NOVEL NEXT Chapter 31: Meeting with Morgaine le Fey
They were back. Of course they were. At least this time they’d brought the one they spoke of with them. In acknowledgment of the fact that they’d followed her wishes, Morgaine le Fey does not send her beasts to try and kill them again. Instead, she lets the party of witches plus one wizard enter her domain, encroaching upon her throne room until at long last, they all stand before her.
Harry Potter, the man who Morgaine had sensed such slavish devotion from the others for before, stands at the forefront. The feeling she’d gotten the first time they were here is even more pronounced now that they’re all in close proximity to the wizard. They truly view him in a favorable light. Some see him as their Master outright, while others merely want the best for him.
Luna, the Fae-Touched one from before, is also there much to Morgaine’s satisfaction. She stands ever so slightly apart from the rest… and yet, even she has a strange level of affection and loyalty towards the one called Harry Potter. For all that she’s barely even mentally present for this meeting, Morgaine can tell that what little focus Luna is sparing on this entire situation is devoted towards Harry of all people.
“Greetings Lady le Fey. I am Harry Potter, Lord of House Potter and House Black.”
Letting her gaze be drawn away from her future apprentice for a moment, Morgaine looks upon the young Lordling. It’s obvious that he’s not entirely comfortable with his titles. It’s equally obvious that he had to be coached on how to introduce himself to her. By naming himself a Lord of two Ancient Houses that even Morgaine is tangentially aware of, he sets himself up as her equal in position if not in power.
Morgaine scoffs. Position? She hasn’t cared about position in centuries. Power is the only thing that matters between spellcasters such as them. Eyes glittering, she looks upon Harry Potter, deciding then and there that she will get a measure of his power.
But she’s not a social creature and never has been. So instead, she simply pushes through his frankly pathetic mental defenses and takes what she wants directly from his mind. She’s not gentle about it either, but this time she’s prepared for the lot of them. Before Zatanna Zatara can even speak, Morgaine has already silenced her with a prepared spell, and none of the others are nearly as dangerous as the American Witch.
The so-called ‘Lord’ Potter, for his part, grunts as Morgaine goes rummaging through his skull. He remains standing at least, a small point in his favor. Likewise, what she finds at first piques her interest. In fact, the corner of her mouth quirks up into the beginnings of a grin.
“Oh? A Gryffindor? We share that in common, ‘Lord’ Potter.”
His emerald eyes blaze with anger at her unwanted intrusion, even as sweat beads across his brow. She likes that look in his eyes. That defiance and rage and fury… she likes it a lot.
… And then she looks deeper and the smile drops off of Morgaine le Fey’s face as quickly as it appeared. Her golden brow furrows and she starts to frown as she digs deeper… and deeper. In the span of a couple of minutes, in which Harry Potter barely manages to stay standing and all of his witches fail to help him against her in any way, Morgaine le Fey flitters across the entirety of this young wizard’s mortal experience.
And he is young, it should be said. Perhaps the only point in his defense was that he was young. But that wasn’t much of a defense at all, frankly. By Harry’s age, even Merlin was a better wizard than this. And at the same time… Harry and Merlin were comparable in another way too. Not a good way.
“… Weak.”
Morgaine’s declaration cuts through a silence that has fallen over her throne room as she pulls out of Harry’s mind, having seen all she needed to. Everyone stares as she rises from her throne and descends the stairs from her dais. Coming to a stop a few feet in front of Harry Potter, she scoffs at him.
“You have some potential… but you’ve squandered it. Such a waste. I thought you would be like me… a true Gryffindor. Instead, I find a Slytherin hiding in the skin of a lion.”
With her no longer in his head, the young wizard is able to recover a little. He’s still trembling from the exertion she put him through though, sweat covering every visible part of his body as he grits his teeth.
“What… what is that supposed to mean?”
Morgaine rolls her eyes, knowing already the… misconception that the young wizard lord labored under. In his mind, to be a Gryffindor was to be brave and courageous, to always fight for what was right and defend the weak. Obviously, that was a heinous misinterpretation of her former House.
“Merlin wanted the same things you do. He held the same weakness of heart that you do as well. He harbored… ambitions for peaceful coexistence between muggles and wizard kind. He even went so far as to try and prop up that fool King of his, the ‘Once-and-Future-King.”
Morgaine spits to the side at that, a crass display that she normally wouldn’t engage in… but just thinking about Merlin made her lower herself in such a manner, truth be told. Of course, the Potter boy just looks more confused than before. Morgaine deigns to explain things to him, feeling a brief moment of magnanimity that causes her to do so.
“Being a Gryffindor is about having the courage to embrace your true power, Harry Potter. Something you have failed to do entirely. Look around you. These women… they are devoted to you. They want to be your slaves… and yet, you do not truly claim them as such. You don’t even see yourself as their Master.”
The young wizard stiffens at her accusation, though clearly has no clue how to respond. Obviously she’s right, but he’s smart enough to know that admitting as much in front of these witches, especially those such as the brunette Hermione and the animal woman Cheetah would… damage his relationships with them. In truth, it’s not entirely his fault… though Morgaine feels not a lick of pity for him.
“You’re in over your head, ‘Lord’ Potter. You’ve been pulled into this life by a being far more powerful than you… the Argoan Clone. She took care of your greatest problems faster than you could blink, destroying your Lord Voldemort and his supporters. But in doing so, she took away your ability to grow through adversity… and this has allowed you to thoroughly squander your potential.”
Harry, to his credit, at least bristles at her insulting tone. He has SOME pride to him, Morgaine knows… but pride is meaningless without the power to back it up.
“I helped Galatea because it was the right thing to do. And she helped me in turn because she loved me. There was nothing more to it than that!”
Shaking her head, Morgaine laughs.
“Love! Hah! There is no such thing as love. There is only Obsession. Devotion. Adoration. All these things and more, you have cultivated in the women who follow you, Harry Potter. In the one you call Galatea, you created obsession. That obsession led to her trying to help you, trying to show you what you were truly capable of. But in her drive to bring out the best in you… she handicapped you. She was the crutch propping you up. Now look at you. Without her, you show your true colors. No True Gryffindor would fail to seal the deal as you have, time and time again.”
Harry growls at that, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He longs to correct her, and Morgaine can see without even having to look into his mind what he’s thinking. She preempts him, cutting him off with a wave of her hand and another shake of her head.
“I do not talk about the carnal acts you’ve engaged in, wizard. I do not care whether you fuck these women or not. What I speak of is the final act of subjugation, of devotion. Without your precious ‘Tea’ to push you along, you refuse to take the heroines who all but throw themselves at you as your slaves. All of them want it. They want to be your property. They WANT to be your conquests. And yet… you refuge to go the final step. You refuse to seal… the… deal.”
At those last three words, Morgaine steps forward and prods Harry in the chest with a golden finger upon each of them. Childish? Perhaps, but she wasn’t lying when she said he reminded her of her ancient rival Merlin’s worst qualities. The man had all the ambition in the world, but none of the courage to go all the way, to make his convictions a reality. That was why, in the end, Merlin’s goals had failed. A True Slytherin, through and through.
Harry Potter was certainly bringing out the worst in her, wasn’t he? Suddenly feeling slightly annoyed at herself for stooping so low, Morgaine pulls back her finger and then moves back up her dais, sitting upon her throne. No one dares speak as she does so. Her power is unquestionable, and they know she has them completely at her mercy.
As soon as she’s sat back down, Morgaine points… at Luna Lovegood.
“Her.”
The young wizard lord blinks in surprise, looking over at Luna. The Fae-Touched girl just smiles softly, seemingly daydreaming… but Morgaine can tell that she’s paying plenty of attention to this encounter. After all, it has Harry in it. She can also tell that Luna knew this was coming, even if no one else did.
“Wha- Luna? What about her?”
Harry’s incredulity has Morgaine smirking. Much like the others, he doesn’t see the girl’s true potential. And yet… he clearly cares for her. He cares for all of them, in his own way. He just doesn’t understand what they need… what they truly want from him. Tragic, but it has been a long time since Morgaine felt pity for anyone or anything.
“You are dying. I can help you. But you as you are… are worthless to me. So I am not inclined to assist you in any way.”
The young wizard stiffens at that, gritting his teeth at Morgaine’s matter-of-fact declaration. He glares up at her, clearly wanting to respond but knowing she’s just warming up. Morgaine smirks. He truly is a Slytherin. A Gryffindor would have attacked by now.
“However, I might be persuaded to consider offering you my aid… if you give the one called Luna to me as offering.”
Emerald eyes widening, Harry immediately tenses up.
“Offering?! Luna is not… she’s her own person! Not a thing to be bartered!”
Morgaine just laughs at Harry’s naivety. He truly is young… the only excuse he has going for him. But being young is no real excuse at all. He’s still a failure in every definition of the word as far as Morgaine is concerned.
“Everything can be bartered ‘Lord’ Potter. The girl is the only thing you possess that has any interest to me. I want her. You will give her to me and I will consider helping save your pathetic, worthless life.”
In the blink of an eye, Harry Potter removes the magic-nullifying cuff from his wrist and draws his wand in one smooth motion. He’d definitely practiced that, Morgaine idly notes, even as he points the wand at her unerringly. Of course, no matter how fast he was, she could have stopped him from drawing on her, if she truly wanted to. She just didn’t care enough to bother. He is not a threat to her. Not as he is now.
“I refuse. You will not have Luna Lovegood.”
Smirking wickedly now, Morgaine leans forward on her throne.
“And why can’t I have her, hm? You’ve claimed her maidenhood but refuse to claim her as your property! Who are you to tell me that I cannot claim her as MINE?!”
To his credit, Harry stands tall and resolute, even facing down her incensed tone.
“I’m her friend… and she’s mine. I say again, you cannot have her.”
That he’d fought to be put in Gryffindor as a child showed that the young wizard at least understood that it was the better place to be… but he didn’t understand WHY. None of them understood that to be a True Gryffindor was to have the courage to reach out and TAKE whatever you wanted for yourself. To be brave enough to reach out and grasp power as your own. Like she had. Like she continued to do, even to this day.
“A duel then, hm? You have drawn your wand on me in my own home, threatening me with magical harm. I am well within my rights to kill you here and now… but I shall humor you with a duel, first. So come. Let us test magic against magic.”
Harry doesn’t answer with words, but the blazing anger in his emerald eyes makes it clear that he’s up for it. Of course, the others… are less confident of this course of action.
“Harry, no! You’ll only worsen your condition if you do this!”
The brunette Hermione tries to reason with her Not-Master, but her pleas fall on deaf ears. Soon enough, Harry is standing across from Morgaine in a length of the hall, the two of them facing one another on a dueling platform that she’s casually raised up with a small burst of magic. She wields no wand or stave against him, even as Harry takes up a dueler’s stance, providing as small a target as possible.
“How… quaint.”
He just snarls in response, a clear sign that her words up to this point have hit rather… close to home for the poor wizard. Hah, he’s such a mess… if he wasn’t so worthless, she might have been more willing to take him under her wing. But no, he reminded her far too much of her ancient rival… of that bastard Merlin.
Smiling evilly, Morgaine snaps her fingers.
“Begin.”
Immediately, Harry fires a wordless spell at her. And then he keeps firing them. Morgaine deflects each and every one as she begins to stride forward. Her golden fingers bat his magic out of the air, seemingly with no effect. In reality, she’s forming minute magical barriers on the tips of her digits and using THOSE to destroy his spells and send them careening off to the sides where they discharge harmlessly.
Step by step, she approaches Harry Potter as he gets increasingly desperate. He steps back in turn, but there’s only so much of the dueling platform before he’s stuck on the edge. His spellcasting becomes hastier and hastier, until at long last… Morgaine reaches for him. His final spell, a rapidly cast Protego, does nothing to stop her golden body as she reaches right through the Shield Charm and wraps her metal fingers around his throat.
She could have squeezed and snapped his neck right then and there… but she doesn’t. Instead, she resets the field in an instant, literally. Suddenly standing at the other end of the dueling platform once more, having reappeared there in an instant, Morgaine watches as Harry reaches for his own neck with wide eyes, having felt her touch and known that she had him completely at her mercy.
“Again. And this time… try to be a little impressive at least, if you would. Perhaps call upon that power that’s killing you.”
His brow furrows at that.
“I… I can’t. The Dark Potion… I took the antidote. It’s flushed out of my system.”
Morgaine scoffs at the sheer ignorance on display. Truly? Rolling her eyes, she shakes her head. He really was JUST like Merlin. Always so sure that he knew what he was talking about, even when he clearly didn’t.
“Then why is it still killing you, idiot?”
There it was again, his similarities to her ancient rival making her act childish. But Morgaine doesn’t let any of her mild consternation at that fact show on her face. Unlike Harry Potter, who looks absolutely poleaxed by her words, as though they’re some great epiphany rather than simple common sense.
“Now… again.”
It’s not like he has a choice. Technically, one might argue that she already won this duel and quite, heh, handily at that. But if Morgaine le Fey wanted to extend the duel to have ‘rounds’, then who was he to deny her? Of course, the second time around, she switches things up. Instead of approaching him physically, she pushes out with her magic, overwhelming every spell he casts until eventually it knocks him off of the platform without her ever having moved an actual inch.
“Again.”
The boy has stamina if nothing else. He keeps getting back up and keeps on fighting. He’s stubborn and prideful, but once again, those traits mean nothing if one does not have the power to back it up. The more magic he casts, the closer he comes to killing himself. And yet, still he refuses to reach for the dark power left behind by the Dark Potion. Until finally, a good half-a-dozen rounds in…
Morgaine smirks as the young wizard suddenly lets out an angry scream and power wells up within him. True Power too, HIS power. Sure, the Dark Potion had amplified things… but that was what so few didn’t understand about it. It could only truly increase what was already there. Harry Potter had potential… but it was all so very wasted on him from what Morgaine had seen so far.
Even still, he thrusts out his wand and a nameless, evil spell comes rocketing out of it. It pushes through Morgaine’s magic like nothing, carving a path through the overwhelming barrier she’d been pushing in his direction again. But of course, Morgaine is ready for it. She’s been waiting for it, even. With a contemptuous scoff, the golden-bodied sorceress reaches out… and absorbs the dark magic that Harry has just instinctively cast. Tastes crunchy, really.
Meanwhile, as for Harry himself… he collapses to a knee, the effects of calling upon that dark power of his killing him all the faster. With a smirk, she flicks her finger and sends him sprawling on his back, pinned in place and restrained to the dueling platform. Then, sauntering forward, she stands over him, sniffing in disgust.
“Was that all? Yes, yes I think it was. Shame, really. Worthless to the end.”
He struggles against her, but the effort is pitiful. She’s as unimpressed as ever by his weakness. Ultimately… the boy has proven to be nothing but a disappointment.
And yet… while she COULD kill him and all of the others here and now, what with how she had locked Zatara down at the start of all of this… it would not serve her purposes to do so. She could leave Luna alive, taking her for herself while slaying the rest… but it wouldn’t actually gain her anything. After all, now that they were in close proximity to her, Morgaine could tell that Harry’s death would make Luna sad, and his killer would earn the Fae-Touched’s enmity for life.
Normally that wouldn’t be a problem, but the very fast that Luna was Fae-Touched made most forms of subtle and indirect mind control unreliable at best and completely ineffective at worst. Meanwhile, the less subtle and more direct forms of mind control would destroy what made Luna worthwhile in the first place, effectively ruining her value to Morgaine.
Her choices were thus. She could kill everyone and take Luna as her prize, only for the prize to be immediately spoilt beyond repair. Or… she could let them live and plant the foundations for a late claiming, so to speak. In the end, it was obvious which one was better for her. Though it wouldn’t do JUST to let them all live. She could tell, for all that Luna looked like she was drifting as much as usual, that the Fae-Touched blonde disapproved of what she’d done to Harry.
Indeed, if Morgaine let them leave as things stood now, the boy would probably die within the week… and then her future apprentice would blame her for his death all the same, ruining any potential for them to work together going forward. In the end, Morgaine knew what she had to do… she just wished she didn’t have to do it.
“… Still, the potential that I mentioned earlier remains. Squandered though it might be, you are still young. And perhaps you will manage to surprise me.”
Feigning a slightly impressed tone and acting as though she’s been ‘moved’ by Harry’s attempt to fight for his friend’s freedom is a chore and a half, but Morgaine does it all the same. Reaching out towards the pinned wizard lord at her feet, she feels him out… and then darkness pours from her golden fingertips.
Most of the magic that she pours into him is his own to be fair, absorbed by her mere minutes before. However, not all of it comes from that absorption. Still, Morgaine considers it an investment for the future. Not an investment in Harry… she could scarcely care about him. No, this is an investment in her relationship with her future apprentice.
As she ‘heals’ Harry a bit, giving him months instead of days, Morgaine can see the pleased, vapid-looking smile on Luna’s face from the corner of her eye. The Fae-Touched girl is happy with her decision… and frankly, that’s all Morgaine cares about.
“Now… begone from my sight. And never return.”
Moving back to her throne, Morgaine watches as the witches gather up Harry’s body and pull him from the room. He’s recovering quite rapidly and those emerald eyes of his blaze as he’s yanked from her presence, glaring at her the whole way out. Those women of his are smart to remove him so quickly, because otherwise Morgaine is confident that he would pick another fight with her. Amusing, but ultimately pointless. He’s not nearly capable enough to handle her. Maybe if he embraced his dark power and turned it into the boon it COULD be instead of trying so desperately to save himself from it… but no. She doubts that will happen.
It's for the best, really. The only way in which her plan to claim Luna Lovegood for herself could fail… is if Harry Potter got his head out of his ass and started acting like the Master his women expected him to be. If he actually found it in his heart to act like a True Gryffindor, showcasing the courage and bravery needed to claim what was his and reach for the power he could have at his fingertips… well, things would be much more difficult for Morgaine le Fey.
She doubted that would happen, however. The boy was a fool and his first love, the one called Galatea, had done him no favors in how she’d coddled him. SHE had been the one in control the entire time, from the start all the way until that silly business with Zatanna and Kara. In trying to mold Harry into the domineering conqueror that she seemed to believe he could be, Galatea had hobbled him instead. She had made him weak… and that weakness was precisely what Morgaine would exploit in order to get Luna Lovegood as her willing apprentice.
-x-X-x-
By the time they make it back to the Titan Tower, Harry has fully recovered and the cuff is back around his wrist, locking his magic away once more. That doesn’t mean he feels any less like total and utter shit though.
The meeting with Morgaine le Fey had been an unmitigated disaster from start to finish. He’d known going in that the golden sorceress was egotistical and incredibly powerful, but he hadn’t fully understood what that meant. Certainly, he hadn’t expected her to tear into his mind and take his entire life from him in an instant. Nor… nor had he expected her insane worldview to get to him so much.
Not a True Gryffindor? More of a Slytherin? And all because he acted like a decent human being that didn’t go around enslaving people at the drop of a hat?! Morgaine’s perspective was beyond twisted. The idea that a True Gryffindor was the sort who went around conquering and claiming power while a True Slytherin was the one who worked towards peace and cooperation was… well, if she and Lord Voldemort had ever met, they’d probably get along like a house on fire.
Her thinking seemed backwards at first glance, but the more Harry thought about it, the more he wondered if she was right. Had he wasted his potential? Had he failed to live up to everything he could be?
… She hadn’t been wrong about the Dark Potion, or rather… whatever Dark Power it gave him, still lingering. He had thought the antidote he’d taken much too late had flushed it all out of his system, but she was right. If it HAD flushed it out of his system, he wouldn’t be dying. And when he’d finally reached for that Dark Power in a moment of frustration and weakness… it had come to his beck and call immediately, ready to obey, ready to serve him.
It was frightening how strong he’d felt in that instant. And equally frightening how quickly he’d found himself completely outmatched even then by Morgaine le Fey. The bitch had literally sucked up the dark magic he’d sent careening her way, and then pinned him down and had him dead to rights.
He still didn’t fully understand why she’d spared him. No, more than spared him… she’d healed him of the damage he’d done to himself by calling upon the darkness. He was still dying, but for the moment at least, he felt fine. Better than he had before the trip, even. In a way, one might say it was a success because of that.
But Harry didn’t feel successful. And from the silence coming from the group of witches who had all accompanied him to the meeting with Morgaine le Fey, he got the impression that they didn’t feel all that successful either. In the end… Morgaine was a path closed to them. And that meant Harry was rapidly running out of options.
“Mistah H! Mistah H!”
Blinking, Harry finds himself pulled from his thoughts as a pale-white missile launches herself at him. Thanks to Morgaine’s healing as well as the workout regimen he’s been on for the past while, he’s actually able to set his stance and catch Harley Quinn as she lands in his arms, wrapping her limbs around him like a spider monkey and giggling as he holds her by her ass cheeks.
“Harley… I didn’t expect to see you here.”
After all, this was Titan Tower, wasn’t it? And Harley was still technically a villain. But that doesn’t stop the crazy female clown from planting a big, long kiss on his lips. One that Harry responds to instinctively, his own tongue forcing its way past her mouth and entangling itself with hers. As she moans wantonly, Harry finds himself swapping spit with Harley… even as he realizes he’s already taken control of the encounter by pure instinct.
Morgaine’s words run through his head. How he refused to be Master to the women who already saw themselves as his slaves. Harley… Harley was one of them, wasn’t she? The crazed clown literally ran around calling him Mistah H, and from what Harry knew about her past, that was the closest to ‘Master’ that she ever got.
Before he can think on that too much harder, someone else clears their throat and Harry realizes the entire team that was sent off to talk with Circe is watching from a few feet down the hall. Wonder Woman herself steps forward, looking embarrassed by Harley’s actions but surprisingly not inclined to actually censor her in any way.
“Ahem. Mister Potter… I wanted to inform you that Circe has agreed to meet with you to discuss your… condition. While I must caution that you do not put all of your faith in her… I think that an agreement can be reached. I think she might be the key to a cure.”
The Amazonian Princess’ words SHOULD be a soothing balm upon his damaged soul. But instead, they just make Harry frown. After the way his meeting with Mograine had gone, Harry wasn’t exactly excited to go and confront another of similar power and disposition to the golden sorceress. Indeed, he had a bad feeling about what Circe might want from him. Still, as long as she wasn’t asking him to give her any of his friends or loved ones, Harry would give it more consideration than he had Morgaine’s offer. The bitch had wanted him to offer up LUNA of all people! Fuck that!
Realizing that his countenance has darkened at Diana’s news, causing everyone in the hall to look at him with concern, Harry sighs and shakes his head, before offering Wonder Woman a grateful smile. Sure, she was the one who’d put him in this situation in the first place… but at least she was trying to fix it.
“Thank you for your help. I’ll be happy to meet with Circe soon then I suppose, and we’ll see exactly what she might want. For now… it’s been a long day and I want to rest.”
Of course, immediately after saying that… he turns and begins walking towards his room. Which would line up with what he’d said, if he didn’t still have Harley in his arms. The female clown squeals gleefully at the realization that he’s taking her with him. Everyone else watches on but doesn’t say a word. Good, Harry wasn’t really in the mood for talking right now.
-x-X-x-
“OH YES MISTAH H! HARDER! NNNGH!”
WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
Grunting, Harry puts all of his ‘gains’ to use, leveraging his hard work to really fuck Harley harder than he’s possibly ever fucked her before. Muscles he didn’t have the last time they were together like this are bulging currently, and he’s covered in sweat as he fucks her from behind. His hands grip down on her buttocks, squeezing into it. His fingers dig into her ass cheeks even as he claps her thighs with his thighs, his balls coming up to slap at her clit and pussy mound with every thrust.
It feels damn good to be ball’s deep inside of Harley Quinn again. Damn good to listen to her beg him to go harder, to cry out in lust for him. He’s enjoying himself more than he cares to admit, even as she arches her back and tosses her head, her tits bouncing and jiggling all over the place. He should do something about that, he figures. And so… he does.
Reaching up and around, Harry grabs hold of Harley’s tits and squeezes them as hard as he was her ass. At the same time, he leans forward and bites at her shoulder, making her squeal and cum even harder around his cock. Snarling a bit, half at Harley and half at himself, Harry finds himself going back to the encounter with Morgaine le Fey yet again.
She hadn’t done anything sexual to him, and yet he still felt like he’d been humiliated. He still felt entirely defeated. She’d held him in the palm of her hand, able to kill him a half a dozen times over. The only reason he was still alive was because she’d chosen not to.
Harry didn’t like that. He’d never… he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt this way before. Sure, he’d faced down super powerful enemies before now. Even before he met Galatea, he’d faced Voldemort in the fucking graveyard, hadn’t he? And before THAT, he’d faced the bastard in both the Chamber of Secrets and in front of the Mirror of Erised.
So yeah, Harry was sort of used to being outgunned. However, he’d never failed to find a way to succeed, even in the face of overwhelming advantage. By all rights, a fully trained wizard like Professor Quirrel who had Lord Voldemort’s knowledge to draw upon should have had no issue controlling Harry and retrieving the Philosopher’s Stone. And yet, Harry prevailed.
Likewise, Tom Riddle with a thousand year old Basilisk never should have lost to a twelve-year old Harry Potter. And yet, Harry prevailed. Even in his Fourth Year, with Voldemort’s machinations realized and the Dark Lord coming back via the ritual… Harry had still managed to escape certain death, even retrieving Cedric’s body in the process. He hadn’t won as decisively as his First and Second Years… but he’d still prevailed.
As he continues to plow Harley senseless, showing the ecstatic clown all of the benefits of his new exercise regimen while pinching at her nipples and tugging them ruthlessly away from her body, Harry has to wonder… was Morgaine right? If Galatea hadn’t quite literally dropped into his life, would he have still prevailed against Voldemort and his Death Eaters in the end?
By dealing with all of his problems, had Tea stunted his growth? Had he in fact squandered his potential?
A strange feeling wells up in Harry’s chest. He loves Tea. And he certainly likes and enjoys the company of pretty much all of the women he’s fucked so far. Even Harley Quinn, as crazy as she is. The only woman he’s not sure he cares all that much for at this point in time is Poison Ivy, and he feels like that feeling is mutual between the two of them.
All that said… Harry was aware that some of the women he slept with on the regular had… certain thoughts in their head about what their relationship with him really was. Master. Slave. Galatea had pushed for that in the case of a few of their shared conquests and Harry had just gone along with it. But he’d never really aimed for it himself, right? He hadn’t… ugh, what was he even doing?
Maybe this was Morgaine’s plan all along. Make him second guess himself to death. Healing him like she did was just her way of making the torture last a little longer, he supposed. But as Harry mounts Harley and continues fucking her twat with every last inch of his throbbing cock… he can’t help but wonder. And so he acts.
Reaching up, he grabs hold of Harley by her pigtails and yanks her head back further. She gasps as her spine arches beautifully, until her upside down face is staring up at him with wide, lust-filled eyes.
“M-Mistah H…”
Licking his lips, Harry tries something new.
“Call me Master, Harley. Because that’s what I am to you, isn’t it? And that’s what you are to me. My pet. My toy. My sex slave.”
Harley was after Galatea. The Argoan Clone had never gotten her hands on her. So in the end, that was the test. If the crazy clown promptly flipped out and got angry at him, then he’d know Morgaine’s words were complete bullshit… or… or something.
But of course, that’s not what happens. No, that’s not what happens at all. Harley spasms and climaxes all over his cock… before adopting the biggest grin he’s ever seen on the female clown.
“Of course, Mastah! Oooh, it feels so good having ya so deep inside of me, Mastah! Please don’t stop f-fucking me!”
Harry opens his mouth… and then snaps it shut. And then he goes ahead and does as she bids. But not solely because she’s asking. He does it because he wants to. Pulling her backwards by her hair, lifting himself up from his knees into a crouch over her body, Harry positively rides Harley, fucking her hard and fast as her feet kick in the air behind him and her squeals fill the room.
Her eyes roll back in her head and her tongue sticks out of her mouth, even as Harry plunges his throbbing erection in and out of her cunt all the faster. As he does so, he feels something strange happening. Almost as though there’s a connection forming between him and the deluded harlequin. Maybe he’s just imagining things, but it feels almost magical in nature.
… It might be. Magic was about intent, wasn’t it? At its core, especially when one didn’t have a wand, magic was about what your heart truly desired. The wand simply allowed witches and wizards to focus on what their MIND wanted, rather than what their heart wanted. It allowed them to focus their magic towards the things they thought they needed, rather than what they actually needed.
But of course, it was impossible for Harry to be casting any sort of magic right now, instinctive or otherwise. The cuff was still on after all, and it had done an admirable job of cutting off his magic so far. So the very idea that he was somehow binding Harley to him… well, that was simply ridiculous, right?
Putting it out of his mind, Harry focuses instead on fucking Harley into the bed. His slave. That’s what she was. And maybe… maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. She was willing, after all. And sure, Harley was off her rocker. She’d latched onto him as her ‘Mistah H’ because of all the mind-blowing sex they’d had while neither of them was actually IN their right minds. Thanks to Ivy, they’d gotten much closer than they really expected to get, and Harry had… well, he’d dominated Harley. He’d conquered her. And he’d broken her already fractured mind even further.
Claiming her as his toy was simply the next step, and so long as she was willing… it was fine, wasn’t it? His cock throbs and Harry groans, before finally blowing his load deep inside of Harley’s womb. He fills and fills his newly identified sex slave with his seed, and as he does so, that strange feeling from before intensifies. However, it’s muted enough that Harry just ignores it as part of his imagination.
“Mastah! Mastah! YESSSSS, MASTAH!!!”
Still, this was real. More real than any time any of these women had called him ‘Master’ before now, in fact. Harry had rebuked it and had pushed back on it at some points, and at other points he had let it past because of Galatea, because of her desires and whims. But right now, in this moment, as he breaks in Harley Quinn and solidifies their new relationship… it’s all him. Him and her. And nothing and no one else.
Well, not entirely. But then, Harry hasn’t yet realized that a certain half-demon has taken to spying on him at all times whenever he’s in his room entertaining female company. And Luna isn’t there to let Harry know that Raven is watching him and Harley figure out the terms of their new relationship in real time. Nor does he know the effect he’s having on her as she watches all of this take place.
In the end, all Harry knows is that Harley is his… and that comes with responsibility. Pulling out of her creampied, gaping cunt, Harry yanks her around by her pigtails, even as he kneels back down in front of her. Leading her mouth to his cock, he lets her take him past her lips and begin licking and slurping and sucking his dick clean of their juices.
All the while, he strokes her hair, petting her head and smiling down at her so that whenever she glances up at him for affirmation, she sees how much he cares for her.
Morgaine le Fey had been very clear in her belief that love wasn’t real. Harry… Harry wasn’t so sure. He certainly agreed with her that obsession, devotion, and adoration were ALSO real, but that didn’t necessarily preclude the existence of love entirely. Harry refused to be the kind of Gryffindor that Morgaine le Fey thought he should be. Even if some of what she’d said turned out to be right, he would never become what she wanted him to become.
With that determination made, Harry slides his fingers along Harley’s scalp, watching as she positively purrs while sucking his cock. Her eyes flicker and she’s never looked happier, which in turn makes him happy. If… if being his pet is what makes someone like Harley happy, then Harry can be her Master. More than that though, something about being her actual Master makes him feel good as well. It feels… right.
Of course, what’s right for Harley might not be right for everyone else… and there’s still Harry’s health to be considered. He’ll meet with Circe soon and find out exactly what the Greek Sorceress is willing to do for him and what her price will be. At the same time, he’ll start preparing for Morgaine le Fey’s inevitable next move.
He doesn’t believe for a second that Merlin’s ancient rival has given up on whatever the fuck she wants from him and Luna. She might have kicked them out of her home, but that just means they parted on bad terms. She’s still after something and Harry won’t let her have it, especially not if it’s Luna she wants. He’ll stop her… no matter what it takes.
He won’t let anyone hurt… what’s his.
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