FVN Voldemort’s Victory (Harry Potter)
Voldemort’s Victory (Harry Potter)
Voldemort’s Victory (Harry Potter)
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!
Summary: Voldemort has won, and Henrietta Jane Potter and her allies have lost. In the wake of his victory, the Dark Lord sets out to cement his hold on the Wizarding World, starting with the Girl-Who-Lived.
Themes: Rough Sex, Mind Control, Master/Slave
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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."Reêad latest novels at novelhall.com
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.
"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.
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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.
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