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Maturity of Magic Chapter 26
🕑 Added 2025-06-21 23:19:45 +0000 UTCSome would call it a strange sight to see Harry and Narcissa sitting together peacefully in her office.
Contrary to popular belief, Harry Potter did not spend every waking moment seducing women and participating in large orgies. War councils, spell practice, along with political discussions had dominated most of his time since the summer, with the rest of his time dedicated to attending his Hogwarts classes.
And when it came to forming relationships and gaining even more mistresses, Harry Potter was content to let the witches simply come to him. But that didn’t mean he had to remain completely idle as his lovers circled around him and concocted schemes to gain his affection.
“You want to host a party?” Narcissa said slowly, looking at him strangely. “Not for politics, but rather for… your closest allies.”
Her description of the women he regularly fucked as being his closest allies was polite, and Harry could already tell Narcissa was getting the wrong idea about the whole thing. Yule was coming up, and he wanted to get together all of his female friends to celebrate in a more intimate environment. And I’m not talking about having an orgy… but there’s a chance it will become one.
“I figured we could get everyone together.” He shrugged. “I told Daphne already, and she’s already invited some people. The same goes for you, Cissy, as I’m sure Andromeda and maybe even Bellatrix can come if she’s ready.”
The office’s floo flared in that moment, and a familiar busty redhead wearing formal Wizengamot robes exited. The Director of the DMLE walked over took a seat in one of the open cushioned chairs with a sigh, taking off her Wizengamot cap and monocle as she did so.
“How did it go?” Narcissa asked, referring to the emergency Wizengamot meeting the redhead had just attended.
“About as you would expect.” Amelia replied tiredly. “I actually started the meeting, beginning it by calling for Fudge’s impeachment. That certainly started a ruckus, and when Fudge tried to resist I gave him a piece of my mind. To be perfectly honest, I gave him a tongue-lashing that I’ve been holding back for decades.”
I wish I got to see that. Harry thought, imagining Fudge fleeing the Ministry in shame after Amelia let loose on him. Hopefully the Prophet has a transcript of it.
“After that we had to appoint a new Chief Warlock, and, of course, Dumbledore was quick to throw his name in. Lord Nott led the opposition in the Dark Faction, and during the ensuing arguing I had to reveal that Lucius Malfoy was dead. As we agreed to beforehand, I claimed he died in the Azkaban battle while wearing Death Eater robes.”
Narcissa nodded, her face not displaying a hint of emotion. The woman had long ago destroyed any feelings she had for her husband, and now they had reached the point where Lucius Malfoy’s death was revealed to the public.
“After that reveal, I made my opposition to Dumbledore becoming Chief Warlock clear. In fact, I might as well have branded him enemy of the state if the reaction of his supporters was any indication. I’m sure we’ll be seeing quite a few articles speculating about a falling out between Dumbledore and you, Harry.”
“It needed to be done.” He shrugged. “We’re not going to get anywhere with Dumbledore hanging over our heads while everyone thinks I’m his puppet.”
While it was blatantly obvious to outside observers that Harry Potter was starting his own political faction, it was less apparent that he was, in fact, trying to distance himself from Dumbledore while doing so.
Wizarding tradition was a key element of Harry’s new political movement, as clearly shown by his multiple pureblood lovers. It was how he planned to draw followers in, as there were many Lords disenfranchised with Dumbledore’s pro-muggle attitude, and even more who were opposed to Voldemort yet refused to join Dumbledore’s camp.
“From there the Dark faction tried to make as much noise as possible, all while Dumbledore and his allies pushed through a vote of no confidence on Fudge. And here we are now, with an upcoming Ministerial election in the new year.” Amelia finished.
“Any idea who the candidates are?” Narcissa asked curiously.
“Dumbledore is supporting Kingsley Shacklebolt, but he’s not likely to win.” Amelia wrinkled her nose. “Rufus Scrimgeour is the favored candidate right now, as not ten minutes after Fudge’s impeachment he was announcing his candidacy in the atrium.”
Both Amelia and Narcissa frowned, and Harry looked at them in confusion. “Who is he?”
“One of the Heads of the internal Auror office, but he’s more of a paper-pusher than anything else. He’s someone I’ve always suspected to be corrupt, or just downright incompetent at fighting Dark Wizards, despite claiming otherwise.” Amelia sounded bitter. “He has the backing of the older families, as Tiberius is constantly whispering in his ear along with McLaggen and Higgs.”
Narcissa snorted. “Lucius was able to pay Scrimgeour off once, it was over some trouble Crabbe and Goyle got into. I’ll admit that I’ve never seen someone as obsessed with their self image as Scrimgeour.”
The three of them sat quietly for a long moment, silently digesting the day’s revelations. In Harry’s mind, the news that Fudge was gone had him mentally jumping for joy. And yet, despite this, it seemed that the previous Minister’s replacement wouldn’t be any better.
“What if we run our own candidate?” Harry suddenly asked.
“Who?” Amelia raised a brow, seeming as if she already suspected what his answer would be.
The redhead likely expected him to ask her to run for Minister, and it would make quite a lot of sense if that was the case. Amelia Bones already had quite a lot of power in the Wizengamot, enough to cause a scene with Dumbledore earlier that day, yet still not enough to beat Kingsley and Scrimgeour outright.
But Harry didn’t say Amelia’s name, as instead he replied, “Narcissa.”
“What?” The new Hogwarts Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor looked taken back. “You want me to be Minister?”
“It makes sense in a twisted way, doesn’t it?” He smirked. “You already have a good reputation among the older families, as well as the background of being a Professor and the ex-wife of Lucius Malfoy. Combine that with my endorsement along with Amelia’s, and you would make enough people happy that you could get votes from all over.”
Narcissa frowned, yet didn’t look entirely opposed to the idea.
Harry was right, in that it did make sense for Narcissa to run. As bad as it seemed that Lucius was her former husband, she could play it off to the public as herself being a victim, while at the same time getting support from Lucius’ old Death Eater comrades who believed she would be in their corner.
Amelia suddenly stood then, and crossed the room to where he was. She leaned down and give him a peck on the cheek before smiling. “Thank you for not asking me to be Minister. That’s the last job I’d want.”
Harry grinned, and reached out to pull the redhead into his lap. From there his arms wrapped around Amelia’s body, with his hands coming to rest oddly close to her large breasts.
The redhead stiffened. “H-Harry?”
His palms moved in then, latching onto the impression of her bust to grope her big tits through the layers of clothing she wore. Amelia breathed steadily but loudly, while Harry groaned in deep satisfaction as his nose pressed into her hair. “I need my ‘Melia.”
Her top came undone then, as Narcissa watched the scene while biting her lip. Soon the redhead’s shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a lacy black bra underneath which struggled to hold back such a massive pair of breasts. Harry didn’t hesitate, his hands going in to roughly grope and fondle Amelia’s tits.
“F-Fuck, Harry.” The redhead breathed. “You sure know what a woman wants…”
“It’s not about what you want.” He said easily. “It’s about getting my hands on these big tits.”
Narcissa could feel her own core heating up at the scene, and the blonde MILF watched as the DMLE director came undone in Harry Potter’s arms.
-
Rhythmic footfalls sounded quietly as she walked through the halls of the Hogwarts library, with her sister along with her best friend following at her heels. Perfectly styled straight blonde hair bounced lightly with each step, as an aristocratic face with high cheekbones that went with cold blue eyes surveyed their surroundings diligently.
Astoria yawned in a show of boredom from behind her. “What are we doing here again?”
“We’re here to study, I guess.” She could just tell Tracey was rolling her eyes. “Not that Daph ever tells us anything. Hell, she didn’t even tell me about Potter’s harem till I saw it in the paper.”
“My personal life is none of your business, Davis.” To an outsider, the rebuke would have sounded cold and brutal. To use the last name when referring to her best friend, in conjunction with a harsh reprimand… yet it was what those closest to Daphne Greengrass were used to at this point.
Just then, a pair of second year girls walked out of a nearby aisle, and damn near stumbled into the three, causing them all to stop. The two second years looked up at her, blanched, and their expressions changed to become panicked.
“W-We’re sorry, m-my Lady!” The first girl, a Ravenclaw with brown hair stuttered out as she stared up in horror at the Slytherin Ice Queen.
The second girl, a Hufflepuff, bowed deeply while her body trembled in sheer terror. “P-Please forgive us!”
It wasn’t just her nickname as the Slytherin Ice Queen that gave Daphne Greengrass her infamous reputation, nor was it specifically her relationship with Harry Potter, but rather the dark allure of someone like the Boy-Who-Lived falling for a dark and cruel young Slytherin girl like Daphne Greengrass.
Harry Potter liked older, dangerous, and powerful women. That much was spelled out every other day in Witch Weekly. And as such, it eliminated the vast majority of Hogwarts girls from the competition to gain his affection.
And yet, of all the women who Harry Potter was in a relationship with, whether it be the DMLE Director or the Black Widow, Daphne Greengrass managed to stand out.
How did the Ice Queen manage to get with Harry Potter?
That question was asked time after time throughout Britain, as well as in papers and gossip columns abroad. And the mystique and allure of that question did nothing but increase her own reputation, whether it be for better or worse.
Daphne Greengrass looked down at the two quivering second years. “Next time, stay out of my way. In fact, don’t come near me again.”
“Y-Yes, my Lady.” The two girls burst into tears, and quickly turned around before running off.
“Geez, that was brutal.” Tracey said nonchalantly, as if such a sight was a common occurrence.
And it was a common occurrence, as Daphne Greengrass rarely went a day without dishing out a lashing from her silver tongue. It didn’t matter if it was second year Ravenclaws in the library, nor her own dorm mates in the Slytherin common room, none were spared from her wrath. Other than Harry Potter, he could do anything he wanted to her.
She tried to ignore the sudden reddening of her cheeks, and instead busied herself by continuing her trek through the library. That was when she came upon an unusual sight that made her pause in interest.
Fleur Delacour sat at a table by herself, clearly trying to study. Sadly, a group of male admirers surrounded her, all of which either drooling or attempting to ask her out. It was hardly an unusual sight, as the Veela had made quite a few scenes since her arrival at Hogwarts.
But rather, what got Daphne’s attention was the sheer defeat that hung off the French Veela, as if her previous cocky attitude had disappeared. Daphne narrowed in, akin to a shark smelling blood in the water, and her two followers gave squeaks when she changed direction and beelined for the Veela.
A stack of spell books sat in front of the Veela, her blonde hair cascading over one shoulder, all while her quill moved elegantly, looping delicate script onto parchment.
Three sixth-year Ravenclaw boys hovered nearby, speaking in overly casual tones, pretending to browse the shelves behind her. One dropped a quill just to have an excuse to kneel close to Fleur’s chair.
“Do you need help finding anything, Fleur?” Asked one of them, trying too hard to sound helpful. “I know this library better than anyone!”
The Veela did not look up. “Non, I am perfectly capable of finding a book without assistance.”
The boy flushed crimson.
Another tried to tell her a nonsensical joke, only to fall apart into a stuttering and drooling mess because of her Veela allure.
Before a third boy could try his luck, a new voice cut across the silence like a blade.
“All of you, leave.”
The nearby boys looked up at her approach, saw just who it was that spoke, and nearly ran over each other in their haste to get away.
Fleur didn’t so much as look up, continuing her writing. “Can I help you, leetle girl?”
“Harry’s hosting a party over Yule, and I’m here to pass an invitation along.” Daphne said robotically, as if the very words pained her.
Fleur’s lips gained a sharp edge. “It probably burned you to say that, especially when I’m the one Harry is so desperate to invite.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m the one who ended up permanently attached to his arm, while you’re just his extracurricular relief.”
Fleur’s smile thinned. “He is… misled. These things happen.”
“Mm.” Daphne tilted her head. “Must be hard, isn’t it? All the attention from every boy in this castle, able to enchant them all with a swish of your hair and the tinge of your accent. And yet the one boy you want isn’t fooled by any of it. He’s seen the limits of your Veela heritage, and found you wanting.”
Fleur let out a hiss of irritation, as if she had been burned. “What do you want, Greengrass?”
Daphne smiled, a thin, flimsy thing that was as sharp as a blade. “I’m here to offer you a branch of friendship. You are a desirable Witch, Delacour, but not so desirable that Harry would give up everything to be with you. Join me, or risk being Harry’s leftovers when he finds better women to feast on.”
Fleur’s fingers tapped the edge of the table in irritation. “And now you expect me to bow, is that it? To clean his cock after he fucks your pussy?”
“If that’s what it takes.” Daphne shrugged. “Otherwise, stay in your lane, Veela.”
Fleur’s nostrils flared slightly. “You are bold, Greengrass. Perhaps too bold.”
“Maybe.” Daphne gave a faint smile. “But he likes that about me.”
She turned without another word, her steps slow and deliberate as she walked away. Fleur watched her go, lips tight, her quill still in hand yet unmoving.
Outside the window, the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows through the library as the quiet settled again.
“You know, I’m kind of glad that I’m not in a relationship with Potter now.” Tracey said, sounding almost shellshocked by the interaction.
“Don’t tell me the rest of Harry’s girls are like that, Sister?” Astoria pleaded, sounding almost concerned for Daphne’s wellbeing if she had to deal with bitches like Fleur Delacour on a daily basis.
“They’re not.” Daphne answered after a moment. “If anything… they’re worse.”
-
Her eyes snapped open as she awoke in the night, a loud crash getting her attention from the next room over. She pulled back the covers and cautiously got out of bed, being careful not to make a sound as she made her way across the room and opened her bedroom door.
She slowly walked out into an empty and dark hallway, the city lights reflecting through the windows as she made her way down towards her living room. It was there she spotted a broken vase right by the window, along with an intruder staring at her from where he stood in the middle of the room.
It was that same boy from earlier, the one she met in a park while out on a walk. She had thought quite a bit about him since then, his green eyes burned into her memory. And yet here he was in her apartment.
The dark haired man strode across the room, his massive muscular form suddenly towering over her. His hand moved up and brushed against the side of her face softly, and she leaned into his comforting hand.
That was when he struck, his actions becoming viscous as that same hand moved back and pulled her hair. She gasped, and suddenly he was upon her.
His other hand grabbed her neck, and soon she could hear clothing being torn as her pajamas were ripped away. Underneath she wore a scandalous black bra and panties, but those didn’t stop him from putting his greedy hands all over her assets.
“P-Please…” She begged. And the worst part was that she was begging for more.
“Be quiet. Slut.” He ordered.
Slut? She shuddered, when really she should’ve been writhing in fury. None of her previous boyfriends had called her such a thing, with two of her relationships even ending over smaller insults being thrown.
And yet with Harry it was different. He was so dominant, his lust unrelenting. His hands were all over her, no part of her body going untouched as he made sure to fell up every part of her body.
“So good…” She whimpered in pleasure, her body feeling better than should be humanly possible from his ministrations. “Please give me more…”
“You’re going to be my muggle whore, aren’t you?” He asked her.
She didn’t know what muggle meant, but replied anyways. “Yes, anything you want…”
Suddenly, a shadow came over her, and she looked up in astonishment. “W-What is t-that?”
A massive cock that was bigger than she could imagine draped over her then, its girth so thick she couldn’t see around it, and so long she had to tilt her head to see its tip. Harry gripped it roughly, his fingers unable to meet as his manhood cast a shadow over her face.
“Open wide.” He grabbed her hair then, her mouth opening without consent, and Harry slammed forward with his-
And then she was back at work. Or to be more specific, Olivia McKay woke up face-down at her desk, drooling all over her paperwork.
“Ugh…” She groaned, sitting up to rub her eyes and get the drool off her chin. It was a rare occurrence that she happened to fall asleep while on the job, but pulling two all-nighters during the last week had finally taken its toll.
“Sleeping at work? You’ll be lucky if I don’t tell Jim about this.” Came the annoying voice of her coworker, a shrill woman named Sharon.
The woman had been nothing but a thorn in her side since she started her current job. A twice-divorced bitter woman with dyed-blonde hair who always complained and never managed to get anything done.
Olivia’s gaze sharpened in on the woman. “Go ahead and tell him. Because I’m sure our boss will fire the woman who brings in half our revenue.”
Her annoying coworker let out a hiss and ran off, and Olivia sighed before straightening up and turning her attention back to her work.
She worked at one of the best law firms in London, and after two years she had cemented herself as its best attorney. And that was despite having graduated only a few years previously, and not even having reached the age of thirty.
CLACK CLACK
A weird tapping noise got her attention then, almost like a pebble being thrown up against a window. Yet that that should be impossible, seeing as the building she worked in was far too high for such a thing to occur. She spun to look out the window, looking for the source of the noise, only for her eyes to see the last thing she expected.
Is that an owl?
A beautiful, white owl pecked at the window, right where there happened to small latch to open it. Strangely enough, the beautiful owl carried a letter of all things, and Olivia made her way over before opening the window to let it in.
It seemingly nodded at her, landing on the window frame before dropping the letter into her hands. And before she could say anything, the owl spun around and leaped away, flying north and away from the city.
“That’s odd.” Olivia frowned, feeling like the day was just getting stranger by the minute. She looked down at the letter, seeing it only had her name on it, along with London being the only address listed. She went ahead and opened it, only to feel her incredulity go to new heights.
“You’re invited to Harry Potter’s private Yule Celebration…” She read off, and a small smile tugged at her lips then.
Disclaimer: All Characters are over the Age of 18.
Comments
OmegonFlair
Not this chapter, unfortunately, but it will be coming soon
cjmd3419
Did we miss the lemon between Amelia and Harry?
