The Great Hall of Hogwarts had never felt quite like this.
Gone were the banners of houses, the stern gazes of professors, the looming tension of war. Tonight, it was bathed in candlelight and magic — warm, golden, loving. The four House tables had been vanished, replaced with a single U-shaped arrangement around a glimmering dance floor. Fairy lights drifted lazily through the air, soft orchestral magic humming gently from the walls.
Tonight was a wedding.
James Potter's wedding.
And not just to one woman.
Seated beside him were Lily Evans, radiant in a soft crimson and gold dress, her green eyes shining with fierce love. On his other side, Adorabella Greengrass, cool and composed, in a flowing sapphire gown threaded with silver runes. And beside her, Amaryllis Parkinson, wearing a deep forest green robe cut daringly low, her dark eyes full of mischief and tenderness.
The war was over. Voldemort was gone — killed by James himself in the final duel. The magical world had crowned him its golden boy, its war hero, its savior.
But for James, all that mattered was sitting between the three women who had owned his heart for years.
Later, near the gardens of the castle, the air shimmered with magic and summer warmth. The four of them stood briefly alone — or so they thought — until a voice, warm and amused, interrupted.
"James."
James turned.
"Mum?"
Euphemia Potter stood with a fond expression, a champagne flute in hand. Her silver hair was twisted up, her elegant midnight-blue robes making her look every bit the matron of a great house. Fleamont, his father, came up behind her, smiling in a way James rarely saw — soft, proud.
"You look handsome, son," Euphemia said, stepping forward and taking his hand. Then she turned her gaze to the three girls, who quickly stood straighter. "And you three… you're glowing."
"M-Mrs. Potter," Lily stammered, cheeks pink.
"Call me Mum now, dear," Euphemia said with a wink. "You're all Potters now. And that means…" She leaned in just slightly, voice playful. "You owe me a grandchild or three before my bones go brittle."
Lily turned crimson. Bella actually gasped, and Amaryllis let out a surprised laugh.
"Mother!" James groaned.
Fleamont chuckled. "Well, she's not wrong."
"And don't think your own mums aren't eager either," Euphemia added. "They're all inside, cackling like schoolgirls. I believe Bella's mum suggested a race."
"A race?!" James blurted.
"To see which daughter gives birth first." Euphemia grinned wickedly.
Inside the castle, the girls' mothers were indeed gathered, flushed from wine and excitement, cooing and gossiping. Daphne Greengrass, Bella's mother, looked proud and serene. Charis Parkinson, tall and aristocratic, actually looked misty-eyed. And Melanie Evans, Lily's Muggle-born mum, was still adjusting to everything, but she beamed when she looked at her daughter's joy.
The Ceremony, short but powerful, began as twilight dipped into night.
James stood at the altar — not nervous, just overwhelmed. One by one, each bride walked to him, escorted by her father. They each wore their House colors, but with golden accents that shimmered with enchantment. The crowd was filled with familiar faces — classmates, professors, family.
When Lily arrived first, her hand trembled only slightly. They exchanged smiles — the kind that held a thousand memories of stolen kisses behind library shelves and breathless moments under invisibility cloaks.
Then came Bella, graceful as always, her eyes gleaming with knowing desire. She pressed a kiss to his hand before even reaching the altar.
And then Amaryllis — bold, beautiful, brazen. She winked at him when their eyes met, and James felt his heart thrum with something primal.
The vows were old magic, spoken in Latin, woven with binding spells and family blessings.
When it ended, each girl kissed James — one after another.
First Lily — soft, tearful, hands cupping his face.
Then Bella — slow, lingering, full of silent promises.
Then Amaryllis — fierce, possessive, her fingers tangled in his hair.
When they pulled back, the hall erupted in cheers.
Later, the four of them stood alone again — this time in front of the double doors that led to the Potter family's private honeymoon suite, prepared by the castle itself for the night.
None of them spoke at first. The silence was charged.
James looked at them — really looked. His wives.
They stared back, breathless, flushed, already remembering shared touches from months ago. This wasn't their first time with each other. But tonight was different.
Tonight… was for creating a legacy.
Tonight… was forever.
Lily reached out first, her fingers slipping into his.
Bella followed, taking his other hand.
Amaryllis leaned in and whispered against his neck, "You better be ready. We've been waiting years for this."
He opened the doors.
The room beyond was soft-lit, enchanted with warmth and privacy, draped in silks and golden shadows. A four-poster bed big enough for ten sat waiting.
The door closed behind them with a click.
James turned, heart pounding.
Three women — his wives — stepped forward as one.