The Final War

Chapter 31. The Final War

Two Years Later

15th October, 1998

It was raining when Harry woke up.

He was tempted to close his eyes and sink back into this hazy slumber. The beguiling heat of his mum's body didn't help either, weakening his already crumbling resolve.

With gargantuan effort, he scooted away from the nexus of distractions and sat up, trying not to steal a glance at her plump arse. That would only lead to a round of wild, passionate sex. And the time visible on the bedside clock did not leave him idle for such pleasurable activities.

His sleepy feet dragged him to the toilet, where he relieved his bladder. It was followed by other morning ablutions. Once thoroughly cleaned and freshened up, he returned to the bedroom and shuffled through the wardrobe for something nice and practical.

He picked a three-piece suit with white and ink-blue colour scheme. Nice? Certainly. Practical? Probably not. It would have to do. Today was an important day. If everything went alright, he'd have a job by the end of it. So he had to dress classy to leave a lasting impression.

By the time he was done dressing, his mum was awake too.

She propped herself on the elbow and hummed while eyeing him. "Good morning."

'Don't stare at her tits; don't get excited. You don't have time,' he reprimanded himself, ignoring her large, tantalising breasts.

Leaning down, he pecked on her lips. "Morning. How do I look?"

"Handsome enough to get away with anything." She smiled, yawning and stretching her back with her arms raised up, awarding him with a mouth-watering view—making it impossible to look away. "Give me fifteen minutes; I'll have breakfast ready."

"I don't have time. I'll eat the leftovers."

"Fine then. I'll prepare a feast tonight." She swung her legs from the side of the bed and got off.

"I still haven't aced the practicals yet." Harry chuckled at her confidence in him. Not that it was unwarranted. He didn't think anyone in the entire world could match them in terms of power. After their limits were erased due to Lucifer's boon, their strength kept on growing at a rapid rate.

She placed her palms on his chest, over his ink-blue vest, and her emerald eyes shone with mirth. "I'll disown you if you fail."

"Quite encouraging."

"Oh, I didn't know you wanted encouragement." She slid her palm downwards and cupped his crotch. "You want some?"

Harry groaned and stepped back. "Don't tempt me, mum. I'll be late for the exam."

In response, she dropped to her knees and tied her blood-red hair in a hasty ponytail. Her hands fumbled with his belt, and his trousers slipped down. "I'll be quick then. Can't let you go out in this condition."

He couldn't argue and leered at her as she grabbed his stiff manhood.

Stroking it, she parted her lips and swallowed his cockhead.

A moan tore its way out, and he could do nothing but keep eye contact while she blew him. Heat—enticing wet heat engulfed his shaft. The way her soft, pouty lips dragged back and forth along his girth made his knees weak. And her tongue lathering his cock with moisture only fogged his mind further.

True to her words, she didn't take long, and he burst right into her mouth. She gulped it all down with ease, not surprising given how frequently they engaged in such acts. Pulling away, she rose to her feet and wiped her cum-stained lips with the back of her hand. "There. Pass your practical exam, and you can have something more awaiting you tonight. Encouraging enough, I suppose."

"Right. Very encouraging. Now, please take your lovely arse from my sight before I get excited again."

She laughed and moved into the bathroom, bidding him goodbye.

One would think he'd have gotten used to his mum's allure by now. But no matter how many times he slept with her, she never became boring. Sex with her always remained consistently mind-blowing, leaving him grasping for more. He would assume it was due to the taboo of fucking his own mother. But even that should become lukewarm after so many years. He didn't know what it was that pulled him to her with such magnetism.

Shaking off the wayward musings, he hurriedly went through breakfast before leaving his flat.

He applied a charm against the drizzle and jogged towards the city centre, where the Ministry was.

The city of Avalon had been under construction for nearly a decade. And it was completed just two years ago. After that, it didn't take much effort for the wizarding populace to migrate. His father had taken every measure to make this great migration smooth and easy.

How did he do that? By keeping the buildings and the streets familiar and by giving the people exactly the same houses they had before, that too for free.

In a sense, the city was an exquisitely planned amalgamation of all the magical alleys and villages that had been previously sprinkled throughout Britain. For the first time in history, the entirety of wizarding Britain was living together in one place.

The island was barely 5 square kilometres. But it was more than big enough for their meagre numbers. Even if they had an unlikely population boom in the future, there were twelve other islands in this archipelago. And every single one of those was bigger than Avalon, promptly silencing any rising panic regarding lack of space.

Tall residential buildings were replaced by odd, whimsical shops as he jogged by. Since his flat was only a few streets away from the city centre, he reached the Ministry booth in minutes.

The painted-red telephone booth sat atop a small pedestal right in the heart of Avalon, open to any wizarding citizen.

Once again, his father had tried to keep everything familiar. As a result, the Ministry was underground, just like it was before.

He stepped into the booth and typed the 'secret' number, 62442.

A monotonous voice came alive as the booth dropped underground, making his eyebrows twitch in annoyance, asking him his name and the purpose of this visit. He gave the same answer he had given the last couple of times he visited.

Why didn't he apparate from home? Why didn't he floo directly to the Ministry? Why walk and suffer this booth?

The reason was simple.

After the creation of this city—more like a town—powerful wards were laid upon the entire island to secure it from the outside world. Because of this, apparating was deemed a risk and banned, both by the might of law and the power of magic. As for floo-ing, the Ministry only allowed certified employees and a select few VIPs to directly floo inside the Atrium. Thus, Harry had to trudge in the rain and use the visitor's entrance.

The booth reached the ground, and the door swung open, revealing the bustling Atrium.

The Atrium was a large chamber lined with fireplaces on either side, from which people floo-ed in and out.

He wouldn't have to bother with the visitor's booth again if he got the job today.

With a hopeful smile, he walked into the Atrium.

People milled around, going about their business, forming a part of cacophony, enlivening the area. Still, when they caught sight of him, they managed to find time to whisper and gossip.

He was Harry Evans, after all. The son of James Potter. The heir of King Arthur Reborn.

Used to such public reception, he stalked towards the other side, where the lifts were situated.

He spared only a glance at the Fountain of Magical Brethren in the centre of the Atrium, the statues having become a daily reminder that only the wizards and the witches left Britain. The goblins, the centaurs, and all other races still lived in the Isles. At least the goblins had agreed to open a branch of Gringotts in the new Diagon Alley. If what he heard was right, then his father was tirelessly engaged in a dialogue with other races to bring them here too.

"Wand please." Eric Munch, the man tasked with checking visitors' wands, said in a bored tone.

Harry offered his wand wordlessly. Once checked, he went past the golden gates and joined a half-occupied lift.

"Good morning." He exchanged perfunctory greetings with the strangers and pressed button 2, the level where the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—or DMLE—was located.

As the lift began moving, he idly wondered how his friends were doing. Neville had chosen to become a professional duellist. Hermione had jumped directly into Politics. And Hannah had opened a pub in the new Diagon Alley for some inexplicable reason. Susan, on the other hand, had opted to follow her heart and become an artist… meaning she was practically jobless.

He hid a fond smile at that thought, remembering how he had encouraged her to pursue her interest. Now, if she remained jobless for a while, he would have to take responsibility and shelter and feed her to keep his word, something that he didn't really mind.

Susan had become almost as important to him as his mum. And he wasn't saying it lightly.

Perhaps he'd take her on a date in the muggle world next weekend. It had been a while since they ventured out together.

The sound of lift gates sliding open pulled him out of his reverie.

He entered the wide hall that acted as the entry point for the DMLE. People sat nervously in spartan chairs, waiting for their turn, either to give exams or file a complaint. While some faces seemed familiar, he didn't know any of them.

Nodding at the stout man overlooking the hall, he strolled through the narrow corridor. Unlike others, he had already given his written exams. And instead of joining a compulsory year-long training programme, he wanted to become an auror right away. His words would've been ignored and scoffed at if Senior Auror Nymphadora Tonks hadn't been present that day. Whereas other higher-ups yelled at him for his self-entitlement, she had simply grinned and asked him to beat her in a duel.

This was his practical exam. To beat the best auror in the department.

If he were anyone else, he'd have baulked at the 'impossible' challenge. But his response had been a resolute yes.

Even if Nymphadora Tonks was the most powerful entity in the Ministry, she was still too weak compared to him and his mum. It wouldn't be a lie to say he was looking forward to beating her and earning a name for himself. Chances like these did not tend to drop in one's lap every day.

He shoved the door to his right and strode through another, smaller corridor. At the end of it lay a duelling room, and waiting for him there was the famous metamorphmagus.

She was leaning against the wall, glancing at the wall clock. "Right on time. So eager to get your arse beaten to a pulp."

"I can say the same to you, Miss Tonks. I hope you brought ice for your delicate rear." Harry closed the distance between them, coming to a halt before her and matching her broad grin.

Nymphadora Tonks was an anomaly.

He had thought the strongest auror would be a grim, no-nonsense woman, like Madam Bones. But here she was, garbed in faded jeans and a black leather jacket over a tank top. Not to mention her bright, pink hair framing her heart-shaped face.

"Is that how you talk to your superior, brat?" She hissed, straightening up and regarding him with an icy look.

"Yes."

She slumped. "Failure, I'm a failure; can't even cow a teensy teenager."

"There, there, you're a very stern and respectable auror, Miss Tonks," he said, slinging his arm around her shoulders and giving her a friendly squeeze.

She shrugged off his hand and poked him in the chest, her visage 'strict'. "Is that how you treat your seniors, brat? Maintain some damn distance."

"Apologies." His smile was unrepentant, causing her to slump again.

"Damn it, let's get this over with." She clicked her tongue and stomped away to the other side. "Wand out and let's see if you can back your arrogance. Just because you're Minister's son doesn't mean I'll go easy on you."

"Good. I don't want you to." Harry took his position, his wand ready at his side. "What are the rules?"

"Only the disarming spell to test your speed and reflexes. If you can survive five minutes, I'll make you a Junior Auror using my authority," she said, becoming serious, her stance powerful and elegant.

She took off her jacket and carefully levitated it to a nearby chair. He tried not to visibly appreciate her toned belly and ample breasts, her tank top not doing much to hide her blessed contours.

"What are you looking at, hatchling? Haven't seen a pretty woman before?" She snickered, unfazed by the attention.

"I was wondering what would happen if I hit your pretty face with my spell?" He answered wryly, removing his own jacket and chucking it at the chair to his left. His vest and shirt were untucked, and then he rolled up his sleeves.

She sighed and shook her head. "Confidence is good, brat. Stupidity is not."

"Same, Miss Tonks. Don't cry when you lose."

"We will see." She raised her wand, her lips twitching. "I'll allow you the first strike. Go on, make it count."

He aimed at her, pondering how much to show. If he wanted, he could've simply used Magiscape to command her to drop her wand and declare him a winner. But no, Magiscape was a secret ability meant to be used sparingly. And his 'normal' power was already leagues above hers. He wouldn't need to resort to such cheap tricks.

Fuck it, he needed to impress her. Let's go with a little bit of oomph.

While still holding back, he used more than the necessary amount of energy and jabbed his wand.

A blinding jet of red light whooshed towards her.

She conjured an ethereal shield calmly, underestimating him, thinking she could survive the hammer that had been swung.

Crack!

The spell broke through the sturdy shield and punched her right in the chest.

She didn't even get a chance to react, and was flung like a doll, crashing against the far wall with a lethal force.

Splat!

Thud!

"Urghhhh."

With his smile still on, he hurried towards where she lay curled up in a foetal position.

If she were a mere human, her spine would have cracked, needing an immediate medical team.

Thankfully, a witch's body wasn't that fragile.

"That went well. So, am I an auror now?"

"Urghhhh," she rolled on her back and stared at the ceiling with watery eyes, clutching her stomach. "That hurt like a bitch."

"Sorry." Harry squatted down beside her. "Do you need a healer?"

She shook her head, her face scrunched in pain. "No, just gimme a minute."

"If you say so." He winced, feeling a little bad.

She got up slowly, moving her limbs to see if anything was broken. Nothing was.

Once they were face-to-face, she regarded him with a blank face. "That was a bloody fluke. Get back to your position."

…

…

"But—"

"Nope, I can't lose to a little brat. That must have been a fluke. Get back to your damn position, Evans. I won't be holding back this time," she ordered with crossed arms.

He scowled. "No retries; that's cheating—"

"La la la la la, I can't hear you." She sang with her fingers pushed deep into her ears.

Sighing, Harry went back to his position.

"Ready?" She asked eagerly, her tone mirroring the intensity in her eyes.

"Yep, try to hit me if you can, Miss Tonks."

She smiled a small, humourless smile. "Oh, I will, Harry. I definitely will."

His eyes widened when a volley of spells just appeared around him. She was fast—impossibly fast, proving why she was at the top. If he didn't have the benefit of Lucifer's boon, he would've been a goner. But even her fastest was useless against him.

Instead of panicking as the spells boxed him in, his face broke into a lazy smile, and he simply disappeared. He vanished into thin air right before her stunned eyes. Or that was what it must look like.

"Wha—"

Before she could finish her exclamation, Harry reappeared behind her and pressed his wand into her lower back, the tip sinking into her soft flesh.

She froze in horror, knowing what was coming.

Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear. "~Expelliarmus!"

"Aaaargh!" She was hurled again like a ball from a cannon, and her body slammed against the thick concrete wall.

Splat!

Thud!

"... Urghhhh."

"Are you okay, Miss Tonks?"

…

…

"I hate you with every single cell in my body."

Harry laughed and approached her. Crouching beside her, he patted her head, knowing how condescending it might look. "Was that a fluke too, Miss Tonks?"

She slapped away his hand and sat up, biting back a pained moan. "How did you do that?"

He scratched his chin and shrugged. "I moved so fast that I became invisible."

"That's so stupid."

"Well, that stupid kicked your butt. You old people underestimate us youngins."

She gasped. "Did you just call me old?"

"It would appear so." He smirked, grabbing her hand and helping her to her feet.

"Cheeky brat."

They put their jackets back on and left the duelling room for her own office. Even though she was only a Senior Auror, she had some strange privileges. He wondered why. Perhaps because she was the strongest here. Or was there something more to it?

He sank into the cushioned chair before her desk, eyeing the towering pile of paperwork with amusement.

"You are a Junior Auror now, Harry. I'll get your certifications done by the end of the day. From tomorrow onwards, you'll start doing patrols and other boring stuff." She leaned into the backrest, propping her feet over the table.

"Oh, when can I finally start fighting bad people?"

She snorted. "Easy there, padawan. You haven't started yet. Your time will come. Learn to walk before running."

"Right."

They discussed salaries and other work-related things for the next hour. And Harry was happy enough with it. From tomorrow, he will start working under the acclaimed Nymphadora Tonks. He couldn't ask for a better mentor. She was both hot and skilled, so what was there to complain about?

"I almost forgot. You'll have a partner. She too, like you, wanted to skip the training programme."

Harry blinked slowly. "You're saying you were defeated by not one but two newbies?"

"No, I didn't." She huffed, her face and hair turning red. "She just had a unique defence spell that tipped the duel in her favour. Since she survived the five minutes against me, she got the job. And I hope you note that I did not lose to her; none of her spells struck me."

He decided against poking her sore spot. "Right, what's her name?"

"Daphne Greengrass."

…

…

Fuck.

"Hehe. What's with that sour expression? Do you have some complicated past with her? Is she your ex?"

"Nothing like that. She was in my year when we were students, and we just don't get along."

"Then you better work on that. A partner is very important in this line of work." For once, she looked sombre.

He nodded. "I will, Miss Tonks."

~xXxXx~

Air shimmered under the noon sky, like a mirage on the cusp of forming.

Suddenly, a single black line cut into the air, into the very reality. And then it was pulled taut, pulled in opposite directions, tearing it further, offering a glimpse at the unending dark cosmos.

A divine being flew out of the hole, and the tear was shut close.

The man was tall—as tall as seven feet. Curiously, it was the pure golden wings that were most eye-catching. Bird-like in appearance, they flapped to keep the multiverse hopper in the air.

His caramel-brown skin glistened in the stark sunlight, and his golden eyes scanned the white clouds that hid the world from his view. His blonde hair fluttered as he dove face first into the cloud bed and appeared beneath it, finally seeing where he was.

Concrete buildings spanned as far as he could see, and a river snaked its way through the city. But what surprised him the most was the white church residing just below him.

He connected his soul to the world, trying to find the divine realm, and was astounded at the result.

There were no gods here, no safeguards to protect this world from foreign entities. Nothing to halt his work of spreading the truth. No one to become an obstacle to his mission.

A serene smile spread over his face.

This world needed a true God. It needed to be conquered and colonised into a better place. It needed to stoke Father's all-encompassing power. Maybe then God would finally be able to leave their home world and appear here too.

It seemed his wayward brother's escape would lead to something great. While his primary objective was to capture him and drag him back to their original world, sharing the gospel and increasing Father's might wouldn't hurt them either. And since there was already a church here, he had to go there and reward the devotees.

He flew down and landed before the white church—or was it a mansion?

There was a vast lawn fenced by hedges around the building.

Children, who were playing earlier, stopped short and gaped at him.

Happy Days Orphanage. He read over the double doors.

So it was neither and both. How wonderful. His eyes narrowed when he saw the fountain depicting Crucified Jesus.

That was tacky and offensive.

He waved his hand, and the fountain was obliterated on an atomic level.

Children screamed in fright, and he flapped his wings. He flew over them and smiled softly, releasing his divine light and bathing everyone in it. The entire mansion got blinded by it, and by the time he was done flying around, the little ones had calmed down.

He gently landed back near the young matron, who was kneeling and praying.

Placing his palm on top of her head, he asked, "What is your name, child?"

"Maria, it's Maria, my lord," she babbled quickly, glad that the children had taken cue and were kneeling before the angel.

"Your prayers have been answered; our Lord has sent me down to enlighten his children. I, Archangel Michael, shall lead you all to his benign embrace."

There were delighted sobs and cheers.

But a small child, barely seven years old, stumbled out of the mansion.

His cry rang with panic and horror rather than reverence. "Sister! Sister! My skin is all red."

The silence sucked in all the warmth, and a dreadful cold pervaded everyone's souls. Under everyone's frightened gazes, Michael walked towards the child and kneeled before him.

"Oh, you poor child." He caressed his head, his tone bleeding sympathy. "I see my brother hasn't been idle in the last thousands of years. I see he has been spreading his seed like a plague, infecting this beautiful world."

The boy, while frightened, was also awed. "Are you a real angel? Like Gabriel and Uriel?"

"I am."

"Please help me. I don't want to be a monster." He sniffled, looking at his red skin.

Michael's grip on his head tightened. "You won't. I'll give you salvation."

Crack!

The boy's neck snapped, turning the wrong way, and he fell down limp, his eyes wide and innocent.

The angel ignored the wailing screams and looked on as a glob of golden oil seeped through the body and sank into the earth.

Ah, the boy's wretched soul. He tried to grasp it, but the oil burnt his fingers and dispersed away.

Michael bit back an angry hiss and stood up, spinning around to stare at the gathered crowd. "I want every orphan and church member here. It seems the devil has infiltrated the grounds."

"Roger was just a child, my lord." Maria cried hysterically, staring at the corpse.

He shook his head, his lips drooping down to express his sorrow. "He had the blood of the Devil in his veins. He would have grown up to rape and pillage like his father. It was better to save the child from himself. Now he is with our Lord, who will remove his taint and soothe his soul."

The woman didn't seem to be convinced, but she did as asked.

Mercifully, there weren't any more devil spawns in the orphanage.

"Come, Maria, attend to me. I need to know everything about the world. Only when I know it all will I have the means to change it for the better."

The morose woman nodded and followed him in.

~xXxXx~

Bonus Scene

Lucifer lay in his boat, which was currently stationed under the giant tree, his eyes directed towards the mists that covered this spiritual world.

"So the final war has started. How boring. I already know the ending to this story. I wish I hadn't read it." He sighed, opening the book that contained the past and the future of this world. "I must accept this ending. And it's not… bad."