhythmic impact vibrated through her entire frame. The sounds of his balls slapping against her ass was obscene, a primal percussion that echoed off the cold stone walls of the office, but it didn’t stop the frantic pace he continued to pleasure his woman with.

Daphne’s sapphire eyes were squeezed shut, her breath hitching in time with Harry’s movements as she surrendered to the raw, predatory magic that always seemed to coil around him during such moments. 

Having sex in an office designed for a public servant was likely a crime in the previous administration, but with Harry in charge they doubted anyone would come knocking. In fact he hadn’t even locked the door.

Pushing through the final throes of pleasure, Harry felt himself nearing a breaking point. The adrenaline from the day's conquest coupled with Daphne's vocal surrender drove him toward the edge. He reached forward, his fingers threading through her blonde locks and gripping her hair to pull her head back, forcing her to meet his emerald gaze even as he hissed in her ear, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Inside me, we aren’t wasting a drop.” Daphne begged.

Harry grunted in approval, his hands tightening on her hips as the suggestion took root in his mind. The two had talked about the possibility of children many times, usually in the quiet, shadowed moments after a battle or during the rare lulls in their campaign across the globe. It had always been a distant concept, something for the world they were building rather than the one they were currently conquering. Now, with the world having finally fallen to the combined, devastating power of Harry and Tom, the prospect felt less like a dream and more like the inevitable next phase of their legacy. For now, they were content to wait until the final embers of resistance were extinguished, ensuring that when they did eventually have an heir, the child would be born into a better world.

The office air was thick with the scent of their passion, and a final, ragged gasp escaped Harry’s throat as the last of his control shattered. Harry felt his load fire into his wife, the warmth of the release anchoring him to the reality of the woman beneath him, as she cried in her final throes of pleasure.

When Harry pulled out of her at last, Daphne turned and faced him with a sultry smile, as she fixed her robes, adjusting them back below her hips appropriately, before leaning in to plant a kiss on her husband, and whispering softly, “I want more.”

“Then we should get home, and make use of our actual bed instead of defiling a public office.” Harry said in amusement, returning her kisses.

“Well we have to enjoy every moment we can.” Daphne said huskily, “Beside, I am waiting for the moment peace settles, and I can actually do my job.  Make the changes the Dark Lord actually wants to see around the world, with one swing of my gavel.”

“There is little resistance left my love.” Harry said, stroking her face, and cupping her ass under her skirt, “Soon it will all be over.”

“You’ve almost conquered the world.” Daphne said softly back in his ear now, causing another pleasant tingle to go down his spine, “You were strong enough to take it all, and now we are here.  The world will show nothing but loyalty and love to you and the Dark Lord.”

Daphne’s admiration was clear, but Harry just offered her a shrug, “Let them keep their loyalty and their love. I have seen the way they look at us now…I saw it in the chambers of the ICW today.  I think it made me realize that our mercy is vastly underappreciated..which is fine really.”

Separating from the man with confusion in her eyes for a moment before asking, “What do you mean?”

“I’ve decided something critical…The last of the free world is going to remain stubborn, and I believe we must show them that their hope is a fallacy, just a distant dream.”

Daphne leaned in towards him, and Harry glanced down at the girl whispering the final word softly, “Now, I’ve decided I would much rather be the nightmare they can't wake up from.  They don’t deserve a hero, and by the time I am done with the last pockets of this resistance, the world will never forget what happens to those who oppose us.”

A predatory smirk crossed his wife's face, her sapphire eyes dancing with a dark, appreciative hunger that mirrored the intensity of his declaration. Daphne pushed forward, closing the scant distance between them until her chest pressed firmly against his, the silk of her robes rustling against his travel-worn clothes. She leaned in, her breath hot against the shell of his ear as she whispered, “When you talk like that, it makes me think I don't want to make it home for round two.”

Harry grinned at the girl, his hand sliding from her face to the nape of her neck, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw with possessive ease. He met her kiss with a searing passion of his own, the taste of her a grounding reality amidst the swirling ambitions of global dominance. Thoughts of the final campaign—of systematically dismantling the last bastions of hope in South America and the mountain shrines of Japan—could be set aside for the briefest of intervals. The strategy sessions with Nott and the logistics of the new world order would wait until the sun rose on their completed conquest. For now, he had a woman to pleasure, a partner who had stood by him from his days as an apprentice to his ascension as the Master of the Hallows. Only after he had thoroughly claimed this moment of peace would he turn his gaze back to the horizon to complete the dark destiny that awaited him.