Chapter 43: New Resolve
Amelia shivered slightly as Harry held her close, keeping her upright.
"You alright?" He asked urgently.
"Fine," Amelia said through gritted teeth. "Just a scratch."
It wasn't just a scratch. The claw marks were deep and it must be hurting her like hell. The werewolf affliction was transmitted only through a bite, but a claw scratch was not something to scoff at either. But there was no time to properly address it now. The battle still raged around them, and once they administered healing potions on the wound, they saw that Greyback had recovered from Fleur's flames.
The alpha werewolf stood across the clearing, his body smoking and his eyes blazing with hatred. Half his pack lay dead or dying around him, but he showed no sign of retreat. If anything, the losses seemed to fuel his rage.
"You dare!" Greyback's voice was more growl than speech. "You dare come to my territory! Attack my pack!"
"Your pack?" Harry's voice was cold as winter. "Your pack of rapists and murderers? Your collection of monsters who prey on the innocent?"
"We are apex predators!" Greyback roared. "We take what we want! The weak exist to feed the strong!"
"The weak?" Nym's voice cut through the clearing like a whip. "Molly Weasley wasn't weak. The people you've butchered weren't weak, they were just decent people living their lives. And you're no apex predator, Greyback. You're a rabid dog that needs to be put down."
Greyback's laugh was inhuman. "The pink-haired Auror. I remember you. Always so righteous, so convinced of your moral superiority. But you're no different from us. You came here to kill, same as we do. The only difference is you pretend your violence is justified."
"The difference," Harry said softly, "is that we're ending people who chose to become monsters. You turned Bill Weasley against his will. You've infected dozens of innocent people, condemned them to a life of transformation and bloodlust they never wanted. You killed Remus Lupin, someone who you cursed with this life when he was a child and who spent his entire life fighting against the madness you embrace."
Something flickered in Greyback's eyes. Recognition, perhaps. Or amusement at Harry's words.
"Lupin," he said, rolling the name around in his mouth. "The self-loathing half-breed. I did him a favor, putting him out of his misery. He spent his whole pathetic life denying what he was, trying to be human. I showed him the truth in his final moments. I let him see the beast he'd always feared."
Nym's wand set in motion as she fired every spell a barrage of curses and hexes that lit up the clearing like fireworks. Greyback dodged most of them, his inhuman reflexes serving him well, but several found their mark. His shoulder opened in a spray of blood. His leg buckled as a bone-shattering hex connected. Burns appeared across his chest where Nym's fire spells landed.
But still he stood. His primal instincts did not allow him to flee or accept defeat.
"Is that all?" Greyback taunted even as he bled. His regeneration was already working, steam oozing out of the wounds. "Is that all your righteous fury amounts to? Parlor tricks?"
He was baiting them, Harry realized. Trying to make them sloppy, make them angry enough to make mistakes.
"Nym, fall back," Harry ordered. "Regroup with Amelia."
"But..."
"Now!"
Nym hesitated but she did as ordered. She fell back to where Amelia stood clutching her wounded arm, the two Aurors forming a defensive position.
That left Harry and Fleur facing Greyback alone.
The alpha werewolf grinned, showing far too many teeth. "The boy who lived and his veela bitch. I remember you from that tourney. Wanted to make you my broodmare. The offer still stands. Two half-breeds like us. It should be entertaining."
"Your pack is dead," Harry said calmly, even though he felt rage course through himself at the words. Fleur was no better beside him, but she too kept a firm check on her emotions. "Look around you, Greyback. Every werewolf who followed you is bleeding out on the ground. You're alone."
Greyback did look. Bodies littered the clearing, some still twitching weakly, others utterly still. Fourteen werewolves had been here when the battle started. Now only Greyback remained standing.
"They were weak," he said dismissively. "I'll build a new pack. Stronger. More vicious. And this time I'll start by turning everyone you care about, Potter. I'll bite them one by one and watch you try to stop me."
"You won't get the chance," Fleur said softly.
"Big words from a veela whore," Greyback snarled. "I'll show you what happens to pretty birds who forget their place."
Harry's magic flared in response to the threat. The temperature dropped sharply and frost began creeping across the scorched ground beneath his feet.
"You're not touching anyone ever again," Harry said quietly.
His opening spell was a piercing curse so powerful it tore through the air with an audible shriek. Greyback barely dodged, the spell missing his head by inches and punching a hole clean through the oak tree behind him. The ancient trunk groaned and began to topple.
Greyback used the falling tree as cover, launching himself forward in a burst of inhuman speed. His claws came up, aiming for Harry's throat, but Harry was already moving. A shield erupted between them and Greyback's claws scraped across the magical barrier with a sound like nails on a metal sheet.
Harry's counter was immediate. He transformed the shield into dozens of razor-sharp fragments that shot forward like shrapnel. Greyback howled as the magical shards tore into his flesh, opening wounds across his chest and arms.
But the werewolf kept coming.
He crashed through the dissipating shield, accepting the damage to close the distance. His clawed hand slashed at Harry's face who ducked and his cutting curse opened Greyback's thigh to the bone. The werewolf stumbled but didn't fall, his regeneration already working to close the wound.
"You're fast," Greyback admitted, circling. "Faster than anyone else I've fought. But speed won't save you, boy."
"Neither will your healing," Harry replied.
He proved it with his next spell. The curse struck Greyback center mass and the werewolf's entire body seized. Every muscle locked simultaneously, tendons straining against bone with enough force to fracture. Greyback collapsed, unable even to scream as his own enhanced strength worked against him.
Harry advanced slowly, his wand never wavering.
"That's a nerve-death curse," he explained conversationally. "Turns your nervous system into your enemy. Your brain is sending signals to move, to fight, to heal. But those signals are corrupted, turned into pain instead of function. And the stronger you are, the worse it gets."
Greyback managed to snarl through clenched teeth. His yellow eyes burned with hatred and agony in equal measure.
"The worst part?" Harry continued. "Your healing factor is trying to fix the damage. But there's nothing to fix. The curse keeps rewriting your neural pathways as fast as your body can repair them. It's a feedback loop that'll last until I decide to end it."
He raised his wand and the curse intensified. Greyback's back arched, vertebrae cracking under the strain. Blood vessels burst in his eyes, turning the whites red. Foam flecked his lips as his jaw clenched hard enough to shatter teeth.
From the sidelines, Nym watched with savage satisfaction. Amelia stood beside her, professional enough to understand the tactical value of what Harry was doing but experienced enough to recognize the cruelty inherent in the spell.
"He's torturing him," Amelia said quietly.
"Good," Nym replied without hesitation. "That monster deserves every second of agony. He killed Molly and Remus. Turned Bill. Murdered dozens of innocent people. If Harry wants to make him suffer before he dies, I'll help hold the bastard down."
Amelia didn't respond. She understood Nym's fury, shared it even. But watching someone be systematically destroyed, even someone as monstrous as Greyback, was difficult.
In the clearing, Harry released the curse.
Greyback collapsed like a puppet with cut strings, gasping and shaking. His regeneration kicked in immediately, repairing the damage, knitting torn muscles and shattered bones. Within seconds he was struggling back to his feet, though his movements were uncoordinated and clumsy.
"Still think you're the apex predator?" Harry asked softly.
Greyback's response was a wordless roar of rage. He charged again, abandoning all pretense of strategy or cunning. This was pure animal fury, a wounded beast lashing out at the source of its pain.
Harry met the charge with cold calculation.
His bone-breaking hex shattered both of Greyback's knees mid-stride. The werewolf crashed to the ground, unable to support his own weight. Before he could begin to heal, Harry's follow-up curse targeted the same joints, pulverizing bone into fragments too small for even enhanced regeneration to properly reassemble that quickly.
Greyback screamed.
It was a sound of pure agony, inhuman and terrible. He clawed at the ground, trying desperately to drag himself forward, but his ruined legs wouldn't support him.
"You're done," Harry said simply.
He conjured chains of pure magic, not the silver ones Nym had used earlier, but something darker and more primal. They wrapped around Greyback's arms and torso, pinning him to the scorched earth. The werewolf thrashed against them but the chains only tightened in response to his struggles.
"I could end you quickly," Harry said, standing over the bound werewolf. "One curse and you'd be gone. No pain, no suffering. Just death."
Greyback spat blood. "Do it then, you coward. Finish it."
"But that wouldn't be justice, would it?" Harry continued as if Greyback hadn't spoken. "You've spent decades inflicting pain on innocent people. Turning them into monsters. Destroying families. Reveling in the suffering you caused."
He crouched down, bringing himself to eye level with the trapped werewolf.
"So no. You don't get a quick death. You get to experience what your victims felt. Terror. Helplessness. The knowledge that you're going to die and there's nothing you can do to stop it."
Harry stood and stepped back. He turned to Fleur and remarked, "Want some for yourself?"
The French witch moved forward, her veela magic no longer contained or controlled. It washed across the clearing in a wave of primal power that made even Harry's skin prickle.
Her blue eyes blazed with an inner light and her silver hair whipped around her face despite the lack of wind.
"You 'urt innocent people," Fleur said, her accent thickening as her veela nature took greater control. "You turned innocent people into monsters. You killed innocent people for ze crime of being decent. You did zis all wiz pleasure, wiz satisfaction, wiz pride in your cruelty. And now you zreaten to 'urt more people I care about."
She raised her wand and veela fire began to coalesce around her, silver and gold flames that burned without consuming her.
"I am part veela," Fleur continued. "Do you know what zat means? My kind are guardians and destroyers in equal measure. We protect what is precious and burn away what is corrupt. And you, Fenrir Greyback, are ze most corrupt zing I 'ave ever encountered."
The fire around her intensified, growing brighter and hotter. Greyback's eyes widened with the first real fear he'd shown all night.
"Wait," he gasped. "Wait!"
"I do not want to 'ear your voice," Fleur said coldly. "I want you to burn."
The veela fire erupted from her wand in a torrential wave. It wasn't like normal fire that consumed fuel and spread. This was purifying flame, burning away corruption and evil with divine fury. It wrapped around Greyback's prone form, seeping through Harry's magical chains to touch bare flesh.
Greyback's scream was unlike anything they'd heard before. It transcended pain, became something primal and utterly broken. Worse than all the previous screams, which was saying something.
But Fleur wasn't finished.
She poured more power into the flames, her veela nature fully dominant. The fire burned hotter and brighter, becoming almost too intense to look at directly. Greyback thrashed against his chains with renewed desperation, but the magical bonds held firm.
"For every person you turned," Fleur said, her voice carrying over the roar of flames. "For every innocent you killed. For Molly Weasley. For Remus Lupin. For Bill Weasley. For all ze families you destroyed. Burn."
The clearing lit up like daylight. Trees at the edge smoldered from the ambient heat. The bonfire that had burned at the center was nothing compared to the inferno Fleur had become.
And through it all, Greyback burned.
His enhanced healing meant nothing against veela fire. The flames consumed flesh and muscle, eating down to bone. His screams grew weaker, more desperate, until finally they cut off entirely as the fire reached his lungs.
Only then did Fleur begin to pull back her power.
The flames guttered and died, leaving Greyback collapsed on the ground. He was still alive but barely. His body was a mass of burns, his breathing came in ragged gasps, and his yellow eyes were glazed with agony and shock.
"Enough," Harry said quietly, placing a gentle hand on Fleur's shoulder.
The contact seemed to break through whatever trance held her. Fleur's veela magic slowly receded, the flames around her dissipating until she stood there simply as herself, breathing hard from the exertion.
"Why?" she asked, her voice raw. "Why stop? 'E deserves to burn until nozing remains."
"Because we need what's in his head," Harry replied. "Names, locations, plans. He's been working with the Death Eaters. I need to know everything before he dies."
Understanding dawned in Fleur's eyes. She nodded slowly, her magic finally settling back under control.
Harry approached Greyback calmly. The werewolf's yellow eyes tracked his movement, filled with hatred and pain in equal measure.
"Fuck you," Greyback rasped. "I'll tell you nothing."
"You won't have a choice," Harry replied.
He placed his wand against Greyback's temple. "Legilimens."
Harry assaulted Greyback's mind, but the resultant assault on his own mind was immediate and vicious.
Greyback's consciousness was nothing like a human's. It was fractured and primal, more beast than man. Memories swirled in chaotic patterns, driven by instinct and hunger rather than rational thought. Harry grunted under the pressure but pushed through it all, searching for what he needed.
Flashes of violence. The taste of blood. The feel of flesh tearing beneath claws and jaw. Victims screaming, begging, dying. Greyback had no remorse for any of it. If anything, the memories brought him pleasure even now.
Disgusted, Harry pushed deeper.
There. Meetings with Death Eaters. Faces he recognized. Dolohov, Rowle, the Carrows before he'd killed them. And Bellatrix, always Bellatrix, with her mad eyes and manic laughter.
Plans. Targets. Safe houses. Greyback had been promised territory, his own little kingdom where he could turn and hunt as he pleased, all in exchange for his services to Voldemort.
More memories. The attack on the Burrow, planned days in advance. Bellatrix had selected it specifically, wanting to punish the Weasleys for their blood traitor status. Greyback had volunteered eagerly, seeing it as an opportunity to create more werewolves for his pack.
Remus Lupin fighting desperately, protecting others even as his own life bled away. The satisfaction Greyback had felt closing his jaws around the other werewolf's throat. The way Lupin's eyes had gone wide with understanding in his final moments.
And Bill Weasley, already wounded and helpless. Greyback biting him not to kill but to transform, to create another werewolf who would suffer the curse forever. The sheer intentional cruelty of it.
Harry felt it all, and his rage built with every memory. The werewolf's mind was a cesspool of violence and sadism, every thought tinged with bloodlust and predatory satisfaction.
But there was information too. Names and places. The location of three Death Eater safe houses. Plans for future attacks. And most importantly, Bellatrix's current location, or at least where she'd been three days ago.
Harry pulled more, dragging every useful scrap of information from Greyback's dying mind. The werewolf fought him, trying to hide or obscure his memories, but Harry was stronger. He tore through Greyback's mental defenses like they were made of paper.
But the werewolf's fractured consciousness was taking its toll. Harry could feel his own mind starting to fragment, thoughts becoming more primal and aggressive. His hands clenched into claws. A growl built in his throat. The beast in Greyback's mind was infectious, trying to drag Harry down to its level.
"Harry!" Someone was shaking him. "Harry, you need to come back!"
Hands on his face, warm and gentle. A voice he recognized but couldn't quite place through the red haze filling his vision.
"'Arry, please!" Fleur's voice, thick with concern. "You are losing yourself in zere! Come back to us!"
Harry felt other presences. Amelia on one side, her magic steady and grounding. Nym on the other, her own fractured emotions somehow helping to anchor him. And Fleur in front of him, her veela magic washing over him in waves of love, warmth, and safety.
Slowly, painfully, Harry pulled himself free of Greyback's mind.
He gasped as he broke the connection, stumbling backward. Only Amelia's quick reflexes kept him from falling. She winced in pain but held him steady as Fleur came into view, her blue eyes searching his face with obvious worry.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
Harry took several deep breaths, forcing his mind back into human patterns of thought. The urge to snarl and snap and tear faded slowly, replaced by his normal consciousness.
"I'm fine," he said finally. His voice was rough and strained. "Fucking hell, that was rough."
"That was risky," Amelia chided softly, her eyes filled with concern as she regarded him.
"I know. Got what we needed though."
He looked down at Greyback. The werewolf was barely conscious now, his eyes glazed with pain and confusion. The mental invasion had taken what little strength he had left.
"Did you find anything useful?" Amelia asked.
"Everything," Harry replied. "Safe house locations. Names of collaborators. Future targets. And Bellatrix's last known location."
"Where?" Nym demanded immediately.
"A manor house in Yorkshire," Harry said. "Old pureblood family estate. She's been using it as a base of operations. She was last there three days ago."
"Zen we know our next destination," Fleur said firmly.
"After we rest," Amelia interjected. "You can barely stand, Harry. Whatever you experienced in that thing's mind, it clearly took a toll."
She was right. Harry's legs felt weak and his head was pounding. Diving that deep into a werewolf's fractured consciousness had left him shaken in ways he hadn't anticipated.
"Fine," he agreed. "We rest, regroup, and then we go after Bellatrix."
He looked down at Greyback one final time. The werewolf's yellow eyes were almost lifeless, but he was staring up at him with hatred still burning in them, even now at death's door.
"Any last words?" Harry grunted.
Greyback tried to speak but only managed a wet gurgle. Blood bubbled from his lips. His enhanced healing had finally failed, unable to cope with the accumulated damage.
"Didn't think so," Harry said.
He raised his wand.
The killing curse was almost merciful compared to what Greyback deserved. Green light flashed in the clearing and the werewolf's eyes went blank. His body slumped, finally still.
Silence fell over the Forest of Dean.
Harry stood among the bodies, his wand still raised, and surveyed the carnage they'd created. Fourteen werewolves dead. An entire pack eliminated in less than an hour. It should have felt like a victory.
Instead, Harry just felt tired.
"We should burn them," Amelia said quietly. "Make sure there's no chance of the curse spreading."
"Agreed," Harry said.
Fleur raised her wand and veela fire consumed the clearing. It burned hot and fast, reducing the werewolf corpses to ash within minutes. Even Greyback's body was consumed, every trace of the monster erased from existence.
When the flames finally died, nothing remained but scorched earth and drifting ash.
"One threat eliminated," Harry said softly. "How many more to go?"
"As many as it takes," Nym replied. Her hair had finally returned to its usual pink, though her eyes remained hard. "We keep going until every last Death Eater is dead. Until Voldemort himself is nothing but a bad memory."
"A noble goal," Amelia said. "But we should leave now. The DMLE will want to investigate this, and I'd rather not have to explain what the Minister of Magic was doing participating in an extrajudicial killing."
Harry nodded. They'd accomplished what they came for. Greyback was dead, his pack eliminated, and they had valuable intelligence for future operations.
But this was only the beginning. Greyback had been dangerous, yes, but he was ultimately just a rabid animal. Bellatrix was different. She was cunning, skilled, and absolutely devoted to Voldemort's cause.
Going after her would be another level of difficulty entirely.
"Let's go home," Harry said finally.
They apparated away, leaving behind only ash and the lingering smell of death.
XXXXX
At Grimmauld Place, the training room echoed with the sound of spellfire.
Daphne's cutting curse slashed through the air, missing Susan's head by inches as the redhead dove to the side. Susan's return fire forced Daphne to erect a hasty shield, and both girls were moving again, circling each other with their wands raised.
"Again!" Evelyn called out from the sidelines. "Faster! You're both thinking too much!"
The two girls attacked simultaneously. Spells flew back and forth in a dazzling display of light and color. Daphne's precision against Susan's raw power, both girls pushing themselves to their limits.
Hannah and Astoria dueled on the other side of the room, their movements growing steadily more confident. Tracey watched from the corner, her own wand ready, waiting for her turn to join.
Evelyn observed them all with critical eyes. She'd arrived an hour ago, summoned by her daughters after Harry had left for his mission. Now she stood watching five young witches push themselves harder than she'd ever seen.
"Stop!" she called.
The girls ceased immediately, breathing hard from exertion. Sweat dampened their hair and their robes were disheveled, but their eyes burned with determination.
"Better," Evelyn said. "Much better than when I arrived. But you're still holding back."
"We're not..." Daphne started.
"You are," Evelyn interrupted firmly. "You're treating this like a training exercise. Like there will be a professor to step in if things go too far. But real combat isn't like that. When you face Death Eaters, they won't stop if you fall. They won't show mercy if you make a mistake. They'll kill you without hesitation or remorse."
The room fell silent.
"I know you're angry that Harry left you behind," Evelyn continued. "I know you feel like you should be out there with him, fighting alongside him. But he was right to make you stay."
"Then why are you here?" Susan asked, frustration clear in her voice. "Why are you helping us train if you agree with him?"
"Because I agree with him that you're not ready yet," Evelyn said. "But I also know that one day soon, you will be ready. And when that day comes, you need to be prepared for the reality of what you're choosing."
She moved to the center of the room, her wand held loosely at her side. "War isn't noble or glorious. It's terrifying and chaotic and people die screaming. I've seen it. I've lived through it."
Evelyn's expression was grim. "I was never in the thick of the battle, so I can never claim to be experienced enough to know what that feels like, but I've seen enough to know what it's all like. You're training to survive. To stand beside Harry when he faces impossible odds and hold your ground no matter what comes at you."
"We understand," Daphne said firmly.
"Do you?" Evelyn challenged. "Do you really? Because understanding intellectually and being prepared emotionally are two very different things."
She raised her wand and conjured a patronus. The silver shape took the form of a graceful swan that soared around the room before dissipating.
"That's a patronus," Evelyn said. "No need to cast it. I know you can. And you also know it is one of the most difficult defensive charms in existence. It requires you to hold onto hope and happiness even in the face of despair. Most witches and wizards never master it because they can't maintain that mental state under pressure."
She looked at each girl in turn. "Fighting a war requires the opposite. You need to be able to cast killing curses, to hurt and maim and destroy, all while maintaining enough control that you don't become the monsters you're fighting against. Can you do that? Can you kill someone and still be yourselves afterward?"
The question hung in the air.
"I don't know," Susan admitted quietly. "I've never been tested like that."
"None of us have," Hannah added.
"Which is exactly why Harry made you stay," Evelyn said gently. "He's trying to protect you from having to find out if you can do it. But we both know that's not going to last. Voldemort isn't going to conveniently wait until you're ready. This war is escalating, and eventually you'll all be dragged into it whether you're prepared or not."
"So we train," Astoria said. "We push ourselves until we are ready."
"Yes," Evelyn agreed. "But you also need to be smart about it. Rushing into battle unprepared will only get you killed. Harry's protecting you now because he cares about you. Don't throw that protection away by being reckless."
"We won't," Daphne promised. "But next time, we will be ready. And he won't be able to argue against us coming."
Evelyn studied her daughter for a long moment. She could see the determination there, the absolute conviction that Daphne would do whatever it took to stand beside Harry. It reminded her of herself, and what she too wanted to do right now. She had missed it this time, but not in the future.
"Then let's continue," she said finally.
The girls exchanged glances, something dark and fierce passing between them. Then they raised their wands and the training resumed with renewed intensity.
Evelyn watched them, pride and worry warring in her chest. These young women were preparing to walk into hell itself, all for the love of one boy. She just hoped they'd survive what was coming.
Outside, night had fully fallen. Somewhere in the Forest of Dean, Harry was hunting werewolves. And here at Grimmauld Place, five witches trained to become strong enough to hunt beside him.
XXXXX
The apparition point outside Grimmauld Place shimmered as four figures materialized from thin air.
Harry stumbled slightly as his feet hit solid ground. Fleur steadied him immediately, her hand gentle on his elbow. Behind them, Amelia clutched her wounded arm while Nym supported her.
They moved through the wards and into the townhouse. The moment they crossed the threshold, the sounds of intense spellfire echoed up from the basement. Harry paused, tilting his head to listen.
"They're still training," he murmured.
"Of course zey are," Fleur said. "Did you expect anyzing else?"
She had a point. His girls were nothing if not determined. They'd probably been at it for hours, pushing themselves to exhaustion in their desperation to be ready for the next battle.
"Let them finish," Amelia said. "We need to debrief anyway. And I need to get this wound properly treated before any infection sets in."
They moved to the sitting room where Harry gestured for everyone to sit. Amelia sank into her armchair gratefully, finally allowing herself to show the pain she'd been hiding. The claw marks on her arm had stopped bleeding but looked angry and inflamed.
"Let me see," Harry said, kneeling beside her chair.
Amelia bit her lower lip as she extended her arm reluctantly. Harry examined the wounds, his wand moving as he cast diagnostic charms.
"It's not as deep as it looked initially," he said after a moment. "The infection is barely there."
"Small mercies," Amelia said dryly.
Harry smiled and cast several healing spells in accordance with the diagnostics. The wounds closed slowly, flesh knitting back together under his attention. It wasn't perfect, there would be scars, but it would heal properly.
"There," Harry said finally. "Keep it clean and apply essence of dittany twice a day. You'll be fine."
"You're a healer now?" Nym asked with a smirk.
"Thank you," Amelia said softly. "And thank you for earlier. If you hadn't intervened when you did..."
She didn't need to finish the sentence. They both knew how close she'd come to being torn apart.
"You would have done the same for me," Harry replied simply.
Would she have? Amelia wasn't entirely sure. Her instincts as an Auror, as the Minister of Magic, had always been to maintain distance, to think strategically rather than emotionally. But Harry had thrown himself into danger without hesitation to save her.
She found herself studying him with new eyes. Harry Potter might be an adult, but he was technically still a student. However, there was nothing childish about the way he'd commanded their assault on Greyback's den. There was nothing immature about the cold efficiency with which he'd eliminated threats or the way he'd extracted information from a dying werewolf's mind.
He'd saved her life tonight. He'd put himself at risk to protect her when he could have let the werewolf strike and continued his own fight with Greyback. That kind of selflessness was rare, especially in war.
"What else did you see?" Nym's voice cut through her thoughts. "When you were in Greyback's mind. What else did you find?"
Harry's expression darkened. "He also had information about future targets they're planning to hit."
"What targets?" Amelia asked immediately.
"Diagon Alley, for one," Harry said. "They're planning a major attack during the busy shopping period before the school year starts. But that will only happen if there is a crowd. They want maximum casualties, maximum terror. Probably coordinated with attacks on other populated areas to stretch the Aurors thin."
Amelia's face went pale. "When?"
"He didn't have a specific date," Harry admitted. "But soon, given it's going to happen during the shopping period."
"Diagon Alley is no longer being crowded like before," Amelia said. "But we'd still need to increase security, prepare contingencies in case the attack does happen."
"Better be prepared. Agreed," Harry nodded. "But you can't reveal how you got the intelligence. The official story needs to be that you received an anonymous tip or Nym intercepted some communications."
"Leave that to me," Amelia said firmly. "I'll handle the political aspects. You focus on tracking down Bellatrix."
"About that," Nym interjected. "The manor house in Yorkshire. You said she was there three days ago?"
"As far as Greyback knew, yes," Harry replied.
"Zen we go zere tomorrow," Fleur said.
"No," Harry shook his head. "We don't rush this. Bellatrix isn't like Greyback. She's cunning, paranoid, and extremely skilled. If we charge in unprepared, she'll either harm us or escape. We need to scout the location first, understand the defenses, and plan our approach carefully."
"But every day we wait is another day she could kill someone else," Nym protested.
"And every day we use to prepare properly is another day we increase our chances of actually ending her," Harry countered. "I want Bellatrix dead as much as you do, Nym. But I'm not going to get us killed by being reckless."
Nym looked like she wanted to argue further, but the logic was sound. She slumped back in her chair, frustration evident in every line of her body.
"How long?" she asked finally.
"Two days," Harry said. "We spend tomorrow gathering intelligence and preparing. The day after, we strike."
"And in ze meantime?" Fleur asked.
"In the meantime, we rest," Harry said firmly. "We're all exhausted. I nearly lost myself in Greyback's mind. Amelia's also not 100%. Nym's running on rage and adrenaline. We need to recover before we take on another fight."
As if on cue, the sound of footsteps thundered up from the basement. Moments later, five disheveled witches burst into the sitting room, their wands raised and their eyes wild.
"Harry!" Daphne rushed forward as he got to his feet, her careful composure completely abandoned. She threw her arms around him, holding on tight. "You're back. You're safe."
"I promised I would be," Harry said gently, returning the embrace.
Susan, Hannah, Astoria, and Tracey crowded around, all talking at once. Behind them, Evelyn Greengrass entered more sedately, though her eyes went immediately to Harry and the others, assessing them for injuries.
"What happened?" Susan demanded. "Did you find Greyback? Is he dead?"
"All of them are dead," Nym said flatly. "Greyback's entire pack. We burned the bodies."
A stunned silence fell over the room.
"The entire pack?" Daphne repeated. "How many?"
"Sixteen," Harry said. "Including Greyback himself."
"Merlin," Hannah breathed. "You killed sixteen werewolves?"
"We did what needed to be done," Amelia said firmly. "Those creatures were responsible for dozens of deaths and dozens more transformations. They preyed on innocent people for sport. The world is better off without them."
"No way that's all though, right?" Evelyn asked as she got close, returning Harry's smile with a loving one of her own.
"We'll take care of the rest when we find them," Harry assured her, earning a nod.
"And Bellatrix?" Astoria asked quietly.
"We know where she is," Harry said. "Or where she was recently. We're going after her in two days."
"We?" Daphne's eyes were sharp. "Or just you four again?"
Harry met her gaze steadily. "That depends. Show me what you've been working on down there. Prove to me that you're ready."
The challenge hung in the air. Daphne's jaw set stubbornly, but she nodded.
"Tomorrow," she said. "Tomorrow we'll show you exactly what we can do."
"Then tomorrow it is," Harry agreed.
"You look exhausted," Evelyn observed. "All of you do. Whatever happened out there, it clearly took a toll."
"We're fine," Harry said.
"You're not," Evelyn contradicted gently. "You're running on fumes and adrenaline. All of you need rest, proper food, and time to process what you've experienced."
She was right, Harry knew. His body felt fine after the battle but his mind still felt a bit weird from diving into Greyback's consciousness. Beside him, Fleur swayed slightly with exhaustion. Amelia's face was pale beneath her composure. And Nym looked like she might shatter at any moment.
"Alright," Harry conceded. "We rest. Daphne, can you..."
"Already on it," Daphne said. She was already moving toward the kitchen. "I'll make tea and something light to eat. Then everyone gets actual sleep."
They walked together to the bedrooms. Amelia went to hers to properly clean and treat her wound. Nym disappeared into hers, probably to find somewhere private to break down. They knew she'd need some time alone to process everything. The younger girls retreated to theirs, still processing everything they'd heard.
That left Harry alone with Fleur and Evelyn.
"I heard you saved Amelia's life tonight," Evelyn said quietly.
"A werewolf got past her guard," Harry replied. "I intervened."
"At considerable risk to yourself," Fleur interjected. "You abandoned your fight wiz Greyback to protect her."
Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "I trusted you to handle him for a while, and it was the right thing to do."
"Maybe," Evelyn said. "But it also shows something about your character. You could have let her fall, continued your own battle. It would have been the tactically sound decision. Instead you chose to protect someone under your command."
"She's not under my command," Harry chuckled. "We're partners in this."
"Are you?" Evelyn's smile was knowing. "From what I understand, you planned the assault. You selected the targets. You made all the strategic decisions. That sounds like command to me."
Harry shrugged. She was right in a way. He'd indeed taken charge without even thinking about it, and the others had followed his lead without question.
He knew Nym would follow his lead, and perhaps so would Fleur. But Amelia too? When had that happened? When had he become someone who commanded her rather than cooperated with her?
"It's not surprising," Evelyn said gently, reading his expression. "Leadership is a burden you bear well. And it's also a responsibility you acknowledge very well. These women followed you into battle tonight because they trusted your judgment. Amelia Bones, the Minister of Magic herself, deferred to your strategic decisions. That's not nothing, Harry."
"I just did what needed doing," Harry shrugged.
"That's what leaders always say," Evelyn said admiringly, and Fleur's eyes widened when she saw her hand play sensually with Harry's neck right there. "Right up until they realize they've built something larger than themselves."
She moved toward his bedroom, pausing at the door. She gave Harry a wink. "Don't take long, Harry. I'm sure you want to relax now after all that ordeal."
She opened the door and walked inside, leaving Harry and Fleur standing in the corridor right outside as she shut it behind her.
Chapter 44: Respite and Reckoning
Fleur moved closer to Harry. Her veela magic, previously contained, reached out tentatively to brush against his own power.
"Anozzer one?"
Harry simply shrugged in response. "There are more."
"Hmm… she's Daphne and Astoria's maman?" Fleur looked thoughtful.
"That troubles you?"
"Not really, no," she shook her head after a moment of pause. "I don't zink anyzing will trouble me now after everyzing I've seen around 'ere."
"Don't know what to say to that," Harry chuckled, earning a small smile.
"She is right, you know," Fleur said softly. "You are becoming somezing more zan just a man fighting a war. Ze ozers, zey look to you for guidance. For protection. For... everzing."
"Well, I never asked for that," Harry said calmly.
"No one ever asks for leadership," Fleur replied with a small smile. "It is zrust upon zem by circumstance and necessity. But you 'andle it well, 'Arry. Better zan most would."
She hesitated for a moment before she reached up to cup his face gently. "What 'appened between us earlier. Before we left. We should talk about it."
"Now?" Harry asked.
"Non," Fleur smiled slightly. "Not now. You need to relax and someone seems to 'ave ideas. Very good ideas, if I'm right about zis. We'll talk tomorrow. We need to understand what zis is between us."
"I know what it is," Harry said, smiling. "It's not the first time for me."
"Experience wiz so many women, I believe?" Fleur teased before getting serious. "But I 'ave never felt anyzing like zis before, 'Arry, and it frightens me. It frightens me 'ow quickly it 'appened and 'ow much I want it."
She kissed him softly, pressing her lips gently against his that promised more when they both had the energy to explore it.
"Sleep well, 'Arry," she murmured. "Tomorrow we'll talk. Zen we'll plan. Ze day after, we'll kill more monsters."
She left him alone in the corridor right outside the room as she made her way to hers.
XXXXX
Harry pushed open the door to his bedroom, only to pause right there.
Evelyn stood beside the bed wearing something that made his mouth go dry. The silk robe clinging to her curves was translucent white, tied loosely at her waist and revealing tantalizing glimpses of creamy skin beneath. Her blonde hair hung loose around her shoulders, making her look younger and infinitely more approachable. Her blue eyes held a warmth that sent heat pooling low in his belly.
A professional massage table had been set up near the window, covered with fresh white linens that looked impossibly soft. Various bottles and vials were arranged on a small side table alongside several fluffy towels. The room smelled of lavender and eucalyptus, something soothing that immediately began working on his frayed nerves.
"Evelyn," Harry said slowly. "What is this?"
"You've had a difficult night," she replied, her voice silky. "You fought werewolves, saved lives, and pushed yourself to dangerous limits diving into that monster's mind. I thought you might appreciate some proper relaxation."
She moved closer gracefully. The silk caressed her skin with each step, revealing more of her long legs and the curve of her breasts.
"I believe I'm a good masseuse," Evelyn continued. "A skill I picked up years ago when I wanted to understand pressure points and muscle tension for dueling purposes. Very useful for relieving stress. And you, my love, are carrying far too much of both right now."
Harry merely chuckled at that, taking a step closer.
"The bathroom first," Evelyn said, gesturing to the adjoining door. "You need to wash away all that blood and dirt and forest grime before we proceed. I'll help you get properly clean."
"You don't have to do that," Harry smiled.
"I want to," Evelyn replied simply. She crossed the remaining distance and placed her hand on his chest, right over his thundering heart. Her touch was warm through his shirt. "Let me take care of you, Harry. You've been taking care of everyone else all night. It's time someone returned the favor."
She took his hand and led him into the bathroom. With a casual wave of her wand, water began filling the large tub. Steam rose from its surface as she added something from a small crystal vial, and suddenly the air was thick with eucalyptus and mint.
"Strip," Evelyn said softly, turning to face him fully. "Let me see what we're working with."
Harry pulled off his shirt and Evelyn's eyes traced over his chest and abs with open appreciation.
"Very nice," she said, her voice lower now.
"Like what you see?" Harry teased, his own voice rougher than usual.
"You know I do."
He unbuckled his belt and slid his trousers down, leaving himself in just his boxers. Evelyn's gaze became more heated, lingering on the obvious bulge straining against the fabric.
Smirking, Harry hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers and pushed them down. His cock was already half hard from her attention, and it twitched visibly under her scrutiny. Evelyn bit her lower lip, her eyes darkening.
"As impressive as ever," she murmured. "My daughter chose extremely well."
"As if you didn't," Harry chuckled.
Evelyn smiled as she reached up and untied her robe, letting the silk slide off her shoulders to pool on the floor. Harry's breath caught as he took in her naked body. Evelyn was absolutely stunning. Her breasts were full and firm with dusky rose nipples already peaked with arousal. Her waist curved in before flaring out to generous hips, and her legs were long and perfectly toned. A neatly trimmed patch of blonde lightning bolt crowned her sex, and Harry smirked at the sight. He could see a hint of moisture glistening there.
"In you go," Evelyn said, gesturing to the tub.
Harry climbed in. The hot water immediately began working on his tired muscles, and he sank down with a grateful sigh. The heat penetrated deep, easing tensions he hadn't even realized he was carrying.
Evelyn climbed in behind him, her legs on either side of his hips. Her breasts pressed against his back as she reached for a soft washcloth and a bar of soap that smelled like sandalwood.
"Lean forward," she instructed.
Harry obeyed, and Evelyn began washing his back with slow strokes. Her hands were strong but gentle, working the soap into a rich lather and massaging his muscles as she cleaned. She paid special attention to his shoulders, her fingers digging into the knots there.
"The girls were impressive tonight," she said conversationally as she worked. "They trained for hours without stopping. Daphne and Susan in particular showed remarkable improvement in their spell chains and defensive positioning."
"They're determined," Harry replied, his voice already rougher as her talented hands worked magic on his tense shoulders.
"More than determined. They're driven," Evelyn corrected, her breath warm against his ear. "They know you're fighting a war, and they're desperate to stand beside you. Daphne especially feels like she's failing you by not being ready yet."
"She's not failing anyone," Harry said firmly. "None of them are."
"I know that. You know that. But teenage witches in love rarely listen to reason," Evelyn said with genuine amusement. "They see you risking your life and they want to share that burden. It's actually quite sweet when you think about it."
Her hands moved lower, washing his spine with the same thorough attention. Harry felt his cock harden further as her full breasts pressed more firmly against his back, her nipples hard points against his skin.
"Hannah and Astoria need more work," Evelyn continued, her hands never stopping their careful ministrations. "They're talented but less experienced than the others. Hannah especially tends to overthink her spellwork. She needs to trust her instincts more, let her magic flow naturally."
"I'll work with her," Harry said.
"I know you will. You're good at bringing out the best in people," Evelyn murmured. Her hands moved around to his chest, washing his front slowly. Her fingers traced over his pecs and abs, following the lines of muscle. "It's one of your more attractive qualities. You make people want to be better for you."
Harry's breath hitched as her hands moved lower, washing his stomach. Her touch lingered, teasing without quite going where he desperately wanted.
"Evelyn," he said warningly.
"Hm?" She sounded perfectly innocent even as one slick hand dipped below the water, wrapping around his fully hardened length. "Am I missing something that needs cleaning?"
Harry groaned as she stroked him slowly underwater, her grip firm and confident. Her other hand continued washing his chest, maintaining the pretense of bathing him even as she pleasured him with expert skill.
"This is very dirty," she tsked, her hand moving in long, slow strokes from root to tip. "Definitely needs thorough cleaning."
She worked him, her hand moving in a rhythm that had him hardening to full attention within moments. Her thumb circled the sensitive head, spreading the precum that leaked steadily from his slit.
"So responsive," she breathed against his ear. "I can feel you throbbing in my hand. Does this feel good, Harry?"
"You know it does," Harry grunted, his hips bucking involuntarily into her grip.
"Good," Evelyn purred. Her other hand moved to cup his balls, massaging them gently as she continued stroking his shaft. "Just relax and let me take care of everything."
The dual sensations had Harry's head falling back against her shoulder. She took advantage of his exposed neck, pressing soft kisses along the column of his throat while her hands worked him mercilessly.
"That's it," Evelyn encouraged, her lips brushing his ear. "Don't hold back. I want to feel you respond to my touch. I want to make you feel good."
Harry's hips bucked again, seeking more friction. Her hand was incredible, knowing exactly how to touch him, where to apply pressure, and when to speed up or slow down.
"You're leaking so much," she whispered, her voice thick with arousal. "Your cock is practically weeping for more. Do you want to come already, Harry? Do you want to spill yourself all over my hand?"
"Yes," Harry groaned.
"Then come for me," she teased, her hand speeding up. "Let go and give me what I want."
Her hand moved faster and harder, stroking him harder now. Her other hand squeezed his balls gently, rolling them in her palm, and that combination was all it took. Harry came with a grunt, his cock pulsing in her grip as thick ropes of cum shot into the bathwater. Evelyn kept stroking, milking every last drop from him as he shuddered through an intense release.
"Beautiful," she praised when he finally stilled, his chest heaving. "That was absolutely beautiful."
She released him and reached for the washcloth again, cleaning him thoroughly despite the mess he'd just made. Harry lay against her as she finished washing him with tender care.
"Better?" she asked.
"Much."
"Good. But we're not done yet," Evelyn said. "That was just the appetizer. The main course is still waiting."
She helped him stand and guided him out of the tub. A wave of her wand dried them both instantly, and she led him back into the bedroom toward the massage table.
"Lie down on your stomach," she instructed.
Harry climbed onto the table and settled himself face down. The linens were incredibly soft against his skin, and he felt himself relaxing despite his recent orgasm. The table was at the perfect height, and he could already tell Evelyn knew exactly what she was doing.
Evelyn poured scented oil into her palms, warming it between her hands before placing them on his upper back. She started at his shoulders, her strong fingers digging into the tense muscles there with perfect pressure.
"You carry so much stress right here," she observed, her thumbs working circles into the tight knots. "Right in your shoulders and neck. Classic signs of someone bearing far too much responsibility for their age."
Her hands worked methodically, finding every knot and working it loose. Harry groaned as she hit a particularly tight spot, and Evelyn made a sympathetic sound.
"I know it hurts," she said softly. "But it needs to be released or it'll only get worse. Trust me to help you."
She worked her way down his spine, her thumbs pressing firmly on either side of his vertebrae. The pressure was intense but not painful, and Harry felt tension he hadn't even known he was carrying begin to melt away under her skilled touch.
"You did brilliantly tonight," Evelyn said as she worked, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "From what I understand, you led a team into hostile territory, eliminated sixteen werewolves including one of the most dangerous creatures in Britain, saved Amelia's life, and extracted valuable intelligence. That's impressive by any standard, Harry."
"It was necessary," Harry replied.
"Yes. But necessary doesn't make it easy," Evelyn countered. Her hands moved to his lower back, massaging the muscles there with the same thorough attention. "Can I ask you something?"
"What is it, Eve?"
"I know you've taken lives before. Taking a life, even a monstrous one, leaves marks. Not on your body but on your soul. How do you handle that reality?"
Harry was quiet for a moment, considering the question seriously. "I don't feel guilty if that's what you're asking. The Death Eaters, Greyback, and his pack deserved exactly what they got. They were monsters who preyed on innocent people for pleasure."
"But?" Evelyn prompted gently.
"But it doesn't feel good either," Harry sighed. "Killing them was necessary, but I didn't enjoy it. Even when I was torturing Greyback for information, I took no pleasure from his pain. I just wanted it done and over with."
"That's healthy," Evelyn said approvingly. Her hands moved to his buttocks, kneading the firm muscles there. "The day you start enjoying the violence is the day you become like them. The fact that you can do what's necessary without losing yourself to it speaks very well of your character."
Her hands were moving dangerously low now, her fingers occasionally brushing against his inner thighs and making his cock stir with renewed interest. Despite having just come, Harry felt arousal building again under her ministrations.
"Roll over," Evelyn said softly.
Harry obeyed, turning onto his back. His erection was already at half-mast and growing, and Evelyn's eyes darkened with unmistakable hunger as she took in the sight.
"Very nice indeed," she murmured appreciatively. "Such beautiful recovery time."
She poured more oil onto her hands and began massaging his chest. Her touch was more overtly sensual now, less therapeutic and more seductive. Her fingers traced over his pecs and abs, occasionally circling his nipples until they hardened into sensitive points.
"My daughters and I often talk about how well endowed you are," Evelyn said conversationally, her eyes never leaving his growing erection. "We all like to compare notes, you see. To make sure none of us undersell you."
Harry's cock twitched visibly at her words, and she smiled with satisfaction.
"Does it excite you?" she asked, her hands moving lower to massage his abs. "Knowing that my daughters and I talk about your cock? About how well you fuck us? About how you make us scream your name?"
"Eve," Harry groaned.
"We talk about everything," Evelyn continued, her hands moving dangerously close to his straining erection but still not touching it. "How you make us come so hard we see stars. How you fill us so perfectly we can barely walk the next day. How you can go for hours without tiring, giving us orgasm after orgasm until we're begging for mercy. We're a bunch of very, very lucky witches. My daughters, I, Tonks, Susan, Hannah, your friend Luna, and hopefully several more witches soon."
Her hands bypassed his throbbing cock entirely, moving to his thighs instead. She massaged the powerful muscles there with firm strokes, her fingers occasionally brushing against his balls but never quite touching his desperate shaft.
"Such a tease, you are," Harry said, his voice rough with need.
"Accusations now, my love?" Evelyn asked innocently, though her smile was pure sin.
"Touch me," Harry demanded.
"I am touching you," she replied with mock confusion.
"You know what I mean," Harry growled, his patience wearing thin.
Evelyn laughed, the sound rich and sultry and full of promise. "I do. But I want to hear you say it properly. Tell me exactly what you want, my Lord. Be specific."
"I want you to stroke my cock," Harry said bluntly, past caring about propriety. "I want to feel your hand wrapped around me again. I want you to make me come."
"Oh, my Lord, so crass," Evelyn moaned filthily. "But I like a man who can be direct about his desires instead of dancing around them."
She poured oil directly onto his shaft, and Harry hissed at the cool sensation against his heated flesh. Then her hand wrapped around him firmly, and all coherent thoughts fled as pure pleasure coursed through his body.
Her strokes were slow and sensual, her grip firm but not too tight. She skillfully worked him from root to tip, her thumb swirling around the sensitive head on each upstroke. Her other hand cupped his balls, massaging them with gentle care.
'This is one hot MILF, Harry,' he heard Maria's voice in his mind.
'Don't I know that…'
'And there's another one downstairs too. I don't think you should make her wait too much either.'
'Hah! Amelia won't come around so easily.'
'I won't be so sure about that. Something changed tonight. I sensed it, and I know you did too.'
He did, but he didn't have the time to think about the buxom redhead right now as Evelyn's thumb began to swirl over the head of his cock more firmly.
"You're leaking so much already," she observed, spreading his precum around the head of his cock with her thumb. "Your body is so responsive to me. So eager. Do you need release already?"
"No," Harry managed, fighting for control. "Don't want to come yet."
"What do you want then?" Evelyn asked, genuine curiosity in her voice.
"I want to taste you," Harry said boldly, meeting her eyes. "I want to make you come on my tongue."
Evelyn's smile turned absolutely predatory. "Is that so? You want to put that talented mouth of yours to work on my pussy?"
"Yes," Harry confirmed without hesitation.
"Then who am I to deny such an enthusiastic request?" Evelyn released his cock and climbed onto the table, positioning herself over his face. Her pussy was already glistening with arousal, her lips swollen and flushed pink with need.
Harry gripped her thighs firmly and pulled her down onto his waiting mouth. His tongue swept through her folds, tasting her sweetness, and Evelyn gasped above him.
"Oh fuck," she breathed, her voice shaky. "Your mouth is absolutely incredible."
Harry worked his tongue deeper, finding her entrance and thrusting inside to taste her directly from the source. Evelyn rocked against his face, grinding her pussy against his mouth as he ate her out with enthusiasm. Her thighs trembled on either side of his head, and he could feel her getting wetter by the second.
He moved his focus to her clit, circling the sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue before sucking it between his lips. Evelyn cried out sharply, her hands fisting in his hair as pleasure shot through her core.
"Right there," she gasped, her hips moving faster. "Don't stop, don't you dare stop doing that."
Harry had no intention of stopping. He worked her clit relentlessly, alternating between firm suction and gentle licks that had her moaning constantly. One hand moved from her thigh to her entrance, and he slid two fingers inside her tight, wet heat.
"Yes!" Evelyn shouted, abandoning all pretense of control. "Fuck, yes, just like that!"
He pumped his fingers in and out while his mouth continued its assault on her clit. Evelyn was close already, he could feel it in the way her inner walls clenched around his fingers, in the way her thighs trembled against his ears, and in the desperation of her moans.
"I'm going to come," she warned breathlessly. "I'm going to come all over your face."
Harry increased his pace, his fingers curling to hit that special spot inside her while his tongue flicked rapidly over her swollen clit. Evelyn's back arched sharply and she came with a scream that definitely woke someone in the house, her pussy clamping down on his fingers as her orgasm crashed through her.
Harry didn't let up, continuing to finger her and suck her clit through the intense waves of her climax. Evelyn's legs gave out completely and she collapsed forward, bracing herself on trembling arms as aftershocks rolled through her body.
"Merlin's balls," she gasped when she could speak again. "That was absolutely incredible. How can we all not be so obsessed with you!?"
She climbed off his face on shaky legs, and Harry sat up. His face was covered in her juices, and Evelyn leaned in to lick them off with a wicked grin.
"My turn again," she said, her voice husky with renewed desire.
She pushed him back down onto the table with surprising strength and positioned herself between his legs. His cock stood at full attention, rock hard and glistening with oil and precum. Evelyn wrapped one hand around the base and leaned down to lick a slow stripe up the underside.
Harry groaned as her warm, wet mouth engulfed his tip. She sucked gently at first, her tongue swirling around the head before she took him deeper. Inch by inch she worked him into her mouth until her nose was pressed against his pelvis and he could feel himself lodged in her throat.
"Fuck," Harry gasped, his hands fisting in the sheets.
Evelyn hummed around his length, the vibrations sending pleasure racing up his spine. She pulled back slowly, her lips tight around his shaft, before taking him deep again in one smooth motion. Her hand worked the base of his cock in perfect time with her mouth, and her other hand continued massaging his balls with expert care.
She established a steady rhythm, bobbing her head up and down his length. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked hard on the upstroke, and Harry had to grip the edges of the table to keep from thrusting up into her throat.
"Eve," he warned, feeling his control slipping. "If you keep that up, I'm going to come."
She pulled off his cock with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his tip. "Not yet. I have other plans for this magnificent cock of yours."
She climbed onto the table and straddled his hips. Her pussy hovered just above his straining erection, and Harry could feel her heat even without contact.
"Tell me you want this," Evelyn commanded, her eyes boring into his. "Tell me you want to fuck me."
"I want to fuck you," Harry said immediately, his voice rough with need. "I want to feel you wrapped around my cock. I want to make you scream."
"Good answer," Evelyn purred.
She reached down and positioned his tip at her entrance. Then, in one smooth motion, she sank down onto him completely. They both groaned as he filled her, stretching her inner walls around his thick shaft.
"So big," Evelyn gasped, her eyes fluttering closed. "So fucking big. You're stretching me so perfectly."
She began to move, rising up until just his tip remained inside before slamming back down hard. Her pace was slow at first, each stroke designed to maximize the pleasure for both of them as she adjusted to his size.
Harry's hands found her hips, helping to guide her movements. His thumbs stroked over her hipbones as she rode him, and he watched as his cock disappeared into her pussy over and over again.
"Touch my tits," Evelyn commanded breathlessly. "Play with them properly."
Harry's hands moved to her breasts immediately, cupping the full globes and kneading them with firm pressure. He pinched her nipples between his fingers, rolling the hardened peaks and making her moan loudly.
"Harder," she gasped, her pace increasing. "Don't be gentle with me."
Harry pinched harder, and Evelyn cried out in pleasure. Her hips moved faster, chasing her building orgasm with single minded determination.
"Fuck me," she demanded, her voice sharp.
Harry planted his feet firmly on the table and began thrusting up to meet her downward strokes. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, punctuated by their moans and gasps and the wet sounds of their coupling.
"Yes!" Evelyn shouted, her head falling back. "Just like that! Harder!"
Harry grabbed her hips firmly and pulled her down as he thrust up with force, driving his cock as deep as physically possible. Evelyn's mouth opened in a silent scream as he hit spots inside her she'd discovered only after being with him.
"I'm close," she gasped, her inner walls beginning to flutter around him. "So fucking close already."
"Come for me," Harry growled, his own control fraying. "Come on my cock."
One of his hands moved from her hip to her clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive nub. The dual stimulation was too much, and Evelyn came with a scream that probably woke the entire house once again. Her pussy clamped down on his cock like a vise, rippling and milking him as her orgasm tore through her body.
Harry kept thrusting through her climax, prolonging her pleasure as long as possible. Her inner walls spasmed around him rhythmically, and the sensation was so intense he felt his own release building rapidly despite his best efforts to hold back.
"I'm going to come," he warned through gritted teeth.
"Inside me," Evelyn gasped, still shaking from her orgasm. "Fill me up. I want to feel you come deep inside me."
Her words pushed him over the edge immediately. Harry buried himself to the hilt and came hard, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself deep in her pussy. Rope after rope of hot cum painted her inner walls, and Evelyn moaned appreciatively as she felt each powerful spurt.
They stayed locked together as their orgasms slowly faded, both breathing heavily and covered in a light sheen of oil. Finally Evelyn collapsed forward onto Harry's chest, his softening cock still buried inside her.
"That was amazing," she breathed against his neck.
"Yeah," Harry agreed, wrapping his arms around her.
They lay there for several minutes, just holding each other and catching their breath. Eventually Evelyn rolled off him with a satisfied sigh and used her wand to clean them both with a quick spell.
"Bed," she said softly. "We both need actual sleep now."
Harry climbed under the covers and Evelyn joined him immediately, curling against his side with her head resting on his chest. His arm wrapped around her automatically, holding her close.
"Thank you," Harry said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "For tonight. For everything."
"My pleasure," Evelyn replied with a satisfied purr. "Quite literally."
Harry chuckled and tightened his hold on her. Within minutes, exhaustion claimed him completely and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
XXXXX
The Death Eater safe house was located deep in the countryside, hidden by multiple layers of wards and protective enchantments. Inside the main hall, over two dozen dark wizards and witches had gathered, their faces grim beneath their masks or hoods.
Bellatrix Lestrange stood at the center of the room, her wild dark hair cascading around her shoulders in a tangled mess and her eyes gleaming with barely controlled manic energy. She paced back and forth like a caged predator, her wand gripped tightly in one white knuckled hand.
"Say it again," she hissed at the werewolf cowering before her. "Tell me exactly what you found at the den."
The werewolf, a heavily scarred man named Grael who'd been out hunting when the attack occurred, trembled visibly as he spoke. "The entire pack is dead, Mistress Lestrange. All of them without exception. Greyback, his lieutenants, the younger members, everyone. We found nothing but ash and scorched earth where the den used to be."
"Ash," Bellatrix repeated softly, her voice deceptively calm in a way that made several Death Eaters shift nervously. "They were burned then."
"Yes, Mistress. Whatever killed them used fire so intensely hot it consumed absolutely everything. Even the bones were reduced to fine powder. There was nothing left to identify."
Bellatrix's wand hand twitched dangerously, and several Death Eaters took cautious steps backward. They all knew the telltale signs of her impending fury.
"Who?" she asked, her voice still eerily calm. "Who would dare attack Greyback's pack in their own territory?"
"We don't know," Grael admitted carefully. "There were no witnesses whatsoever. No survivors to tell the tale. Just the fire and evidence of an intense battle."
"Evidence," Antonin Dolohov spoke up from his position near the wall. "What kind of evidence specifically?"
"Spell scorching consistent with extremely high-level combat magic," Augustus Rookwood replied from the corner, his voice steady. "I analyzed the den to the best of my abilities. There were multiple casters based on the variety of curse marks I found. Different magical signatures, different spell types. And there was silver fire residue in several locations, the kind only a veela can naturally produce."
Silence fell over the assembled Death Eaters as they processed this information.
"Veela fire," Bellatrix said slowly, rolling the words around in her mouth. "How very, very interesting."
"There's only one veela we know of currently in Britain," Thorfinn Rowle said from the shadows. "The French girl. Delacour."
"Fleur Delacour," Bellatrix said, her smile sharp and cruel. "The Triwizard champion from Beauxbatons. She's been spotted in London recently, hasn't she? Arrived in the company of my little blood-traitor niece. A niece who is close to a certain famous boy wizard after her fallout with the Order."
"Potter," Dolohov said flatly. "You think Potter orchestrated this attack?"
"Who else would have both the capability and the audacity?" Bellatrix laughed, the sound high and unhinged. "Who else would have the balls to actually attack Greyback in his own den? Who else has been making themselves such a delicious nuisance to our cause lately?"
"The Carrows," another Death Eater said nervously. "Potter killed them and everyone at that safe house. If it was him again attacking us, then this makes it twice he's struck directly at our operations."
"Twice now that precious baby Potter has struck at us," Bellatrix said, her voice rising with each word. "Twice that he's eliminated significant portions of our forces. First the Carrows and their entire operation wiped out in one night, and now Greyback and his entire pack of useful beasts. The little baby is growing claws and learning to bite back."
"This is deeply concerning," Dolohov said carefully, watching Bellatrix's increasingly agitated movements. "Two major attacks in such a short period of time. Potter's becoming significantly more aggressive, more dangerous to our operations. If we don't respond decisively, others might get ideas about challenging us as well."
"Oh, we'll respond," Bellatrix promised, her eyes gleaming with madness and anticipation. "We'll respond so thoroughly, so completely, that Potter will wish he'd never crawled out from under his mudblood mother's corpse."
She began pacing again, her movements jerky and agitated like a puppet with tangled strings. "Greyback was useful to our cause. Predictable and crude, yes, but useful nonetheless. Now he's nothing but ash scattered across some worthless forest, and we've lost access to his entire pack. That's extremely inconvenient for our plans."
"More than inconvenient," Rowle muttered darkly. "We were counting heavily on those werewolves for the Diagon Alley operation. They were supposed to provide shock troops and create maximum chaos."
"Then we'll find others," Bellatrix snapped viciously. "There are always more monsters willing to serve the Dark Lord's glorious cause for the promise of prey. What concerns me far more is Potter's growing audacity. He's no longer playing defense and hiding behind Dumbledore's robes. He's actively hunting us now."
"Should we inform the Dark Lord about this development?" a younger Death Eater asked nervously.
Bellatrix's wand came up so fast the speaker barely had time to register the movement before the Cruciatus Curse hit him squarely in the chest. He collapsed immediately, screaming and convulsing violently on the stone floor as Bellatrix held the vicious curse.
"You dare?" she hissed, her face contorted with rage. "You dare suggest bothering our Lord with this minor irritation? He has far more important concerns than one impudent boy wizard playing hero!"
She held the curse for another fifteen seconds, letting the Death Eater's screams echo through the hall, before finally releasing it. He lay gasping and twitching pathetically, tears streaming down his face and a wet stain spreading across his robes.
"Potter is mine to handle," Bellatrix declared to the room at large. "The Dark Lord has marked him for death eventually, yes, but that doesn't mean I can't have my fun with the baby first. I'm going to make that arrogant little brat scream so beautifully. I'm going to break him piece by piece until he begs for the sweet mercy of death."
"The Dark Lord wants Potter brought to him alive," Dolohov reminded her very carefully.
"I know perfectly well what the Dark Lord wants," Bellatrix snarled, rounding on him. "I'm not an idiot, Antonin. I won't kill the Potter brat outright, tempting as it is to watch the life drain from those disgustingly green eyes. But I can hurt him. I can make him suffer exquisitely. I can destroy everything and everyone he cares about until he's nothing but a hollow, broken shell."
She turned to address the assembled Death Eaters directly. "Potter thinks he's clever, doesn't he? Thinks he can strike at us without consequences. We're going to teach baby Potter otherwise. We're going to show him exactly what happens when you draw the attention of our lord's most faithful servant."
"What do you propose we do?" Rowle asked.
The smile Bellatrix gave was mad even by her standards, and everyone who looked at her shivered.
Nothing good could come out of that unhinged grin on the madwoman's face, and for the first time, a few Death Eaters even felt sorry for whatever fate was about to befall the poor bastard.
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