章節 305: Voldemort's Victory (Harry Potter AU)
A/N: Voldemort's Victory is a commissioned one shot that was originally written back in May of 2021. Posting it up here and now for people to enjoy!
Themes: Rough Sex, Mind Control, Master/Slave
-x-X-x-
As his greatest enemy and also his greatest prize is brought before him in chains, he does not rise. Instead, he remains sat behind the Headmaster's desk, a pleased smirk on his lipless mouth. The monstrous visage of Lord Voldemort gazes upon the captured for of Henrietta Jane Potter and hums in approval, even as the red head fights against his Death Eater's grip.
However, seeing one of his subordinate's hands straying a bit too… closely for his liking, the Dark Lord flicks his hand and blasts the offending peon back, causing the one on the other side of the chained girl to tense up and immediately let go of her, dropping her down into the chair on the opposite side of the desk.
"Leave us."
His sibilant tone is met with immediate obedience as the Death Eater hastily backs away, grabbing his fellow on the way out and helping him leave the office. He's lucky he got off so easily, without a round of Crucio for taking such liberties with Voldemort's prize.
"Henrietta Potter… the Girl-Who-Lived, delivered to me at last."
Squirming in the runed chains holding her in place, the bespectacled red head scowls. Her hair is a mixture of her father and mother, a huge bunch of curls as messy as James Potter's mop head, while being as scarlet red as Lily Evans. Her eyes though, a deep emerald green, are all her mothers'.
It reminds him of that night… the night where he lost everything to those eyes, to Lily Evans Potter's genius. But at the same time, he gained more than anyone, even himself, could possibly have imagined. And now, finally, he was here to claim those gains after letting them… mature all these years.
"You think you've won, but there will always be those who will fight you!"
He can't help but chuckle at that. Spreading his arms wide, the Dark Lord arches a currently non-existent brow.
"I THINK I've won? Child, look around you. Hogwarts itself is mine. My victory over you and your friends is absolute. Those who did not surrender upon your defeat have been killed, and those who have surrendered are my prisoners just as you are. The war is over… the Wizarding World bows to me."
Henrietta's admittedly beautiful face twists and contorts as negative emotions wash interchangeably through her. She snarls at him, struggling against her chains to no avail.
"You've won… for now. But no tyrant lasts forever. The rest of the world will stop you, if nothing else. Your reign will be a short one, milord."
The way she says 'milord' is in a sneering, mocking tone. Frankly, Voldemort is impressed. He didn't think Henrietta had this level of snark in her. He would have thought Dumbledore would have trained it out of his Instrument of Light. Chuckling, the snake-like Dark Lord shakes his head.
"We shall see. You speak of things you do not know, child. The world will stop me… how can they stop me, when half of their number are Dark Lords in their own right?"
That gets the Girl-Who-Lived's attention, her nostrils flaring and her eyes widening in confusion, before narrowing in disbelief.
"What does that even mean?!"
Voldemort's grin is likely a terrifying thing to behold. He's well aware that his resurrection left him… unique in his looks and appearance.
"Perhaps you think because Dumbledore was the Supreme Mugwump, that the International Confederation of Wizards is made up of only good, democratic sorts who want nothing more than to spread equality and peace throughout the magical world. You would be wrong. The International Confederation of Wizards is a body that is made up of all sorts… from Wizard-Kings to Wizard-Emperors, from Dark Lords to Immortal Pharaohs. Skinchangers, Necromancers, and more."
Henrietta stares at him nonplussed and clearly understanding. Voldemort finds himself taking on an almost fatherly, gentle tone as he shrugs his shoulders.
"What is and isn't allowed in Wizarding Britain is not at all relevant to the rest of the world. Perhaps if Dumbledore still lived, he could politic his way to raising an army against me. As he is gone, along with much of Wizarding Britain's old guard, the International Confederation of Wizards will accept me among their ranks quite happily."
If anything, Henrietta looks more confused by that.
"You… don't intend to conquer the entire world?"
Letting out a bark of laughter, Voldemort shakes his head at her childish viewpoints.
"Of course not, my dear. Did you not hear what I said? I am a Dark Lord, my title recognized by magic itself… but Britain, for all that it's very full of itself because of past glory, is but a small pond. One I am quite happy with controlling utterly so that I might continue my research unopposed. That's all I've ever wanted, in the end."
He almost hopes she'll ask about his research, as he's beginning to enjoy this little back and forth. He's always enjoyed an inquisitive mind… but alas, the damage Dumbledore has done to Henrietta Potter is no more apparent then when the girl proceeds to simply shut down at the mere mention of 'research' and just glares at him petulantly.
"… Whatever. Just get it over with. Kill me then and cement your rule."
Here, Voldemort lets out another laugh.
"Is that what you thought I wanted of you? Death? Perhaps once upon a time… but these days, I imagine you want to die by my hand more than I want to kill you, dear Henrietta."
Her emerald green eyes widen once more at that, this time with a hint of fear in them. Slowly rising from behind the desk, Voldemort circles around the august piece of woodwork, a piece of furniture he would have happily sat behind for real once upon a time, if only Dumbledore had given him a chance…
Standing before her, smiling brightly with his snake-like features, Voldemort reaches down and grabs his prize by her face, his fingers digging into her jaw as he forces her to look at him.
"Killing you now would only make you a martyr for a cause I would rather make sure is fully dead and buried. Not to mention… it would destroy a precious piece of myself, wouldn't it?"
As Henrietta shivers at the realization he finally knows that she's one of his horcruxes, Voldemort smirks.
"Yes, it's much better for both of us if I keep you alive, my sweet. Much better to ruin your image and disgrace you as the savior of the wizarding world by binding you to my will and tarnishing your reputation in it's entirety, don't you think?"
She's shocked for a moment, but then her eyes harden with resolve, as if she thinks she knows his intentions.
"I will NEVER join you, Voldemort. No matter how much you torture me!"
His smirk only widens, and he shakes his head.
"You will not have a choice, girl. The horcrux has already sealed your fate. What I am about to do to you… it will make your Fifth Year look like child's play in comparison. And once I've finished with you, why… I suppose I'll do the same to your precious brilliant mudblood friend as well."
Truth be told, Voldemort didn't actually have any current plans for young Hermione Granger. She'd been captured alive, he was aware of that, and so was Henrietta. Which was why he brought her up, to rub salt in the wound.
Emerald green eyes flash and a pretty, kissable mouth opens to deliver what is no doubt a scathing retort. Needless to say, the Dark Lord doesn't let her get a single word out. Instead, he plants his finger atop her scar like he did once a few years ago, in that graveyard. This time however, it's not a test to make sure his new body is immune to her mother's powerful protection. This time, Voldemort is playing for keeps.
Strengthening the connection between them is easy enough now that he understands that connection is made with a piece of his very divided soul. Drawing on the horcrux, now that he knows exactly what it is, leaves Lord Voldemort practically thrumming with power. He'd been a fool to scatter his soul fragments to the wind, he realized that now. While safety of his tokens of immortality WAS key, keeping a couple around could only make him more powerful… and also revitalize him when necessary.
Even as he's doing quite the number of dear Ms. Potter's soul and mind, Voldemort is also changing things physically… but not for her. For himself. With the horcrux in her forehead to draw upon, as well as Nagini nearby, strengthening him, the snake-like features of the resurrected Dark Lord begin to shift… and then bulge.
His face changes, and lush brown hair begins to grow from his scalp for the first time in nigh on two decades. So long as he lived a half-life as a wraith, and then years of this monstrous, snake-like appearance. Ah, but Lord Voldemort has always been vain… and without hesitation, he grasps the opportunity to repair himself to his prime with both hands.
Born in 1926, he was technically seventy-one years old now. But as everyone knew, wizards and witches aged at a much slower rate than muggles. Even then, with his own choice, the Dark Lord does not settle for the appearance of your average seventy-year old wizard. By the time he's done with himself, he looks more like he's in his thirties, a perfect aging of his handsome, youthful self from his Hogwarts Years.
Multitasking is something that he's always excelled at. As he finishes with himself, so too does he finish with Henrietta Potter. Her eyes had rolled back in her skull when he started, and her resistance had vanished. As it's done, as she opens those emerald eyes of hers once more, the resistance does not return. Instead, the defiant glint in those eyes has faded in its entirety, and she looks at him with nothing more than adoration and devotion in her beautiful gaze.
"Hello, pet. Welcome back to the world of the living. Tell me who I am."
Breath hitching, Henrietta stares up at him with nothing of her previous feelings evident.
"You… y-you are Lord Voldemort. The Dark Lord… my Master."
Smiling sardonically, now with actual lips that stretch his perfectly crafted cheeks, Voldemort chuckles. His voice sounds far from sibilant now, though he's quite sure he can still call upon Parseltongue if need be.
"And who, my dear, are you?"
Blushing furiously, Henrietta averts her gaze, though she can't completely lower her head.
"Y-Your humble slave, milord. No more than that… I belong to you, milord. I always have. I just… I just didn't know it…"
Unlike earlier, when Henrietta says 'milord' now, she means it. Voldemort exults in the rush of power for a moment, before deciding to have some more fun with it. Grinning wickedly, he cocks his head to the side.
"Yes, you acted quite foolishly until I showed you the truth, didn't you? You were so silly, to think you could defy me."
"Yes Master… the old me was an idiot! I… I have no excuses for my stupidity! Please Master, please punish your worthless slave until she learns her place at your feet!"
Voldemort hums at that, raising an eyebrow that actually exists now.
"Oh? One might say Dumbledore did a superb job of manipulating you. Why not blame him?"
He's gratified when his new puppet's emerald eyes cloud over with the same rage and anger she'd once held for him at the thought of the dead Headmaster. Her hands clutch harder at the arms of the chair she's sat in, for all that she's still bound in runed chains.
"That bastard… Master, it's true that he tried to use me against you… I'm glad he's dead, I'm glad he's rotting in the ground! But… my actions were my own. I stood against you… I t-tried to lead an army against you… I deserve to be punished, s-surely…"
Leaning back, the rejuvenated Dark Lord hums as he considers his new pet. Then, he nods and snaps his fingers, causing the runed chains to fall off of her body just like that.
"Strip and then crawl to me. After all, pets do not walk, do they?"
"Y-Yes Master! N-No, Master!"
With excitement reverberating through every fiber of her being, Henrietta stands up and happily shucks off her robes in his presence, proceeding to strip down. First her robes, then her blouse and skirt, and then her panties and bra. She removes them all, quickly and efficiently, before dropping to her hands and knees and beginning to crawl to him.
As Voldemort leans back against the front of the desk behind him, he spends the moments contemplating his new toy. The Girl-Who-Lived, who had fought him with everything she had, was now naked and willingly subjugating herself for his pleasure. It was… arousing, to say the least. When she gets to his feet, she looks up at him hopefully, expectantly.
But Voldemort just steps away from her, circling back around the desk and forcing her to follow, crawling after him as he sits down in the chair. Once she's kneeling between his splayed legs, the Dark Lord, sat casually, gestures down at his crotch.
"Service me with your mouth, slave."
"Yes Master! This worthless cunt would be happy to do so!"
Of course she would be. What he'd done to her wasn't something as simple as Mind Control. It couldn't be bucked off by a strong enough mind like one could with the Imperius Curse or a Confundus Charm. Rather, Voldemort had completely warped who Henrietta Potter was as a person. He had reached through their connection, which effectively left him with a back door into not just her mind but also her soul and had gone about twisting her into exactly what he wanted.
Really, it was all Dumbledore's fault. Had the old man truly gotten so complacent in his doddering old age? The wizard who had defeated Grindelwald, who had so terrified Voldemort for so many decades with his single-minded focus and will to succeed above all else… had clearly gone senile in the last dozen years or so of his life.
Because really, how else does one justify leaving a one year old baby with a Curse Mark like the one on young Henriette's age? Unless Dumbledore WASN'T senile and had known from the moment he saw it what he was looking at. Actually, that WOULD explain why the old wizard hadn't taken Henrietta to hospital. Any half-decent mediwitch would have taken one look at the lightning bolt scar on her forehead and recognized it as something dark, dangerous, and corruptive, if not for the horcrux it actually was.
Instead, Dumbledore had left Henrietta with muggles from what Voldemort had been told. Muggles who had no idea what the baby was dealing with. And thus had Henrietta spent nearly her entire life as a receptacle for a fragment of Voldemort's soul. In the end, she was the worst choice to face him. Her body, her mind, her soul… they were already his. He just had to claim them for himself.
As his mind went off on that tangent, his little pet had gone ahead and followed his orders. His cock is out of its confines and in her mouth now, and she's been sucking on his dick for the past few minutes. As pleasurable as it is, he has to admit that this is as much about the power he now wields over his supposed arch-nemesis as it is about the sexual pleasure. Sex has always been about power for him though. Sex has always been about control, domination.
Reaching down, he slides his fingers through Henrietta's curls as the bespectacled girl looks up at him devotedly, bobbing up and down on his cock.
"You're not half bad as a cock-sucker, pet. Certainly you're better at pleasuring my cock then you were at fighting me."
Henrietta moans, clearly not liking to be reminded that she'd gone against her Master. But Voldemort could care less. He's grinning wickedly now, all too pleased with his new toy.
"You belong to me. You've belonged to me since we met. Your mother and father didn't agree, but they were fools. As was Dumbledore. And now here you are… my property, at long last."
She was the crowning jewel of his conquest. Voldemort groans as she redoubles her pace, sucking his cock to the best of her ability as if to prove that she wasn't as foolish as her parents or Dumbledore. She was, but then, Voldemort could find use for her all the same. Tightening up his grip on her hair, he suddenly forces her down the entire length of his cock.
"Gaaaaagkh! Glluuuuughk!"
She doesn't fight him, instead staring up at him with eyes that are already beginning to tear. Voldemort just smirks.
"You need some training still, of course. For instance, you have neglected my testicles, slave."
Emerald eyes widen at that, and a moment later she's apologizing by fondling his balls, her hands working over his nuts even as he begins to drive her up and down his length quite… viciously.
"Hulghk! Hulghk! Hulghk!"
"That's it, you worthless little bitch. Choke on my cock. Fondle my balls. Worship me, you stupid cunt. Worship your Master!"
Alright, so perhaps he's not QUITE as over the last few years as he cares to admit. He's won now, and decisively at that, so it should all be water under the bridge… but at the same time, Henrietta Jane Potter has been a thorn in his side for as long as she's been the prize to be claimed. She's ruined his plans time and time again and had even gone as far as killing his Basilisk and destroying one of his horcruxes in just her Second Year!
Now though… now she was all his and he could do whatever he wanted with her. So of course, Voldemort exercises that right by cumming right down the back of the young witch's throat without warning or hesitation.
Gagging and choking and gurgling on his seed, clearly unprepared for it, Henrietta's face is left in ruins as his cum explodes out of her nostrils and the sides of her mouth, her involuntary tears streaking down her cheeks to mix with the white, hot jizz. She looks absolutely wrecked… and Voldemort has to admit, it's a look he quite appreciates on the red head's face.
Having taken his fill of her mouth, having had her worship his cock and balls before he ravaged her throat to his heart's content, Voldemort grabs a fistful of Henrietta's curly hair in his hand and drags her to her feet, even as he surges to his own. He proceeds to bend her over the Headmaster's Desk right then and there.
They have an audience, of course. The portraits of every Headmaster and Headmistress line the office. Voldemort had taken the liberty of freezing them to their canvasses when he'd first strown into the room however, letting not a single one escape. None of them have been able to move all this time, forced into a helpless frozen position. But they've been watching, Albus Dumbledore included. They've watched as a Dark Lord finally did what none had managed to do in a thousand years of Hogwarts… and conquered Great Britain.
Now, they continue to be forced to watch as he bends their greatest hope over the desk so many of them sat behind, and she in turn moans and begs for him to take her.
"Please Master! Please give it to me! Use my body how you like! Fuck this worthless slut to your heart's content! I'm such a useless, stupid witch! Please make me your cum dump so I never have to think about casting magic again!"
Chuckling darkly, Voldemort runs his free hand down Henrietta's shivering, trembling, quivering back as she begs him at the top of her lungs. He hadn't even had to say anything, it's a completely unprovoked assault on herself, a display of self-degradation that Voldemort honestly finds highly pleasing. His cock, throbbing and rock hard still, comes up to young Henrietta's slit and slides against her slippery wet pussy lips, giving truth to the fact that she'd gotten immensely turned on by being skull fucked on his cock.
A moment later, and he's inside of her, driving himself deep, DEEP into her cunt with all the force he can muster. She's a virgin of course, and he tears right through her hymen without pausing, drawing a sharp cry from Henrietta's lips that quickly transforms into a wanton moan as she shivers along his length.
"S-So deep, Master… so deep inside of me! T-Thank you for gracing this worthless cum dump with your magnificent majestic member, Master! Please… please continue to use me to your heart's content!"
Truly, the old Henrietta Potter is gone. His new lustful slave has replaced her entirely. With a grin on his handsome face, the Dark Lord sets to work doing exactly that… using her to his heart's content.
Needless to say, he hasn't had much of a libido in quite a long time. Not really any call for a sexual appetite when one is a wraith, and even after his resurrection, he had been diminished, in a way. But now, thanks to this lovely little red-haired bitch underneath him, Lord Voldemort is back in all the best ways. And he's finding himself dealing with more than just pent-up aggression… there's also pent-up sexual need flowing out of him right now as he takes Henrietta to pound town.
"That's right you little bitch. Take my fucking cock! You'll do much better as my cock sleeve then as a witch, that's for sure!"
Henrietta moans, nodding her head happily as he fucks into her tight little twat. She's gushing wet and clearly cumming buckets around his cock, her reworked soul and mind seeping into her body. As far as Ms. Potter is concerned, her only purpose in life is to please her Master. The fact that she's doing so right now most certainly pleases her in turn, leaving her a sopping mess happy to be of service to her beloved Master.
With a shuddering groan, Voldemort proceeds to fill his arch nemesis with his seed. No longer the sassy young tart from before, this Henrietta Potter takes his load as she was meant to, as a receptacle of his soul should… by shouting to the high heavens that she was so very happy to belong to him, and in turn so very happy to be of use to him.
The frozen Headmasters and Headmistresses surrounding them must be horrified… though Voldemort knows that more than a few would be HAPPY to see a Half-Blood upstart like Henrietta put in her place. However, those same wizards and witches would be horrified to learn that he himself was a Half-Blood as well. Yes, the ruler of Wizarding Britain, the Dark Lord who had finally succeeded where a thousand years of Dark Lords had failed to conquer the isles, was nothing more than a Half-Blood.
Amusing, to say the least… but frankly, the Purebloods and their blood purity nonsense was the furthest thing from Lord Voldemort's mind at the moment. With a wicked grin on his rejuvenated face, the Dark Lord slowly pulls out of Henrietta's creampied quim… and after applying a couple of spells to her back door, he spreads her butt cheeks wide and begins to ply his cockhead against her sphincter.
His new slave lets out a surprised moan at the sudden intrusion of this, her final unclaimed hole. Rather than begging him not to or trying to tell him that it's the wrong hole however, Henrietta proves just how far gone she is, reaching back herself once she realizes what he's doing and pulling her ass cheeks apart even wider for his pleasure.
"Yes, Master! Claim my tight little asshole! Fuck my ass as hard as you like! Punish me, Master! Make me your anal slut! Make me your bitch!"
Snorting derisively, Voldemort reaches forward and gathers another fistful of Henrietta's red locks, this time fashioning them into a makeshift ponytail as he tugs her head back by the hair.
"You're already my bitch, you silly slut. Still, let's see what we can do about the rest, shall we?"
And then he thrusts forward, and Henrietta's squeals of pain fill the room as he impales her virgin ass on his cock. The spells he cast ahead of time make sure she's clean for him as well as not capable of tearing, but they don't stop it from hurting and burning at first as he drives himself into her with agonizing (for her) swiftness.
Meanwhile, a groan leaves Voldemort's lips as he finds himself enjoying his new slave's tight little back door more than he ever would have thought possible. Henrietta's virgin ass, combined with her pained squealing, is more than enough to egg him on. Listening to her cry out in agony… it turns him on more than all of her moans of pleasure have before now. Because yes, she's experiencing pain at his hands, or rather at his dick… but she's accepting it willingly, because he's her Master and she belongs to him.
He could kill her, and she would thank him for it with her dying breaths. This… this is the sort of power, the sort of control that Voldemort longed for in his younger years. This is the sort of dominion over his surroundings that forced him down the path of a Dark Lord. When Dumbledore had denied him the chance to exercise his need for control in a healthy manner by refusing him the DADA position, Voldemort… no, Tom had had no choice. He had had no choice but to BECOME Lord Voldemort in full.
It was all Dumbledore's fault… but truth be told, Voldemort doesn't regret a thing. If he could go back and change anything, he certainly wouldn't have tried to kill Henrietta Potter, but even that in the end had paid… unexpected dividends.
Driving himself into Henrietta's ass again and again, the Dark Lord hisses as he thoroughly enjoys his pet's last hole. Unthinkingly, he begins to spank her as well, his hands coming down on her ass cheeks back and forth, beating them nice and red like a pair of dreams.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Still, soon enough, her pain is replaced by ecstasy as her ass loosens and reshapes itself to fit his pistoning, unrelenting, merciless cock. Soon enough, she's cumming for him just from being butt-fucked, becoming the anal slut she'd promised to become in short order.
In the absence of her pain-filled screams, Voldemort finds himself… not quite dissatisfied, but content with this being enough. And so, he pulls out and proceeds to paint his slave's back and hair with his cum, leaving it all in her red locks as well as all over her back and her ass. Finally, as he pulls back and Henrietta's legs give out on her, causing the naked young witch to collapse to her knees before him, Voldemort smiles… and draws forth a specially prepared collar from his robes.
"You will put this on, my pet. And with it, your transition into becoming nothing more than my slave will be complete.
"O-Of course, Master! Anything for you!"
Henrietta happily, even giddily, takes the slave collar from his hands. It's a specialized one, one that's magic requires a willing person. Most of the time, tricking someone into it was good enough for it to work. This time however, Voldemort had quite literally restructured Henrietta's soul to make her willing. The collar goes around her neck with an easy click, sealing up and becoming an indestructible object. One would have to remove Henrietta's head to get it off of her now.
As she fits it into place, Voldemort smiles and nods approvingly, his eyes lingering on the word engraved in the front. He admits, he couldn't help himself. There, emblazoned into the slave collar, is the word SLUT… but with the L in SLUT stylized as a lightning bolt akin to Henrietta's scar.
Chuckling, he runs his hand along the side of his pet's hair, through her red curls, and watches as she lovingly nuzzles into his palm. With this, his conquest of Henrietta Jane Potter is complete… but his conquest of Wizarding Britain… is just beginning.
-x-X-x-
The hush over the Great Hall is fear-filled as everyone gazes upon the rejuvenated face of Lord Voldemort. When the handsome man had first walked out with a naked, collared red head behind him, even his Death Eaters had been briefly confused, not recognizing him. A simple application of the Dark Mark that they'd all willingly branded themselves with had confirmed his identity readily enough, however. He WAS their Dark Lord, and there was no denying it.
Now though, now Lord Voldemort stands before the survivors of the Battle of Hogwarts, the prisoners who had surrendered rather than die to his Death Eaters. Smirking at them all, he snaps his fingers and calls Henrietta to his side.
"Many of you might recognize your so-called savior. Your former Champion has had her eyes opened to the truth. Ah… but it would be best received coming from her own lips. Pet."
"Yes Master!"
Hopping up beside him, Henrietta is all smiles… until she looks out at the crowd of shocked, horrified faces. Then, she scowls, glaring at them all angrily.
"You were all stupid for following a dumb bitch like me! Master is the only leader left in all of Great Britain that's worth our allegiance! He's the most powerful, he's the smartest, and he's better than ALL of us! But most of all, he's better than me! I'm just a stupid little cunt who didn't know my place was at my Master's feet! Now that I know I belong to him, I can make up for years and years of idiocy! But you all… you should start begging for mercy now, because none of you deserve it! Maybe, just maybe, if you beg hard enough, Master will forgive you anyways!"
Every word is said with blind conviction. Every sentence is spoken with eager devotion. Voldemort looks out on the faces of those captured and sees how Henrietta's words break them, one by one. The more she speaks, the more they lose hope, the more they fall into despair. But there's still one last thing to be done.
"Pet… your wand."
Drawing the Holly and Phoenix wand that had caused him so much trouble over the years out of his robes, Voldemort holds it out to its owner, his arch-nemesis. Henrietta takes it from him, holding it in one hand as she looks out over the crowd who suddenly all look a lot more concerned with their own individual safety than anything else.
"I'm not a witch anymore! I'm my Master's bitch, his pet, his slave! I don't need a wand to do that… I don't need a wand at all, anymore!"
And then, without further ado, Henrietta holds up her wand in both hands and with an angelic look on her pretty face, snaps it right then and there in front of all of the occupants of the Great Hall. Gasps of shock and dismay ring out as the lot of them watch their so-called savior destroy her best weapon in the fight against the forces of evil.
Of course, as soon as she's snapped her wand, Henrietta turns and hands the remnants to her Master… before dropping to her knees and fishing his cock out in front of all of them, putting it in her mouth without a second of hesitation and choking herself on his dick for all to watch.
"Gagkh! Gagkh! Gagkh!"
Over the noisy gagging of her venerable worship, Lord Voldemort stands tall and triumphant as he looks out over the crowded Great Hall, his gaze meeting the eyes of each prisoner for but a second… a second is, after all, all he needs to check their minds with Legilimency, multitasking as he categorizes which prisoners can be broken and made to serve, and which will have to die lest they become thorns in his side down the road.
One thing is for certain… the war is at its end and Voldemort's victory is absolute. The British Isles will never be the same, ever again.
-x-X-x-
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