The Seducer System (Harry Potter)

Chapter 26. Masters

"I wasn't always like this." Teresa gestures to herself, seated in her bed. Her four wings are gone, and her intense presence has vanished. She's back to her normal self, though calling a level 91 witch 'normal' is a bit of a stretch.

After our 'friendly' spar, we left the mirror world and headed towards the Beauxbatons carriage. Curious glances followed us along the way, people clearly baffled to see the reclusive Teresa in my company. Their unsubtle interest soon transformed into shock when she led me to her room and closed the door behind us.

I can already imagine the scandalous rumours.

"What are you talking about?" I ask, lounging in the chair before her, the one I dragged away from her desk. Her room can be described in a single word—impersonal. There are no family photos, or ornaments, or anything to signify it's hers. Even the bookshelves are empty, bereft of any tomes. If I have to guess, I'd say Teresa barely uses her room, probably only for sleeping.

"Magic. I wasn't always a witch. I was what you people call muggle," comes her quiet response.

That's… absurd. I can't help but stare at her, unsure if she's lying or not. If she had said she was a squib with a magical sword, it might've been believable. But being a straight-up muggle? Impossible. Taking her words at face value means accepting she somehow became artificially magical, which is unheard of. Does she really expect me to believe that?

"Are you sure about that? You do know how ludicrous that sounds?"

She frowns and leans further on her hands, crossing her leg over the other. "Ludicrous, you say? Didn't you create a mirror world for us? Didn't you drop a mini-nuke on me? Didn't I still regenerate after my death? You have to update your definition of ludicrous, Mr. Frog. You have to open your eyes to the truth. I was a muggle orphan who was sold off to an apathetic researcher. I was cut open from my neck to groin in an experiment to temper my body. Many wizards and witches were killed by my master to 'gift' me this magic. Ludicrous is not the word I'd use. Cruel and inhumane may fit better."

There's definitely some unresolved tension here. But if what she's saying is true, it's understandable. Her irritated words strike a chord, though. After all, I have the power to grant wishes like a genie. I gain gacha points by sleeping around. If anyone should be used to ridiculous things, it's me. Given all that I've seen and experienced, granting magic to a muggle doesn't even feel that bizarre.

"Sorry," I apologise, sitting upright and giving her my full attention. "Start from the beginning. You say you were a muggle orphan. How old were you when your master took you? And while we are on this topic, who's your master? Is he someone well-known?"

Teresa lies down in the bed, gazing up at the ceiling forlornly, her legs dangling over the edge. "I was four or five when he came for me," she murmurs. "There was nothing special about me. I was just another unwanted child. He picked me because I was there. He was in a rush and grabbed the first orphan he saw. At first, I was ecstatic at being chosen but…"

She pauses, her voice growing distant. "Since then, I've been his puppet. His doll. Every time he wanted to test something, he summoned me. If he wanted to see if he could give magic to a muggle, I was his subject. If he wanted to try a new method to enhance the human body, it was me he called. I was his mannequin—and I still am. Even now, being sent to a school isn't about giving me a normal life. No, he just wants to display his creation, to flaunt his work so he can sell his powers to various guilds."

There's a lot to unpack here. Teresa is basically a guinea pig, a godly guinea pig, but still a guinea pig. And I was right in my assumption that she was transferred to Beauxbatons for the sole purpose of participating in the Triwizard Tournament. Her master is giving a demonstration to the whole world, showing what he has to offer. And these guilds are his primary market, it seems. Also, his master must have quite an influence to sway the likes of Headmistress Maxime. I don't think she'd be eager to add an unknown element to this competition. Yet, she had to bow to his wishes.

"You haven't told me his name yet," I say softly, pulling her out of her melancholy.

"He's the most famous alchemist in the world. He's been alive for more than six-hundred years. You can guess his name."

…

…

"Nicolas Flamel? The bloke who created the Philosopher's Stone? But isn't he dead? He died before I was born, in some freak accident, from what I've heard." I drum my fingers on the armrests, dumbfounded by the revelation.

She props her head on an elbow and looks at me intently. "It's an easy lie to tell, isn't it? Meanwhile, he's still out there, doing those twisted experiments in the shadows. He's the most powerful wizard who's ever lived, his knowledge vast and his cunning unmatched. Honestly, he's nothing short of a god. You think I'm strong? You can't even imagine his power. I've tried to escape him more times than I can count, but he always tracked me down. That's why I wanted to die, but I can't even kill myself without his permission." She sighs, a hollow look in her eyes. "I was actually happy when we fought earlier. I thought, finally, I'd found someone who could end it for me." She shoots me an unimpressed glare. "I'm a bit let down that you couldn't do it, but now I'm slightly hopeful too. Maybe together, we can find a way to take him down. It's why I'm telling you all of this. I need your help."

Her gaze sharpens. "You said you're interested in me. But I can't reciprocate those feelings when I'm owned by someone else. So tell me—do you like me enough to stand against an immortal wizard? Are you reckless enough to try freeing me?"

"Yes," I say with no hesitation.

She stares at me blankly before an uncharacteristically soft smile graces her lips. "I would say you're a fool for that confidence if I hadn't seen you drop a nuke earlier. I look forward to the day where I can be free to reciprocate your interest, Harry."

"I have one question."

"Go ahead."

It seems odd to me that a man who has unlimited wealth and the elixir of life will care about selling anything. "Why does he sell his new discoveries and powers? I don't think he has any need for money when he can create gold anytime."

She rises and settles on the edge of the bed, pondering my question with a thoughtful frown. "I never asked him, but I can guess. He just likes auctioning his discoveries and inventions. He revels in watching rich and powerful people all across the world fall over one another to bid for the prize. While the act of creating and innovating is rewarding enough, he must love looking down on 'worms' scrambling for his goods. It's not money, I think, it's the sheer power he relishes."

That makes sense. I, too, would do the same in his place. Actually, I'm already doing the exact thing, dangling the 'Cure-All' before everyone, and while I'm doing it for the money, I can't lie and say that I don't like the image of the most influential people around the globe facing one another to win me over.

I leave the chair and stand up, moving towards the window and looking outside. "I'll kill him for you—"

"No, we will kill him together." She trails after me, and leans sideways against the window, facing me. "I want to look him in the eye when he dies."

"Right. We will kill him together, then" I rectify. "But if you're immortal, he must be too."

She nods. "Not only does he have the elixir of life, he has the same ability to regenerate like me. Even if you behead him, he will live. Even if you burn him to ashes, he will reform. He is unkillable."

"That reminds me, how does it work?" My Duralumin enhanced [Blessing of Incineration] literally erased a valley from existence, yet her scattered ashes congregated and burnt with my blue flames.

"My master's greatest ability is his alchemy," she says, her tone begrudgingly respectful. "He can transfer one thing to another through equivalent exchange. For example, he can sacrifice a Veela and give her allure to a normal witch. Similarly, he has devised a method to sacrifice a phoenix to gain regeneration and immortality. It's the reason I cannot be killed. It's the reason he cannot die. Even the elixir of life is inferior to that."

So Nicolas Flamel is at least level 500 and has the regeneration of a phoenix. Lovely.

I can kill him, of course, and I'll do it. To secure the love and loyalty of an SS-tier beauty, I'll happily murder the fuck out of him.

"Before you feel intimidated, let me tell you something interesting." Teresa places a hand on my chest, having crossed the distance between us in a single stride. I notice how long her eyelashes are. Her eyebrows are a shade darker than her light-blonde hair. The scent of sandalwood fills my nostrils, and her silver eyes glint with humour when I place my own hand on her pert chest. "Your special attack couldn't kill me, but it wasn't letting me regenerate either. I was stuck in a loop of burning and trying to regenerate. So while we cannot kill him, I'm sure we can turn my master into a heap of ever-burning ash. I think that's a more appropriate punishment anyway."

She raises her eyebrow when I give her breast a squeeze. It's small and well-shaped, perfectly filling my palm. And her white bodysuit is thin and skin-tight, proving no barrier to my greedy hand. I grope it one last time before letting go. "Where does he live? Let's kill him today."

An amused snort and a light slap to my chest is her reply. "Patience, Mr. Frog. I don't know where he lives currently, and we need to be smart to overcome the power gap between us and him. Even if I knew where he lived, we wouldn't fight him in his home. Actually, I know a perfect place to kill him. There's quite a buzz about this new 'Cure-All' potion which is going to be auctioned in London. I'm sure my master will be there to bid on it. His curiosity won't let him miss it. We can use this to set a trap for him. All we need to do is find a way into the auction."

My smug grin cannot be suppressed. "Don't worry about entering the auction. I'm the creator of that 'Cure-All' potion. I may be bribed with a kiss to let you attend."

Her flabbergasted expression is hilarious. My grin only broadens when she pulls me into a passionate kiss. She's rough and clumsy, clearly indicating this is her first. Our lips mash together, our tongues tangle up in a frenzied dance of lust. And then I heave her up in my arms and hold her tight. She coils her hands around my neck and clings to me. My ravenous fingers sink into her bubble butt as I carry her back to the bed. Laying her down, I run my hands along her spindly thighs. Our kiss deepens as I teach her how to properly snog. But when I press my erection on her crotch and start undoing the first buttons of her top, she breaks away and gently shoves me. "Leave something for our date, Harry."

I bite back a groan and get off her. "Okay. Murder first, sex later."

She rolls her eyes but doesn't deny it. "I just hope you won't toss me aside once you get what you want. You were pretty upfront about being interested in me for my body. And while this might seem transactional to you, I actually want a real relationship. I've never had a friend or a boyfriend, and I can't wait to experience that."

That's so pitiful. I can't ever imagine throwing her away when she looks so innocent and sincere. "Don't worry. As I've said, initially you caught my eye because of your extraordinary beauty, but I actually like you, which is a strange thing to say to the girl who lopped my head off and killed me for the first time. I guess I have issues."

She winces. "I'm sorry about that. I was not in the right state of my mind. And I really thought you'd be able to counter it."

"No harm done."

"So, going to tell me how you did it? I don't think you know the alchemical process of stealing a phoenix's regeneration."

I straighten my clothes and wink at her. "Trade secret."

She sighs. "Really?"

"We've shared enough secrets for today. I'll tell you the reason for my immortality someday."

"I guess that's fair enough."

I check her stats before stepping out of her room.

Teresa Clare

Level: 91

Beauty Tier: S

Seduction: 80%

Points Available: 8

Kinks: None

Our little make-out session earned me 2 points, and it's weird that her beauty tier has changed back to S-tier. Does that mean I'll have to fuck her while she's in her winged-form to gain those extra 5 points? Not something I would mind.

~xXxXx~

Lord Voldemort

He opens his brown eyes and finds himself standing in the centre of a ritual circle. Lying around him in smaller circles are his five horcruxes. They've been destroyed to make him whole. And for the first time since his teenage years, he feels human. There's no urge to lash out with 'crucios' anymore. The persistent rage that always remained in the back of his head is no more. He feels rational. He feels powerful. He's stronger than ever, every cell in his body humming with magic, waiting to be unleashed. Now that his soul and magic aren't divided in horcruxes, he'll be unmatched. He will be the only god to walk this earth.

The reason he lost to Dumbledore and got himself killed in the Ministry eighteen years ago was because he was weak and demented. His foolish younger self had sacrificed far too much to escape death. Each new horcrux had seeped his magic and thinking prowess. In the end, he had become a vessel of primal rage and fear, losing everything that made him him.

Things will be different this time. His ambition to rule the world won't be sabotaged by his terror of death. He still wants to be immortal, of course. He hasn't abandoned the dream of living forever. But that desire will have to take a back seat. His foremost wish is to be awed and revered. He didn't grow this strong just to be a faceless man in a crowd. The people will fear him, they will hate him, but they will know him.

"My wand." His voice is hoarse, the sound foreign to his ears.

"Master." Bella sobs in joy and falls on his feet, offering the wand with her face lowered to the ground.

He picks up his cherished wand, feeling an immediate, familiar warmth—a serene, blissful rush that makes him sigh and close his eyes. He's strong enough not to need a wand, but it has remained his steadfast companion, the one thing that never let him down. The feel of the smooth wood in his palm is just right. He cannot bring himself to abandon it. He gives it a twirl and clothes himself in a black robe.

"Master, master, master…" Bella keeps weeping, clutching his feet.

He kneels down, cupping her tear-stained face. Bellatrix Lestrange is beautiful in her own dark, seductive way. The tantalising figure, the proud visage, the long, wild hair, and the striking violet eyes. Each of these flawless features come together to form something beyond perfect. Any other man might have fallen for her charms, but he mastered his own desires long ago, making him immune to such distractions. Still, he finds satisfaction in her unwavering loyalty and intense devotion. If he asked her to kill her sisters, she'd do it without asking any questions. That's more gratifying than the pleasures of flesh.

It wouldn't be a lie to say she's his most trusted servant.

It was always her he sought during those fleeting moments of lucidity in his spectral form. It was for her that he exhausted every ounce of his limited power to break her free from Azkaban. He doesn't regret it, even if it meant losing his clarity until now. She has more than proven herself by bringing him back to life.

He pulls her to her feet and grips her shoulders, giving her a fond, approving squeeze. "Well done, Bella. I knew you'd succeed. You were always the one I could count on."

A flush rises on her cheeks as she leans into him, pressing her face into the curve of his neck. "It was a pleasure, my lord," she purrs.

He suppresses the flicker of distaste at the contact, knowing she deserves this little affection. He offers her a brief, awkward hug, pulling away quickly, reminded of how easily one could be swayed by feminine allure. But he knows his heart is elsewhere. His devotion lies solely with Magic—his one true mistress. Nothing, not even the lure of her warm, attractive body, will ever come between him and his relentless pursuit of power and knowledge.

He walks over to the long table and takes his throne. One glance is enough for him to realise this is the Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton. A place good as any for the base of his operation.

Bella sits down in the chair to his right, her energy barely contained. "Should we call the others, master?" she asks, her voice full of eagerness.

He glances at her, his expression cool. "No, not yet. First, tell me what you've done since I released you from Azkaban."

She crosses her arms under her abundant chest, pushing it forward provocatively, a gesture that makes him scowl. That's the problem with her. Along with unquestionable loyalty, she brings an undeniable undercurrent of lust. A useless complication. Lust is a weakness that has kept many men from achieving greatness. And he's a man of seventy years, at least mentally, if not physically. He doesn't have time for such frivolousness.

"I went to Lucius first, and he sheltered me," she begins, casually toying with the cuff of her dress. "As you commanded, I started gathering your horcruxes. Lucius already had the diary. With his assistance, it was easy to remove the cup from my vault at Gringotts. Then I paid Damian Greengrass a visit, instructing him to resume his financial support for the organisation. He and Lucius are now recruiting more Death Eaters to our cause. I also learned something interesting during my time with him. Damian's eldest daughter is unusually sensitive to magic, able to discern its essence. I used her, along with Draco, to procure the diadem from Hogwarts while I collected the ring and the locket. The children proved their noble bloodline. Instead of a year, they managed to accomplish it in just three months. I would beg you to consider allowing them to join our ranks."

He nods, impressed by the young ones. "I will. They will be rewarded for their effort. I shall meet them soon. Anything else I should know of?"

"Currently, the Triwizard Tournament is underway at Hogwarts," she replies with evident distaste. "It's a shame that the school has chosen mudbloods to represent us. Perhaps they should be our first targets. We could make an example out of them. We could kill the boy in a gruesome spectacle and let our Death Eaters take turns with the girl. That would strike the proper terror in Britain and provide a memorable entrance for you."

He considers the suggestion before discarding it. "No, going after children will only make me look weak and pathetic. Anything else?"

"Oh, right! I almost forgot about it." She smacks her forehead. "There's going to be an auction in London. A 'Cure-All', they claim will be the prize. It's said that it can cure anything, including incurable diseases and missing body parts. It can even give magic to the squibs. Most ridiculous of all is that it can even revert someone to their prime."

"That sounds rubbish." He waves off her information.

"No, no, master. Damian and the Longbottom bitch have attested to its effects. They're the ones organising it. Frank Longbottom, who was tortured by our loyal men, is healed entirely. I wouldn't call it a hoax."

Interesting. Something like that will be invaluable. He will need that potion himself. The destruction of his horcruxes hasn't left him unscarred. He's like a pane of broken glass fixed with a tape. While he is whole, there are obvious cracks in his soul and magic. And he's apprehensive how it will affect him. It's better to heal himself than wait for the side-effects.

"Can we ask Damian to get us the potion?" he asks.

She shakes her head. "I tried, but he said he's given an unbreakable vow to conduct the auction fairly. And the potion is not even with him. It's already transferred to a safe place protected by the leaders of various mercenary guilds."

The guilds. He presses his lips in a thin line. They can prove to be bothersome. Although they don't pose any threat individually, their combined might will be difficult to deal with. The only reason those money-hungry guilds didn't involve themselves in the civil war was the British government's unwillingness to pay their high rates. Still, attacking the auction will be a great way to announce his second-coming.

"Bella, take over the training of the new recruits. Soon, they'll have to prove themselves. We will be striking at the auction and stealing the Cure-All. In the meanwhile, I'll go and release my remaining servants from Azkaban."

She cackles and agrees instantly.

"Do not tell anyone about me yet. Keep it a secret. You're not to reveal our plans about the auction either. Damian's unbreakable vow may force him to betray us. He was always a coward, content with throwing money rather than picking up a wand for our cause. We better be cautious."

"As you wish, master."

~xXxXx~

Perk Obtained: [Berserker Rage] (Rarity: Uncommon)

— Allows the user to go in a berserker state for one minute, during which he takes half damage from enemies and deals twice as much damage. Note: It can be used only once a day.

A good pull. I can actually make my mini-nuke a true nuke if I activate this while using Duralumin on [Blessing of Incineration] skill.

Item Obtained: [Enhancer Gem] (Rarity: Uncommon)

— It can be used to upgrade certain skills or perks. One use only.

"What are you grinning about?" Iris pokes me in the rib.

"Nothing. Nothing at all."