Chapter Text
Once everything has died down, Harry quietly and quickly makes his way to the Third Floor Corridor. For all that its forbidden, the place is deserted when he arrives. But then, it makes sense. The aurors don’t know Snape died here, after all. To be fair, even Harry didn’t know for sure… but he suspected. Oh yes, he suspected. And within a few moments, he was able to confirm it.
The little trap he’d put in place to catch anyone unaware and give the Cerberus lurking within the room off the Third Floor Corridor a chance HAD been triggered, he was able to confirm as much. And so Snape had died an ignoble death, caught off guard and then mauled to death by the magical creature within.
Harry, of course, had no such difficulties. He was a lot smarter about it to be fair, and a lot less over-confident. A spell that gave him the ability to see magic showed no other traps of that nature, and with his knowledge, he was able to put the Cerberus to sleep with some music. From there… he went down the trapdoor.
As he makes his way through the gauntlet, Harry finds himself a little… disappointed. But also more than a little perturbed. The challenges between him and the prize at the end of this route are nothing to a fully trained wizard. However, to an unsuspecting First Year? They would likely prove fatal. If Dumbledore were trying to protect something from Voldemort, then Harry would expect the protections in place to be far more magical and numerous in nature.
Someone of the Headmaster’s caliber should have been capable of far more than just… this. In fact, Harry saw the markings of multiple Hogwarts Professor’s help on these so-called ‘protections’. Did Dumbledore truly pawn off his defenses to his faculty members? Or, if Harry was correct in his assumptions, did the Headmaster truly pawn off his assassination attempt to his faculty members?
Because that was what this was, in truth. Reaching the end of the little gauntlet and finding himself before what Harry’s research told him was the ancient and infamous Mirror of Erised, Harry shakes his head. If he had been a properly ignorant First Year, then running that gauntlet would have liked resulted in his death at some point along the line.
It would be just the way for Dumbledore to end the Potter Line once and for all, wouldn’t it? It wouldn’t be the Headmaster’s fault if he told everyone to say away from the Third Floor Corridor on pain of death, and then poor Harry Potter was found down in it… dead. No, that would just be an unfortunate tragedy.
If Harry had been any less prepared, he would have either died to the gauntlet… or triggered one of several of the alarm spells he could see were put in place on the Mirror right now. Each and every one would go off and likely alert Dumbledore personally to Harry’s presence if he so much as interacted with the Mirror of Erised in the wrong way.
Luckily for Harry, his magical eyesight is still up. The boy presses his lips together in a thin line… before getting to work. It’s risky, far riskier than the silly yet incredibly fatal challenges he’d surpassed already to reach this point, but he considers it worth it. He wants to know exactly what Dumbledore is hiding. More than that, he wants to get to it before anyone else can.
Once he’s pierced his way through the alarm spells without setting any of them off, Harry gets to the heart of the issue. The Mirror of Erised, also known as the Mirror of Desire, was infamous because it showed you what you desired most in the world. In Harry’s case, it showed him all grown-up, standing tall and proud, surrounded by women he’d helped make into works of art. They look at him adoringly, while he looks at his younger self with a knowing grin.
They both know that in this case, the Mirror of Erised is showing the future. It doesn’t normally… but Harry will stop at nothing to reach the point he sees in the Mirror. At the same time however… his older self suddenly winks, and reaches into the pocket of his robes. A moment later, he pulls it out… a beautiful red stone.
In the real world, younger Harry’s eyes widen as his older self looks it over with a contemptuous smirk for a moment before tucking it back into his pocket. A moment later and Harry feels a heavy weight in his own pocket. Reaching in, he’s able to pull it out, gobsmacked by what he’s discovered. This… this was insane. Harry hadn't been sure he believed it back when Minerva originally told him what all those shoddy defenses were for. There was no way that Albus Dumbledore had the Philosopher’s Stone at Hogwarts, right? Was the old man going senile?!
Still, whatever Harry was holding, it was INCREDIBLY magical. And if it WAS the Philosopher’s Stone, it was incredibly valuable. Not for himself, mind you. He doesn’t need a Philosopher’s Stone; Potter Magic can extend one’s lifespan by centuries. Each and every Potter wizard has died from external causes. Age is not a concern.
However, having the Philosopher’s Stone WOULD give him something incredibly valuable to bargain with. Desperate old men would do anything for a few more months or years. Women, Harry could manipulate like fine clay. Men… men could be much more difficult. But with this? Oh, the things he could do with this…
Of course, if Dumbledore found out it was missing, then it would all be for naught. Harry wasn’t foolish. He fully recognized that he would be a Prime Suspect in the disappearance, if Dumbledore came back down here to find the Mirror empty. Holding the would-be Philosopher’s Stone up in one hand, Harry concentrates for a moment. Fabrication Magic was not easy, but it WAS a Potter Magic, so creating an exact copy of a magical item wasn’t entirely outside of his reach.
It was still very draining however, and if he DID have the real Philosopher’s Stone, he knew for a fact that the copy wouldn’t do the same thing. It would probably produce an incredibly weak variant of the Elixir of Life, one capable of healing but not rejuvenating or de-aging someone. Yes, a strong magical item in its own right, but quite disappointing to anyone who wanted to live forever.
Looking his older self in the eye, Harry gives himself a nod as he slips the copy into his pocket. His older self, grinning wolfishly, nods right back and a moment later the weight of the fake stone disappears, claimed by the magic of the Mirror of Erised. In the Mirror, his older self takes the copied stone back out of his pocket, looking it over one more time before giving Harry one final nod of approval.
With that, Harry leaves. He has what he came for, and it’s best not to overstay his welcome any longer…
-x-X-x-
By the next morning, things have settled into a strange state of affairs. Everyone knows, mostly from loose lips of the aurors, that there was no Troll in Hogwarts. They didn’t just completely fail to FIND the troll either, they’d not found any trace of it thanks to Harry’s machinations. The aurors were convinced that Professor Quirrell had something to do with Snape’s death at this point.
At the same time however, the official stance, delivered by Headmaster Dumbledore in a somber tone at the morning feast, was that the Troll HAD killed Snape before disappearing. No one knew where it had gone. No one knew where it could be. But that was the official stance.
Obviously, the Headmaster was doing damage control. Didn’t have to be a genius to recognize that. But Harry, with all of his own foreknowledge of the situation, couldn’t help but be amused by it. Watching Dumbledore flounder, especially with what he’d taken from the Mirror of Erised? It was rather hilarious, in a way.
So amusing, in fact, that Harry carried that amusement with him all the way to an early morning meeting with Minerva McGonagall. His Head of House had claimed they needed to have a private conversation discussing his absence at the Halloween Feast, but Harry, knowing Minerva’s true allegiances, had assumed that it wouldn’t be all that stressful.
Admittedly, he finds himself a bit blindsided when the Transfiguration Professor leads him into her office and there’s someone else waiting for them there. An older-looking woman, a witch who was probably quite beautiful in her heyday, sits in front of Minerva’s desk, turning to look at them both as he’s led inside. Eyes narrowing, Harry’s lips thin out as he notices the official-looking robes the older woman is wearing.
This witch, whoever she is, is with the aurors.
“Harry, this is Madam Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”
Harry’s eyes widen ever so slightly at that. Not enough to be noticeable to most, but still… he’s incredibly taken off guard. But then, would a boy in his situation not be surprised? Indeed, a bit of caution, confusion, and weariness was exactly what the doctor ordered here, he figured.
“… I see. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Madam Bones. I thought I’d already had this conversation with Auror Tonks, however…”
Amelia Bones smiles, and to be fair, its quite a nice smile. She’s a severe-looking woman, but when she smiles, it feels surprisingly natural. She’s still a bit too wrinkly for Harry’s tastes, but he could see himself working on that. He could easily make something of her, with enough time. Was that what this was? Was Minerva setting something up for him to try and go for an older witch like Madam Bones?
“I certainly hope you didn’t have this conversation with Auror Tonks, Lord Potter. I would be disappointed if the young Auror was so easily taken. She is a metamorphmagus after all, something I’m sure you will… struggle with.”
Harry blinks at that. Madam Bones speaks with a knowing tone. She speaks like she… well, like she knows everything there is to know. His mouth opens and then closes wordlessly as he just stares at her. Finally, the Head of the DMLE stands up from her chair. She steps towards him, and he has to catch himself from taking an instinctive step back. For all his maturity, he’s still a child, and she does tower over him a bit. That said, he manages to stand his ground.
Unfortunately, she still notices his discomfort.
“Do not fret, Lord Potter. This is no ambush.”
And with that… Madam Amelia Bones sinks down to her knees right then and there and bows her head to him in supplication.
“I am here to renew my Oath of Fealty and Loyalty to House Potter, my Lord. I am here to assure you of my submission, adoration, and of course, my absolute devotion to you and your cause.”
That… was unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome. Harry blinks slowly, taking in Amelia’s words. Then, he looks at her more closely. He’d been blinded by his own momentary panic. Facing down the Head of the DMLE after hiding an unconscious Cave Troll and also indirectly causing the death of a Professor had… startled him momentarily.
Now though, he sees it. Now that he knows what to look for, he can see the traces of Potter Magic on Madam Bones. They’re very minor, very hard to discern, but they ARE there. Only a Potter Wizard would be able to see them, of course. Only a Potter Wizard would be able to find them. And Harry does. More than that, he sees something… interesting.
Unlike Minerva, Amelia is no Transfiguration Mistress. She could not hide her loyalty to House Potter herself. Instead, the Potter Lord who she owed her fealty to had installed a trigger of sorts, a switch that any Potter Wizard worth his salt could flick back and forth for her, in order to make her appear one way in public, and another way in private.
Tilting his head to the side, Harry finds he can’t help himself. He reaches out with his magic… and flicks the switch.
In an instant, Amelia’s transformation begins. The years positively melt off of the old spinster. Her gasp is melodic as she tilts her head back, looking up into his eyes reverently while her own eyes sparkle with unshed tears. Her wrinkles and stress lines smooth out, and her true beauty, the beauty of a witch sculpted and trained by a Potter Wizard, begin to shine through.
The clock almost seems to roll back for her in a way, as though time itself is reversing in a localized area centered solely around the Head of the DMLE. In mere moments, the kneeling witch goes from wizened old woman verging on crone-like, to a verifiable cougar. From her face, to her bust, to her hips and ass… all of it grows plumper, perkier… just more alive in general, really.
When it’s done, Amelia looks down at herself… and the tears fall as she then turns her gaze back up to him in pure reverence.
“Thank you, my Lord. It is good to be whole again.”
Harry’s lips thin out at that. Unlike Minerva, who could use her skills with Transfiguration to change herself at will… Amelia had been trapped this entire time, hadn’t she? She’d effectively been unable to do anything but exist in her deep cover form, forced to age and look uglier and uglier as time went on. And yet… still she’d stayed loyal. Perhaps out of a selfish desire to regain the beauty he’d just unthinkingly returned to her, but even still.
A lesser witch would have become cold and bitter and angry. Spiteful and hateful, even. Despite his inability to control any of this, despite him having to grow up before he could return to the Wizarding World, Harry wouldn’t have put it out of the question for Amelia Bones to turn on him.
That she hadn’t… was a credit to her. Stepping forward, Harry reaches out and places a small hand atop her head, giving her a soft smile.
“You’ve done well, Amelia. You’ve done so, so well.”
A shudder runs through the older witch’s body, and her eyes flutter up in her head. His touch alone… had he just brought her to orgasm? Harry raises an eyebrow, as the Head of the DMLE suddenly goes for his crotch, pushing aside his robes and working at his pants in a frenzy for a moment before realizing what she’s doing and stopping dead in her tracks.
“A-Apologies, Lord Potter… may I?”
His smile widening, Harry nods his head in approval.
“You may.”
Mere seconds later, his cock is out and slapping down across Amelia’s face. The beautiful woman moans, the Madam shivering in delight beneath him as she wiggles her substantial hips back and forth. Her face nuzzles against his cock, her tongue slipping out to slobber all over his member for a moment before she reaches down and begins to pull off her robes, removing the official garments of her station, exposing herself to his eyes.
Harry feasts his gaze on Amelia’s amazingly plump breasts, her sizable tits staring back at him, defying gravity itself as her nipples harden from the open air. Meanwhile, the Head of the DMLE sucks him into her mouth, taking him past plump, pillowy lips that mere moments before had been thin and cracked with age. Now though, Amelia Bones is reborn. She is her true Potter Witch self at this point, and his massive, throbbing member looks perfectly at home between her lips.
She sucks him with a gusto that honestly pleases Harry to no end. Her head bobs up and down his dick and Amelia takes him into her throat without issue. This is the difference between a trained Potter Witch and the young women Harry is currently in the process of taming. There’s not an ounce of choking as Amelia suppresses her gag reflex with practiced ease and swallows him whole. She takes him to the root and even lolls out her tongue to slobber all over his balls for good measure.
Harry’s hand remains atop her head, his fingers sliding through her silken smooth hair as he smiles down at her, showing his approval with every groan and grunt she draws from him. Nearby, Professor McGonagall watches all of this with a flushed happy expression on her face, the other beautiful Potter Witch clearly enjoying the show just as much as if she participated in it.
Unfortunately, this appointment cannot last hours. It is the morning, and Harry has a big day ahead of him still. As… pleasing as this is, it’s not as productive as things could be. It was time to bring this to a close.
With a rough growl, Harry tightens his grip on Amelia’s hair and drives her down to the base of his cock one last time. This time, he holds her there, keeping her in place and forcing her to choke a little as he begins to cum down her throat.
“Gluuuuuuuughk!”
Amelia’s eyes water, and she gargles a bit, but she takes his load all the same. Still, it’s clear she’s out of practice, because some of his seed overflows, dribbling down her chin and onto her jiggling breasts as she spasms a bit but refuses to pull back or away from him.
Only once the deed is fully done does Amelia withdraw, Harry’s grip on her hair relaxing as he watches her pull back and sit that gloriously fat ass of hers on her heels. Her breasts bounce and jiggle expressively with the movement, even as Madam Bones looks down at herself in embarrassment and shame.
“A humiliating showing, my Lord. I promise, I’ll do better next time… if you see fit to give me the chance at a next time.”
Harry chuckles and shrugs.
“I don’t see why not.”
Beaming, Amelia reaches for her wand.
“Then… if I have permission to clean myself up?”
Giving a nod, Harry watches in silence as the Head of the DMLE cleans up the mess he made of her with a wave of her wand, before rising to her feet.
“… If it pleases you, my Lord, I could assign Auror Tonks to Hogwarts on a more permanent basis. She could provide a ministry presence and given he just lost one of his Professors to a mysterious ‘Troll’ with claws, Dumbledore won’t be in any position to decline. More than that, there’s Tonks’ situation to consider.”
Harry tilts his head to the side at that, the boy humming in consideration before waving for Amelia to go on.
“… Well, those who are aware of Potter Magic know full well that your magic and metamorphmagi don’t exactly mix well. In assigning Tonks as the Auror on duty, Dumbledore is unlikely to suspect anything subversive on your part. You are, after all, supposed to be a nascent Potter Wizard, an heir unaware of your heritage. Even if you did discover your magic on your own, he would never believe you would choose to go after Tonks… if that were your plan, anyways.”
She’s obviously fishing, but equally obvious is her loyalty to him. Harry doesn’t doubt Amelia for a moment, he knows she can be trusted. So, smiling wickedly, he nods his head.
“I would like to make Auror Tonks one of my women, yes.”
There, he’d said it out loud. For her part, Madam Bones smiles wickedly right back.
“Then consider it done, my Lord. She will be assigned to Hogwarts within the week. Perhaps as an Assistant DADA Professor, given Quirrell’s startling lack of qualifications and competence. Dumbledore will believe he can control Auror Tonks, and that she can in no way be subverted or turned by you. I imagine he’ll find that belief to be to his detriment, ultimately.”
Harry nods his head, pleased with Amelia’s vote of confidence. Before he can end the meeting however, Amelia clears her throat.
“Ah, there is… one other thing, my Lord. My niece, Susan Bones.”
Harry furrows his brow and cocks his head to the side again.
“Hm? What about her?”
“Has she caught your eye yet, at all? She’s a beautiful red head, and one of the naturally bustiest witches in all of Hogwarts. She’s in House Hufflepuff though, so I’m not sure if you’ve come across her.”
Harry racks his mind for a moment, and finally manages to put a face to the name. Red head, busty as all hell, and super sexy. She’d been looking at him at one point in the Great Hall, he recalled. But when he’d made eye contact with her, she’d been quick to avert her gaze.
“… I know of her, yes. Why do you ask?”
Licking her lips, Amelia bows her head in submission.
“I have been preparing her for you, my Lord. All her life. She is already a Potter Witch in mind, heart, and soul. All that’s left is for her to take her Oath. All that’s left is for you to claim her as your property.”
Harry startles at that, surprised. Susan Bones hadn’t even been on his radar. Sure she was absolutely beautiful, but she’d felt more like wallpaper than anything else. His eyes had been caught by a number of more interesting witches. But was that shallow and superficial of him? Indeed, he had yet to truly interact with any of the current Hufflepuffs since arriving at Hogwarts.
… Perhaps he would see about rectifying that, given Amelia’s words. Still…
“She has yet to approach me.”
“I told her not to, my Lord. I told her that you would pluck her when the time was right, and no earlier. She is a ripened fruit though. She is yours for the taking whenever you desire.”
Harry thinks on that for a second, before nodding sharply.
“Very well. Thank you for your service.”
Amelia smiles a coy, coquettish smile at that.
“It is my pleasure, Lord Potter. Now and forever.”
Then, her smile drops and she looks forlorn.
“Though… if I am to go deliver the news to the Headmaster and Auror Tonks, it is probably time to once again put my true self away. It has been good being out after all this time, but I must return to my… public appearance.”
Harry nods, well aware that only he can flick her switch. He does so and watches as Amelia rapidly ages back into her older, wizened state right before his eyes. She is not necessarily ugly like this… but she isn’t beautiful either. Her true self is a good way of describing it, for in this appearance, no one would ever suspect the Head of the DMLE of being a Potter Witch.
“Well met, Madam Bones. I look forward to our next conversation.”
“As do I, Lord Potter. As do I~”
-x-X-x-
“Heir Potter.”
“Heiress Greengrass.”
It was a day later. Tonks’ appointment as the Assistant DADA Professor had been met with some fanfare. She was still young, and it was only a couple years ago that she herself had been a Seventh Year at Hogwarts. There were still students who remembered her, for better or worse, and everyone wasn’t too sure how to feel about her suddenly being back. Apparently, the metamorphmagus had been quite the prankster in her day.
Regardless, Harry had finally met with Daphne Greengrass. They were standing now in an abandoned classroom, looking at one another. The beautiful Slytherin Prefect smiles slightly, and saunters forward, clearly putting on the charm.
“I wanted to thank you again for the other night, Harry. I can call you Harry, I hope?”
For now, Harry thinks in the privacy of his own mind. He doesn’t say that though, instead he gives her a cheery smile and a happy nod.
“Of course. I can call you Daphne, then?”
Chuckling throatily, Daphne reaches out and dares to ruffle his hair.
“Of course! You saved my life, after all. As far as I’m concerned, that makes us friends.”
She’s laying it on a bit thick, but clearly she thinks she needs to in order to get her way. After all, he’s just a child in her eyes, a young boy. She doesn’t see him as an actual threat, even now.
“Sure! I could always use such a pretty friend!”
Harry decides to lean into that, saying something that might get him slapped if he were older. But thanks to his age… and the fact that he HAD saved her life, Daphne just blushes a little bit. She pauses for just a moment before clearing her throat.
“… I will admit, after finding out the Troll killed Snape before finding its way to us, I wondered if I should keep its existence a secret or not. But since you asked it of me, I decided not to say a word. I hope that makes you happy. One might even say we’re even, aren’t we?”
Ah, that was her gambit. If he agreed with her here and now, the life debt would be satisfied. It was, after all, based as much on intent as it was on their magic. By tricking him into happily agreeing that she didn’t owe him a debt anymore, Daphne would be saving herself a lot of grief. Unfortunately, Harry wasn’t about to let that happen.
He lets his cheery, childish smile drop and looks to Daphne with a more serious expression. A sigh leaves his lips, and he shakes his head.
“Heiress Greengrass. Do you take me for a fool? Do you think I don’t know what a life debt is?”
Daphne stiffens, her eyes widening as she gives her most expressive reaction yet to his words. They hit her like stunning spells, even causing her to take a step back in disbelief as he stares her down. Harry doesn’t hold back though, he doesn’t quite glare, but he IS frowning most severely at her.
After a long moment of silence, Daphne realizes he’s expecting an answer. Nay, he’s demanding it. He can feel it even now, the life debt between the two of them. With his Potter magic, he can even manipulate it… tug on it a little bit. As Daphne feels that tug, she no doubt assumes its purely instinctive on his part. But its no less scary for her, to feel her life and magic being pulled by a boy.
“I-I took you for a child, Heir Potter. I apologize if I have given offense, I merely meant to… keep from unduly burdening you with such things at your age.”
Her backpedaling is amusing, to say the least. And she’s got a way with words, Harry can admit that much. Slytherin’s Ice Princess stands before him, not quite squirming… but its obviously a near thing, heh.
Harry lets her squirm for a moment longer, before nodding his head.
“Apology accepted… Daphne.”
Her shoulders slump a little in relief as he goes back to using her first name. That doesn’t stop her from gazing upon him in a new light however, her lips thinned out as she considers him very differently now. Harry just looks back at her, smiling like a child might… but knowing she now saw through him in truth. Oh, she’d thought she saw through him before, but now she truly begins to recognize him for what he is.
“Thank you… Harry. Obviously… things are not equal between us. If there is anything I can do for you… please be sure to let me know.”
As tempted as he is to make Daphne submit here and now… Harry knows that’s not the proper path forward for this. Perhaps he has some clarity, due to having the Head of the DMLE on her knees before him a day earlier, but Harry knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that forcing Daphne into anything now would be to his detriment later on.
If he merely bides his time and works on her slowly, as he is with Hermione Granger, then one day Daphne will his pet willingly. Loyal and devoted of her own volition. A proper Potter Witch.
“I appreciate that, Daphne. As your friend, I would never think to abuse this debt between us. But obviously, it exists doesn’t it? Not to worry. Together, we’ll find a way to overcome.”
Vague and noncommittal to the end. That was the way to go here. Harry can see in Daphne’s eyes that she’s not happy with such a generalized answer. But he can also see in her eyes an understanding that this is the best she’s going to get.
“… Together then, Harry. Together.”