Chapter 42

August 3rd. Spellhaven, Potter Château basement.

Rabastan Lestrange abruptly jerked awake and tried to get up, only to find himself restrained.

He quickly recalled his last memories. Having some fun with one of the muggle prisoners, then Aurors knocking down the door. A flash of pain as his right arm was blasted off. Furious orange eyes glaring out of the deep shadows of a hood. The Castration Hex…

The pain of his wounds suddenly registered. The seared nerves of his severed arm and genitalia made him scream in horror and thrash in his bindings, as if seeing them would make it not true.

The struggling exhausted him quickly, his body still wasted and ruined from the long stay in Azkaban.

"Are you done?" A man asked blandly as he stepped out of the darkness .

"Potter." Rabastan said hatefully, recognising him from the picture he'd seen in the Daily Prophet . "I'm going to kill you for this. What happened to the Longbottoms will seem like paradise compared to what I'll do to you and your whores."

Potter looked neither insulted nor threatened, merely amused.

"Well then, I suppose I best finish up with you before you can manage some kind of miracle escape and carry out your threats without a wand, arm or cock." He mocked.

Rabastan wasn't sure how to reply to that and merely glared fiercely into Potter's bright green eyes. Then he realised that he couldn't look away and that he was being attacked with Legilimency.

As a scion of the Lestrange family, Rabastan had been taught Occlumency from a young age and had been reasonably proficient in the discipline. Had been, before over a decade and a half of keeping company with dementors had left his mind a mess. He hadn't had nearly enough time to put himself back together and regain the equanimity required to properly defend his mind.

Even so, Rabastan quickly began to doubt that it would have done him much good. Potter's mental assault was incredibly powerful, piercing through his feeble defenses like a diamond-hard spear. His vision swam as memories rushed past his thoughts against his will, memories of his interactions with the Dark Lord.

Rabastan began sweating heavily as his mind was violated. Accepting that it was no use trying to shut Potter out, he instead attemped to deflect his attention by throwing inconsequential memories in his way, but it was no good. The mental assault was too focused and sharp to be diverted and the violation continued.

In a last ditch attempt, Rabastan tried to counter-attack. He had never learned Legilimency, but with the connection already open, it was easy enough to do. Even a complete novice could manage.

He threw everything he had into his attack, expecting to find powerful defenses. To his shock, he fell into Potter's mind practically without resistance, like a man throwing his full weight at what he thought was a sturdy oak door only to find that it was as thin as paper.

His sense of reality twisted and faded as he was assaulted by memories not his own.

Horcruxes. The diary. Slytherin's Locket. Harry himself. Destroyed. The Dark Lord inching back towards mortality with every step.

Rabastan was shocked and awed at what the Dark Lord had done. The great wizard he followed was even greater than he'd thought, but Potter was working to undo it.

Instantly, his mind turned to what other possible objects the Dark Lord may have hidden his soul in. Bella, Bella would definitely have been entrusted with guarding one. She was his favorite.

With a jolt, Rabastan realised that Potter had turned his counter-attack back on itself and was now dredging up his every interaction with Bellatrix in excruciating detail for any hint as to where she might have hidden it.

This time there was no hope of putting up even a feeble defense, not in a mind not his own. Potter was not letting him go, instead using his own mind as a prison and prisoners were at the mercy of the warden. It was the opposite of a possession, which was an ability available to highly skilled legilimancers such as the Dark Lord, and Rabastan did not have the required skill in the Mind Arts to free himself.

Rabastan had had the Dark Lord use Legilimency on him twice before and it had been unpleasant, but it was nothing compared to what he felt now. While his mind was being raped for all of its secrets, his sense of self was being assault by the nature of his prison.

It was worse than the dementors. For all their horror, they were still an outside threat. Rabastan was now trapped in the Void without the luxury of having a body to provide a buffer, leaving his mind exposed to it completely. It was terrible and black and filled with a darkness that had never known light, laden with a silence that swallowed all sound. Its greedy chill leeched away every flicker of emotion and the weight of its emptiness threatened to grind his spirit to ash.

Rabastan struggled and railed against it with everything he was, threw every shred of hatred at his captor, but it was as if he was submerged up to his head in quicksand. The more he fought, the deeper he sank.

The Dark Lord. He thought desperately, clinging to what had become his greatest pillar of strength during his long imprisonment in Azkaban. The Dark Lord is eternal and invincible. Even if I fall, he will prevail and rule the world forever.

Rabastan was truly loyal to his chosen master, loyal enough to go to prison rather than denounce him. Loyal enough that he would gladly die in his service. It had always been a source of strength to him.

But even that did not sustain him now. Harry Potter did not see Voldemort's steps to make himself immortal as a great deed, but as the actions of a coward afraid to die. The Dark Lord's ambitions of world domination were dismissed as stupid and pointless. In this realm of thought where Harry Potter was the nearest thing to a god, that had more weight than gravity did in the real world. Even Rabastan's fanaticism withered in those conditions and he was left with nothing.

Harry frowned thoughtfully to himself, ignoring Lestrange's sobbing. That reverse possession trick tended to have that effect on people. Few had the mental fortitude to endure the nihilistic hell he'd created inside his mind with his knowledge of the Void. Pity that it only worked on those with mediocre skill in the Mind Arts.

Another dead end in the horcrux search, apart from yet another finger pointing at Bellatrix. Perhaps Rodolphus might have known something, seeing as he used to be married to the crazy bitch before Harry had annulled it. More than likely he would have to get his hands on Bellatrix herself though.

Ah well, a problem for another day. For now, he had to study the active Dark Mark in order to develop a way to block Voldemort from tracking its location. Keeping his marked prisoners locked up in trunks here in the chateâu wasn't very practical and he wanted to move them to Ravenhead as soon as possible. Maybe he could even find a way to trace the connection back to Voldemort or the other Death Eaters.

August 3rd. Somewhere in Russia.

Even a full day after the disaster at Malfoy Manor, Voldemort was still enraged. He'd lost twenty-five of his forty-six servants in one fell swoop, three of which he had only just gotten out of Azkaban. The seven remaining ones had pushed themselves nearly to the point of death in order to escape and would be of no use for at least a week, nevermind how much longer their recovery from Azkaban would take. That left him with fourteen able-bodied wizards that were in a state of mild shock due to the immediate and brutal consequences they'd suffered for attacking Azkaban.

Perhaps even worse, he had been forced to flee Britain entirely and then Albania as well just to be on the safe side. It was intolerable. People fled from Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, not the other way around!

While pride was a significant reason for Voldemort's rage, there was also a practical component to it. His followers would begin to have doubts about following him if he couldn't show that he was more powerful than Harry Potter.

Buried beneath the rage was the fear that Potter might actually be stronger than him. If not now, then in the future. Though their battle had been brief, Voldemort had clearly seen that his young nemesis possessed far greater skill with wandless magic than he did. While that alone would not decide the victor of a battle between them, it implied a troubling depth of potential. Still, as long as he was immortal Potter was no real threat.

But he had no time to think about that now. Before anything else, he needed to make sure that there wasn't another Malfoy Manor. The problem was that Voldemort didn't know how they had been found.

Lacking that information, he had no choice but to put up a paranoid number of safeguards. First was casting every concealment, obscuration and alarm spell that he knew on the large, remote house that they had taken over after murdering its muggle occupants. Then the emergency escape routes in the form of portkeys. Lastly came thoughts of perhaps splitting his forces up so that they couldn't all be ambushed at once again.

He was just pondering who could be trusted to lead the individual groups of Death Eaters that he felt someone poking around the magic of the Dark Mark and his eyes widened in outrage. It was coming from Rabastan, which meant Potter again.

Spellhaven.

Harry scowled as the Dark Mark on Lestrange's arm suddenly flared with magic and sealed itself, causing the man to scream in pain.

Then he shrugged philosophically. The chances of Voldemort not sensing someone fiddling around a spell linked to him had always been extremely low. At least he had managed to isolate its unique signature and could now create spells that targeted the Dark Mark specifically. With this knowledge, he could create an obscuration ward that would prevent Voldemort from divining the location of his marked followers if they were under it and a detection spell that would reveal the presence of the Dark Mark.

Hopefully it would allow him to track down more Death Eaters, but the obscuration ward would have to be first so that he could start moving the prisoners to Ravenhead.

August 7th. British Ministry of Magic, Amelia Bones' office.

"Nothing." Harry said with a scowl. "Either Voldemort has hidden himself much better this time, or they've left Albania entirely and gone into hiding somewhere much further away."

"I suppose it was too much to hope for that we've be able to hound him ceaselessly no matter where he went." Amelia sighed, unhappy but not surprised.

August 9th, 2017. Hogwarts Headmaster's office.

"Every so often, a man encounters something so monumentally stupid that he can do nothing but stare in awe." Harry said, staring at Dumbledore's blackened hand. "In case you haven't figured it out yet, putting on a heavily cursed ring is one such thing."

Albus felt that he probably deserved that. He'd gone to the old Gaunt shack as part of his investigation into locations of significance to Voldemort and discovered the place to be protected rather more heavily than old Morfin Gaunt's abilities allowed. Seeing as it was well within his ability to undo those protections he had done so, even if having a parseltongue such as Harry along would have made it much easier.

He had reasoned to himself that just because Voldemort had apparently come back and warded the place was no guarantee that a horcurx was present, so he had decided to investigate on his own until he could confirm it. Then he had recognised the Resurrection Stone set into the ring and lost all sense in his temptation. Foolish. Even with the powerful compulsion charm on the ring, he should have known better.

"Yes, Severus has already made that eminently clear." Albus sighed.

"And over a useless trinket like the Resurrection Stone on top of it. Honestly, Dumbledore, how did you ever convince anyone that you were wise? Did they just see your ridiculous beard and assume?" Harry continued.

"Perhaps." Albus replied with a touch of humor as he reflected on the words.

While he could say without hubris that he did have some wisdom to him, Albus was well aware that it was a wisdom born from the many mistakes of his life. And what mistakes they were…

Hearing Harry call the Resurrection Stone, an artifact that Albus had coveted for over a century, a useless trinket… well, it made him wonder how this boy of seventeen could have more sense than him. The worst part was that now that he finally had the Deathly Hallow in his possession, he found himself lacking the courage to actually summon Ariana, fearing to learn that it had indeed been his spell that had taken her life. Useless trinket indeed.

"How are you still alive anyway? I know that the Withering Curse doesn't work that slow."

"My own skill combined with Severus' mastery of the Dark Arts and Potions was sufficient to contain it. Although he tells me that a year is the best I can hope for before the curse kills me." Albus answered, not even surprised that Harry would be familiar with the curse.

"A potion, huh?" Harry mused. "Something to fortify the body against foreign magic?"

"Just so."

"Hmm." Harry peered at the affected hand. "You know, I think I might be able to give you a bit more than a year."

Albus blinked in surprise. "You believe you can contain the curse even further?"

"I'm thinking that I might be able to contain it completely."

"You are certainly welcome to try." Albus offered. He was in no particular hurry to die, especially not in the horrid manner that this curse would do it in.

"We'll need to have Pomfrey and Snape present though, best to just do this in the infirmary actually."

"Let us make our way to Poppy's domain then."

Both Poppy Pomfrey and Severus Snape were semi-permanent residents of Hogwarts, so summoning them to the school was achieved without issue.

The issues cropped up when the specifics of how Harry planned to help Dumbledore came up.

"Could the house elf named Blinky please pop in? Excellent. Now, Blinky, I need you to find me an axe or even better, a guillotine, with a very sharp blade at least thirty centimeters long. I'm sure there's one lying around the castle somewhere."

"Potter, I am not letting you perform an amateur amputation of the Headmaster's hand in my infirmary!" Poppy raged.

"Nobody asked you. Just do your job once the blood starts flying." Harry replied dismissively.

Poppy was stunned speechless by the audacity. To talk to her like that, in her infirmary… the nerve of the boy!

Sitting on one of the beds, Albus didn't bother hiding his amusement. "Harry, while I can appreciate a good amputation as much as the next man, I am afraid the curse has taken hold deeper than merely the flesh. Cutting off my hand will not save me, else I would have done it already."

Harry gave the much older wizard a look of contempt. "I know that, what kind of third-rate wizard do you take me for?"

"The Potter kind." Severus muttered. He was still feeling sour and resentful about what had happened the last time he'd seen Potter. Although he had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that getting stunned did indeed provide him with a good excuse when Voldemort demanded to know why he hadn't received any warning of the attack from his spy.

"What is it you intend to do then?" Albus asked curiously.

"Have you ever heard the tale of Horror the Ancient?" Harry asked, trying desperately not to smile or worse, cackle. Who would've thought that Dora's insistence that we watch 'The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy' would actually be good for something.

"I can't say that I have." Albus answered, now intrigued. He would have expected to hear of any wizard with such a distinctive name.

"Allow me to share it then. As the story goes, Horror was a man plagued by fears many and varied, yet his greatest wish was to be brave beyond brave. One day, he devised a plan that would allow him to achieve his dreams. He magically channeled all his fears into his left hand and then lopped it off, which eventually became an artifact of terrible power known as the Left Hand of Horror. Alas, in his haste to rid himself of all fear, Horror forgot that he was left-handed."

While Severus and Poppy stared at Harry with incredulity and no small measure of skepticism, Albus found the story both amusing and a valuable anecdote on the dangers of doing before thinking. More to the point, he understood what Harry was suggesting.

"You propose then to channel the curse completely into the flesh of my already ruined hand and then amputate it?"

"Pretty much."

"Severus, what do you think?"

"It could work, if Potter has the skill and power necessary to bind the curse to your hand." The words were drawn out of Snape as if they pained him.

Blinky chose that moment to pop back in to the infirmary.

"Blinky could not find a guillotine, Harry Potter sir." Blinky said apologetically, balancing a large axe in her small hands. "But there be lots of axes in the castle."

Harry relieved her of the burden and looked at the weapon with bemusement. "What the fuck is a Dane axe doing in Hogwarts? Did Vikings try to raid it or something? No matter, this is exactly what I needed. Thank you, Blinky."

"Be's you needing anything else, Harry Potter sir?" The house elf asked hopefully.

Harry thought it over while experimentally swinging the axe. "Yes, actually. A block of wood."

Poppy's outrage deflated slightly as the elf popped away again. She could see that the idiot men were determined to go through with this despite her protests. It wasn't like she was a healer or anything!

"Can't you at least use a spell to do the amputation if you are going to do this?" She groused.

"Nope, might destabilise the binding." Harry replied airily.

"Bah, fine. I'll get the potions ready then." She grumbled and left, continuing to mutter under her breath the entire way.

"I see that hag's bedside manner hasn't improved any." Harry commented once she was gone.

"Harry, that isn't very nice of you." Dumbledore chastised gently.

"I'm not a very nice man."

It took a few minutes for Blinky to show up with the requested block of wood and Pomfrey was already bustling around with her potions by then.

"Here you go, Albus. Something to numb the pain." She said, holding out a concoction.

"Hold up." Harry interrupted. "Is that going to slow his mind in any way?"

"A little." Poppy answered aprehensively, already anticipating what the clearly unstable teenager was going to say in response.

Harry didn't disappoint.

"Then he can't have it. I'll need his cooperation to do this properly and for that he needs to be focused."

"You can't expect him to have his hand chopped off without any anesthetic!" Poppy exploded.

"Well it's up to him in the end, but if the potion screws up our attempts to do this then expect me to say that I told you so in an extremely condescending manner." Harry shrugged uncaringly.

"It's alright, Poppy." Albus said soothingly and placed his withered hand on the block of wood. "A little pain is a small price to pay for my life."

Poppy made a sound like grinding rocks and threw her arms up in frustration.

"Albus, I cannot condone this." The healer tried one last time.

"I agree with Poppy, Albus." Severus said with a sneer directed at Harry. "We have no idea how much of Potter's confidence is just hot air and I'll note that he hasn't mentioned the risks involved."

"If we fail, it would shorten his time in this world by months at best, kill him instantly at worst." Harry provided.

Albus sighed tiredly as Poppy erupted into another protest. While those were significant risks, it wasn't as if he had much to lose either. He had already been making tentative plans to have Severus kill him and thus gain Voldemort's complete trust, so that wouldn't change if his life was shortened further.

"We will proceed." He said simply.

"Finally." Harry said with a roll of his eyes, taking out his little used wand. He didn't want to touch that curse without a buffer and potentially contracting it himself. "Now then… Dumbledore, I'll need you to pull your magic away from your hand while I channel it into the flesh. This will hurt, but you can't let your control slip or the curse will latch back on. Snape, you're on binding duty."

What followed was a half hour of tense silence as Harry and Dumbledore worked together to separate the stubborn curse from the old wizard's magic. Both of them were sweating under the mental focus required and Dumbledore was also gritting his teeth against the pain as his hand withered completely, but he didn't make a sound, something that won him some grudging respect from Harry.

Snape had the easiest job by far, but he too was glad when it was over. The curse had been cast by a wizard far more powerful than him and it showed in the effort it took him to contain it.

"Alright, now hold that hand and curse steady… and don't flinch." Harry said, hefting the Dane axe after catching his breath.

Albus nodded silently. His hand now looked like something you'd find on a five thousand-year-old mummy and he could feel the vicious curse attempting to escape the binding that Severus had placed on it. Honestly, he would be glad to be rid of the hand at this point, as it was causing him quite a bit of pain.

Harry placed the blade of the axe a an inch upwards from the place of the binding, just to be on the safe side. He was silently hoping that he didn't miss, having never swung an axe before in his life.

Fortunately, he was a wizard of great skill and knew how to use his magic to alter probability on this kind of thing even without a structured spell. Guided by both hand and magic, the axe struck true and severed the cursed hand exactly where he wanted it to.

While Dumbledore cried out in pain, Pomfrey plied him with potions and Snape cast diagnostic spells to check if the old wizard was now free of the curse, Harry helped himself to one of the bedsheets and wrapped the severed hand in it.

"I'll be taking your hand as payment for serviced rendered, Dumbledore." Harry said airily. "This has been fun, we should do it again someday. Toodles"

And then he swaggered out of the room with his prize in hand, pun very much intended.

Albus, who was in the middle of being force fed a potion by the greatly agitated mistress of the infirmary, went wide-eyed as he realised something.

The Resurrection Stone was still in the ring, which was on his hand! The hand that Harry had just taken with him. He'd just gotten swindled out of one of the Hallows.

Harry was still chuckling to himself as he placed the Right Hand of Dumbledore on a shelf in Ravenhead. The Withering Curse was still in there and there was no telling when that kind of thing might come in handy, pun intended, so he wasn't going to throw it away.

But the real prize was the Resurrection Stone. Although he had boasted to Dumbledore that he could make a new set of Deathly Hallows, he had neglected to mention the time or potential sacrifice it would take him to actually do it.

The Elder Wand didn't really interest him. For all the stories about it being invincible, he knew what it truly was. Being an artifact of Dark, the wand would give quite a bit of extra zing to any offensive spells, especially ones that were cast with lethal intent. That was all and it was boring.

The Resurrection Stone though… that could help him advance his studies of Necromancy considerably. Combined with his dabbling in fleshcrafting, he might even figure out how to perform a true resurrection or how to create a proper revenant rather than just mindless zombies… inferi… whatever you wanted to call them.

Unfortunately, Harry also had the sneaking suspicion that this might be something that his girls were likely to put the kibosh on. He didn't personally see what the problem with dragging the souls of his enemies back to the land of the living and putting them into enslaved bodies was, but it sounded like one of those 'crimes against basic human decency' that Dora sometimes talked about. Feh.

Ah well, there was no guarantee that he'd actually be able to do it anyway. It certainly wouldn't be the first time that one of his projects bore no fruit.

If nothing else, having the Resurrection Stone meant that he could now also interrogate the dead, although it would be best not to rely on it. He couldn't threaten the dead if they weren't feeling cooperative after all.

The thought of summoning his parents or Sirius just to talk to them never even crossed Harry's mind.

Luna's first thought when Harry showed them the Resurrection Stone was of her parents.

"Gimme!" She squeed, snatching it from his hand. "Now I can introduce you all to Mummy and Daddy without us dying first."

"And here I thought that I was done with the in-laws." Harry said, bemused.

"Oh, you're never done with the in-laws." Dora said, nodding sagely as if she was imparting some great wisdom.

Luna had completed the summoning by this point and was beaming as the forms of Xenophilius and Pandora Lovegood faded into reality.

Xeno looked much like he had back when he'd died, with long, pale blond hair and an absent smile.

Pandora's hair was darker, but still blonde. It was immediately clear that Luna got her petite build and slightly protuberant eyes from her mother.

"Luna, my little girl." Pandora said emotionally. "You're all grown up."

"Hello again, Turnip." Xeno said, smiling at his daughter as if seeing a dream.

"Mum, Dad." Luna said happily. "I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Harry Potter and our girlfriend, Nymphadora Tonks and our other girlfriend, Fleur Delacour."

"Thank you for making Luna part of your orgies." Xeno said gratefully. "You have no idea how happy that makes me."

"Sure." Harry, Dora and Fleur chorused, exchanging bemused looks.

"Xeno means that he is happy that our daughter is part of such a loving relationship." Pandora clarified with an eyeroll.

"Ah." Harry, Dora and Fleur nodded in unison.

"Daddy, I broke my promise." Luna said soberly. "I had fun with Harry's penis before I turned sixteen. I'm sorry."

"What's this, Xeno?" Pandora asked in surprise. "Did you make our little girl promise to stay away from sex until she was sixteen?"

"Only penises." Xeno defended himself. "You know how teenage boys are, and she's so innocent. I couldn't bear to see her hurt, not after losing you."

"Be that as it may, it isn't your place to decide when or with who she has sex." Pandora scolded and then turned to her daughter. "It's alright, Luna. What you put in your vagina and when you do it is your own business."

"And my bum?" Luna asked just to make sure.

"All your orifices." Pandora nodded firmly.

"Thanks, Mum."

What is up with this conversation? The other three people in the room wondered.

"It was wonderful to see you again, Luna, but we have to go now." Pandora said regretfully. "Don't call us too often, the dead should stay dead."

"Wait!" Luna exclaimed. "Just one more thing. Are there any crumple-horned snorkacks in the afterlife?"

Xeno adopted a thoughtful look and then beamed at his daughter. "I can't remember, so there must be."

"Yes! I knew they were real!" Luna apparently took that as proof.

The deceased Lovegoods faded away after a final goodbye, leaving the behind a contemplative silence.

Harry pondered what had just happened. Those had definitely been the souls of Xeno and Pandora Lovegood, sans their magic, he had been able to 'hear' that, but he didn't buy any of this afterlife tripe. Not the classical definition of it at any rate. His knowledge of the Void contradicted it.

He was starting to develop a theory for the workings of the Resurrection Stone, but further testing was required. Now who to call…?

"Do you want to summon Sirius or your parents?" Dora asked softly.

"That wouldn't help me prove anything." He replied absently, still thinking. "What I need is a recently dead magical I didn't personally know, a recently dead mundane I didn't personally know and then another set of those that have been long dead. And also a recently dead mundane that I did personally know just to round things out."

The metamorphmagus grabbed his face and stared him in the eye. "Harry, I am asking you if you want to talk to your parents and godfather and maybe get some closure, not if you want to use them as test subjects for your experiments."

Harry blinked and then smiled at her. "That's sweet of you, Dora, but unnecessary. I've made peace with death a long time ago."

"Napoleon Bonaparte." Harry said, activating the Resurrection Stone.

As expected, the French conqueror failed to appear.

Harry put a cross next to 'long dead mundane unknown to user' in his notebook. So far, the only thing that the stone had been able to summon was Luna's parents, which were in the category of 'recently dead magicals personally known to user'.

While he had been unable to test for a recently dead mundane personally known to the user, Harry was fairly sure that it would work. The stone seemed to only be capable of summoning those that the user had personally known, which would make sense. The Stone was powerful, but the user still needed at least a faint familiarity with the soul they were summoning for it to work.

Well, that did kind of limit what he could do with it, but it was nothing to scoff at.

August 13th, 2017.

Harry steadied himself after being side-along apparated by Dumbledore and looked around. They were on a windswept cliff at the edge of the ocean.

"This is a dead end." Harry sighed.

"I assure you, Harry, that there is a horcurx hidden in a cave at the base of this cliff." Albus said.

"There was a horcrux here." Harry contended. "Slytherin's Locket to be precise. I've already destroyed it."

Albus was taken aback. "When?"

"Oh, years ago."

"What?"

"Yeah, Regulus Black betrayed Voldemort and his elf, Kreacher, brought the horcrux to Grimmauld Place when he died doing so. There it sat for years until Sirius and I visited the place. I studied it for a year, trying to figure out if I could use the Law of Similarity to track down the others, but no luck, so I destroyed it."

"I see." Dumbledore said with a frown. "Why didn't you tell me? I thought we agreed to share information."

"Sucks when things are being kept from you, doesn't it?" Harry grinned at the old man's displeasure. "It wasn't critical information and I didn't really trust you to actually stop hoarding secrets, so I used it as a test. You pass, congratulations."

Albus sighed, but was at least hopeful that the rift of distrust between him and Harry would lessen now. "So, we have managed to destroy four horcruxes now."

"And three more to go. Two, if Voldemort was aware of the one in my head, but I find that unlikely." Harry continued.

"Huflepuff's Cup, Ravenclaw's Diadem and Gryffindor's Sword presumably." Albus mused. "And I have no more leads to follow."

"Lucius Malfoy was entrusted with the Diary and my interrogations are all pointing fingers at Bellatrix as being the most likely to be trusted with another."

Albus's expression faltered slightly at the mention of Harry's prisoners. "Harry, would it not be better to release those men into Amelia Bones' custody? They should be tried and-"

"No." Harry interrupted. "If Voldemort is going to make me fight a war with him, then the least that I'm getting out of it is test subjects for my research."

"Test subjects?" Albus repeated, horrified. "Harry, these are human beings!"

"So? The pork chops you're so fond of eating used to be living pigs."

Albus blinked in surprise at Harry's knowledge of his dietary preferences. "There is a great difference between a pig and a human."

"According to humans." Harry countered, smirking sarcastically. "I'm sure the pigs would disagree."

"Very well, I still stop eating meat if you stop killing people." Albus tried to bargain.

Harry burst out laughing. "Bwahahahaha. Nice try, but no. I still eat meat, not particularly often but I do, so your offer to become vegetarian is a superfluous."

"Then why bring it up?"

"To make a point. You would defend the lives of the worst of humanity while being the indirect cause for the death of who knows how many innocent creatures."

"If you are so concerned with life, then why do you treat it so callously?"

"Who said I'm concerned with it? As for treating it callously… the goal of all life is death, I'm just refusing to give humanity special status."

Albus disagreed, but decided not to pursue the tangent. "You could use your great resources and power to work towards the betterment of the world, rather than adding to its pain."

"I am removing the causes of pain. Is that not bettering the world?"

"You are inflicting pain on those no longer capable of doing harm to others. That does not better the world."

"Hmm." Harry hummed thoughtfully. "Point to you, but I have to admit that I'm not really interested in bettering the world. What I am interested in is expanding my knowledge and having test subjects helps me do that."

"Have you no pity in your heart?"

Harry only chuckled in response to that. "What use would that be? They would have been executed or imprisoned for the rest of their lives with only dementors for company anyway."

"That is no reason to rob them of their dignity."

"And I see no reason to allow them to keep their dignity, they didn't allow their victims any and they certainly won't be needing it anymore."

Albus thought he had finally come to the root of Harry's cruelty. "The path of revenge is a dangerous one, Harry. The horrors done to the unfortunate women we found at Malfoy Manor will not be undone by inflicting other horrors on their tormentors."

"This isn't about revenge, I'm just being practical. Imprisonment and execution are both wasteful. Why shouldn't I make use of them now that their lives are effectively over anyway? And while the damage done to them can't be undone, quite a few of the women were positively gleeful to hear what was in store for the people that raped and tortured them. It was the first time they'd smiled since their rescue."

Albus sighed in defeat, seeing that he was not going to get through to Harry. The way that the younger wizard spoke about the captured prisoners, as if they were not even people, disturbed him greatly. He decided to change the subject.

"How are they doing?"

"As well as can be expected. twelve were snatched off the street and have been returned to their families with their memories wiped. Five had their families murdered when they were taken, two of which decided on a memory wipe and a return to their lives anyway. All fourteen of the ones that chose a memory wipe have had a sizable chunk of money deposited in their bank accounts at Dora's insistence. Four of the fourteen were pregnant and needed abortions. All of them will probably have a subconscious fear of men for the rest of their lives due to lack of psychiatric help, which they were offered but refused in favor of simply forgetting about it all."

"What about the other three?" Albus asked sorrowfully.

"They said that they had nothing to go back to and asked to stay on Spellhaven. Two of them were also pregnant and refused to abort their rapespawn for whatever idiotic reason."

"Children are a gift, no matter where they come from." Albus chided.

"Children are sacks of meat filled with piss and shit, just like the rest of us. Don't try to romanticise it."

"You will understand when you have your own."

"Unlikely, but stranger things have happened. Failing that, I'll pretend to understand to keep my women happy."

August 17th. Spellhaven.

Harry was feeling frustrated. Dumbledore might be comfortable leaving Voldemort alone for months or even years at a time and only reacting to his actions, but he was not. He wanted to give the Dark Lord no peace to plan, to recruit, to do anything except die.

Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be an option open to him right now. Neither Etal or his network of avian spies could find any hint of Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

That was why Harry was resorting to a rather less precise means of tracking them down.

"Penny, I need you to start following the news from all over Europe, both magical and mundane."

"What, why?" Penny asked in shock.

"Because Voldemort is surrounding himself with killers, rapists and similar types of people. You can't have that many arseholes in one place without appeasing their urges. Sooner or later, people are going to start disappearing. With a little bit of luck, they'll be dumb enough to take their victims from the rough area of their hideout and I'll be able to track them down. What I need you to do is go over all the news for reports of unsolved murders and disappearances and collate the information into something I can use. I know it's a bit of a longshot but-"

"Harry, I don't have the time to do that." Penny interrupted, gesturing somewhat wildly at the stack of reports on her desk. "I'll probably need my own staff of assistants once this mirror business really takes off, nevermind running errands for you on top of it."

Harry frowned. She had a point.

"I don't suppose you know anyone that I could entrust this to? It's important and I can't risk giving the job to someone that would be tempted to slack off."

"I might…" Penny said hesitantly.

Harry raised a questioning eyebrow.

"There's not really much for a person without magic to do on Spellhaven and I think the lack of activity is starting to get to Melissa, Abigail and Caroline, as well as the fact that they're living on your charity. Given what happened to them, the kind of job you're describing might be, ah… therapeutic."

Ah, the three women rescued from Malfoy Manor that had asked to stay. Yes, that might work. While Harry was personally of the opinion that Abigail and Caroline were stupid for choosing to not abort their pregnancies, he was also aware that it didn't necessarily reflect on their ability to be useful in this matter. Plus, it would be personal for them, so they'd be plenty motivated.

"I like it. Go ahead and offer them the job. I can pay for them to have the required languages crammed into their heads and buy them a nice house with access to all the mundane news outlets anywhere on the Azores Archipelago for the purpose since they want to stay in Spellhaven."

As he left Penny's office, Harry's mind was still stuck on tracking people down and recalled a spell of Blood Magic that might come in handy. The Kinfinder was only powerful enough to find the parents or children of the one whose blood was used as a basis for it, but if he didn't already have the men who'd impregnated Abigail and Caroline locked up in Ravenhead by the time the children were born… well, it was worth remembering.

It was a shame that he couldn't use the aborted fetuses of the other four pregnant women rescued from Malfoy Manor. The fact that they were conceived through rape already made the metaphysical link between parent and child tenuous at best, but abortion was an act of such complete and final rejection that it severed it completely.

August 20th, 2017. Spellhaven.

"You can come in now." The healer said.

Harry took a deep breath and then entered the room with his girls. How ridiculous is it that I feel more comfortable hunting Death Eaters than meeting a baby?

Aurélie was propped up in her bed, looking remarkably fresh for a woman that had just given birth. Then again, magic did allow for quite a bit of cheating in that regard. Healers specialising in child delivery were very good at precision Transfiguration and were able to open up the birth canal in a much smoother and less painful way than the natural one.

It made Harry think of how Dora would give birth. It would probably be over in ten seconds baby would slide right out.

He watched awkwardly as the girls cooed over the newborn veela, feeling entirely out of place and wishing he could flee to Ravenhead.

Alas, his attempts to impersonate furniture were for naught and he was eventually noticed.

"Would you like to hold her, Harry?" Aurélie asked.

"Sure." As if I could say no without putting myself in the doghouse with Fleur and Dora, though Luna would understand.

The newborn was deposited into his arms and immediately quieted, looking at him with big, sky-blue eyes. There was already a little silver fuzz on her head.

"She likes you." Luna beamed.

Of course she likes me, I'm the strongest source of magic in the room. Harry knew better than to voice the cynical thought in a room full of sentimental females, but it was the truth. Veela were drawn to powerful magic even before puberty activated their more carnal instincts.

"Must be the scars." He quipped instead.

"Definitely your best feature." Dora said sarcastically before turning to the abed veela with a question. "Did you decide on a name yet?"

"I was thinking Arielle." Aurélie answered the metamorphmagus, but looked towards him expectantly.

She's waiting to see if I have any objections. Harry glimpsed in her thoughts. More than that, she's subtly offering me a place - maybe not necessarily as a parent, but as something - by giving me a say in the baby's name. He could either give an opinion to accept or show disinterest to refuse and Aurélie would no doubt react accordingly. She already had three daughters who had nothing to do with their fathers after all, a fourth would be no trouble.

He looked back down at the baby in his arms, who had not stopped flailing her arms, cooing and grinning toothlessly ever since being deposited there.

Such a weak little thing. A frail body, a simple mind, a soul with almost no depth and the barest spark of magic.

Harry assumed that babies made some kind of sense to others, because he was personally mystified by them. Why did people have kids? They were loud, needy, selfish and they shat themselves whenever and wherever the urge struck them. What was the appeal? He didn't understand, procreation just seemed like such a base animal instinct designed to perpetuate one's species and bloodline, neither of which Harry cared about.

In the case of this particular baby, he was not only mystified, but also a touch intimidated, because he was going to have to interact with it. It was very considerate of Aurélie to try giving him an out and he appreciated it, but he also knew that it was a gesture made in vain.

Fleur was determined to be part of her new aunt's life. More importantly, she was determined to make him part of her life.

Luna was simply excited and had already classified the tiny veela as family, regardless of all else. Buddha, Zeus, Odin, the God -Emperor of Mankind and Optimus Prime could descend from the sky to tell her otherwise and she would cheerfully tell them that they were wrong. Knowing Luna, she'd probably win that argument too.

Dora had been initially exasperated by the fact that he'd knocked up Fleur's grandmother, but over the past nine months, that had slowly shifted into interest in the baby. Harry had the disturbing suspicion that she was planning to use the opportunity as practice.

So really, there was no option available but to push forward through the uncharted lands far beyond the comfort zone.

I guess I might as well do the same thing as Dora and treat this as practice. Harry thought in resignation. He knew that his girls would want children one day and he had no real reason to refuse them aside from not personally seeing the appeal.

"Sticking with the same theme you used with you other daughters?" He asked with a smile. "It's a good name."

Aurélie gave him a dazzling smile in return and Harry suddenly felt inappropriately aroused.

The newly named Arielle started fussing at that point and Harry could sense hunger and a desire to return to her mother. He also wondered if his sudden spike of arousal had triggered her feeding instinct. Something to test out in the future.

Feeling curious, he caressed the tiny aura with a feeling of soon . Arielle immediately stilled and started grinning at him toothlessly, radiating anticipation with none of the restraint that even young children learned.

Oddly enough, that made Harry feel better about the situation. He still didn't see much point in procreation and babies still didn't seem like something worth getting excited about, but at least this particular baby wasn't so intimidating anymore now that he could understand what she wanted.

September 2nd, 2017. Spellhaven.

Ever since finding the mysterious plant pod in the forest, all four of them checked up on it frequently, some more frequently than others.

It had grown considerably over the past two months. When Harry had first seen it, it had been barely larger than a basketball, now it was slightly more than four feet in diameter. The magic in it had also been growing stronger, yet also oddly more diffuse.

Not that you needed to be especially attuned to notice that last bit. The trees around the pod grew tall and strong, magical flowers and weeds were much more common here than in other parts of the island and various fairies were frequently sighted despite their generally shy behavior.

The only thing that puzzled Harry was the lack of any kind of sexual overtone to it all. He had quite deliberately set up the fertility rituals they'd been performing in such a way that the sexual nature of them would leak through.

That could mean one of two things. First, that kind of thing either didn't work on plants or trees purged the overtones, which was the same thing in the end. Second, it was something to do with the pod.

He hoped to have his answer today. There had been a rising sense of imminence about the pod lately and it seemed to be approaching resolution.

He wasn't the only one that was eager for the thing to 'hatch'. Luna had been coming by every day to stare at their 'plant baby', clearly not wanting to miss anything. She had a habit of singing to it as well. Fleur and Dora were less obvious about it, but they were also intrigued, Dora especially thanks to the minor penchant for Herbology that she got from her mother.

Seeing as they visited this place so often, they had turned these outings into picnics. That way they could enjoy themselves while keeping watch over the pod. Even with that though, they had stayed far longer today than they would have normally, but all of them sensed that they shouldn't go yet, that something was about to happen.

I was well into the third hour of their vigil for the day when there was a shift in the pod's magic and its walls began to shiver.

"It's happening!" Luna squealed excitedly, clambering forward so that she was sitting on her knees while staring at the pod with uncommon focus.

The rest of them quickly got on their feet. While none of them expected this to be dangerous, there was little sense in taking chances.

The pod slowly opened in much the same manner as a flower would, eventually revealing a humanoid figure curled into fetal position.

It was definitely female and very… green. The skin was a pale green that nobody could mistake for any human coloration. This was emphasised by the brownish patterns that decorated it, looking almost like tree bark, if less ragged.

The hair was also green, but much brighter, more like the color of the healthiest spring grass. In fact, it even looked like grass rather than hair.

"It's a dryad." Luna said in quiet awe, not moving her stare from the still motionless being. She did get up though.

"But there hasn't been a sighting in over a hundred and fifty years." Dora protested, equally quietly.

That was true. Another exclusively female species, if a species they could be called, dryads were caretakers and some said even personifications of their forest's spirit. It was extremely rare for any human to see them these days.

Not to say that dryads were extinct. It was commonly accepted that the Forbidden Forest boasted having a dryad and there were rumors of another in the depts of Germany's Black Forest and more in other locations, but nobody had seen any of them one in a long time. They tended to shy away from humans these days.

"I think Luna's right." Harry weighed in softly. "A lot of families used to perform fertility rituals and I guess at least some of them must have spawned dryads. It would even explain why they always look like women - that kind of magic leans heavily towards the female. Their numbers must have been dwindling ever since the old ways were abandoned."

"Aren't dryads immortal?" Fleur asked, puzzled.

The newborn dryad seemed to come awake before Harry could reply and slowly got to her feet.

"Oh my." Fleur breathed out in surprise, taking in the sight of her properly now that she was standing.

Harry had to agree with the sentiment. If the dryad was shorter than 7'5", he would eat his boots. The top of his head didn't quite reach her shoulders.

Her figure was also very full and curvy, with wide hips and large, firm breasts. Breasts whose areolas he noted appeared to be imitating flowers and whose rather attention-grabbing yellow nipples were slowly oozing a thick amber nectar. Harry was reminded of daisies.

The face was beautiful,feminine and the bark-like 'skin' patterns gave an impression of kindness, but the minute expressions that flitted over it didn't look quite right, as if the underlying musculature was a bit too stiff. The nose was just a bit too sharp, looking almost pointy and she didn't seem to be breathing. The lips could almost pass for human if not for their leafy green color, but they also had a rather leafy texture. The ears were the biggest departure from humanity, looking more like large wooden growths on the side of her head rather than functioning auditory organs.

The eyes were definitely functional however, being pools of softly glowing emerald light with no iris, pupils or sclera.

"She's beautiful." Luna said softly and scampered forward eagerly. "Hello, I'm Luna."

The dryad stared at the petite witch that didn't even reach her breasts. She didn't say a word but the forest around them whispered with a feeling of curiousity.

"Did you guys 'hear' that?" Dora asked quietly.

Harry and Fleur gave nods of confirmation, all three of them looking around warily. They suddenly felt surrounded.

The dryad looked directly at them and the forest whispered of calm-safety-no threat .

"She carries the soul of the entire forest." Harry said with interest, looking around and extending his senses as far as he could. "Fascinating. Though that would mean that wildfires or extensive deforestation would kill dryads as surely as destroying their avatar. No wonder they started avoiding humans."

"We have to protect her." Luna declared, giving the plant woman a firm hug.

The forest momentarily whispered of gratitude-happiness-care of parent and then the dryad awkwardly returned the hug.

"I am sensing this right?" Dora asked, squinting at the mismatched pair that was the tiny Luna and the huge dryad. "She thinks of us as her parents?"

"I suppose we did create her." Fleur said.

"And Luna has been insisting that she's out plant baby from the start." Harry added wryly.

The hug went on for a long few seconds before the dryad bent a little lower, presenting one of her leaking yellow nipples to Luna. A tremor of drink went through the forest.

"Luna." Harry warned. "I think you might want to step away now."

"Why?" Luna asked, puzzled. "She doesn't mean us any harm."

That was true. Harry had by now deduced that the dryad wasn't hearing their words so much as understanding the meanings behind them and was answering by projecting meaning from the forest that she was bound to. This form of communication precluded deception, but still, ingesting an unknown substance was generally a bad idea.

The dryad sensed their wariness again and gave them a look that could only be called earnest. The forest murmured assurances of good intent.

Luna naturally took it at face value and licked the nipple.

"Oooh, that's tasty." She shivered, flushing and licking her lips.

"Luna…" Dora groaned in exasperation, stepping forward to get the little witch away from the towering plant woman.

Harry also stepped forward and reached out to squeeze one of the pale green breasts. They were far too firm to be made of flesh and fat, but the amber nectar squirted over his hand as if he'd done it to a pregnant woman. The dryad helpfully gave him access, the forest suffused with anticipation.

Harry carefully sniffed at the sticky stuff. It smelled almost sickly sweet and registered as highly magical to his senses. Seeing as it hadn't done Luna any obvious harm, he tentatively poked the tip of his tongue at it and rolled it around his mouth for a bit.

Almost immediately, his mouth filled with saliva, his blood started rushing south and his muscles hummed with restless energy.

"Fleur, you know that fertility ritual we performed together?" Harry said thoughtfully, staring at the now eager looking dryad.

"How could I forget?" She replied with a grimace. "It was horrible."

"Be that as it may, I think it did actually achieve something."

"Wait….are you telling me that this dryad is part veela?" Dora asked incredulously, still holding on to a squirming Luna.

"Not exactly, but she's definitely no ordinary dryad." Harry answered, deliberately sucking the rest of the nectar off his hand. His face was flushed with arousal now and his groin throbbed with need. "This nectar of hers is a magical aphrodisiac, almost like a liquid form of the Allure mixed with a mild Invigoration Draught. I'm not sensing any compulsion in it, unless you count an extreme desire to fuck something immediately as a compulsion. I'd also bet my pinky toes that she can absorb magic through sexual discharge just like a veela."

"We should feed her then." Luna suggested.

The dryad was also clearly in favor, given the way that the forest near-shivered with agreement-anticipation-hunger .

"I was just thinking the same thing." Harry said, staring slightly hypnotized as more streams of the dryad's amber nectar oozed from between her legs. Her green lips made a facsimile of a smile, revealing a mouth as toothless as that of a newborn baby and a tongue that kind of resembled the leaf of an aloe vera plant….if said plant leaves were smoother and slimier. There was a tentacle hentai joke somewhere in there, but Harry was too horny right now to think of it.

"It could be interesting." Fleur said and scooped up some of the nectar for herself. "Mm, this is really good. You need to try this, Nymmie."

Tonks took a good look at the scene in front of her and rolled her eyes in exasperation. Fleur had already started sucking on the yellow nipple and there was stream of arousal trickling down her leg. Luna had taken advantage of her small size to kneel in front of the dryad and lick up the nectar streaming down her thighs. Harry was just watching with a small grin and stroking himself, having already divested himself of clothing.

What a bunch of weirdoes and pervs she'd fallen in with.

"I can't believe the things you three get me into." Dora sighed and stepped forward to wrap her lips around the sole available nipple.

Fleur had been right. It really was good.

Later.

Harry groaned with satisfaction as he came into the dryad's tight arse analogue, which was really more like a second vagina analogue since she didn't need a way to dispose waste. It even self-lubricated with more of that aphrodisiac nectar.

He briefly contemplated having another go before shaking his head and deciding to take a break, going to sit on the picnic blanket they'd brought with them.

Luna was also taking a break and immediately nestled herself in his lap.

Fleur and Dora were still busy 'feeding' the dryad, though who was feeding who was debatable. Dora was pinned under the massive plant woman in futa form, being ridden into the ground with a nipple in her mouth keeping her permanently ready for more. Harry had been in her position a while ago and knew that they'd probably keep at it until Dora's hips became too bruised to continue. Harry was glad for his rune-enhanced healing ability or he'd still be black and blue around the waist.

As for Fleur….she had previously been milking the other tit and sucking down the Allure-laden nectar like it was ambrosia while diddling herself, but had now switched to slurping his jizz out of the dryad's pseudo-arse….while diddling herself. Heh, veela, so gloriously nasty.

This had been an interesting experience. The dryad didn't seem to experience pleasure or orgasm, at least not in any way that he could perceive, but the sense of magic around her and the forest itself had thickened noticeably since they'd started boinking her.

"What should we call her?" Luna asked out of the blue.

"You want to name her?" Harry asked back, bemused. He didn't think that the lusty dryad really needed or cared for names.

"Of course." Luna replied as if it was obvious. "I'm not going to let our plant baby go through life nameless."

"Alright." Harry conceded, amused. "Feel free to name her then."

Luna spent a few minutes deep in thought, staring at the still fornicating dryad, veela and metamorphmagus.

"Marae, her name will be Marae." She declared.

"Where'd you get that name?"

"It just came to me and it feels appropriate."

"Alright then, Marae it is." Harry agreed and slipped his hand between her legs. "Now I think that you've had enough of a break."

"Doggystyle please." Luna requested politely and went on all fours." I want to watch."

"Good." Harry grunted as he sheathed himself inside her." Because so do I."

Even later .

Harry groaned as Marae offered him her nipple again.

"Sorry, girl, but we're done." He said apologetically. "The spirit is willing, but the flesh is spongy and bruised."

Marae briefly pouted, the forest around them echoing her disappointment, but she quickly shrugged it off, got back on her feet and skipped merrily after a passing fairy, absurdly light on her feet for something that must have weighed a hundred and fifty kilograms or more.

"Is she gone?" Dora asked tiredly.

"Yeah, she's gone."

"Thank Merlin." The metamorphmagus sighed in relief. "One more orgasm and my cunt might have gone on strike."

"Like your penis?" Luna asked sleepily.

"Yes, like my penis." Dora was too tired to even be snarky about it.

Fleur let out a delicate snore. Harry was reminded of a bear that had gorged on honey for hours, fucked its mate and then decided to sleep it off, albeit less hairy.

The next morning.

"Cissy, I need you to spread some news around town." Harry began.

"What kind of news?" The blonde witch asked dutifully.

"There's a horny dryad in the forest now. Her name is Marae and anyone can go visit her if they want to take a tumble in the dirt, but she is not to be harmed under any circumstances. Make it clear that I will not be happy with anyone that tries it."

"How did you get a dryad on the island?" Narcissa asked incredulously.

"The girls and I made her." Harry answered blithely.

"Right…." Narcissa had no idea what to think about this, so she just pushed forward. "What about the werewolves and the sphinxes? The former run through the forest when they're transformed and the latter seem to wander the island at a whim."

"I'll talk to the werewolves myself and I'm sure Luna will want to tackle the sphinxes."

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming." Harry said to the room full of werewolves, about forty in all hailing from all over Europe. Most of them were scarred and looked perpetually tired, a clear sign of struggle against the beast within. He was intending to see what he could do about that eventually, but they were still too uneasy with the new territory for any kind of social experimentation at the moment.

There was a return murmur of greeting, but none of them really raised their voice.

"Well, I'll get right to the point. The forest has acquired a new resident that you'll need to be aware of during your monthly furry party. She's a dryad and may or may not show herself to you while you're running about in werewolf form. If she does show herself to you, there is a high probability that she will attempt to entice you into mating with her. Feel free to do so if you want, I would encourage it even."

"You want us to mate with the dryad while we're transformed?" One of them asked incredulously.

"Or when you aren't." Harry nodded. "Nothing is stopping you from seeking her out while every other day of the month after all. The reason for this is that she draws strength from sex and will in turn make the forest stronger. And don't worry about her not being in the mood, if that happens then you simply won't find her. However, under no circumstances are you to do her any harm. That would….displease me."

The gathered werewolves momentarily tensed and hunched down slightly, much like a subordinate wolf would when faced with the pack alpha's warning growl, but it passed quickly as their humanity overrode the beast within.

While Harry was talking to the werewolves, Luna had gone to talk to the sphinxes.

After careful consideration, Harry had brought two dozen of them to Spellhaven, three males and twenty-one females. They separated into three distinct 'prides' and claimed territories around the village. The territories actually encircled the entire village, which made people nervous as they saw the sphinxes prowling through them, but the fact that they clearly obeyed Harry kept things calm for the most part. Few were brave enough to actually go near the spots where they made their dens though.

Luna was one of these people. She liked the sphinxes, they were interesting to talk to and didn't really understand why the people of Spellhaven were so scared of them. Just because they were highly magic resistant and strong enough to knock a man's head off in one blow didn't mean they would. They were here to protect the island, not hurt the people living on it. Oh well, they were still fairly new. She was sure that people would get used to them soon enough.

"Greetings, Spellweaver." The sphinx that spoke for the particular pride that she was visiting right now said.

"Hello, Kitty." Luna said back cheerfully. If they were going to give her nicknames, then so was she.

"Our battle of wits was not to be until the next day. Did you wish to have it today, or are you here for another reason?" The sphinx dubbed Kitty asked with a smile.

Luna frequently challenged the sphinxes to contests of riddles. It was lots of fun.

"Another reason." She answered. "There's a dryad in the living in the forest now. Her name is Marae and she likes to have sex. Harry says that you can boink her if you want, but he's very protective of her, so make sure you don't play too rough."

Kitty nodded in understanding. "I will let the others know. The males may be interested at least."

"Great!" Luna beamed and gave the big human/lion hybrid a hug. "I'll be back tomorrow with more riddles."

"I look forward to it." Kitty said, smiling to herself as the small witch skipped away.

With timing that was almost too convenient for words, the end of the summer holidays and the beginning of the school year also marked the start of a holding pattern in the conflict between Harry, Voldemort and the various players who had stakes in it.

Dumbledore barely gave it any thought as he let himself be carried by the tide of events into another school year. To him, it was practically expected that nothing would happen for at least a few months after September rolled around.

Harry and Voldemort were both far less sanguine about the matter.

Harry wanted to capitalize on his initiative. He wanted to raid more safehouses, take more prisoners, find more horcruxes, anything except wait and allow his enemy time to recover. With no information though, that was what he was forced to do.

Voldemort too, was unhappy. He had been forced to hide in Russia's vast territories out of fear of what a boy of seventeen would do if he found him. He wanted to return to Britain as a conqueror, prove his power, sow terror and discord and once again show why he was to be feared. But with his support base largely killed, weak from a decade and a half of imprisonment or enduring Potter's hospitality, he was also forced to simmer.

With nothing else to do, he focused heavily on recruitment. The giants were nearly extinct, but they were always easily seduced with the promise of revenge against wizards and a good fight. Fenrir Greyback may have vanished, something that Voldemort correctly guessed was yet again the doing of his nemesis, but there were still werewolves of like mind out there. The dementors would surely flock back to his banner, but at the moment it would be foolish to go to Britain and treat with them.

Above all though, he needed more witches and wizards. In this, his followers proved to be unusually competent and his ranks steadily began to swell.

Unknown to Voldemort, the unexpectedly successful recruitment campaign had little to do with the competence of his minions. In truth, it was a vampire's machinations that were to thank for that.

Bjomolf had been around for far longer than the current magical society and had kept a careful eye on the situation as it developed over the course of centuries. In this time, he had amassed a vast hoard of information on just about everyone. Most of this information went unused, but now he used it to carefully pull strings and funnel support towards Voldemort.

Wizards and witches of shaky moral fiber that were easily seduced by promises of power, gold and glory found themselves encountering Death Eater recruiters, unfriendly eyes were directed elsewhere and reports of any indiscretions committed by antsy Death Eaters were smothered so as to not catch Harry Potter's attention.

On the other end of the spectrum, Harry was considerably more busy than his destined foe.

The governance of Spellhaven settled down once it was no longer so very new, but that was often his least demanding duty. Narcissa could be trusted to handle most of it without his input and the blonde witch rather enjoyed the power and prestige this afforded her.

Harry also kept an eye on several other developments around his island.

Much as he had expected, Marae happily rutted with anyone and everyone that she could. Men, women, werewolves, sphinxes, she would fuck them all. Barely a day went by where she wasn't boffing someone. Consequently, the forest exploded with growth, driven by the power the dryad absorbed from these couplings. Within a month, the vegetation was so thick in the deeper parts of it that one would be forgiven for thinking that they had somehow wandered into the Amazon rainforest. Many species of magical plants also began to thrive in this environment and caused Spellhaven to become a place of interest for the more adventurous herbologists of the world.

Interestingly enough, Marae also seemed inclined to take suggestions on where to direct growth. If left to her own devices, she would make things grow indiscriminately, but Harry had told her to keep the growth lighter around the village and she did so without complaint, the forest whispering of a child following the orders of a beloved parent.

On an amusing side note, Marae's nectar also became a rather highly sought-after commodity.

Harry had asked her to milk herself and she did so, happily filling up the containers he provided. Some experimentation revealed that it functioned as a rather effective aphrodisiac, cure for impotence and bizarrely enough, a remedy for the common cold.

While this had its uses for various fun activities on Spellhaven(the veela were especially happy to have it), Harry's mind turned to how it could be used to make a profit. Upon discovering the sadly underwhelming demand for such things in most of the magical world, he eventually began selling it for extortionist prices in the mundane black market, much to the consternation of authorities and criminals alike, neither of which could chemically analyse what made the stuff effective, nor catch the mystery supplier that was, in a very literal way, supernaturally good at avoiding attention.

Another thing that he looked in on from time to time was the veela. Harry got suspicious as Aurélie continued to bring more of them over to the château. None of them were quite as pleasant as the three masseuses, but they all had some skill or other to show off and it always ended with great sex where they were all too submissive to be for real.

The pattern took months to really become obvious, it actually started with that massage parlor that he had been so pleasantly bribed into sponsoring. Barely a day passed since its opening before it became known as a place of, heh, 'happy endings'. This was generally far better received by the men of the island than the women and caused no small amount of jealousy among the non-veela females. It eventually settled into a sort of grumbling acceptance when it became clear that he wasn't going to tell the veela to tone it down.

That implicit support made the veela bolder. Over time they stopped mimicking human courtship rituals and simply started inviting people over for sex, sometimes even couples or entire groups. After a few months it was no longer unusual for find a whole flock of veela prowling Spellhaven in search of people to fuck and it was rare for a day to pass by that they didn't have an open-ended orgy going on at their commune. They even had a massive room set aside specifically for orgies.

The fiction of marriage had long since been dispensed with at that point, with 'husbands' becoming something of a shared commodity, not that they really complained. there was some grumbling from the human population about how this kind of behavior cheapened the bonds of marriage as a whole, but it was, somewhat forcefully, pointed out to them that what other people did with their lives was none of their concern.

Harry had even managed to disperse the tension between himself and Fleur's family…..by fucking her mother. Veela were weird like that, but he wasn't complaining. It certainly beat talking.

Harry and the girls frequently participated in the veela's shenanigans, but they never Joined with any of them, reserving that privilege only for those they were in a true relationship with. Even Fleur no longer Joined with her fellow veela now that she could control it. Oddly enough, although it had been a source of tension between him and Fleur's family at first, with Fleur being a clearly equal and valued part of the foursome rather than a subjected concubine or something of the like, the veela seemed to think it sort of romantic. Their immunity to the veela brand of sexual manipulation also reinforced their position and kept the silver-haired temptresses from cooking up any schemes of becoming the power behind the throne, so to speak.

When Harry finally noticed the steadily changing pattern of behavior in the veela and called Aurélie over for a talk, they had largely cast off the trappings of humanity and he quickly deduced that the elder veela had been bringing girls over as a sort of benefits package. The two of them talked it over and Harry agreed to let them do as they pleased, but only as long as the veela didn't go back to their old ways of keeping addled harems for each of them.

Aurélie had no problem with that condition, as their own culture had evolved since those days. They were much happier living together in a commune and encouraging their human lovers to form families with other humans. That would keep both their populations sustained with the only downside being any potential jealousy from women - or the occasional man - unwilling to join in on the fun. That issue would simply have to be dealt with on a case by case basis.

The pact was sealed with a good fucking, as dictated by veela custom. Harry strongly suspected that Aurélie had made that one up on the spot.

And on the topic of Aurélie was also the daughter he'd given her.

Harry would be lying if he said that he was comfortable around little Arielle, but he did manage to painfully and awkwardly get used to her. Sort of. He no longer had to employ Occlumency to keep from fidgeting when he needed to interact with the baby veela at least. He would never be capable of acting like a father to her, but he might manage to pull off a brooding uncle that was nicer than he acted.

Fleur, Luna and Dora were clearly and obviously using the situation to torment him, the evil bitches. That it had the side benefit of desensitizing him to the worst effects of babies before they eventually demanded their own was purely incidental.

The business side of things was less confusing to Harry.

Bryanna and Tiana's clothing business had been moved to Spellhaven for their safety and continued to do well enough, but the market outside of Britain was a good deal more competitive so penetration there went slowly, if steadily. The twins' joke shop remained in Britain but his money allowed them to open a new branch on Spellhaven, and another in France.

But the greater bulk of his business was in the communication mirror venture and the related one of television mirrors. The former had already gathered quite a bit of momentum by the time the second was put forward and the success was more than even Harry had expected.

Fleur and Luna pitched in here just as they said they would, allowing the sudden avalanche of interest to be handled with something resembling order. They retained executive positions once things settled down, with Harry being all too happy that he was able to delegate to someone both trustworthy and competent.

With the mundane world as an example, it was easy to exploit the virgin market for all it was worth. News, sports broadcasts, livestreaming of band performances…..there was no shortage of opportunity and everyone that had any inkling of how big this would get wanted in at the ground level. It got even better when Septima and her people deconstructed and repurposed the recording crystals used in omniculars so that proper movies could be made instead of just streaming theater performances. Harry had no idea why nobody had done that before, but he wasn't going to look this particular gift horse in the mouth.

Since there was really no such thing as a magical movie actor at that point, those crystals only got used to record mundane TV shows or movies for the moment, which were then shown on a schedule. This upset more traditionalist magicals, but Harry paid them little mind.

With no pesky laws preventing a single person from having a monopoly over the budding industry, the Houses of Potter and Black rapidly became the richest magical families in the world, which also inevitably gave them a great deal of influence. Anyone that wanted to use Potter telemirrors would have to pay him a fee for the privilege. The fact that he was also profiting from looting quite a few of the old family manors in Britain due to his agreement with Fudge certainly helped with this. He couldn't get at their Gringotts vaults, but there was plenty of money in property as well.

This kind of overwhelming success had a few unexpected knock-on effects.

The first was that production lagged behind demand by a considerable margin. The people he had employed to actually make the enchanted mirrors simply could not keep up. This created a sudden large demand for skilled enchanters and arithmancers, especially ones that were familiar with the mundane world.

The second was that news outlets such as the Daily Prophet suddenly felt threatened by the arrival of this new type of media. That was a minor thing as they couldn't really cite any laws that he was breaking, nor were such businesses anywhere near powerful enough to do more than grumble ineffectually.

The third was that the British Wizengamot came to be rather afraid of him as a whole, though there were a few outliers with more spine that refused to be intimidated such as Amelia Bones and Augusta Longbottom. Some saw his ever increasing wealth and began sucking up even more than usual, the rest saw his decimation of the hardline pureblood families and how the ministry backed his profiteering from their downfall and decided to play it safe by simply nodding their heads in agreement whenever he spoke. Harry didn't actually attend Wizengamot meetings often, for which much of it was silently grateful, but when he did he generally got his way.

The fourth and the one that caught Harry the most off guard by far was that Spellhaven ended up becoming something of a midway point between Europe and the Americas.

The magical side of the two continents had a long history of politely hostile relations, egged on in large part by the goblins and their legendary ability to hold grudges. The cantankerous pointy-eared midgets deliberately obstructed any kind of trade between the two by making currency exchange needlessly difficult. It took an especially determined American to jump through the hoops required to get his hands on any galleons. It was somewhat easier the other way around, but still pointlessly difficult.

With Harry not really caring what kind of money he was paid in, Spellhaven became an excellent place to avoid goblin bullshit, aided by the ambiguous legal status of the island. That it sat smack dab in the middle of the Atlantic made people think it was his intention all along.

The thought hadn't even crossed his mind, but he took credit for it anyway. The goblins were furious, but dared not get too shirty with their wealthiest client.

This situation gave Spellhaven a level of influence completely disproportionate to its size and youth and attracted more people than Harry had expected. Some came in the hopes of profiting from the island's unexpected prosperity, others were drawn by the somewhat crazy rumors circulating through the world and then of course were more veela, who came because they were eager to leave behind the charade of humanity they were forced to maintain in lands ruled by fearful and unimaginative bureaucrats.

Luckily they had erred on the side of caution when setting aside land for habitation and still had room to expand, but if it kept up for too long they'd have to see about adding more land to the coastlines. Harry refused to infringe on the forest, which would have been a much easier alternative. Granted, he could ask Marae to actually move the treeline further inland, but the forest unfortunately did not have much in the way of extra space and there was only so much that it could be compressed. It would be a difficult task with relatively small returns.

Once again unknown to everyone, Bjomolf and his fellow master vampires pulled strings in the background to aid Harry's endeavours where they could. They kept their machinations too subtle to really be noticed unless one knew it was happening, but Harry had more success and encountered fewer problems than he might have otherwise.

In the meanwhile, Dora busied herself with other things. She started training up a fighting force to counter Voldemort's Death Eaters, knowing that they wouldn't always be able to rely on the DMLE or Dumbledore to back them up.

In hindsight unsurprisingly, many of the first volunteers were the more combative types among the werewolves and veela.

The former had decided that they liked their new home and wanted to protect it. Their werewolf instinct to follow a powerful alpha also helped push them in this direction. Harry and Dora might not be werewolves themselves, but they fit the archetype of a strong alpha with his mate closely enough that their instincts accepted it.

The motivations of the veela were only slightly less straightforward. They were after greater favor from the lord of their new home in the hopes of advancing Aurélie's plan and of course the sex.

Not all of those that had volunteered for training actually wanted to fight Voldemort and breathed sighs of relief when they learned that it wasn't a condition for receiving training, which many were eager to take part in even if it was only as a 'just in case' measure.

Both Harry and Dora were a bit disappointed by the small number of people actually willing to go on the offensive, but they didn't say anything about it. Instead, they simply drilled those few extra hard to make them as useful as possible. Demanding that people throw themselves into combat against a Dark Lord would only harm their efforts.

The only solid action against Voldemort that Harry was able to take was to use his newly acquired international influence to put out a reward for information that would lead to Death Eaters or Voldemort himself. He didn't want to put out bounties for actually killing Death Eaters, because he still needed information from them.

Still, despite the thousand galleon reward or equivalent amount of money for reliable information, he did not catch any Death Eaters. Plenty of false alarms and dead ends, but nothing solid.

The months trickled past in this manner.

Dumbledore oversaw his school, pondered the future and sucked on lemon drops.

Voldemort gathered followers so that his reign of terror might be properly restarted.

With all his attempts at tracking his foe coming up with nothing, Harry was left with nothing to do but expand his power base and prepare for the inevitable conflict.

When a letter from Adrastia Zabini arrived on one fine April day, asking if she could come visit, Harry knew that things were heating up again