Harry was nervous.
The realization felt so alien that he almost laughed at his own reflection, the sound caught in the back of his throat. It was a dizzying, lightheaded sensation that even his divine constitution couldn't quite override.
He had stood toe-to-toe with Hades in the pits of the Underworld, feeling the necrotic chill of death trying to seize his heart, he had stared down the GodKing of the Norse pantheon, Odin himself, and carved through the very fabric of the Void.
He was a Campione, a living disaster, a being who bent the laws of physics and divinity to his whim with a mere thought.
And yet, standing here in the quiet, lavender-scented air of his dressing room, his hands were actually trembling. It was such a human weakness he hadn't felt in years, a vulnerability that no Authority could shield him from.
He took a slow, deliberate breath, drawing the ambient magic of the Manor into his lungs to steady his racing heart. Today was different from every battle he had ever fought.
This wasn't a conflict where he could simply overpower his obstacles or outmaneuver with Odin's Wisdom. This was the beginning of the rest of his life with three women who were, in their own ways, more terrifying and wonderful than any deity he had ever slain.
He looked in the mirror and straightened his jacket. He looked dashing, a far cry from the scrawny, knobbly-kneed boy who had once lived under a staircase all those years ago.
He wore a bespoke black suit, the fabric woven from Acromantula silk and threaded with goblin-silver. Subtle crimson accents shimmered along the seams like cooling embers, glowing only when he channeled his power.
His hair, a legendary battlefield of its own, was miraculously tamed. It had taken a combined effort of high-grade grooming charms, a dash of specialized potion from the Potter vaults, and sheer, stubborn willpower to make the "Potter bed-head" submit to a respectable style.
"Damn Potter genes," he muttered, still fighting a stray lock of hair that tried to spring back up. "I can kill a god, but I can't kill a cowlick."
He glanced out the window. The grounds were a masterpiece of floral arrangements, magical roses that shifted colors based on the mood.
He could feel the hundreds of guests arriving. Each presence was a dot of light in his mind.
After today, he wouldn't just be the Tyrant King or the Godslayer. He would be a husband. A family man.
"Hey, man."
Harry turned to see Ron leaning against the doorframe, looking unusually sharp in deep maroon formal robes. Behind him, the twins—Fred and George—were hovering with identical, mischievous grins, looking like they were vibrating with the urge to set off indoor fireworks.
"Look at him," Fred remarked, leaning in to inspect Harry's lapel. "He's practically glowing. Is that a new Authority, Harry? The 'Blushing Groom'? Does it make your enemies die of embarrassment?"
"He looks like he's about to either get married or invade a small country," George added, tapping his chin thoughtfully.
Ron rolled his eyes and shoved both brothers out into the hall, slamming the door firmly behind them. "Out! Both of you. Go make sure the centerpieces haven't started eating the guests, or whatever it is you do." He turned back to Harry, his expression softening into something more sincere. "So… how are you feeling, truly? You look like you're bracing for a duel."
Harry gave a tight, slightly helpless smile. "Honestly, Ron? I'm terrified. It's the weirdest thing. I know everything will work out, but my mind is spinning out scenarios like a broken Pensieve. What if I trip? What if some fool tries something? What if everything goes wrong?"
Ron laughed, a loud, barking sound that did wonders for the tension in the room. "The big, bad Godslayer is sweating over a walk down the aisle? Now I'm going to have to tell everyone about this. I'll put it in the Prophet."
Harry elbowed him in the ribs as Ron came closer. "Laugh it up, Weasley. I'll be the one holding the camera and laughing until I choke when it's your turn. I'll make sure the twins provide the 'entertainment' for your big day."
That effectively silenced Ron, whose ears turned a vivid shade of red. "Fair point. Let's call it a truce. But seriously, Harry, you're fine. Look at the guest list. You've got half the magical world out there. The Greengrasses are out in full force, Tonks's family, Anya's father looks like he's guarding a vault… even Hermione's parents made it. They're fascinated by the 'floating candles,' by the way."
Harry nodded, his mind drifting to the more "complicated" guests. He could feel the presence of three of his 'brothers' on the grounds.
Salvatore Doni was exactly where you'd expect him, hovering near the buffet, probably trying to see if the wedding cake was made of a material worth dueling. He scoffed.
Alec had been a surprise, he didn't expect the black prince to be here. Hell, he didnt expect any of them here. Harry had pulled him aside earlier and made it very clear that if Alec tried any of his antics or ruined this day, Harry would rip his legs off and beat him to death with them. It was a threat Alec had taken with chilling grace.
But the real surprise was Kusanagi Godou. His little "brother". Even though Godou was technically two years older than him, Harry had become a Campione at fifteen, while Godou had ascended at seventeen. Harry looked at the hierarchy of Godslayers by the order in which they became one.
So Harry was the elder. They had spoken briefly earlier. Godou had come saying that he had been trying to meet Harry for some time now, and the wedding gave him a perfect chance to meet him.
Though Harry had told him that that would have to wait after the wedding to properly get to know each other.
Ron put a heavy, supportive hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, calm down. This is your day. Nobody is crazy enough to try anything stupid with four Campiones in the same garden," he said to Harry, he himself having had to calm himself when he found out that three others were here.
"The Ministry and Mage Association would have a collective heart attack. And the girls? They love you. I'll be honest, I didn't like the idea of you dating a Slytherin at first, standard Gryffindor prejudice, sure, you know, but seeing you with Daphne, Tonks, and Anya? You're a better man for it. More human they make you. Now let's get you out there before they decide to come in here and drag you out by your hair."
Before they could move, a gentle, rhythmic knock sounded. The door opened to reveal Molly Weasley. She looked radiant in her finest silks, though her eyes were already brimming with tears.
"Ron, dear, can I have a moment with Harry?"
Ron nodded and squeezed Harry's arm. "See you at the altar, mate. Don't forget the rings."
As the door closed, Molly approached Harry, her hands trembling as she reached up to adjust his collar, even though it was already perfect. She looked at him with a gaze that just seemed to soften him. "Harry, dear… You look so wonderful."
She brushed a hand against his cheek, her voice thick with emotion. "I feel like it was just yesterday I saw that small, skinny boy asking for help at the train station, looking so lost. Where has the time gone? I feel like I looked away for a second, and all my children became adults. Bill, Charlie… and now you."
Harry stayed silent, letting her speak. He and Molly had had their differences over the years, stubborn disagreements on his safety, his penchant for violence, and his refusal to follow the "rules" of the Order, but she was the first person to ever give him the love of a mother. To her, he wasn't a Godslayer or a Tyrant, he was just another one of her sons who needed a warm meal and a knitted sweater.
"I am so proud of the man you've become, Harry. Truly. You've faced more than anyone should have to, and you still have room in your heart for this. Watching you today… It feels just like when Bill got married. My heart is just so full. You're family, Harry. Always."
A warm, grounding sensation spread through Harry's chest when she called him her son. He would always cherish the memory of Lily Potter, the mother who died for him, but Molly was the one who had been there for the Christmases, the birthdays, the mundane problems, and the literal scars.
"Thank you, Molly," he said quietly, his voice finally steady. "For everything."
She beamed, wiping her eyes with a lace handkerchief. "Well! Enough of that. It's time. The music has started, and I'm sure everyone is waiting for the man of the hour to finally show his face."
The world seemed to slow to a crawl the moment Harry stepped onto the altar. The sun was a perfect golden orb, the air filled with the heavy, sweet scent of lilies and the underlying ozone of ancient magic.
The guests turned in unison, a sea of faces that represented his entire life. His 'brothers', Doni, Alec, and Godou, stood to the side with the Weasley family.
It was a surreal collection of the world's most dangerous beings standing shoulder-to-shoulder with whom he considered his first real family. Then, the music shifted, and the very air seemed to vibrate with anticipation.
The world seemed to stop for Harry when the brides appeared at the end of the long, petal-strewn aisle.
They walked in together, a vision of power, grace, and ethereal beauty. Daphne was in the center, her arm linked with Cyrus's. She looked every bit the Ice Queen, her white gown shimmering like crushed diamonds, her expression a mask of regal calm that only faltered into a soft smile when her eyes met Harry's.
Tonks was to her left, grinning with a mix of nerves and exuberant joy. She was accompanied by Ted, whose eyes were misty with pride, his hand patting hers.
Anya walked on the right with her father, Adam. Harry had only met Adam a few times, a quiet, intensely private man who worked in the shadows of the magical world. They had only met a few times.
As they reached the steps of the altar, Harry's emerald eyes flared with a brilliant, divine light. In a display of fine-tuned magic that had taken months to master in his private lab, two identical copies of Harry manifested at his sides.
These weren't mere illusions like his normal tricks or illusions turned real, no, they were Harry himself split into three. He had created this technique specifically for this moment, it really wasn't something he made for combat, so he didn't really care for its efficiency. It sacrificed a portion of his raw power so that he could be in multiple places, each body real.
Each Harry took the hand of their bride and looked each of his wives in the eye simultaneously, offering each the individual respect and devotion they deserved.
The ceremony became a beautiful, hazy blur. If you ask him later, he didn't think he'd be able to remember simply with how he tuned out everything but his brides.
Vows were exchanged, words of protection, of eternity, and of a love. When it came time for the rings, Harry drew out the three artifacts he had crafted.
As he slipped the bands onto their fingers, the hidden runes hummed, glowing briefly with light, binding each ring to its respective wearer.
He barely heard the officiant's words, his entire universe narrowing down to the three women standing before him.
"You may now kiss the brides."
The words snapped him back to reality. Harry pulled them close, his other selves mimicking his movements with perfect synchronization. He kissed each of them in turn, slow, certain, and full of the promise of a "forever" that he would defend with every drop of his blood.
The cheers that erupted were deafening, a wall of sound that echoed off the stones of the manor walls. Harry smiled, an expression brighter and more genuine than any he had worn since the day he first held a wand.
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