Harry pushed open the heavy oak door and stepped into the room, and only one thought made its way through his mind. Calling it a library would be the heights of generosity.
The room was small, cramped even, with shelves that barely reached his shoulders lining three walls. Dust motes danced in the afternoon light streaming through a single grimy window. He'd expected something grander from a manor house, but then again, this was a property of the Blacks who would've much rather cared about opulence than academia. He truly didn't think anyone had come in here in centuries. Even the upkeep was subpar compared to the rest of the house.
He ran his fingers along the spines of the books, most of them appearing ancient and neglected. The leather bindings were cracked, the titles faded beyond recognition on many volumes. Still, books were books, and maybe something here could give them an edge in their hunt for Horcruxes. Anything that might help them understand Voldemort's magic better, or provide some insight into the dark artifacts they were tracking.
A slim volume caught his eye, wedged between two larger tomes. The binding was surprisingly intact, deep burgundy leather with silver lettering that still gleamed despite its obvious age. He pulled it free and read the title: Dominion and Submission: The Art of Absolute Control.
Harry frowned. That didn't sound particularly helpful for Horcrux hunting, but then again, understanding how dark wizards thought might be useful. He settled into the room's single armchair and opened the book to a random page.
His breath caught in his throat as he read through it, his eyes widening with every line.
The page described a ritual called the Imperium Eternus – a permanent form of the Imperius Curse that supposedly couldn't be broken by any conventional means that took down the normal Imperius. The ingredients alone made his stomach turn: the willing sacrifice of a magical creature's life force, blood drawn during a victim's moment of greatest fear, and something called "essence of despair" that required... Harry slammed the book shut.
What the actual fuck was that!?
Harry stared at the book, his eyes wide in disbelief.
He should put it back. Walk away. Find something else, anything else, to occupy his time.
But for some unfathomable reason, his hands wouldn't move.
The rational part of his mind screamed that this was exactly the kind of magic they were fighting against. This was Voldemort's territory, the dark arts that had corrupted so many wizards before them. Reading this book would be like inviting that corruption into himself.
Yet another voice whispered that knowledge was power. That understanding their enemy's tools might be the only way to defeat him. Voldemort had Horcruxes, his Death Eaters, and decades of experience over him with the darkest magic imaginable. What did they have? Hope and stubbornness?
Conflicted, Harry opened the book again.
The next section detailed various forms of mental domination. Not just the crude hammer-blow of the Imperius Curse, but subtle manipulations that could rewrite a person's very nature over time. The Erosion Charm that slowly ate away at a victim's willpower until they became completely pliant. The False Memory Web that could implant entire false histories so convincingly that even Legilimency couldn't detect them.
His hands shook as he turned the pages. Each spell was more horrifying than the last, and yet... they were fascinating. The level of magical theory involved was staggering. The precision required for some of these workings was beyond anything he'd learned at Hogwarts. No wonder this magic had never been seen or heard of, because truly using it was both insanity and borderline impossible.
One ritual caught his attention despite himself. The Circle of Binding – a way to make someone completely, utterly loyal. Not through coercion or fear, but by actually altering their fundamental desires so that serving the caster became their greatest joy. The text claimed it was irreversible and that subjects retained their full intelligence and personality, they simply became incapable of wanting anything that conflicted with their master's wishes.
Harry found himself reading the incantation twice before catching himself. He jerked his eyes away from the page, disgusted with his own curiosity.
What the fuck was wrong with him!? Why did this particular piece of magic fascinate him so much?
Even as those thoughts consumed him, he kept reading.
Hours passed. The afternoon light faded to dusk as Harry absorbed page after page of the most twisted magical knowledge he'd ever encountered. Spells to strip away free will, rituals to bind souls in permanent servitude, enchantments that could turn love into obsession and loyalty into fanatical devotion.
The worst part wasn't the horror of it all. The worst part was how a small, dark corner of his mind found it all... exciting.
When he finally closed the book, his head was spinning. He'd learned more about advanced magical theory in one afternoon than in months at Hogwarts, but the knowledge felt like poison in his mind. He could feel it changing something in him, opening doors he'd never wanted to see.
And at the end of it all, it'd left him with so many questions to answer… about himself.
xXx
Dinner was a quiet affair. However, Celeste was her usual self, finding excuses to brush against Harry's arm as she served him, letting her fingers linger on his when she handed him his glass. Her touch sent pleasant warmth through his body, a sensation he was becoming accustomed to despite his initial discomfort with her supernatural nature.
"The vegetables are fresh from the garden," she said, her musical voice resonating in his bones. "I thought my Master might enjoy something wholesome after spending so long in that dusty library."
Normally, her attention would have flustered him or at least sparked some response. Tonight, he barely looked up from his plate. The book's contents kept swirling through his mind, pages of forbidden knowledge that seemed to pulse with their own dark energy, their imaginary fingers wrapping around his head like tentacles.
Hermione noticed immediately, of course. She always did.
"Harry? You've barely touched your food. Are you feeling alright?"
He glanced up to find her studying him with that concerned expression he knew so well. "Just tired. Long day."
"Did you find anything useful in the library?"
The question hit him like a physical blow. Had he found anything useful? That was the problem – he had. Those spells, those rituals, they could solve so many of their problems. The right enchantment could turn any Death Eater into an ally. The proper ritual could make someone tell them everything they knew about Horcrux locations provided they possessed the knowledge. They could truly put an end to this war which frankly looked like an unsurmountable demon.
All it would cost was his conscience.
"Nothing important," he lied.
Hermione opened her mouth to press further, but Celeste caught her eye. The succubus gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head, and an unspoken conversation took place between them. An understanding that Hermione clearly didn't like but accepted nonetheless. Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she returned to her meal without another word.
The rest of dinner passed in stiff conversation. Hermione updated them on her research into protective wards, Celeste continued her usual antics of serving her Master in her own way, and Harry contributed nothing but nods of acknowledgment.
As soon as he reasonably could, Harry excused himself and retreated to his bedroom. He collapsed onto the bed fully clothed and stared up at the canopy.
The book's pages flashed through his mind unbidden. The Imperium Eternus. The Circle of Binding. The Soul Shackle ritual that could make someone physically incapable of disobeying orders while keeping their wits about themselves. All of it wrong, all of it evil, and yet...
And yet he couldn't stop thinking about how useful they could be.
That was the most disturbing part of all. Not the disgust he felt at the magic itself, but the small voice in the back of his mind that whispered about necessity. About how many lives could be saved if he was willing to cross a few lines. About how Voldemort was already using every dark magic in his arsenal, so wasn't Harry handicapping himself by refusing to learn what he could?
Harry shook his head violently, trying to dislodge the thoughts. This was how it started, wasn't it? This was how good people became dark wizards. One compromise at a time, one "necessary" evil after another, until you woke up one day and realized you'd become the monster you set out to fight.
But the third voice was the worst of all. The one that didn't care about necessity or morality or the greater good. The one that simply found the idea of that kind of power...
The soft click of his door opening interrupted his brooding. He turned his head to see Celeste slip inside, moving with that fluid grace that seemed to ensnare him every time he set his eyes on her figure. She'd changed out of her dinner clothes into something that could barely be called clothing at all – a sheer black robe that left very little to the imagination. Her crimson hair caught the moonlight streaming through the windows, and her violet eyes seemed to glow in the darkness.
She'd been dressing like this since the day they'd met, when she'd first recognized him as her "Master" and pledged herself to his service. Initially, it had made him deeply uncomfortable, but he'd gradually grown accustomed to her supernatural nature and the way she expressed her devotion.
Celeste approached the bed with slow, sensual steps, her curves swaying hypnotically and her bare feet silent on the thick carpet. "My Master seems troubled tonight."
Harry didn't respond immediately as she climbed onto the bed beside him, the mattress dipping under her weight. She moved like liquid silk, positioning herself so she could look down at his face while one hand came to rest gently on his chest.
"Have I done something to displease you?" Her voice carried a note of genuine concern that cut through his dark thoughts. "Have I failed you in some way?"
The question snapped him out of his brooding. Whatever else Celeste was—succubus, demon, supernatural being of desire—she cared about him. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in the way her touch always seemed to soothe his pain, and sense it in the way his magic always reached out to embrace hers. The last thing he wanted was for her to blame herself for his current crisis of conscience.
"No," he said firmly, reaching up to cover her hand with his own. "You haven't done anything wrong, Celeste. This isn't about you."
She studied his face for a long moment, those violet eyes seeming to see right through him. "Then what troubles my Master so deeply? Your thoughts have been dark all evening."
Harry hesitated. He'd been carrying this burden alone since closing that cursed book, letting the weight of its forbidden knowledge eat away at him. Maybe talking about it would help. And if he could trust anyone with his darkest thoughts, it was the being who'd literally sworn her existence to his service.
"I found a book today," he began slowly. "In the library. It contained... dark magic. Spells and rituals I'd never heard of, things that made the Unforgivables seem like children's tricks."
Celeste's hand began moving in slow, soothing circles on his chest. He could feel warmth flowing from her touch, not the heated desire she sometimes radiated, but something more like comfort. A gentle pulse that seemed to ease the tension from his muscles.
"An unpleasant place, the library. I try to stay away from that room."
"I could tell," Harry said with a small smile, making her pout cutely.
"What kind of magic?" she asked after a few seconds, her voice entirely without judgment.
Harry closed his eyes, letting her touch work its calming effect while he found the words. "Control. Total, absolute control over other people. Not just their actions, but their thoughts, their desires, their very souls. There was a ritual called the Circle of Binding that could make someone want nothing more than to serve you, and they'd never even realize they'd been changed."
Her hand never stopped its gentle motion, and when he looked at her face, he saw no horror or disgust. Just patient attention, waiting for him to continue.
"There was another spell – the Imperium Eternus. A permanent form of the Imperius Curse that supposedly can't be broken in the usual manner. And the Soul Shackle ritual that physically prevents disobedience." Harry's voice grew quieter as he continued. "Dozens of others, each worse than the last."
"And this troubles you because...?"
The question surprised him. Succubus or not, he'd expected her to at least be a bit as horrified as he was, not to ask for clarification about why mind control spells would disturb him.
"Because they're evil," he said, as if it should be obvious. "They strip away everything that makes a person human. Free will, independent thought, the ability to choose your own path. They turn people into puppets."
Celeste tilted her head slightly, considering his words. "You read this book because you hoped it might help in your war against this Dark Lord, yes?"
"I..." Harry paused. Had he? At first, maybe, but that wasn't why he'd kept reading. "I thought it might give me insight into how he thinks. How dark wizards operate."
"And did it?"
"Yes, but that's not the point. The point is that even reading it felt like I was betraying everything I believe in. And the worst part is..."
He trailed off, unable to voice the thought… the third voice inside him that had been tormenting him all evening.
"The worst part is that some part of you found it appealing," Celeste finished gently.
Harry's eyes snapped to hers, startled by her perception. "How did you...?"
"You're my Master, Harry. I can sense your emotions, feel the currents of your desire, even know your deepest thoughts if you allow me." Her touch grew firmer, more insistent. "There's nothing shameful about acknowledging power when you see it, especially when you've spent so long feeling powerless yourself."
"Yes, there is," Harry said firmly. "Those spells, those rituals – they're abominations. Using them would make me just as bad as him."
Celeste's expression grew thoughtful. "Would it? Tell me, Master, if you used that Circle of Binding spell on a Death Eater to make them reveal Horcrux locations, and that information allowed you to end the war and save thousands of lives, would that truly be as evil as this Dark Lord's actions?"
"That's not... it's not that simple."
"Isn't it?" She shifted in place, throwing one leg over his waist and moving to straddle him while keeping her hands on his chest. Her warm core pressed against his groin and Harry could not prevent himself from reacting to her touch, not that he wanted to.
The new angle let her look directly down into his eyes and she leaned forward. "You've told me about your war, about the innocents dying while you search for these artifacts. You've spoken of friends lost, of Order members captured and tortured. Meanwhile, you handicap yourself by refusing to use tools that could end their suffering."
Harry wanted to argue, but her words struck uncomfortably close to thoughts he'd been having himself. "It's about principles, Celeste. If I start using dark magic, what's to stop me from using more and more of it? Where does it end?"
"It ends where you choose to end it," she said simply. "You're not a Dark Lord, Master Harry. You have people who love you, who would pull you back if you went too far. You have a conscience that torments you for even considering these spells. Do you really think someone capable of such guilt could become a monster?"
Her hands moved to cup his face, her thumbs stroking across his cheekbones. "Besides, some forms of control aren't inherently evil. Take us, for example."
Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I am bound to you, my Master. My supernatural nature compels me to serve, to obey, to find my greatest joy in your pleasure. By the standards you've just described, our entire relationship is an abomination."
"That's different," Harry protested. "You chose this relationship we share. You sought me out the moment I arrived here. You could have decided not to and I wouldn't have known anything. After all, I had no idea I had you waiting for me here."
"Did I truly seek you out, Master?" Celeste's smile was enigmatic. "Or was I simply created with the nature that made that choice inevitable? If that accursed Black hadn't tricked me, none of this would've happened. But none of that matters anymore. Why should it, when I'm happy? When I've never been more fulfilled than I am in your arms?"
The questions made Harry's head spin. Even though he knew the history, he'd never thought about their relationship in those terms before, never questioned whether Celeste's devotion was truly consensual or simply the product of her supernatural nature.
"The point is," she continued, "that control isn't always evil. Dominance isn't always wrong. It depends on the intent behind it, and the consent of those involved. I never accepted any other, but you are different. I chose to be yours to command, I chose you to serve."
"And that is the problem, isn't it? The fact that those spells don't involve consent," Harry argued. "They override it entirely."
"In war, does the enemy's consent matter?" Celeste asked. "When Death Eaters torture innocents, do you ask their permission before stopping them? When this Dark Lord kills civilians, do you respect his right to choose his actions?"
Harry opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. The comparisons weren't entirely fair, but he couldn't deny the logic behind them.
"Beyond all the talks of necessity and morality, there is a third voice inside you," Celeste said, changing the subject with her supernatural perception. "Beyond the struggle between necessity and principle, there is an admission you haven't verbally made yet."
Harry's face flushed. This was the part he'd been dreading, the admission that shamed him most of all. And she wanted him to say it. He sighed, gazing into her vibrant eyes that seemed to see right through him.
"There was a part of me that wasn't thinking about the war or about saving lives. A part that just... wanted to try them. To feel what it would be like to have that kind of power over someone."
Celeste's expression grew almost pleased. "And that excites you."
It wasn't a question, and Harry found himself nodding despite his embarrassment. "It shouldn't. I should be disgusted by the very idea. But yes. It does."
"Why the hesitation, Master?" Celeste leaned down, bringing her face closer to his. He felt his heartbeat get quicker as her delectable mounds pressed warmly against his chest and she began rubbing her core up and down his manhood that threatened to tear through his trousers. "You're a powerful wizard. Easily one of the most powerful of your generation, perhaps even the most powerful. It's perfectly natural for someone with your abilities to crave the rush of exercising true control. To want to experience the fullness of your strength."
"It's not natural," Harry protested. "It's twisted. Wrong."
"Is it wrong when I kneel before you and call you Master? Is it twisted when I beg for your commands? When I find my greatest pleasure in your dominance over me?"
Harry's breath caught at the vision her words evoked in his mind. With her on her knees or bent over at his command, giving him the right to do whatever he wanted to with her sinful body, her wonderful self, and her entire being.
"That's... that's not the same thing."
"Isn't it?" Her voice dropped to a whisper, her lips barely inches from his. "You have a faithful servant in me, Master. One who would do anything you asked, who finds her greatest joy in your control. If you need to explore these feelings, to understand the rush of true dominance, to guide these emotions in the safest manner possible, then use me. Let me help you channel those desires safely."
The words sent a jolt of electricity through Harry's body. For another moment, he could picture it—Celeste kneeling before him, completely under his power, existing solely for his pleasure. The fantasy was intoxicating and terrifying in equal measure.
"I can't," he whispered. "I won't use you like that."
Celeste's smile was gentle but knowing. "You wouldn't be using me, my Master. You'd be fulfilling my purpose. Do you think I'm some innocent victim in this? I am a succubus. Submission is literally my nature. Serving a worthy master is what I was made for."
Her hands cupped his face and returned to their soothing motion, pulsing with warmth, and Harry felt his resistance weakening under her touch. "But what if I like it too much? What if I can't stop?"
"It would be my honor to take everything you give me, Master. It would be the greatest treasure in existence. And I know you will never do something to truly hurt me, although some pain is exciting," she grinned, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. "I'll be here to remind you of who you truly are," she said firmly. "I've seen your heart, Harry Potter. I know your capacity for love, for sacrifice, for putting others before yourself. A few moments of dominance won't change that."
Harry stared up at her, torn between desire and self-doubt. The logical part of his mind knew she was probably right—he wasn't going to become the next Dark Lord because he explored some consensual power dynamics with a supernatural being who literally existed for such things. But the emotional part of him still recoiled at the idea.
"The best way to eliminate uncertainty," Celeste continued, her lips gently nipping at his chin, "is to face it directly. To channel the feelings that create that uncertainty and understand them fully. You'll never be at peace with this part of yourself if you keep trying to suppress it."
"And you really wouldn't mind?" Harry asked, absently caressing her waist and back over the sheer fabric she had on. "Being... used that way?"
Celeste let out a tinkling laugh. "Mind? My dearest Master, it would be my greatest honor. To help you explore your power, to be the vessel through which you understand your own desires – there is no higher purpose I could serve. And being used? It's my desire, as it is yours. You will not be using me."
Harry studied her face, looking for any sign of reluctance or uncertainty. He found none. Her violet eyes were bright with anticipation, her expression eager and hopeful. This wasn't coercion or manipulation—this was a supernatural being offering to fulfill her literal function, and although he did not like that way of phrasing, it didn't matter. It was the truth.
Maybe she was right. Maybe the only way to deal with these new desires was to understand them, to explore them, and to experience them in a safe environment with someone who not only consented but actively wanted it.
Outside the door, a certain brunette stood in silence, her heart racing and her wide eyes taking in everything.
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