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Chapter Text

CHAPTER 1

A Return to Square One

Harry was elated to find not-quite-Kings-Cross exactly the same as it ever was.

It was rapidly becoming a home away from home for him— at least, it certainly felt that way. Three was an almost absurd number of visits when discussing the border between life and death. Probably a record.

The first visit was simultaneously among the best and the worst moments in his lives. He still remembered the way fear had twisted his stomach into knots. Resolving to die, it turned out, did not magically make the rest of your emotions take a convenient leave of absence.

Yet he hadn’t died. He appeared here, in this sparkling and empty facsimile of the train station where his life had changed forever. He confronted what was inside of him. He talked with Dumbledore, learning the man’s past and deciding his own future. And then he returned to the land of the living. 

The next visit was a long, long time later, and between the two quite a lot of things happened. The Dark Lord who couldn’t die, died. At Harry’s hands no less. And even though he discarded the Resurrection Stone and returned the Elder Wand to his mentor’s grave, something important had occurred. He was the first to master all three items left behind by the Peverells. He had become Master of Death.

Not that Harry paid the title much mind. He lived to old age, his wife at his side and his children growing and maturing, as children tended to do. He lived a respectable life— happy at times, sad at others, like any man or woman. But there were days when he couldn’t forget. Voldemort’s many victims never completely left his mind. And always he wondered if maybe there was a way to have won the war quicker, if perhaps not all of them had needed to die.

Which brought him to his second visit to this place. That time it wasn’t Dumbledore waiting for him. It was a pale figure, humanoid and androgynous, with hair darker than a dementor’s heart.

For all Dumbledore’s wisdom, there was one thing he got horribly wrong. The Peverell Brothers were not wizarding geniuses from an age past, and the story of their chance encounter couldn’t have been less of an old wives tale. The items Harry claimed had come straight from Death itself, and now, it had appeared in front of him.

Harry had been ready to pass on then, even more than back in the forest during his Seventh Year. That was, until Death made an offer.

He accepted.

Harry Potter lived again. He awoke in his Aunt and Uncle’s home the day his Hogwarts letter arrived. This time, it wasn’t an unsuspecting muggle-raised Harry Potter that the Wizarding World got, but a former Head Auror with a lifetime's worth of magic crammed into a spry young body.

It was hardly fair to Voldemort, really. Not only did Harry now have abilities that rivaled the Dark Lord himself, he possessed a power far greater still: knowledge. Each of Voldemort’s plans was disrupted the moment they took shape, as if history’s greatest seer had made it their personal mission to screw the Dark Lord over as many times as possible. The experience must have been maddening.

Voldemort never even returned properly. His Horcruxes were hunted and destroyed with unerring accuracy. His followers turned up inexplicably dead. It was everything Harry wished he could do so many times throughout his life; the perfect solution that had been impossible the first time around. 

Harry lived a very different second life. Free of war, he went into professional Quidditch. He married Hermione, of all people, seeing his friend in a light he never had during his first life. At the ancient age of one-hundred-and-eighty, he had passed away in his sleep. Truly, this time, he moved on with no regrets.

So why was back here? And alone, no less?

“Hello?” Harry called out. His wrinkles were gone, his appearance returned to what it had been in his prime. “Is anybody there? I think I would like to die.”

Nothing. No dead professors or physical embodiments of natural inevitability. Just empty chairs and blank, spotless walls.

Harry decided then that he would like to break something.

He just wanted to see if that would get some response. Long ago Dumbledore told him this place was based partially off of Harry’s own mind, but no matter how much he wished for a chainsaw to materialize, it refused to. So instead he walked up to a chair and kicked it.

He connected with all his might. He’d forgotten how good it felt to possess a young body. But no matter how hard he struck the thing it never cracked or moved. Trying the same on a dozen other objects, Harry found no more luck with any of them.

He paced from one end of the dome to the other. The walls were firm and cold to the touch. He followed the train tracks next, but when they reached the space a train ought to pass through, it was dark and corporeal, just as unbreakable as every other aspect of the space.

“This isn’t all that funny,” Harry said aloud. “I want to move on! What am I supposed to do, stand in this prison for all of time?”

Just as his mood was reaching its worst, a paper drifted down from the ceiling.

Harry snatched it eagerly, twisting it around to find what it said.

Go Back.

He stared at the two words, a smile stuck half-formed on his face. Go back. Go back? Go… Back… Go back? 

“No,” he said. “I refuse. Take me away. I desire the great beyond!”

The station was silent again. Not even another paper for his troubles.

Harry took a deep breath. He stood there, very still, before starting to laugh.

A chuckle grew into throaty laughter, which grew into an all-out cackle. Alone in the station, Harry listened to his own voice echo off the walls.

“I get it,” he said, his voice no longer that of a quite sane man. “This is your doing, Death. You’re scared of me. The only place you can be rid of me is the world of the living, so that’s where you’re desperate to send me. Was that the reason you gave me a second chance at all? I always wondered what you got out of our deal. Well, I won’t do it. And if you won’t move me on like you’re supposed to…”

Harry called on his magic. Objects came to him, the only things death could never stop him from summoning, be it in this space or anywhere else. Harry grinned.

“I suppose I’ll just have to make you.”

O-O-O

Death hadn’t felt this proud in a few centuries, at least. Not since it first played those three brothers like the fools they were.

The Peverells had used their magic to avert a destined death. Understandably, Death couldn’t accept that. Death appeared in front of them, careful to hide its purpose. It allowed the brothers to pick prizes for their feat, and their own greed drove them straight into Death’s clutches.

Two of the three, at least, but all three became Death’s eventually. It was a wonderful plot with only one oversight.

Death had left three parts of itself in the mortal world. If they were gathered and mastered, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say the one who did it would transcend their mortality. They would hold true power over Death itself— not the natural force that claimed mortals, but the physical embodiment currently perched atop the steam engine. And someone had done just that. They united what it left behind.

Death was nothing if not clever, though. It paid close attention. It saw the way its new master labored under the weight of his guilt. So Death appeared before him personally, offering exactly what he wanted.

That fool lived out another entire lifetime, and Death went on just as it had before: still free, still subservient to nothing but its own role and whims.

Then he died again. Death always knew it was coming, but it did raise a problem. The guilt was gone now. Harry Potter was no longer attached to the world of the living. He wouldn’t choose to go back a third time.

The solution was quite simple, then. 

Remove his choice.

Death wouldn’t go to see him. He would be left alone, no way to escape limbo except to give in and leave Death’s hair for another lifetime. Death could forcibly send him back, too, but that would be risky. It would require appearing in front of him— and if its master gave an order, Death would be forced to listen.

This way was much safer. If anything broke, it would be the man’s sanity. In the end he would go back. Living again was better than eternity trapped in a barren station.

Just as it was congratulating itself, Death’s nose twitched.

It sat up. An uncomfortable sensation nestled in its head, like it had left its keys at home. That was silly. Death didn't have keys, a home, or even sensations in the first place. So what—

Something blew a hole in the top of the station. Death flinched.

“I knooow you’re out thereeeee!” echoed a voice from inside.

Something dragged at Death. It was being summoned. A spell had been cast to drag the very embodiment of Death to them, like a book someone was too lazy to walk across the room and snatch.

Death dug its fingers into the train, holding on and resisting. That wizard spell shouldn’t even work on the living, yet somehow it worked on a conceptual incarnation? No, it shouldn’t have been possible. Not for a normal wizard with a normal wand.

But this wasn’t a normal wizard. And he shouldn’t have had a wand at all.

“Found you!”

With growing fright, Death watched a shape fly through the fresh hole in the station’s ceiling. 

Robes flapping, Harry Potter soared through the sky. Death watched helplessly as he approached. The summoning charm had never been intended to work, just to help him know his target was nearby.

He was supposed to be helpless! He was supposed to be trapped! But as he flew closer, Death spotted the problem. 

The broom between his legs was crudely transfigured and of little importance. The manic grin on the man’s face was worrying, but otherwise worthless. Death’s eyes instead picked out the wands in either of his hands. Twin rings decorated his fingers, tipped by glistening black stones. Two cloaks fluttered over his shoulders, blotting out his body as they fluttered in the wind.

The Hallows. The one thing Death could never bar his access to. Somehow, this man was the owner of not just one, but two full sets.

Death was suddenly thankful it lacked the biological capacity to excrete waste.

“You won’t get away with this a second time!” Harry roared.

Spells snapped from his wands, blasting curses tearing the steam engine to shreds. Death leapt aside, landing on the blank, cloudy, only semi-corporeal ground.

It was going to have to time this perfectly. There was still a chance to be rid of the migraine. While his guard was down…

Harry dismounted the broom in midair with grace only a professional Quidditch player could achieve. His cloaks fluttered out behind him. Death physically felt his approach, as if an invisible chain were wrapping about its being like a leash.

“Caught you!” Harry beamed.

He was only a few steps away now. Death watched him, careful not to make any sudden movements.

The man hadn’t realized his power. If he issued a direct command, Death would be forced to comply. But questions and threats? That it could work with.

“You’re scared of me,” Harry said.

“Yes,” Death replied.

“So you tried to force me back to life!”

“Plenty of mortals would love to live again,” Death pointed out.

“Been there, done that.”

“You could be there again. Do it again.”

“No, I want—” Harry’s eyes narrowed. “You’re stalling.”

“Yes,” said Death.

Scraps from the ruined train formed thick rope-like chains, wrapping themselves tightly around the wizard. Harry cursed. The restraints were more of a mild annoyance than a true threat, but they did trap his wands for a moment. Death leapt forward.

It planted two fingers between the wizard’s eyes. Power built in an instant, the same sensation that it felt a lifetime ago, the first time it propelled Harry back to life.

The moment its work took hold, Harry snarled. “I won’t let this end here! Whatever you do, bastard, I’ll do to you too!”

Death’s eyes widened. It tried to abort what it had done, racing to cancel its work, but forces were already in motion. That had been an order. Something suctioned against its body, dragging it very slowly toward a place it was never meant to be. Death could not panic… but it couldn’t deny that a certain blanketing doom settled over its being.

Oblivious to all of this, Harry thrashed and fought his binds. They fell away, but by that point he was only half-there. His body was disappearing, one section of skin at a time.

He hurled his head toward the sky, raw magic tearing loose from his wands.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu—”

They disappeared.

Both of them.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 2

What now?

“—uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!”

With the peculiar feeling of a harsh landing despite not moving at all, Harry awoke. He was back in his body, back in the real world, just as he expected and feared. Sitting up, his surroundings confirmed the darkest of his thoughts.

The scent of a median-income-household. The sight of warped toys pushed into forgotten piles. Through a crack in the curtains Harry glimpsed an awfully straight road, illuminated by awfully ordinary streetlights. Number 4 Privet Drive was as painfully average as its occupants ensured it always would be.

Harry quickly sat up, dragging back his blankets and hopping onto the floor. He didn’t notice the slight delay before his shadow followed him, too distracted by investigating the room.

It was unmistakably the one he grew up in… after the arrival of his Hogwarts Letter, when Vernon finally moved him out of the cupboard. That’s where he expected to appear: the cupboard. It was how it worked the last time he was sent back. He didn’t see why it should have changed now.

His body was different too. He looked down at muscled forearms trained by years of Snitch snatching. His build was mature and solid, the way it had been at the start of his fourth year. He had just recently turned nineteen. The Triwizard tournament was upcoming. Sirius Black was a (living) criminal on the run. Harry had never kissed a girl.

He dropped onto the bed, sitting at the edge and beginning to laugh.

His laughter grew in volume, and it didn’t stop when a voice beyond the room’s walls bellowed, “Quiet, Boy!”

Harry could not be quiet. Could not, rather than would not. He was back. Everything he did was undone, all the good and the lives saved and the happy endings.

Despite the smile on his face, he rather felt like breaking something. Preferably something that could scream as he did it. Perhaps a garden gnome?

But instead he just laughed, belting out chuckles until he felt he’d emptied all the air in his chest. And then he shut his eyes and started, finally, to think.

Thuds sounded in the hall. Moments later, the door was thrust open with force only a true lord of lard could muster, banging against the wall. Dudley’s discarded gum wrappers were sent blowing about the room.

“What’s with the racket!” Vernon Dursley demanded, utterly red in the face. “Even the neighbors will have heard you!”

He uttered the word neighbors as if they were the greatest arbiter humanity had ever known, waiting readily to dole out divine judgment. Your abused nephew made noise in the middle of the night? Straight to eternal damnation with you!

Harry had cracked one eye open when his uncle appeared, but he shut it now. “Please, Vernon,” he said. “Some people are trying to sleep.”

Vernon’s mustache trembled.

“Is that what you call this?” he accused. “Laughing like a maniac in the middle of the night? Sitting up ramrod straight and claiming it’s sleeping? ”

“I never said I was sleeping,” Harry said. “I said that some people were.”

Vernon offered what was likely the wittiest riposte in the history of spoken language, but sadly it was lost forever, his lips moving without noise as Harry silenced him wandlessly.

He was eighteen again, with Voldemort still (somewhat) alive, Death Eaters on the loose, and the O.W.L.s on the horizon. None of those things scared him anymore.

What frightened him to the core, so much so that his body felt stiff, was thought of one hundred and fifty repeated years.

He wasn’t vain enough to claim he lived a perfect life. But using what he learned the first time around, he truly felt he lived as well as he possibly could. He’d taught at Hogwarts and played Quidditch on the side. His friends reformed the ministry. His was the sort of life that would be written about in history books for as long as books were being written about history. He appeared in chocolate card decks— with three special variants!

But when he pictured himself retracing his steps and doing it all over again…

It made him feel cold, and small, and damp on the inside even though the room was quite dry. It would be living without excitement. It would be life without living.

So should he end it all?

Vernon was still speaking silently. Only now did his brain finally catch up to his mouth’s lack of function. He clutched his throat with both hands, fear entering his beady eyes.

“Vernon?” Petunia called. “Vernon, dear? What’s wrong?”

Harry rubbed his temple. If he took his life, he assumed he’d appear back in the station. He’d have to force his way past Death. Was that even possible? The Hallows had come to him… but they hadn’t been enough. That was why he was here.

Petunia appeared in the doorway. “Vernon? I heard—”

Vernon spun to her, screaming something that might have been “Help!” or might have simply been “Aaaah!”

But of course it was silent. Petunia shrunk back, shielding her face.

“What have you done to him!” she wailed at Harry. 

She continued to beg and plead until her voice disappeared just like her husband’s. They threw their arms around each other, sobbing and commiserating about their sorry state. Normal people were supposed to be able to speak! The Dursleys were normal people! What would they do now? Would Vernon ever close a drill bit deal again?

Oblivious (and uncaring) to his relatives’ plight, Harry pondered turning his wand on himself.

If he lived until old age, he would still, at some point, die, and then he would face Death all over again. Wasn’t it simply efficient to jump straight to the confrontation, if it was inevitable?

He’d taken lives. He’d even died before. Surely taking his own life couldn’t be too much of a jump.

But everytime he considered it, whenever he felt close to making the decision, his hands would freeze. It took him a minute to realize the problem, but when he did, it was quite simple.

Harry Potter refused to die for nothing.

He didn’t fear the end. At this point, he desired it. But when he walked into those woods in his seventh year, it was for the sake of everyone he loved. Whenever he stepped into danger, his first thoughts were always of others. He would be proud to die for a good cause. But suicide, even if it were pragmatic and rational?

It wasn’t him. And he refused to let that become who he was.

So, with that decided, Harry circled back to the thought that started it all. What could he possibly do now?

His eyes scrunched and his lips pressed into a tight line. He began to hum— not a tune, but an absent noise to help him think better. Dudley appeared in the doorway, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He looked to his parents, asking a question, but no sound came out. He hadn’t been allowed the chance to get in a single word.

Vernon and Petunia wailed — silently  — and pulled him into the group hug.

Should Harry eliminate Voldemort quickly again? He could do it. Of course, it would probably require missing a year of school, which would draw all sorts of unwanted attention. ‘Boy-Who-Lived Goes missing!’ was the kind of headline that could sit on the front page of the Prophet for months.

In the end, Harry pondered so hard, and was so puzzled by his deliberations, that his entire body rose up, floating multiple feet in the air.

In his last life, those that knew him well grew used to such displays. Magic was a part of him in a way it wasn’t for other witches and wizards. When he was worked up, his magic refused to stay quiet, affecting the world around him in mild but obvious ways.

But the Dursleys were not wizards or witches, and they were not liable to grow used to such sights if you gave them a hundred years to do it. They all pointed at Harry’s floating form, though without their voices to shout accusations or insults, that was all they could manage.

Should Harry just go to school, then? Live out this life the way he had originally? If he allowed himself to be taken to the Little Hangleton graveyard, he could even drag Wormtail back and expose him. Still, a full year of sitting through classes for children…

Perhaps it was poor form coming from an ex-educator, but he thought he might prefer the suicide plan. Maybe he could graduate early and go into Quidditch? He’d heard of footballers doing similar things, and he certainly had the skills.

Not that it would solve the genocidal megalomaniac dwelling in undeath to take revenge on him.

Harry groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. It was so frustrating!

And his magic, as always, responded.

Soon he was sitting on the bed again. Not because he’d dropped onto it, but because the entire frame floated up to join him.

Everything was leaving the ground. Dudley’s discarded toys drifted from the floor to the ceiling. The frightened Dursleys lost their gravity too. Vernon reached down, swiping at the floor with a meaty arm, but there was nothing from him to cling onto. In both velocity and shape he strongly resembled a lost balloon.

The bottom line, Harry decided, was that this life did not have a purpose. Perhaps it was selfish, but defeating Voldemort just didn’t light a fire in him anymore. He’d already beaten the man twice, and both times he lived long past it and saw just how much more there was to the world. Now that he’d achieved his flawless victory, if you will, old Tom felt like nothing but a cleared hurdle.

What were most people's dreams? Professional Quidditch? Been there, won the cup. Academic prestige? Honor students had pinned his picture on their bedroom walls for luck. Fame? Harry did that one before he was eating solid food. He couldn’t think of a single thing left!

There was a great grinding noise. A moment later, the floor climbed a couple of inches. Their eyes widening comically, the Durselys swam through the air to the window. When they looked out they found their lawn as perfect as ever, minus the fact that their front step was separated from the house by a good distance of empty air.

Something in Petunia broke, and she began to beat her head against the pane of glass. Something broke in Vernon, too, but he had no interest in harming himself.

The portly man placed his feet on the wall and kicked off. Without gravity reminding him of his weight, he even achieved a respectable velocity. His route took him straight for his hovering nephew. On the way, he snagged a bent golf club from Dudley’s wrecks.

Harry was still deep in thought when his uncle brought back both meaty arms and swung cold iron at his forehead.

It was an awfully silly thing to do. Everybody knows attempted murder is a bad idea when dealing with a thoroughly frustrated and extremely powerful wizard. Or, apparently, everyone except Vernon Dursley.

By the time Harry noticed it was over. Articles of junk from all over the room beamed toward Vernon as if summoned. A bent birdcage lodged itself around his head. He took a broken air rifle straight in the ribs, while a rocking-horse buried its wood face deep in his nutsack.

The club had bounced off of an invisible barrier, breaking Vernon’s fingers in odd directions.

Finally Harry’s eyes cracked open. He stared at his uncle, whose eyes had gone wide and filled with thin red veins. His bulbous cheeks shook as if made from gelatin, vibrated by a silent scream that launched flecks spittle. He sank slowly toward the floor— or he would’ve, had gravity not been malfunctioning. Instead, he rotated.

Vernon turned head over feet in slow cycles, cradling his mangled hands, screaming without sound. The sight was so tremendously absurd that Harry lost control.

“Hah!” he barked. “Hah! Hahahahah! Hahaha!”

He himself began to spin, gripping his sides. His mood changed in an instant. He laughed his throat raw, and everytime it seemed like he’d stop, he took another look at Vernon and doubled over again.

The house dropped onto its foundations with a resounding thud. Things hit the floor; including Vernon, right on his face. Harry’s magic settled down nicely like a well-trained hound. Because he had it now: the answer to his problem. All it took was a single moment of absurdity.

“Thanks a lot for that!” Harry said, hopping to his feet and patting Vernon’s raised rump (the highest point on his body). “I can always count on you for a mood lifter, you know.”

“You can’t—! How dare you!” Petunia cried.

The silencing had worn off. Vernon’s mewling turned audible, and Harry was pretty sure he could hear a stream of something running between Dudley’s legs.

“Cleary, I can,” Harry said. He made sure to say it slowly and smile condescendingly, to help Petunia understand. Women love it when you do that.

Petunia began to cry. Harry turned away, whistling. He felt great. Now that he’d come to a decision, his head had cleared in an instant.

A grand purpose? He didn’t need one of those. He’d had one — twice! — and achieved it both times. 

Why not use this life to just have fun?

Whatever seemed most entertaining, that’s what he’d do. Just look at this. Already the Dursleys had been turned from nasty oppressors to a hilarious sideshow. What else could he do? The ideas he had for Snape alone would take him minutes to list out. It would be like the Maruaders, if they had unlimited power at their fingertips and left Wormtail in a ditch off the Hogwarts Express.

Harry grinned despite himself. And, opening his mouth wide, he shoved his hand straight down his own throat.

Petunia screamed again, but he paid that no mind. Rooting about his esophagus, Harry’s fingers closed around what he was looking for. His hand dragged free a long wooden wand, its surface spotless despite the place it had been kept.

Harry wasn’t sure why the Hallow insisted upon storing itself there, but he couldn’t complain about the convenience.

“Fear not, Vernon,” he said. “I’ll help you!”

He swished his wand. Vernon’s broken fingers unattached from his hands. All ten quickly inched away along the floor, moving like caterpillars. They slipped among the scattered junk and disappeared.

The pain was gone, but Vernon was staring at his digitless hands without the ability to tear his eyes away.

“All better!” Harry said.

He turned to Petunia and Dudley. A large dark spot had formed in the middle of Dudley’s pants. Harry knew he’d heard pissing.

“Don’t be like that Cousin,” Harry said. “I’m going to make you happier than you’ve ever been. And, Auntie,” he said, moving on to Petunia, “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ll be doing some remodeling. All interior, of course. The neighbors won’t see a thing.” He paused, thinking. “Unless I invite them over. That does sound rather fun.”

Petunia’s knees gave out. Rather than address his family further, it was at this point that Harry twisted toward the door.

There, halfway to the hallway, his shadow froze like a deer in the headlights. The entire action was awfully unauthorized, seeing Harry’s feet were rooted half a room away.

“What do we have here?” Harry sang. “Come on out, and let’s get a better look at you.”

Despite looking as if it wanted nothing less, his shadow rose into view. The pillar of dark ooze distilled into a pale figure that looked disturbingly like Harry himself, only with eyes blacker than the night outside the window.

Harry smiled so wide it hurt.

O-O-O

On the afternoon of August 17, the Dursley’s fireplace exploded.

Soot and debris cannoned across the living room, turning it into what looked almost like a war zone— and if it were a war zone, here came the wounded. Four wizards, three young men and one older adult, stumbled out of the green flames that had been boarded over prior to their arrival, each with red hair that looked as if it could’ve been colored by a bad head wound. Ron, Mr. Weasley, and the twins slowly caught their breath.

Harry stood there, blinking.

“I’d forgotten they arrived that way,” he said.

Coughing, Mr. Weasley said, “Sorry! Sorry! I can fix the mess, I assure you. Just didn’t expect that. Blocked fireplace! That’s a new one. Is it a muggle fad?”

As the smoke cleared, the redheads looked around. And as they did, their jaws dropped open.

The room was rather different than it had been just a day ago. All the furniture had been removed for space, including the couch and television (the Dursleys’ most prized possessions). The carpet was only visible in rare spots. Instead, freshly laid, was a thick sheet of hay.

Golden bales were stacked against one wall. Harry himself rested against one, leaning his weight on a pitchfork tucked under his arm. A large pen had been erected over half the room, and inside it, on all fours, crawled Vernon and Dudley with bright pink pig noses. Dudley had been in the process of scarfing mashed-up birthday cake out of a trough when the redheads made their appearance, but now he huddled at the back of the pen with his father.

Harry thought they were settling quite well into the new role, all things considered. Almost as well as Petunia was taking to hers.

His aunt stood beside the hay bales. Her back was straight and her arms stuck out stiffly. A floppy hat hung down over her eyes. If it had been a flock of crows that appeared from the fireplace instead of a flock of Weasleys, Harry was certain they would’ve turned and flown straight back the way they came in.

“How are you doing, Mr. Weasley?” Harry asked when it became clear the Weasley weren’t going to speak again.

“Are they… Are they quite alright?” Mr. Weasley asked, unable to look away from his relatives.

“Oh, yes,” Harry said. “They’re playing farm— it’s their favorite activity. In fact, they were so excited to show you how good they are at it that they got into position last night. Dudley hasn’t stood up once in the last sixteen hours, not even to pull his pants off when he goes to the bathroom.”

“Gross,” said the twins.

“Authentic,” Harry corrected them.

“Your uncle is missing his fingers,” Ron pointed out.

“Born that way,” Harry said sadly. “Haven’t I told you before? Thankfully, he found my dear aunt, who loves his nubby hands just the way they are.”

Vernon let out a low and confused groan. Harry smiled to reinforce that it his way of agreeing.

“This kind of thing is quite normal in the muggle world?” asked Mr. Weasley.

“Playing farm?” Harry said. “Yes, of course! Most aren’t as good at it as these three, mind. Just this morning the neighbors came over to watch. They were shocked, I’m telling you!”

“And those clothes of yours, too?” asked Mr. Weasley.

Harry looked down at his long, muddy overalls and the straw hat strapped against his back.

“You’ll see a dozen dressed just like this on a single walk through London,” he promised.

“Fascinating,” Mr. Weasley muttered. “And to think, I almost picked a belt and sweater for my outfit to the World Cup. I would’ve stood out like a sore thumb!”

“You, uh, ready to go, Harry?” Ron asked suddenly.

He didn’t seem to like the way Dudley was looking at him. His head did look rather like an apple, if you squinted.

“I've got to grab my trunk,” Harry said. “Be back in a moment.”

He retreated from the room. Arthur Weasley continued looking around, marveling.

“Don’t you think the muggle world is fascinating, boys?” he asked. 

Fred and George exchanged looks. They turned solemnly to their father.

“This smells like a prank,” said George.

“And I swear those noses are transfigured,” muttered Fred.

“Nonsense! It must be that Makes Up I’ve heard about. Like a glamor, but muggles put on with their fingers!”

“It’s make-up,” said Harry dully, stepping back in.

Ron looked relieved to be leaving, until he noticed that Harry was empty handed.

“Er, what about your trunk?” he asked.

“What trunk?” said Harry.

“Y’know, the one you went to get?” Ron blinked. “You doing alright mate? Your eyes look a tad dark.”

“I’m using contact lenses,” Harry said.

“...Underneath your glasses?”

“Yes,” he said seriously.

“Does your uncle have a tail?” asked Fred.

Vernon had turned away, crawling to the pen’s opposite corner to put distance between him and the new Harry. As he waddled on all-fours, his shirt rode up, offering an awful view nobody ever deserved to see… but also giving a glimpse of a pink corkscrew tail.

“It seems that he does,” Harry said, sounding surprised himself.

“How’d he get that one?”

“I wasn’t told how to answer that question,” said Harry.

“Told by who?” asked the other twin.

They had all turned to look at the inexplicable appendage, but their heads whipped around now as they heard a noise quite like a flushing toilet. By the time they looked over, a trunk had appeared in Harry’s hands, and his eyes were green once more.

“Ready to go when you are!” he announced happily.

“What happened to the contact lenses?” Ron asked.

“I took them out!”

“Why?”

“To make you waste your time asking short questions.”

“What?”

“Precisely.”

“Shall we go?” said Mr. Weasley suddenly, looking as if a headache were coming on.

Harry marched across the room lugging his trunk. “Anytime you’re ready!”

Ron was the first one into the flames after Mr. Weasley sprinkled the Floo Powder. George was next. Fred went last, and Harry was sure he saw him furtively drop a toffee into the Dursleys’ food trough.

Before he stepped into the flames, Harry banished the candy far away. If he remembered correctly, one bite of it would engorge a tongue until the countercurse was applied. He couldn’t be having that. Dudley would die if he ate it in this state!

And the Dursleys were so much more wonderfully miserable alive.

“They’ll be quite alright?” Mr. Weasley asked one final time.

“As swell as swine,” promised Harry.

The trough was designed to be self-filling, and Petunia would unfreeze long enough to eat every few hours. Plus, nothing Harry did was permanent. It would all wear off in a day or two…

And then the Dursleys would have to go outside and face the neighbors Harry had invited over just that morning.

“If you say so,” said Mr. Weasley finally. Collecting himself, he faced Harry's relatives one more time. “It was good to meet you all! I promise, we’ll take good care of him this summer.”

Vernon and Dudley whined. Petunia, predictably, did nothing. Arthur Weasley smiled awkwardly and turned away.

The three of them left Number 4 behind in a puff of green flames— Arthur, Harry, and Harry’s shadow. The Dursleys were left alone.

Within minutes, Dudley was back at the feeding trough.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Love and Death

The early morning was very dark, quite cold, and a tad wet as five drowsy teens and a drowsy man staggered up a grassy green hillock. There was another boy with them, but he hardly qualified as drowsy; in fact, he seemed so excited about something or other that he was belting out a song.

“The wheels on the Night Bus go round and round, round and round, round and round!”

His head lolled from side to side as he sang, and somehow, the massive backpack he wore seemed to weigh nothing at all. He skipped side to side, all while the others struggled to find a firm footing in the uncut grass.

“What do Portkeys properly look like?” Hermione asked Mr. Weasley.

The others had the distinct sense that the question was to provide some other kind of noise, to counteract the off-key singing. All of them were thankful for it.

“Well, they’re ordinary things, Hermione,” answered Mr. Weasley. “The sort of stuff a muggle would look straight past. An old drink can, perhaps, or even a sock or shoe.”

“Does it hurt?” she had to ask.

“Not at all,” Mr. Weasley assured her.

“Just feels strange,” said Ron. “Like Mum’s yanking you the whole way by your nose.”

They crested the hill, and by that point they were breathing hard enough not to want to talk unnecessarily. Mr. Weasley had them fan out to search for their ride, but just as they began two figures called out to them. One waved.

“Over here, Arthur!” he shouted. “We’ve… Well, we found what I really hope is the Portkey.”

It was Amos Diggory, and his son, Cedric. Cedric gave Harry a funny look for the singing as they approached. Harry hardly noticed, what with how many of those he collected back at the Burrow. He even made a game of it, keeping score in his head for how many he got off each person. So far Hermione was the breakaway leader.

The ministry wizards shook hands and started to chat. Harry reached the end of his song… mostly because he was shooting glances at the object Amos Diggory held by his side and giggling, which didn’t allow for particularly good (or even decidedly average) singing.

Seeing a chance, Ron Weasley leaned closer to him.

“How do you have so much energy, anyway?” the redhead asked, eyeing his friend jealously under half-lidded eyes.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Harry asked. “I’ve been awake for ages.”

“But you got up when I did!”

“Got up, sure. But woke up? That was hours ago.”

Ron gave him a strange look. “Still don’t know how you look that happy. If it was me awake in the middle of the night, I’d have been glaring at everything that moved!”

But Harry was hardly listening. It had been easy enough, sneaking out of the Burrow in the middle of the night and finding this very hill. From there, he’d just worked a bit of magic. The old shoe that whisked them away in his first and second lives disappeared, replaced by the object Amos was holding now. And then Harry had gone back to bed.

“Is that the Portkey there?” Mr. Weasley asked his acquaintance.

Amos Diggory looked down, and right away confusion blossomed across his face.

“I think so,” he said. “I mean, I'm pretty sure. But… what is it?”

The man lifted a phallic, one-foot purple dildo for all to see.

Hermione gasped. The twins began snickering, and Cedric looked away slightly. But Ron, Mr. Weasley, and Amos himself seemed stumped.

“Fascinating!” said Mr. Weasley. “It must be some kind of muggle contraption!”

“It is!” chorused the twins. 

“It looks like a cock,” Ron noticed.

“Ron!” Mr. Weasley said. “Don’t speak that way just because your mother’s not here. Any… slight resemblances are I'm sure entirely coincidental…”

“Yes!” said Hermione a tad too loudly. “Complete coincidence!”

Harry leaned over to her, behind the others.

“That’s a nice one isn’t it?” he whispered.

“Harry!” she whispered back. Just his name with a shocked inflection, her scandalized way of telling him to shut up.

“It’s big enough to have come out of your collection!”

At that, Hermione pulled a wonderful tomato impression, becoming bright red and incredibly silent. Harry straightened, smiling.

He’d forgotten how fun it was to tease her at this age. Too many years around him had dulled her wonderful reactions in his last life, but at this age it was all too easy to make her blush. He could imagine why in this situation, too. The portkey was an exact replica of one of Hermione’s favorite ‘toys’.

Yes, one of . It had come as quite a shock the last time around, when he first discovered Hermione’s collection. By that time there had been dozens. She collected them slowly, in all shapes and sizes, even bringing them to Hogwarts. The quiet ones, as they say. The only thing she enjoyed more than a session with one of them was when Harry was on-hand to use one on her himself.

But that was another time, in another life, and this nineteen-year-old Hermione had never mentioned to a soul where her allowance money went other than books. So she short-circuited and shut down entirely.

“Grab on, kids!” Mr. Weasley urged. “Go on, get a finger in there!”

Ginny was blushing as she did it. Despite a more muted reaction than Hermione, there were some things every girl recognized. Cedric poked a finger in, and the twins did so a moment later, reluctantly. One by one they all made some kind of contact, and at the end, Ron obliviously grabbed a good hold of the head.

As Harry was busy snickering, a voice said, “How was your summer?”

It was Cedric, standing to the right of him. Harry sobered slightly. The boy had survived his last life, he made sure of that, but still…

“Short,” he said. “Hey, though, you’re looking good!”

“Thanks?” said Cedric.

Harry nodded. “Yes. Very alive. Not that you looked bad dead, mind, but this is definitely a better look. You should stick with it.”

Cedric smiled and nodded. Very slowly, Harry watched that smile fade. The boy looked back at him, his eyes wide.

“...Looked?”

The Portkey dragged the nine of them across the country in a rush of magic.

O-O-O

That afternoon was more fun than Harry expected. There were a great many familiar faces running around, some he’d half-forgotten and all a lot less wrinkled than he’d last seen. Why, there was Seamus Finnegan, Cho Chang, Dean Thomas, and that one random blond boy Harry couldn't remember the name of who came up and greeted him like an old friend! So many reunions!

He even got to re-meet the older generation. Barty Crouch Senior gave him a poisonous look when Harry asked how his son was. After Arthur hurriedly explained to him that Barty Junior was ‘dead’, Harry offered the man an autograph as an apology, which Crouch coldly turned down.

It was a better reaction than Ludo Bagman gave him. The ex-beater utterly ignored Harry when he asked to place a hundred Galleon bet on a Death Eater attack and Mrs. Roberts, the wife of the muggle camp manager, flashing a hundred thousand wizards with her knickers.

“You shouldn’t joke about that kind of thing!” Hermione rebuked him later.

“I’d never!” said Harry. “Cross my heart!”

Soon it was time for the game itself. They fed into a raucous procession, following crowded paths lit by lanterns and filled with joyous singing. There was a good bit of jostling on the way to the stadium, but as they entered and climbed the steps bodies peeled away. Mr. Weasley’s tickets were for the highest point in the stadium— the viewer’s box each ministry’s highest officials would be using.

Only a house elf was present when they arrived. There were two rows of seats in total, and Mr. Weasley led them to the front left corner, just in front of the house elf.

Harry turned around, resting his elbow on the back of his seat. “Hey there!”

The house elf peaked between two fingers, offering a tiny glimpse of its small eyes.

“Winky is not supposed to be talkings,” said the elf. “Winky hopes you’ll forgive.”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking to you, Winky,” Harry said. He turned away, looking at the empty seat beside the elf. “How’s the view?”

“Winky is not liking it one bits sir—”

“Still not talking to you, Winky.”

Harry kept his eyes fixed on the empty seat. After a solid thirty seconds, he turned back to the field.

“I was just trying to be polite, asshole,” he muttered.

Winky gasped, and Harry rolled his eyes. “Still, still not talking to you, Winky!”

The elf re-covered her eyes, shrinking confusedly into her seat.

The box gradually filled around them. The Bulgarians arrived first, followed shortly by Ludo Bagman, who seemed eager to greet everybody except for Harry. It seemed his proposed bet earlier frightened the man. Whether it was the mention of Death Eaters that got to him, or the sheer number of Galleons that was making the deep-in-debt man sweat, Harry couldn’t say.

Soon there were five different ministers in the box, and Fudge was yet to arrive. Harry glanced across, looking over the assembled collection with a critical eye.

The Bulgarians were the closest. They shook with excitement, their eagerness for the game matched only by their reaction when one noticed Harry’s scar. Soon they were sticking their hands over, each vying to get the first handshake off of him.

Smiling graciously, Harry shook the minister’s hand first. He was a big man, with a very wide face that could’ve been hewn from icy rock if it weren’t for the fat in his cheeks. He had only one wide eyebrow, and his beard was thick enough to hide a week’s worth of past meals in a pinch.

“Yes, yes,” Harry said. “Very nice to meet you.” The man continued babbling in his native language, mouth opening repeatedly, and Harry wrinkled his nose. 

“Say, they do have hygiene charms in Bulgaria, don’t they?” he asked. “I mean, I somewhat assumed you people would stink, but you’ve completely outdone my expectations. I know Durmstang spends more time teaching its students how to rape and pillage than it does on actual magic, but you’re in the civilized world now. A modicum of effort wouldn’t go amiss.”

The Weasleys were gaping at him, and Ludo Bagman too, who seemed to have forgotten all about his mission to pretend Harry did not exist. Two hands grabbed Harry’s shoulders and spun him around.

He found himself staring into the rather frightened, extremely scandalized face of Hermione.

“What on earth are you doing?” she asked shrilly. “You’ve been strange all day, but that’s too far! Thank Merlin he doesn’t understand English!”

The Bulgarian minister was smiling at Harry, his unibrow quirked up in the middle, doing his best to pretend he got anything at all out of Harry’s barrage of words.

“Yes,” he said in the thickest of accents, “I agree!”

Harry blinked. He frowned, concern blossoming across his face.

“You’re right, Hermione,” he said. “What got into me? I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll make this right.”

He turned to the Bulgarian minister, and repeated every word he’d said, verbatim, in flawless Bulgarian.

There was quite a great clamor then from the Bulgarian section, but it was at this point that a few of the veela mascots made an early entrance, distracting the outraged officials.

“You speak Bulgarian?” Ron asked, getting right to the important questions.

“And Mandarin,” Harry said.

“Killer!” said the redhead.

“What has gotten into you, Harry?”

Harry was sure Hermione had to be running out of shocked exclamations by this point, but up to now she was still going strong.

“I’m just trying something new, Hermione.”

“You’re being an ass!”

“Exactly!” said Harry. “When I woke up this morning I got to thinking. I have this whole Boy Who Lived thing going for me, and it’s fantastic for getting my foot in the door of the child-soldier-hero market. But the decision to go into it was made for me, and a very long time ago I might add. So I’m testing the waters with a few new personas. Today, I’m giving racism a try.”

Lucius Malfoy entered the box behind them, Minister Fudge at his side and Narcissa and Draco trailing them. Draco’s ugly little eyes landed on Hermione, who had turned to berate Harry, and a smirk spread on his lips.

“Look,” he muttered as they passed, “a mudblood .”

“Damn straight!” Harry barked, pointing to Draco like he’d just passed him a game-winning assist. Draco himself looked dumbfounded, but his father quickly pulled him along.

“Look,” said George, “we’re all for a bit of fun. But don't you think this game is a little dangerous?”

He inclined his head as he spoke, nodding toward the Bulgarian contingent. The stray veela were still blowing the crowd kisses far below, but officials were working to wrangle them back to the others for their proper entrance. The further away they got, the less glass-eyed the Bulgarians became. A few were beginning to grumble and give Harry dirty glances.

Harry shrugged. “I’m the Boy Who lived. I’ll get away with it.”

The twins looked at each other.

“He’s right isn’t he?” said Fred.

“Lucky bugger,” said George.

Hermione wasn’t moving anymore, and in truth, it looked quite like she’d forgotten to breathe.

“Oh relax,” Harry told her. “What, do you think these Eastern European trolls are actually going to do anything about a few unfriendly words?” He pointed past them at the next delegation over, who was speaking exclusively in rapid-fire Italian. “I could call those ones a bunch of spaghetti slurping, beak-nosed failed Romans, and I’d still get off fine. Or I could call them—” he pointed to the French delegation in the far corner “—a bunch of rude frog-munching snail-licking lazy degenerates. Or I could call them—”

He stopped, staring at a dark skinned witch in a dress, sitting amid her own delegation. “Sorry, what delegation is that?”

He got no immediate answer, for Hermione had passed out in her seat during the middle of his rant.

“Those are the Germans, Harry,” Arthur said very quietly.

“And I’m Lord Voldemort,” Harry said. “Very funny. Who are they really?”

“That’s the German Minister of Magic!” insisted Arthur. “Carina Bartsch is a very established witch! She’s already in her second term!”

Harry looked over dubiously for a few more seconds.

“If you say so,” he said finally.

It was at this point that Cornelius Fudge finally came over. He trundled toward Harry with rosy cheeks and a beaming grin.

“Harry, my boy!”

“Great,” Harry groused. “And here comes the tea-guzzling colonialist. What do you want, an unsalted cracker? Or would that be too spicy?”

Fudge was understandably taken-aback. Yet the first words to leave his mouth were, “But you’re English yourself!”

“I don’t discriminate in my discrimination,” said Harry. “I’m not a monster.”

He leaned toward the minister, lowering his voice. “Say, there’s this woman a few seats that way claiming to be the Minister of Germany. Don’t you think you ought to, you know, do something?”

Fudge looked that way, spotting the dark skinned woman with her hair elaborately curled.

“Oh, Carina!” he said. “Yes by gosh, I should do something. I must go over and say hello!”

He nearly tripped over his feet getting away from Harry Potter, who, he made his mind up, was decidedly peculiar today.

“Damn,” Harry muttered as the man fled. “You’re telling me she’s really…”

“I told you so, Harry,” said Mr. Weasley.

“Alright, Arthur. Nobody likes a sore winner.”

Just then two latecomers caught Harry’s attention. They slipped quietly in from the back, working their way to the French delegation in the far corner. It was little wonder Harry hadn’t seen them in his past lives. Their entrance was timed to the exact moment the whole Herd of Bulgarian veela took the field, distracting everybody with a cock and then some the whole stadium over. Harry was certain the timing wasn’t a coincidence.

A short-ish wizard with a stout frame and serious eyes walked in the lead. He pulled his companion along by the wrist, and she followed him without complaint. Her pale blond hair glittered behind her, complimenting her baby blue dress robes.

Harry stood.

“I think I’m going to stretch my legs,” he announced.

Nobody responded. With Hermione unconscious and the boys unable to acknowledge anything but the dancing veela, he figured it would be some time before they noticed his absence. Absently pulling Ron back into his seat by the collar as the redhead tried to mount the railing, Harry cut his way across the box. 

He wrapped around and cut in front of the second row of seats. As he passed the empty seat Winky was saving for Crouch Senior, he stumbled.

His arm swung out — to steady himself, of course — right over the empty seat, and although it felt as if it struck something — which was impossible of course, because that seat was empty — Harry quickly regained his balance.

He hurried forward a few steps before stopping.

“Goodness!” he said. “I think I forgot my wand!” 

Though he didn't use it often these days, his phoenix feather wand was not in his back pocket any longer. That was where he’d left it, extending out a few inches, just as it had been in his first life.

He hurried back to the Weasleys, and wouldn’t you know it, he tripped again in the exact same spot. But he didn’t find his wand there, so he hurried to the back row again. Again he tripped in the same place, arm swinging to steady himself. And wouldn’t you know it? A moment later his wand had suddenly appeared right there on the floor, directly beneath the empty seat.

Harry laughed with relief, stooping to pick it up.

“Wow!” he said. “To think it was right here, and I only had to crouch to pick it up. Losing this sure would’ve been a dark mark on my day! Why, I would’ve wanted to crawl under an invisibility cloak out of shame!”

Winky the house elf gasped, forgetting all about her fear of heights as she dropped her hands and stared at Harry. Offering the house elf a quick salute, Harry went on his way.

He finally crossed the box just as the veela far below hit the pinnacle of their performance. The Irish Leprechauns would arrive soon with their rain of false gold, but for now every man in the box was still reduced to a drooling fool.

The only exceptions were Harry himself, who long ago shed the effects of little things like veela allure, and the bearded man who entered late. Harry stopped two seats away from him, right in front of the blond he arrived with.

She was facing him before he even stopped, as if something heralded his arrival. Her blue eyes gazed quizzically at him. They stayed like that a short while, both of them remaining still.

Harry broke the staring contest first. He gestured with his hand, and the stranger to the left of her stood abruptly. He hurried off, suddenly remembering a pressing errand that most definitely really existed.

“Is this seat taken?” Harry asked.

To which Fleur Delacour replied, “I do believe it has just opened up.”

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Chapter Text

Chapter 4

To Charm a Veela

“The view’s just great isn’t it?”

Fleur quirked a blond eyebrow at him. The VIP box was at the highest point in the stadium, looking down on every row of seats filled to bursting with color and noise from wizards of every continent. Veela danced far below, Leprechauns had taken to the skies raining down false gold, and the night sky seemed alight with stars. Noise swelled as it seemed like everyone, from everywhere, was cheering for one thing or another.

“It is,” Fleur said, and Harry realized he’d forgotten how thick her accent used to be. “However, it seems you are only looking at me.”

“Strange,” said Harry. “I’m certain I’ve got at least a little bit of the field in my peripherals. Bulgaria’s winning, aren’t they?”

“The players have not taken the field.”

“So I was close.” Harry shrugged. “I’m Harry, by the way.”

“I can see that,” said Fleur, eyes picking out the scar peeking into view beneath his bangs.

“This damn thing!” Harry groaned. “It ruins my mystique.”

“I would say you still have plenty,” said Fleur. “You are not what I expected, Harry potter.”

“What, is it the tattoo?” he asked.

He raised his wand hand, wiggling the fingers. As he did the sleeve slipped down slightly, revealing a view of an elaborate web of ink— thin lashing lines that seemed to swell and shift, all moving in tandem around a bold black skull.

“It is magic?” Fleur asked, eyeing the marks with undisguised curiosity. “But, non, Harry Potter. It is not some mark that fascinates me. It is you.”

Ludo Bagman had sufficiently recovered from the Veela to put his wand to his throat and roar the names of emerging players to the crowd. He wasn’t alone. All across the box men seemed to come back to life, and the older wizard sitting on the opposite side of Fleur, the one who entered with her, visibly shook himself.

He had been the least affected by the allure besides Harry, sitting still in his seat and not posturing or looking dully off into space. But it became clear now that doing so had taken all of his willpower. With that need reduced, he finally took notice of Harry’s new choice of seat.

“My uncle,” Fleur introduced mildly and, perhaps, reluctantly. “Daddy has entrusted him to look after me.”

“How do you do?” asked Fleur’s uncle in uncomfortable English. “I am Jean Delacour. And you?”

“I’m the Boy-who-lived,” said Harry.

“My english… it is not great,” said Fleur’s uncle. “But, do all boys in this box not live?”

Harry wiped a tear from his eye.

“That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard you magnificent frog-eating bastard.”

Fleur’s uncle still looked confused, but he turned back to the other officials around him, attempting to ignore Harry completely. Which suited Harry perfectly fine, considering his niece was more appealing in every way.

“Is there something you hope for from me?” Fleur asked.

“Company watching a wonderful game?”

In truth, he hadn’t approached her with a plan. He’d been surprised, seeing a familiar face at a time he didn’t expect, and jumped at the chance for a reunion.

Plus it seemed like a decent opportunity to make fun of the French. Which, as an Englishman, he was honor-bound to take.

Fleur sniffed. “I do not think much of Quidditch.”

“You are at the Quidditch World Cup.”

“I am here for the spectacle,” she said firmly. “Quidditch is boring and stupid, invented by men with wives too boring to sleep with. But I am a great fan of celebrations.”

“In moderation,” her uncle muttered at her.

She shot him an annoyed glare.

“Yes, of course.”

She turned to Harry, smirking to show what she really thought of moderation.

“Celebrations are fantastic,” she said fervently. “People are always at their happiest. And celebrations come in so many forms! As many people as a hundred-thousand… or as few as two.”

Her absurdly beautiful face was beaming. The men around them began to shift in their seats, sweat breaking out across their necks, and… did it seem like Fleur was leaning forward?

“He fell off his broom last year!” someone screamed beside them.

Fleur’s eye twitched. The atmosphere burst, wizards the box over relaxing once more. Standing beside Harry, jabbing a finger toward his face, was none other than Harry’s playground nemesis.

Draco cut a ridiculous figure at the moment. While his right arm pointed at Harry, his left was raised in a v-shape, flexing the thinnest of biceps with all his insignificant might. Harry remembered the boy being especially weak to Fleur. He just didn’t recall it was this bad.

“It was super embarrassing!” said Draco. “Right in the middle of the game, he just slipped off and passed out! Fell all the way to the ground. The headmaster had to save him, else he would’ve died right there. Stupid student dies to a bit of rain— I can see the Prophet Headline now!”

Draco stood there panting as his rant finished up. He looked mightily proud. Unfortunately, the boy had forgotten that this wasn’t school, and his laugh track of Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson was entirely missing. An awkward silence settled over their corner of the box as the French delegation stopped chatting to stare at him.

“Draco,” Harry said gently, “you look like you dye your hair with men’s semen, and you’re just inbred enough for it to be your father’s that you use. We’re having a conversation here, so if you could run along, maybe take a seat in the third row forward, that would be lovely.”

Draco twitched, but he refused to go down so easily.

“There’s only two rows of seats, Potter. Or are you too dim to count that high?”

“I was telling you to jump off and kill yourself. But I’ll take it if you just scurry anywhere but here.”

“I… You… You’ll pay for this, Potter!”

He sprinted across the box back to his daddy’s side, stopping only once on the way to check his reflection in a pane of glass, staring at his hair in a whole new light.

“Much better,” Harry said. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Oui,” said Fleur. She tapped her fingers against the back of Harry’s hand on the armrest separating them. “But I can think of a way I would like you much better, you know.”

“You can?” Harry said. “Oh, this I’ve got to hear—”

Fleur leaned close, her fingers sinking between Harry’s and wrapping into them. Soft lips brushed his ear as sticky breath led a goosebump jailbreak across the side of his neck.

“Inside me,” breathed Fleur.

“...Pardon?”

O-O-O

“Remember, Fleur. You are to stay close to me at all times.”

Fleur nodded and wished her uncle would finish speaking already. They had been standing outside the viewer’s box for at least five minutes as he extolled all the ways she must listen to and obey him. The man was an incredible drag. She might’ve been able to take him the slightest bit seriously if he had any real resistance to allure. But where her father was immune to she and her mother’s abilities, his brother was only a bit better than average at maintaining his composure.

“I will do as you say Uncle,” she said robotically. “So may we enter?”

The draft on the staircase was the worst , after all.

Her uncle hesitated. It seemed for a moment like he would refuse again, but then his ears twitched and his head perked up.

“Yes!” he said. “Right now!”

He pulled Fleur by the hand.

Her first glimpse of the viewing area was disappointing. Two rows of fat old wizards stunned stupid by a veela performance an entire stadium beneath them. So that was what her uncle had been waiting for. How do you keep a quarter-veela from being noticed? Enter when dozens of pureblooded ones were sluttily shaking their hips. Fleur snorted.

It was not until they sat down that things first became strange.

There, on an uncomfortable wooden seat with cold wind blowing her calves and weak wizards struck stupid surrounding her, something damp leaked between her legs.

Her whole body twitched. Arousal roared to life, and for the strangest few seconds, she could not for the life of her understand why.

But part of her went on clamoring: one fourth, to be precise. The veela in her sensed something.

Something strong. Something close .

Veela were different from humans. They were creatures of magic, and although capable of mating with wizards, they didn’t wield their power through wands. It was a part of them, a sixth sense as natural as sight or smell.

At least, that was how Fleur’s dear grandmother explained it. She herself was three-quarters wizard. She always believed her grandmother, but to Fleur, such a sense was nothing but a story, something that might’ve been hers had she been born with more veela blood in her veins.

To awaken the sense that had been dormant within her would take something unbelievably potent. Something more powerful than anyone realized was in this box with them. And it reeked of… Death?

The moment she put a word to it, her crotch exploded with a second wave of want.

Death was not to be feared, her grandmother always said. Death was the end of life, just as sex was the start of it. They were sides of the same coin, and without either one the world would quickly turn into an awful place to be.

Death was necessary. Death was beautiful. And by her magic, if it wasn’t making Fleur unbearably horny. 

Just as she was pondering jamming a hand down her robes (witnesses be damned!) that boy appeared in front of her.

She was too stunned to speak at first. So she simply sat there looking at him, until his magic pulsed, making her loins pulse in turn, and the man beside her fled.

He asked to sit down. Externally, Fleur agreed. Internally, it was taking all she had to keep some semblance of composure.

He was even more intense up this close. His magic was all but overwhelming her, and he wasn’t even trying. It made her squirm.

She chatted with him. He hadn’t come to her with anything in mind… but she could fix that. Only, just as she made her move, a thin blond appeared from somewhere, mewling for attention.

His nasally voice made her want to scream. He whined something about a broom, and looked at her proudly as he finished, as if waiting for her to leap eagerly into his arms. She would have preferred to chop his manhood off and feed it to him.

But Harry Potter — for that was who the boy born from death was, the great British hero — sent the blond back where he crawled from with a verbal assault almost as vicious as the physical one Fleur imagined. At that point it sunk in completely

She didn’t just want him.

She needed him.

“Much better. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Oui. But I can think of a way I would like you much better, you know.”

“You can? Oh, this I’ve got to hear—”

Fleur leaned close, sinking her fingers between Harry’s and wrapping them into his. Her lips brushed his ear as her hot breath formed goosebumps along the side of his neck.

“Inside me,” breathed Fleur.

“...Pardon?” he squeaked.

O-O-O

“Merlin!” Harry muttered, his eyelids fluttering.

He groaned as Fleur drove his cock repeatedly down her throat. She gripped his buttocks, a hand on each cheek, allowing her to pull her whole body forward in desperate repeated lunges.

She was laying stomach-down on a bed of blue sheets. Their clothes were strewn about the room, most piled by the door but other pieces hanging off the furniture. Harry’s boxers had been tossed so far that they landed on top of a portrait frame, while Fleur’s bra hung around the neck of a peacock statue.

Her private tent was incredible. It was half the size of a pureblood manor inside, decorated ostentatiously with candleholders and an operational chandelier. Her bedroom had a high ceiling and three dressers. Multiple peacock statues, each five feet in height, stood in the corners, including the one wearing her bra as a new necklace. The only thing putting Harry off was the portrait above the bed.

The woman inside it was very pretty, despite her graying brown hair and slight wrinkles. The problem was that she was mounted directly above the headboard, glaring daggers at him.

“I don’t think your portrait likes me,” he said.

Fleur looked up at him. Reluctantly, she drew her head back, allowing his cock to slide out of her throat.

“Ignore her,” she said decisively. “She is a spy.”

The portrait tutted angrily. Fleur’s only response was to stick out her great pink tongue and run across Harry’s length. Finally, offering one final lick that ran a circle the circumference of his glans, Fleur pulled back and explained.

“I dated the second son of the French minister this summer. He bragged so much about his prowess that I had high hopes for him, but he was a fool. He could not handle me for ten seconds! My father is still hoping I will go back to him. Our relationship was very good for the family’s position, you see.”

She pulled her knees up, rising to a kneeling position at the edge of the bed. Her hands slid around from behind Harry, one finding Harry’s length to keep him content while her mouth was busy speaking.

“The portrait is of his great grandmother,” she said. “She has been in the family for generations. Father put her above the bed with a powerful sticking charm because he was worried I would get my pussy wrecked by the first handsome wizard I came across.”

She pronounced the word ‘pussy’ as if it were spelled ‘poosay’. Harry found that hot, for some reason.

“Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing?” he asked.

She snorted.

“You are no mere wizard. I do not know what you are, Harry Potter, but I know it is something great. I am going to be yours, whether a stuffy old portrait watches or not.”

She split her pouty lips and engulfed him once more. When she slid all the way to the base of his shaft, Harry could feel her stiff nipples pressing into his quads. He grabbed the back of her head, and when he did Fleur purred into him.

He had his fair share of experience with women. Defeating Voldemort early had seen to that, before he settled down with Hermione. Harry wasn’t even new to Veela. Gabrielle Delacour, Fleur’s sister, had acted on her crush the moment she was of age, and even Harry hadn’t had the heart to deny a begging veela.

But he had never been with Fleur before, and certainly there was something extra about her. She took him in her mouth like every inch she swallowed would add to her lifespan. Desperation, that was the word he was looking for. It was like she didn’t just want him, she yearned for him.

And Harry was perfectly content to enjoy the ride.

Fleur’s platinum blond hair swung as she bobbed along him. Both her hands sank to her pussy. She fingered herself relentlessly, digging at her folds as if trying to put out a fire.

She pushed herself all the way to Harry’s base and wiggled her head, twisting her throat around him. He could feel her tongue dragging on his length. One moment she was bobbing her head rapidly, the next her movements were slow and sensual. The only thing she never did was stop.

She knew when Harry was close before he did. Fleur glued her face to his crotch. Her forehead pressed against his abbs, her cute nose mashed itself flat atop his pubes, and her cheeks rubbed against his upper thighs. Harry came deep in her throat.

Fleur stayed in place until she was certain she’d swallowed the last of it. The moment she pulled off of him, she was immediately attacking his tip, lapping at his slit as she tried to lick up and leftover drops. When there was nothing left to be had, she leaned back, sitting down hard on her lovely backside.

Her fingers were still digging through what Harry could see now was a very soaked pussy. She looked imploringly at him with half-shut eyes.

“More,” she begged.

Harry could hardly say no to that.

He grabbed each of her ankles. Fleur squeaked as he lifted them up, rolling her onto her back. But Harry kept pushing. He crawled onto the bed with her, and soon her legs were extended straight up, pinned beside her head.

Harry stared into her eyes. His swollen cock rubbed against her moist snatch, and Fleur shuddered, cumming before he was even inside of her.

Harry mashed his hips down before she had a chance to recover. He filled her utterly, and without so much conveniently provided lubrication, he wasn’t entirely sure he would’ve fit. Fleur howled as the bed underneath them rocked.

“Goodness!” exclaimed the portrait overhead. 

Harry growled as he plowed through Fleur’s insides. Veela were sexual beings in ways only a lucky few men ever discovered the true extent of. They weren’t just supernaturally beautiful, they were supernaturally tight, with staminas far beyond the norm. They could tire out quidditch stars without breaking as sweat, and make even the most experienced man seem like a virgin.

Fleur screamed as if she were being torn in two.

“Fuck me!” she begged. “Fill me with your incredible cock! Pump your cum into me! Just please— do not stop!”

Harry grunted. His hips sunk in an unending succession of heavy thrusts. He began to bite Fleur’s body.

First it was her lower lip. He took it gently between his teeth, pulling it forward before letting it snap back into place. He nibbled her collarbone. He even bit one of the clean-shaven calves next to her head.

That last one made Fleur cum. It was so wet down there, soon he wouldn’t be able to notice a difference.

Harry sat up abruptly, releasing her legs and making her gasp. While still thrusting into her, he grabbed her hip and rolled her onto her side. He dropped down behind her a moment later.

The top sheet was mixed up with their feet now. He held Fleur’s top leg up by the thigh, cramming himself in her pussy from behind. Her lithe back was pressed to his muscular one. He slid a hand under her hips, reaching around and bouncing two fingers against her clit. Fleur screamed, hurling her head back.

“Why I never!” exclaimed her great great grandmother above them. “How were you raised? How are you not ashamed? How are you so… so manly?”

Fleur bent her head back as far as it would go. Her lips found Harry’s upside down, her tongue sliding into his mouth. Harry kissed her back, and without breaking it, rolled them over again.

She was flat on her stomach now, like she had been at the start of her blowjob, with her face looking up and their lips locked together. Each of Harry’s thrusts gave a hearty clap against her heart-shaped derrière. 

“Fuck,” Harry grunted, breaking the kiss. “Fuck.”

He sat up on his knees, allowing Fleur’s chin to sink back to the bed. He grabbed her arms, pulling them both back so that her torso elevated a few inches above the sheets. His hips had never stopped through any of the positions, but now they found a new gear.

Staccato claps filled the room so loudly that if he closed his eyes, Harry could've believed they were back in the stadium. You know, except for the gorgeous veela cumming her clit out on his cock.

By chance he looked up, and what he saw actually made him laugh. 

The portrait of Fleur's grandmother had been hung there to watch her having sex, and that was exactly what she had done. But maybe Monsieur Delacour underestimated his daughter’s choice in partners.

“Remember how this portrait was going to report you to your dad?” asked Harry.

“Worth it!” shrieked Fleur beneath him.

“Well, the thing is, I don’t think that’s something you have to worry about anymore.”

The portrait was exactly the kind classical old pureblood families adored. Fleur’s great grandmother had been sitting on a wood stool against a background of blue curtains, wearing a lovely dress and holding her wand in clear view.

Now, the attractive older witch had hiked her dress all the way up. She was sitting with her legs sprawled wide open, biting her lip, and the wand she’d so proudly showed off was busy plunging in and out of her exposed pussy.

“No knickers,” Harry noticed. “Are all portraits so kinky?”

His only answer was a scream from Fleur.

The French witch had cum again, and this was the most extreme one yet. Her whole body went incredibly tense, then sagged, as if the last of her energy had just squirted out through her womanhood.

It was entirely too much for Harry, who was impressed with himself for lasting as long as he had. Trusting the witch to be on the potion like most her age were, he allowed himself to let go.

It was technically the first time this body had ever had sex, and the eruption that spouted from his cock certainly proved that. He pumped wave after wave into Fleur, and even when he pulled out a full fifteen seconds later, dregs were still leaking from his tip. This time, Fleur was entirely too tired to whip around and clean him with her mouth.

A shout attracted Harry’s attention. Looking up, he watched as the portrait’s face twisted with pleasure. She jabbed her wand deeper, and a moment later, white paint splattered the front of the image from the inside.

Harry stared, dumbfounded. “You can do that?”

The portrait blushed and looked away.

“Can all of you do that?”

An image filled Harry’s mind, quite against his will, of the paintings all around the Headmaster’s office at Hogwarts, grouped up in one frame for a recreational orgy.

Something tugged at his cock. He looked down and was delighted to find it wasn’t the mental image making him twitch (that was one kink he did not need to awaken) but rather a set of fingers.

Fleur, still face down, had reached behind her and dragged her fingers across the length. Just as he was starting to soften, Harry found himself completely hard once more. The part-veela giggled without lifting her face.

“Right,” Harry said. “Veela stamina. Silly of me to have forgotten.”

The portrait looked on eagerly as he descended on the French witch again, pressing their bodies together.

O-O-O

Hours later, Harry felt like all the moisture had been spewed out of his body. Fleur was curled up with her head on his chest, a beaming smile on her face as she slept soundly. Both of them were caked in layers of old sweat. Above the bed, in her great great grandmother’s frame, the stool had been overturned, and the occupant lay flat on her back, surrounded by splotches of fresh paint.

Laying drowsily on the bed with a dopey smile, Harry couldn’t help but mumble, “Didn’t I come here for some reason?”

He’d planned to do something when he chose to attend the world cup. Was it to sleep with a veela? He was certain that was more fun than anything else could’ve been, yet for some reason it didn’t feel right.

Fleur mumbled something and snuggled closer. Harry closed his eyes. Whatever it was, he’d figure it out in the morning.

Somebody screamed outside the tent. In moments, a hundred more voices joined them.

Harry’s eyes snapped open. 

“Right!” He said. “It was that …”

With a sinking feeling, he looked around himself. “I’m going to have to get up, aren’t I?”

Fleur snuggled closer.

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Chapter Text

CHAPTER 5

[Hero Enters Stage Left]

Nymphadora Tonks’s life's was not turning out the way she expected.

Ever since she was a girl she had been full of big ideas. Easily distracted, her mother called it. And that was true, but only because her head was so stuffed with dreams.

She practically lived off the old fairytales her father used to tell. They were stories he’d learned when he was her age, muggle tales full of dragons, knights, and great heroic kings. Tonks listened with wide eyes for as long as he would talk, and that’s when she decided: she was going to be a hero.

Of course, life doesn’t have a habit of treating the dreams of little girls well. Tonks reached Hogwarts and went straight to Hufflepuff. Everyone knew that if anyone was going to be fighting dragons, it was going to be a Gryffindor, not a freaking badger. Still, it was only in her fourth year that it sunk in fully, on the day she asked the professor how many O.W.L.s you needed to make it as a hero.

The professor had laughed at her. He assumed she was telling a joke .

When he finished laughing, he told her the requirements to join the Aurors, as if that was what she asked. Doing her best not to slip up and cry, Tonks noted down every word.

She didn’t like these Aurors a particular lot. They struck her as the sort of people a hero would wave to work around , not with. Half their time was spent bodyguarding stuffed-up politicians, and the last time one fought with a dragon was in 1642. Tonks had looked it up: the Hertfordshire Incident.

But it was the closest she would get. So she worked her arse off, graduated from Hogwarts with six N.E.W.Ts, saw off loads of competition to lock down a spot as an Auror trainee, and felt all around that she’d done the best she possibly could have.

And then she found herself here, begging wizards to take off skirts.

That wasn’t all she’d done today. In addition to informing stubborn wizards how muggles truly dressed, she had: picked up trash, healed a child’s scraped knee, been laughed at by Irishmen for telling them to piss off with their obviously magical fireworks, been invited for a drink by those same Irishmen, cleaned up after a flock of pixies got loose from some sod’s tent, and spent two hours overseeing a designated apparition point. She didn’t even get to watch the quidditch, too busy keeping overweight wizards from hurling themselves off the upper stands when the veela came out.

It was a right mess, and she’d been beyond tired when she finally got to her tent and managed to shut her eyes.

Seconds later she was being shaken awake. Dawlish, one of her superiors, barked something that sounded very serious about dark wizards and riots, then swept away before Tonks’s brain came online. When she stumbled out of the tent, her clothes askew and her wand in her hand, all she could see was running bodies.

There was a great stampede hurrying away from something, and when Tonks tried to push her way toward whatever it was, a large fat wizard ran straight through her, knocking her facedown in the dirt.

Nobody stopped to help her. They barely had the presence of mind to go around her, leaving the twenty-three-year old witch lying there dazed, exhausted, and confused, wondering when exactly it first went wrong for her.

Just as she felt about ready to cry (which would have been a tremendous embarrassment. Big strong Auror cries in public? Whoever heard of it?) the crowd suddenly parted.

They were still running, but they gave her a wide berth, splitting and offering her plenty of room to collect herself. Tonks gaped. Had they spotted her badge? Did she even have her badge right now?

But it wasn’t her they were avoiding. A man had appeared beside her, extending his hand to help her up.

He was also completely naked.

The only things on his body were a pair of sturdy shoes, two white socks, and a very muggle black ski mask. He had a lithely muscular body that in other circumstances would’ve been worth stopping to stare at. But Tonks found herself mostly focusing on his flaccid penis hanging directly next to her head, stained with what seemed to be smeared lipstick.

“Come on then,” said the man. “Up and at ‘em now, Auror Tonks.”

Deciding she had nothing left to lose, Tonks accepted the naked man’s hand. 

“Indecent exposure is a crime, you know,” she informed him.

“So is rioting with dark magic, but it’s not stopping those lot.”

The masked man waved a hand toward what was beyond the fleeing crowd. Gazing between the sea of heads, Tonks thought she could just make out the flashes of spellfire. Her face lost its color rather quickly.

“ That’s what’s happening? You aren’t joking?”

“I wouldn’t joke about this,” said the man. “I haven’t thought of one funny enough to tell yet. Anyway, they're off thattaway, hoisting the muggle camp manager and his family a few dozen feet in the air.”

Tonks’s blood boiled. She hated supremacists with a passion. They reminded her of family.

“The ministry will stop them,” she said, pushing up her sleeves. “Speaking of, I ought to be going. An Auror can’t let this kind of thing stand.”

She wasn’t going to let the fact that she was a trainee stop her. Real, honest to Merlin villains had appeared, up to proper no-good! This was what she joined the force to deal with. It was exactly what she’d been chasing, like a reward for her day full of menial chores!

But when she’d taken only a single step, the naked man said, “You’ll never stop them working with those lot.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tonks asked.

“Ministry officials are already swarming them,” he said. “Just look.”

Finally, mercifully, the crowd was clearing. Tonks got her best view yet of what was really going on. When she saw it, she could do nothing but stare.

A pack of dark-cowled wizards and witches marched through the center of camp. They hurled out curses like candy, leaving destruction for the sake of it. Four figures floated high above them. It was too far to make out, but if the naked man spoke the truth, those would be the muggles.

What Tonks couldn’t understand was what the rest of the wizards were doing. They unmistakably wore ministry robes, yet none would cast more than a shield. They ought to be taking a stand! So why were they just puttering along, following the criminals like a nagging mother?

“They’re worried about making an incident,” said the naked man. “It would look terrible in the Prophet if a muggle fell to their death here. So terrible, that the high-ups have forgotten they’re wizards too, capable of casting a cushioning charm. They won’t use an offensive spell the entire night if they have their way.”

It made Tonks feel sick, to be honest. Because she believed him. It was all too easy to imagine after her short time in the ministry.

“All the same,” she said, “I think I’ll go and do what I can. Risk management is better than nothing.”

“But that’s not what you really want, is it?”

Again, Tonks stopped before she’d gotten more than a step away.

“Aren’t you talking a bit too much like you know me?” She frowned. “Come to think of it, how do you know me? Were we at Hogwarts together?”

From the sound of his voice he wasn’t far off her age. She just couldn’t recall any streakers from her time in school.

“You want to stop them, don’t you?” the man said, ignoring her entirely. “What you want is to save the day. Swooping in, taking down villains and rescuing innocents.”

“That is typically what Aurors are supposed to do, yes.”

“But even being an Auror isn't what you're after. You’re only doing it because you settled in life. Picture this: Nymphadora Tonks— hero .”

He said the way Tonks always did in her head, with plenty of reverence and a helping of gusto. She was struck unresponsive quite like she’d been hit by a stunner. The man held out his hand.

“Help me,” he said, “and we’ll do it. Together, we’ll stop them the way only we ever could!”

The offer was so appealing that the ends of Tonks’s hair turned bright blue just thinking about it. This would be everything she wanted. It would be what she longed for in life!

Well, you know, if any of it actually happened. The rush wore off, and she found herself staring at a naked man in his shoes and a mask and nothing else, looking quite ridiculous no matter how respectably hung he might’ve been.

“Afraid I’ll have to pass,” Tonks said. “You seem to know quite a bit about me — a disturbing amount, if I’m being honest — but it takes a lot more than that to stop fifty armed wizards. If you really want to help, volunteer with the ministry officials. Feel free to take your time, though. Find some robes first.”

The man looked down at himself, as if remembering again that he was missing something.

“I don’t know,” he mused. “I think this might be a good distraction tactic. Especially for the dark witches in the crowd.”

Tonks shook her head and turned to the rioters.

Only to find that in the time they had been talking, some had come to them.

Small groups were splintering off of the main pack. Two or three would break away here or there, swing around to burn the further-off tents and spread an extra bit of carnage, then meet back up with the others before they could be caught.

One such group was directly in front of Tonks and her nude compatriot. There were four of them, all broad and stocky beneath their long hooded robes. She noticed the traditional Death Eater masks were missing, but it hardly mattered when their faces were shadowed like they were. What was far more important was the wands they looked more than ready to use.

The men spotted her red Auror robes. They saw her alone, without backup, and raised their wands eagerly.

Tonks wanted to be a hero, but she wasn’t stupid. She’d cast a shield and turn tail. One against three wasn’t called chasing glory, it was called suicide.

“Run!” Tonks whispered urgently at the man beside her.

Instead, he walked forward. Tonks blinked, feeling like rubbing her eyes.

Had he always been holding a wand in each hand?

“Hullo chaps!” he said happily. “Would you say that my cock distracts you?”

That got the dark wizards’ attention. Their confusion was palpable… but not enough to stop them from casting a curse apiece at the clothless man.

Tonks just managed to get a shield up in front of him. Four nasty-colored curses splashed against it. The man himself looked unphased.

“I’ll count that as a no.” He sighed, coming to a stop just in front of them. “It’s because there were no witches with you. That must’ve been the problem.”

The figure on the right said, “I’m a witch!”

“You are?” said Tonks.

“You are?” said the naked man.

“You are?” asked her companions.

The figure growled— which didn’t do her any favors, for the sound was as deep and low as a troll’s snore.

“Either way,” said the naked man quickly, “my grand strategy seems to be a failure.” He hung his head, only to perk up a moment later. “I’m still going to stick with it though, because it’s funny. Now if you chaps — sorry, and lady , no need to growl at me like that again — want to throw down your wands and turn yourselves in, that would be lovely.”

“And what’ll you do if we don’t?” the one in the middle asked nastily.

“ Confringo .”

Tonks didn’t see him move. She was pretty sure the dark wizards didn’t either. In a blur, the naked man had raised both wands, casting perfect blasting curses either side of the head of the wizard who’d spoken. They flew so close they nearly clipped his ears. And they kept flying, and flying…

Spell range was one of the first lessons an Auror trainee got. Theoretically, a spell could keep traveling forever. But it needed power to do so. Tonks could stun a target at a hundred paces, and that was good for her age. But someone like Albus Dumbledore could knock out a bear three miles off.

Tonks watched her naked acquaintance’s spells strike the side of the enormous stadium in the distance.

The sky lit up.

Great twin plumes of fire lit the horizon. Rubble and plaster erupted into the air. Thousands of tons worth of stadium tore away, a massive chunk falling to the field, shaking the ground on impact as if an earthquake had hit.

The dark wizards didn’t even need to turn around. The flash and the noise were enough to have all four dropping their wands.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” said the man.

He reached up, patting the head of a dark wizard like a child who’d obediently pulled their hand out of the cookie jar.

“Hey, so…” Tonks started, her mouth feeling dry. “What were you saying about a plan to be a hero?”

He turned toward her fast enough to make his flaccid penis flap.

“ You’re the one that’s going to be the hero,” he said. “Tell me, Tonks— how familiar are you with Narcissa Malfoy?”

O-O-O

Harry was overjoyed to discover that these rogue Death Eaters had bigger bollocks than he feared they would.

When his spells did their number on the stadium, the entire group stopped and stared. Some looked only one step off Disapparating away on the spot. But they rallied, convincing themselves it must have been a coincidental bit of carnage (caused by their compatriots, if anything), and marched on their way again, back to tossing spells this way and that.

They kept on going and gallivanting, right up until they noticed the mostly-nude boy standing in their path.

Meaning him, of course.

At first, Harry heard sniggers. They seemed to think he was a panicking visitor who crawled out of his tent naked and froze from fear. He supposed he had crawled out of a tent, just not his own. And fear was the last thing on his mind.

One in the middle seemed to be leading them. There was no giving orders to a feral bunch like this, but he at least seemed to be choosing the direction in which they marched. He was the closest of them to Harry, and he lazily called out, “ Levicorpus .”

Harry grinned. He recognized the voice. It belonged to just the Death Eater he was hoping for. 

Jerking one Elder Wand, he summoned the right boot off of a Death Eater, pulling it into the path of the dangling jinx aimed at him. At the same time, he touched his throat with the other Elder Wand. When he spoke, his voice was as loud as Ludo Bagman’s had been during the final.

He laughed maniacally. Villainous cackles grew out of a sinister chuckle. More spells flew at him from the crowd, but he deflected these with a single strong shield.

“Look at you!” Harry boomed. “Minions of a failed fallen Dark Lord, crawling out of the dank shadows into which they slunk. You think you look intimidating, gallivanting about with your weak skills and weaker ideals, but you cannot handle the truth. You are a pathetic embarrassment to wizarding kind.”

Dozens of the nastiest spells available were hurled at him then. Harry conjured a thick wall of earth, watching as it crackled and corroded. When the last spell had sputtered, he allowed the wall’s remnants to break apart into dust.

The crowd had been given pause. Whatever they expected tonight, having their combined might stymied by a single nude man was not it.

“Who are you?” asked the leader.

“I’m glad you asked.” Harry treated them to another long, evil laugh before going on. “I, you sick sods, am the pinnacle of what a wizard can be! I am what Hogwarts’ founders dreamed of when they pictured those who would walk its halls! I am the one who wields power like no other, and the one who will shape the fate of not just this country, but the entire world! I am… Tom Marvolo Riddle!”

Cowled heads turned to each other, checking with their neighbors if that rang any bells. There was lots of shrugging. Only the leader reacted differently, recoiling and gripping his wand more tightly.

“You assuredly are not!” he cried.

“Oh?” Harry raised an eyebrow, even though none could see it beneath his mask. “And why would that be?”

“Because Tom Riddle is—”

The leader stopped abruptly. His friends turned to him, eager to hear the rest of what he had to say. But he had caught himself, and he only snapped, “You just can’t be!”

“A very convincing argument,” Harry said condescendingly. “But your mewling will not change facts. It is I, the son of Merope Gaunt and the muggle from whom I take my name! I am not like you sniveling in-bred fools. Marrying your siblings for centuries has watered you down into addled knock-offs of true wizards and witches.”

“Mudblood lover!” spat an unnamed witch from the crowd.

“Hah!” barked Harry. “You think I have love for those fools? Magic runs in their veins, but they have no pedigree. They were spat out of the filthy bodies of muggles that went their whole lives without even the simplest of charms. They have no culture, class, or decorum. I snub my nose at Mudbloods everywhere!”

“Do you stand for nothing ?” demanded the leader.

Harry hurled out his arms, tilting his head back.

“The half-blood!” he said with relish.

A moment later he began to pace, waving animatedly as he spoke.

“The perfect hybrid,” he declared. “Fresh blood that washes away the vile taint of a crisscrossing family tree. Yet they come from our world, raised in it their whole lives. They understand our ways. Mudbloods and purebloods can’t compare. You—” and here he jabbed a finger at not just the Death Eaters, but the nearby ministry workers as well “—are about to enter an era of half-blood supremacy. And I, Tom Marvolo Riddle Junior, greatest of all half-bloods, will be the one to bring it about!”

It was quite impressive, really. Harry’s bold declaration was met with complete crickets. He had actually managed to silence a riot, and he used nothing but confusion to do it.

The only thing that could’ve made him happier was if he got to see Voldemort’s face when the man heard of this stunt. Few knew the Dark Lord’s true name, and fewer still out of those were still alive and sane. 

Voldemort would have two choices— allow the name Tom Marvolo to become synonymous with half-bloods everywhere… or reveal his own identity, and admit to all purebloods that Lord Voldemort was the dress-up persona of the son of a muggle. It was genius, really, or at least Harry thought so.

Alas, Voldemort was not here now, floating somewhere far away as nothing but a spirit. Tonight, Harry would have to content himself with the lieutenant in front of him.

“I don’t know who you are really,” the leader said quietly, “but I will make you regret the moment you dirtied that name with your mouth.”

“And how are you going to do that?” Harry asked. “You can’t even protect your own family, Lucius.”

The leader turned rigid. His head whipped to either side as if searching for his wife and son. It wasn’t until one of his subordinates cried out that he looked in the correct direction: up.

Mr. and Mrs. Roberts had disappeared along with their children. In their place, suspended just as high off the ground, was a platinum-blond woman and her son with the same hair.

“Cancel the spell!” Lucius screamed. When nobody answered, he added, “NOW!”

Death Eaters jerked their wands, but the floating pair didn’t move any closer to the ground. Harry aimed his wand up, waving it in odd shapes. Draco zoomed through the air with his entire body stiff, as if he were a remote-controlled broom.

“This is fun,” said Harry.

Right then he turned Draco a tad too sharply. The boy’s robes slid off his body, fluttering to the ground, and perhaps the boy had crawled out of bed recently himself, for he was just as naked as Harry underneath.

Unfortunately for him, there was far less to see. In particular, the largest difference was between the legs, where Draco had about as much going on as Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor in the winter, if you caught Harry’s meaning.

“Oof,” Harry winced. “The fangirls are not going to like this one.”

A flash went off somewhere behind him, accompanied by a tell-tale click of a camera. That one was ending up in the prophet one way or another.

Lucius Malfoy’s wand whipped up. “ Avada Kedavra!”

The green bolt fired toward Harry, who casually transfigured a metal ball out of nearby grass, levitating it into the curse’s path. The two canceled each other out in a profusion of sparks.

Harry flicked his wand again, and this time it was not Draco who moved. Narcissa Malfoy turned upside down, her robes falling down over her head— coincidentally, in the exact same way the muggle Mrs. Roberts’s nightgown had in another timeline.

With all due respect to Mrs. Roberts, however, that view had nothing on this one. As a professional trophy wife, Narcissa had a lovely tight stomach and slender figure, and an awful lot of it was on display now.

She wore an elaborate system of lace under her unassuming robes. Apparently, she and her husband had been of a mood to celebrate when they got through rekindling their youth with an enthralling night of terrorizing the less fortunate.

“Behold!” Harry cried. “I give you, the pinnacle of the pureblood witch!”

Narcissa’s body floated about in different directions, still suspended upside down, giving everyone around a view of her.

“Beautiful, yes,” said Harry. “But, for a moment, imagine if she were a half-blood , rather than a pure-blood. Why, I daresay the result would be something like this .”

A new woman appeared in the air above him. She looked an awful lot like Narcissa, down to a similarly-scandalous set of lingerie as her only clothing, although this witch was floating the right-way-round and blushing up a storm. Her arms clutched at her chest, but they were helpless to shield that much cleavage.

Because where Narcissa was slender, with small breasts and a shapely-yet-tight backside, this Narcissa was enormous in both departments. Her breasts were nearly too big for her build. Her ass extended inches out from her lower back with a perfect, athletic shape. To put it simply, she was Narcissa , but better .

Lucius Malfoy took one look at her and passed out on the spot.

He simply fell backward, his brain overloaded by the sight in front of him. Harry watched him fall, shaking his head.

The man had just short-circuited lusting over his own niece. It was like purebloods were trying to give themselves a bad name.

Oh, yes. This new and improved Narcissa was, of course, none other than Nymphadora Tonks, the woman’s Metamorphagus niece. It was a wonderful talent, being able to change your appearance however you liked. Without it, beautiful plans like this one couldn’t exist!

Seeing their leader unconscious and with their pea-brains thoroughly overwhelmed, the dark wizards had taken to standing there quite stupidly, doing nothing at all. A ministry wizard shortly put two and two together, noticed there were no more muggles to worry about making fall, and fired a stunner. Carnage broke loose in short order. Cloaked figures were Disapparating, others were falling to the ground unconscious, and a select few fired nasty spells back. But the ones who chose to stay and fight were quickly outnumbered.

“Fall!” Harry cackled. “Collapse before my half-blood might!”

He was interrupted when at least six red beams flashed toward him. With one set of maniacs dealt with, it seemed the ministry was moving on to the next insane target.

“Time to go!” Harry said. “Catch!”

Tonks, still in her Narcissa disguise, plummeted toward the ground. Before making contact she slowed rapidly, causing her enormous chest to bounce vigorously. She landed directly on top of a mousy young intern, cushioning her fall. The boy probably came out of it with a nasty concussion, but considering it ended with Tonks sitting directly on his face in nothing but her underwear, Harry thought he’d done the lad a favor on the whole.

He swept his arms out, enveloping himself in his invisibility cloak. Leaving behind two floating purebloods, shocked cries, and the last few bits of spellfire, Harry slipped away into the night.

O-O-O

Five minutes later he ditched the cloak alone in the woods. He loved his oldest hallow dearly. Who else could make a quick escape like that one at a casual walking pace? All he had to do was turn invisible and walk off. Job done.

“Freeze!”

The voice behind him stopped him. Looking back, he found himself staring into the tip of yet another wand.

In contrast to him, Nymphadora Tonks was breathing hard. She had mostly returned to her own appearance, but in her rush to chase him hadn’t bothered to revert her assets or add any more clothing. She was sweating, and her non-wand hand was on her knees to support her.

“Tonks!” said Harry. “Incredible to see you!”

“Shut up,” she moaned. “Don’t act like we’re friends. You lied to me!”

“Me? Lied? Never.”

“You said we’d be heroes,” she wailed. “What was that? I feel like a stripper now. And you used hostages, went on a supremacist rant, and even declared world domination. You're a villain! An awful, stinking, naked villain!”

“Exactly!” said Harry. “And who catches villains?”

Tonks froze, her wand still aimed at him. Her eyes widened. Harry held out his hands, waiting to be cuffed with a smile.

“Come on,” he said. “Catch me, hero .”

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Chapter Text

CHAPTER 6

Boning

Death, quite frankly, did not know how it ended up here.

Oh, sure, it knew how it arrived in the land of the living. How could it forget? One teeny, tiny, half-second of miscalculation was all it had taken. Then its master had caught it, and that in turn eventually led to its being here.

Since Death had no form of its own, it had a habit of borrowing. When it appeared before the Peverells it had taken the form of their mother. When its master dragged it here, it had taken on his form, albeit with a minor ocular deviation. Its master wasted no time in putting that form to use.

First, Death was charged with babysitting his redheaded friends in a muggle living room. Then, it was Death’s job to watch a spot of Quidditch while he ran off with a veela. The girl’s uncle never realized they left together, because the Boy-Who-Lived was still right over there. The Weasleys never questioned Harry’s darkened pupils either. They were mostly relieved that he had turned mercifully silent.

Death made it all the way to the tent with them, at which point it was summoned again, this time out of bed… and into a new one.

So now it was laying here, in a much larger bed, with a blond woman tucked against its chest, sleeping soundly. She better have been. So far as Death could tell, its only purpose here was to be her pillow.

Without any warning, a great beast burst inside of the bedroom. The tremendous buck had antlers that matched its translucent body, glowing a light blue and having phased directly through one of the walls.

“Return to the Weasleys,” said the buck in Harry Potter’s voice. “Keep them from panicking. I plan to be away for a few days. Cheerio!”

The buck burst apart into motes of light, returning the room to its prior dimness. The blond squeezed Death’s chest tighter, as if sensing her pillow’s imminent disappearance. Death sighed.

Truly, the harshest tribulations were all its own.

O-O-O

John Dawlish stared at Tonks, looking quite as if he’d like to rub his eyes.

“You caught him,” he said.

“That’s what I told you,” Tonks said impatiently, before adding a quick, “Sir.”

“And you’ve searched him for his wand— I mean, wands?”

“Right here,” Tonks announced, holding up a particularly long wand made of inflexible elder wood.

“And the other one?”

“He didn’t have it on him.”

“You checked?”

“There was only one place he could be hiding it, Sir, and with all due respect I did not want to search there. I get the feeling he’d like it.”

Dawlish looked back at the captured ‘Tom Marvolor Riddle’ standing naked except for his boots and mask, with his hands bound by cuffs. The Auror coughed.

“Right,” he said. “Of course. Good thinking, then.”

Tonks and her boss weren’t alone. The few other Aurors that had been stationed at the final were grouped around them, looking on with a whole host of other ministry officials. More of their coworkers would be arriving soon, called out in the middle of the night. It led for quite a crowd. Dawlish stepped forward with a bit of relish, raising his hands.

“Now then,” he declared. “Let’s get that ridiculous muggle mask off of you already.”

“That’s not going to work,” their prisoner warned pleasantly.

Dawlish smirked. He grabbed the cloth and pulled—

And pulled. And pulled harder.

Soon he had turned quite red in the face, arms straining beneath his robes. But no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t make an inch of progress. Finally his fingers slipped, and he stumbled a few steps back.

There were whispers among the crowd. Dawlish was still red, but rather than from exertion, it seemed now to be down to a distinct case of embarrassment.

“Bugger used a sticking charm!” he announced a bit too loudly. “I’ll have that off in a second.”

He waved his wand and returned to pulling. No success. He waved his wand again, trying a different counter charm, and again his fingers couldn’t gain any ground.

“I’ll have you charged on resisting arrest,” Dawlish mumbled, his voice quiet enough that only Tonks was close enough to hear. “Get rid of the charm now, before I ask again.”

“But you took my wand,” pointed out the prisoner.

To Tonks, it looked as if Dawlish realized that was a very good point, but was in too deep to acknowledge it. She decided to help him out.

“Shouldn’t we bring him back to the ministry?” she suggested. “He’ll spill everything after he’s worked over there. Would be less of a spectacle, too.”

She wasn’t sure even she believed that would really work. If there was one thing she felt she’d learned about the naked fugitive, it was that no normal rules were capable of applying to him. But it wasn’t about making him crack, really. It was about helping her superior save face.

When Dawlish looked at her, something sparked in his eyes.

He turned to the crowd of officials, who by now were whispering relentlessly to each other.

“Everyone!” he announced. “This dangerous, violent criminal acted tonight in a deplorable fashion. He exposed not one, but two members of the Malfoy Family to public shame, even temporarily escaping from ministry Aurors. But it did not last long, because one brave trainee tracked him down. This exceptionally performing youngster in none other than Nymphadora Tonks!”

Dawlish held his hand out toward her. Tonks felt every set of eyes go her way. It was only by the barest of margins that she kept her hair from embarrassedly exploding into vibrant colors.

As if it weren’t bad enough that Dawlish was drawing attention to her out of nowhere, he even used her first name?

Unforgivable.

“I—” Tonks started, but the man was still going.

“In light of her service, it's only right that she unmasks the criminal she apprehended, wouldn’t you say? It would be wrong of me to rob her of her moment.”

The murmurs from the crowd sounded distinctly approving. With a sinking feeling in her gut, Tonks recognized what he was doing.

“Go on, girl,” Dawlish said, turning to her with a smile. “Give it a try.”

By which he meant: “If I’m going to get embarrassed, I’m damn well not going to be the only one.”

Unfortunately, knowing what he was up to didn’t do a whole lot for Tonks. She was a trainee, and he was her superior. She couldn’t rightly ignore an order.

At least it would still be worse for Dawlish. Everyone expected a trainee to fail. They wouldn’t forget so quickly about a proper Auror doing the same.

Going through the motions, Tonks grabbed the hem of the prisoner’s mask.

She lifted it off with zero resistance.

Dawlish gaped. So did Tonks. The crowd clamored, pushing against each other to get a look at the culprit’s face.

Unfortunately, removing the mask had only revealed a second, identical mask right underneath the first.

“Come on already,” said the prisoner. “I know that I technically have all night, but I’d rather not use it up.”

Dawlish grabbed him by the shoulder, pushing him along.

“Come on,” he said. “The Ministry has a cell waiting for you.”

It seemed even stubborn old Aurors could, occasionally, understand when to give up.

O-O-O

“Well done!”

Tonks smiled at the wizard she thought might have been named Augustus, or maybe John.

“Thanks,” she said. “Means a lot.”

She navigated around him, trying her best to cross the Auror office, a task she never expected to find so difficult.

The last day had felt somewhat like a dream. Her lack of sleep probably helped with that. She’d been up half of the last night for obvious reasons, and the few hours of rest she’d gotten simply weren’t enough.

Then she arrived for work the next day, and all of a sudden everyone knew her, even the strangers. Her shoulder had never been clapped so many times in her life, let alone over the course of a couple of hours. It made working all but impossible, but Tonks would be lying if she pretended the praise didn’t feel at least a little good.

Adoration from the masses was not a hero’s chief focus. It couldn’t be, or else Tonks wouldn’t consider them a true hero at all. That said, being adored was a trait that most heroes shared. If she shut her eyes now, Tonks could just about see herself as one now, returning to town after besting a fierce villain.

Of course, she probably shouldn't have actually closed her eyes. She realized that was a bad idea right about when she walked headlong into someone.

“Whoa there little lady.” Two strong arms caught and steadied her. “I see that clumsiness hasn’t changed.”

Tonks recognized the voice.

“Savage,” she greeted.

“You can open your eyes now, you know,” said the voice. 

“But then I’d have to see you,” Tonks said. “I’m quite alright.”

Saying that, she still cracked them open reluctantly. Standing in front of her was a tall-ish man in an Auror’s red robes. His sparkling badge had a large capital M embossed on the top with a wand peeking up through the middle. A proper Auror’s badge, not the trainee type Tonks wore.

He had brown hair that reached his shoulders, framing a decent face that wasn’t nearly as handsome as Tonks once thought it was. He hadn’t let go of her arms. In fact, Savage gave them a slight squeeze.

“As you can feel, this is no dream,” he said. “I’m really here.”

“You work here,” Tonks pointed out. “There aren’t even that many of us.”

“Ah, but I imagine I’ve shown up plenty in your dreams recently, so I thought I should clarify. Especially a certain kind of dream, if you catch my drift.”

Savage waggled his eyebrows.

“I don’t.” She did. “And anyway, we broke up a month ago. You broke up with me, actually. So I’d appreciate if you stepped aside and let me retrieve the files that Madam Bones wanted on her desk twenty minutes ago.”

Savage let go of her finally, but he didn’t move aside. Instead, he rubbed the back of his head.

Only a few years older than her, Savage had been Head Boy while Tonks was still at Hogwarts. He’d had his share of admirers, but it wasn’t until she became his coworker that Tonks truly noticed him. When he asked her out, she jumped at the chance.

It hadn’t lasted long. Two weeks, and she was pretty sure one of those was only because he knew she was a Metamorphmagus, and the idea excited him. 

“Tonks!” Savage chided. “Come on, we both know that’s not the whole story. I just thought you didn’t have the same ambition that I do. I know that matching me is a tall ask, but I can’t have a girlfriend that falls too far behind. It wasn’t looking good for a bit there.”

“I nearly failed one stealth test and you cut me off like a load of rubbish!”

“I was too hasty,” Savage continued. “The whole department is talking. You caught a dangerous dark wizard while still a trainee! Do you know how impressive that is? All on its own, that’s enough to keep you in my orbit for six-months, at least!”

He paused here, as if waiting for her to drop to her knees in relief.

“Lucky me,” Tonks said.

“Right?” Savage agreed. “So I was thinking. Dinner tomorrow night. My place. And we can see where things go from there.”

“Tonks.”

Before she could get a word out, Dawlish appeared at her side like a ghost. He was as pale as one too, getting a good look at him. The man had avoided Tonks ever since the spectacle the night before, but he looked directly at her now with only the vaguest hints of a blush.

“The prisoner won’t break,” he said. “And he's asking for you.”

“He’s asking for me?” Tonks said. “Like me, me? You’re sure?”

Dawlish’s thin lips twitched. “He’s dropping hints. He seems to think they’re subtle. They’re not. But we can’t get a single thing out of him, so we’re going to see if you have better luck. You know, because there’s a precedent.”

Tonks flinched slightly, before recovering. 

“Madam bones wanted files on the Adams case—”

“Savage can get them for her.” Dawlish jerked his head, refusing to wait any longer. “Come.”

She followed Dawlish away, feeling a tad dazed. Savage’s face was a riot. Being assigned a menial task seemed to give him physical discomfort, like his head had been shoved in a bowl of rancid milk. He smothered it with a smile a moment later.

“Offer is still on, Tonks!” he called after her. “Think about it! This is the best you could do.”

“Fetch your files,” Tonks called back at him over her shoulder.

The Ministry holding cells were down four flights of stairs from the Auror office, and each one was progressively dingier than the last. They passed a sleepy-looking wizard sitting behind a desk with a large ring of keys hanging from his pocket. He picked one off and passed it to Dawlish, before crossing his arms and letting his head droop once more.

A voice filled the hall, giving Tonks an inclination as to which door they were looking for even before Dawlish ever stopped.

“You won’t get a thing out of me! A true half-blood eats up chumps like you for breakfast, and sometimes for brunch, too. I’ll never break under torture, coercion, and probably not bribery. You stand no chance— so long as you don’t bring out my weakness the talented and tough investigator Nymphadora Tonks !”

“Like I said,” Dawlish grunted. “Not subtle.”

He handed her the key, and the two of them stood a moment outside the door.

“Do I just, like, ask him questions?”

“That would be the point of an interrogation, yes,” said Dawlish. “Along with making him answer.”

“So should I try to be nice? Or really mean? Or, or—”

“Just walk in the room.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Tonks turned the key and stepped inside.

The cell reminded her of a dungeon, what with its stone walls and general dampness. Tonks thought that was entirely unfair. What kind of story started with the villain locked in a jail while the hero ran free?

“Finally!” said the prisoner, waving at her.

Trying to wave, anyway. The thick manacles tethering each wrist to the wall made that a bit difficult.

For once, the threadbare robes given to prisoners were actually an upgrade over his old clothes, or lack-of. He still wore his mask, and his shoes were on as well. Tonks wondered if he’d used the same sticking charm on those before recognizing she was wasting time.

A moth-eaten cot was built into the wall. Facing the prisoner perched on it was a wooden chair that wasn’t native to the room. Tonks could tell because it didn’t have a single spot of mildew across the whole surface.

She sat down on the chair, crossing her legs.

“So what's under the mask?” she asked

“The last thing you'd expect,” he promised.

“The last thing I'd expect is Lucius Malfoy.”

“Oh.” The prisoner blinked. “Not the last thing you'd expect, then. But still pretty shocking.”

“Can’t you just show me?”

“You’re pretty bad at interrogations,” he noticed.

“Well I don’t know about that,” Tonks said. “I've never seen one before. So maybe this is what a great one looks like.”

“I would know, though. I’ve been interrogated before.”

“Get arrested often do you?”

“Captured, at least,” he said. “It was only a few times, but they tend to be memorable.”

“So what makes an interrogation a great one?”

“The Cruciatus is always a strong starter.” 

Tonks shivered. From the way he phrased it he was the one on the receiving side, not the one casting it, but she found that almost as terrifying. No sane person should be able to speak so casually about an Unforgivable Curse.

Though, thinking about it, his sanity was probably out the window long before this.

“I’m going to take off your mask now,” she declared.

“And if it's stuck again?”

“Then I’m not going to. But you already used that gag, so it would be much more fun if it worked now.”

“Good point!” said the man.

Tonks stood up slowly. She edged around the chair, approaching him with careful steps. When she grabbed the mask she tore it off quickly, like a scab.

It came off so easily that she stumbled back. Black hair sticking up in odd directions, a boy even younger than her blinked his bright green eyes.

“Well that was dramatic,” he said.

The mask slipped from Tonks’s fingers. She pointed straight at his forehead— and the scar nestled above his eyes.

“Harry Potter!” she screamed. 

It was a perfectly reasonable thing to do in the situation; sometimes surprising things simply make our brains want to yell.

“Told you you’d be shocked,” Harry said a tad smugly.

He stretched his neck out, bringing it to a manacled hand and licking his fingers. With that managed, he rubbed his head against the hand, using the spit to matt down his chaotic hair. Tonks sat back down. Somehow, doing that seemed to reset the conversation, and allowed her to function properly again.

“So,” she said. “ Harry Potter. ”

“That’s my name.” Harry continued battling with his hair. “Do keep it a secret, though.”

“It is my job not to.”

“Well, good luck getting anyone to believe you then.”

“What do you mean ‘believe me’?” Tonks asked. 

Harry finally tamed the worst cowlick. “Aha! Got it.” He turned his attention to Tonks. “I just mean that, if someone told you it was the Boy Who Lived under the mask, would you think they were on the level? Or would you think they’d gone absolutely batshit and needed to be locked in the deepest darkest corner of St. Mungo’s mental ward with due haste?”

“Something between the two.”

“But you wouldn’t believe it,” Harry pointed out. “That’s the bit I was getting at.”

Tonks smiled bemusedly, tapping her fingers against the sides of her chair.

“Dawlish is right outside,” she said. “I’m about ninety-five percent certain he’s heard everything you said. And if he didn’t, he definitely caught me screaming your name.”

“No he didn’t,” Harry said. Then, as if proving a point, he bellowed, “John Dawlish sleeps with stuffed animals and dreams of having sexual relations with his biological mother!”

Tonks flinched, but the door did not fly open. Dawlish didn’t appear, aiming his wand at the prisoner while frothing at the mouth. In fact, now that she trained her ears toward it, Tonks couldn’t hear a single thing outside of the room.

“I think you’ll find that whatever happens in here will be known only to us,” Harry said.

He smiled at her. Tonks developed a sudden shiver— although for some reason, it was not entirely unpleasant.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

She meant all of it. Approaching her with that strange plan when he possessed enough power to decimate a stadium by himself. Allowing himself to be captured. Making sure she was the one to do it, and letting her shine at every opportunity since.

“I have plans,” Harry said pleasantly. “Big ones. A couple nasty ones. People are going to die, and I’m going to be the one to do it. I imagine that quite a lot of witches and wizards are going to hate me. To them, I’ll be quite a villain.”

Tonks’s heart hammered out of control. “So why tell me?”

Still smiling, Harry stood. His manacles dropped off his wrists, unlocked wandlessly without so much as a word.

“Because I want you to do your best to stop me.”

Tonks’s hand shot for her wand, only to hesitate halfway. Would it even help? After everything she’d seen him do, did she really think she had a chance?

A moment later her fingers were around her wand, aiming it at Harry.

It didn’t matter if she could win. Heroes didn’t think about that. They did what was right just because, and followed through with everything they had. That was the thing that made Tonks love them in the first place.

Harry bent forward, grabbing her chin and staring into her eyes. His smile had become a grin.

“Perfect!” he said. “Just like that! I knew picking you was the right choice!”

Tonks became all too aware of the fingers touching her face. Warm, strong fingers. She looked into the face inches from her own — a very handsome face — and became… a bit confused.

Adrenaline pumped in her system. She found it difficult to think. Her body demanded action. And for whatever reason, the first action that came to her was a kiss.

Her lips mashed against Harry’s. Her tongue entered his mouth like an Auror busting into a suspect’s home. It didn’t take long for him to begin kissing her back.

Only when neither of them had any spare breath did he break the kiss.

“Well that was a surprise,” he said. “A pleasant one, mind.”

Tonks was surprised herself, and she was the one that did it. But at the same time she knew: she wasn’t done yet.

She kissed him again, rising and jumping onto him without her lips leaving his. Her legs wrapped around his waist. He grabbed her rump to hold her up. She growled, driving her tongue deeper toward his throat.

As she did it, her brain filled with the least fitting thoughts she could imagine. For some reason a montage of her recent work flitted by— ferrying paperwork across the office; sitting through three-hour lectures on the intricacies of arresting a pureblood, and how never to do it unless absolutely necessary; compiling reports with a quill under wandlight long after she should have been at home in bed.

Auror’s were supposed to be the ones doing the arresting, but sometimes it felt like they were the ones wrapped in chains, only instead of iron these were made of bureaucracy. The job was more politics than do-gooding. They were just one more arm of an overcomplicated ministry, hurled at any task no one else wanted.

Tonks had never felt more free than she did riding the wizard holding her. The same one offering her everything she wanted, by being the very thing she opposed the most.

She bucked her hips, grinding against his crotch, and felt something start growing. And growing, and growing…

The thought of all of it cramming into Tonks’s tight snatch had her lower lips drooling. This was going to be a positively despicable shag.

She pulled her head back, breaking the kiss, and pressed a finger to Harry’s lips to stop him from reigniting it.

“The Boy Who Lived qualifies as better than a twenty-something Auror who thinks too much of himself and still shares a vault with his parents, right?” she asked.

“I mean I would say yes,” said Harry.

“Good.” Tonks shoved her arms around his shoulders. “Fuck me silly.”

He spun them around. A moment later Tonks’s back was to the cold, hard stone wall, with nowhere to squirm away. The unlocked manacles Harry had worn sprung to life, jumping around Tonks’s wrists and relatching.

Harry pulled away from her then. She missed his warmth dreadfully, despite having lost it only seconds ago. With her as a captive audience, he kicked off his shoes. His arms reached up, sleeves sliding down to show off well-muscled forearms, and grabbed the collar of his loaned robes. He didn’t even take them off properly, just tore the thin fabric straight down the middle. Tonks got a good look at his six-pack and the large cock underneath, erect and ready for her. She gulped.

He pointed toward her then, and her robes began to split. It started down at the hem and traveled up her body. She could feel his magic as it slid along across stomach, directed wandlessly and with an impossible amount of control. Her clothes fell away from her body, bra and knickers included, leaving her exposed before him. 

Tonks usually kept her breasts perky and small. It was easier to move that way, as well as nicer on her back. But she realized she’d grown them by a couple of cups as he cut through her robes without even meaning to, just to leave a better impression. 

He grabbed her backside again, this time with no clothes getting in the way. His arms pulled her up so that her back was flat to the floor, suspended by his grip and the manacles on her wrists. His shaft rubbed and slapped her quim as he positioned her. Tonks felt herself grin.

“All done preparing?” she asked.

He jerked his hips back and mashed his whole length inside of her in one go.

“You tell me,” he said.

Tonks cried out. She was used to her voice sounding deeper, but she couldn’t help but squeak as she was plowed through. The harder thrusts knocked her shoulders back against the wall. It wouldn’t be long before she began cumming. Had she been this backed up?

The answer was no. It was less than a month since she last got some action. It was just the situation — the utter wildness of it, and the sheer unrepentance Harry Potter showed while fucking her — that was driving her crazy. It was like no shag she’d ever had before. 

His hands slid from her ass to her hips. The extra stability let him reach even deeper inside of her. This position was the most helpless Tonks had ever felt in bed, and she couldn’t get enough. She came all over the Boy Who Lived’s cock.

He knew it, too, with that damn smug smile. Her hair began lengthening and shortening rapidly as her control of her powers slipped. She was sure she was making quite a stupid-looking face, but she lacked the will to do anything about it.

Remembering the silencing treatment on the cell, she gave up trying to keep her voice down. She shrieked and moaned, letting out every bit of emotion she’d repressed over months of work. She came twice more, one after another.

In a moment of clarity, she became quite irritated with the superior look on his face. She determined to make him as much of a mess as she was at the moment. Given who she was, she had quite a lot of tools with which to do it.

To begin with, she tightened her vagina until it couldn’t squeeze his cock any tighter. She watched his eyes bulge. Any satisfaction was quickly forgotten, though. She hurled her head back and screamed.

He had continued to ram into her, applying enough force to make it happen, and the feeling of herself stretching pushed Tonks further than anything yet. Instead of milking his cock, she ended up cumming on it for a fourth time.

Well, she wouldn’t give up yet. As she gasped to get her breath back, she adopted another traditional Metamorphmagus tactic.

Her pink hair lengthened and turned to platinum blond. Her skin became paler. At the same time, her hips curved in while her breasts and buttocks grew to enormous proportions. She readopted the parody of her aunt she used the night before, this time without even lingerie to get in the way of its unadultured appeal.

“Well?” purred Tonks in Narcissa’s husky voice. “Don’t tell me you thought this up just for some silly plot. I’m sure I appeared in your mind much before that, when you were all alone in your room one night…”

She wrapped her legs tighter around the back of his waist, pulling him close to her. In response, Harry bent forward, sinking his teeth into the excessive flesh on her chest.

His teeth were like a storm against her. He turned her sensitive skin bright red and dark purple, one bite at a time. His hands groped her backside. Tonks wailed under the feeling of so many touches all over her body. She came again, failing another attempt to break him.

Her breasts shrunk quite suddenly, sinking away from Harry’s mouth. If anything, her backside grew even larger. Pale skin became dark, filling with melanin. 

Tonks smirked, showing off pearly teeth that contrasted her dusky skin. “Every Hogwarts boy knows Sinistra. What do you think? Am I as tight as you imagined back in your four-poster bed after Astronomy lessons?”

“Professor Sinistra doesn’t smile.”

Tonks groaned, her borrowed face twisting up with pleasure as Harry didn’t miss a beat.

“Maybe that’s just because she’s never been fucked like this!”

“You know, that could be it,” Harry said. “I guess I’ll have to check some time.”

A mental image filled Tonks’s head of the shapely professor bent over a cushion in her private tower, Harry deep in a one-on-one lesson with her. Again, she was the one to cum first.

She was growing desperate now. She thought of who she knew well enough to mimic— and somehow, for reasons even she didn’t understand, her brain settled on her boss.

Amelia Bones was an older witch, but you wouldn’t guess it from looking at her. Her face wore its few wrinkles like an accessory, not a curse. She had a fit body leftover from her days as an active Auror, and she worked to keep it that way. Her chest was large enough have driven many men crazy across her length life, not as absurdly huge as the assets on the Narcissa impression, but big in a natural way, which somehow increased their allure. They bounced wildly on Tonks’s chest as she was fucked.

“Really?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know anymore,” Tonks moaned in her boss’s stern voice. “Just don’t stop!”

Stop he did not. Harry climbed onto the cot, making its springs wail with protest. He pushed Tonks further against the wall, folding her like a taco with her head and crotch the highest points on her body. Her breasts ended up stuffed in her own face, and feeling a great need to do something with her mouth, Tonks bit into them fervently. 

“Sleeping with your nemesis,” Harry said. “Is this going to be your origin story?” He groaned, his eyes shutting. “I’ll tell you what, if you’re not on the potion it’s going to be somebody’s origin story for sure.”

The quip made Tonks want to roll her eyes, but the meaning made them roll back in her head. Sure enough, warmth seeped between her legs. She could feel his veiny member twitching inside her as it delivered its loads. She had done it finally, and all it took to make him climax was to look exactly like her boss.

Harry went on spewing his load for far longer than Tonks thought ought to be possible. She felt herself fill like a cup beneath a spigot. The sensation was so overwhelming, striking, and foreign that she couldn’t handle it. She came again, the most intense one yet, and felt her whole body shudder and malfunction at the exact moment the door opened.

There, standing in the doorway, Amelia Bones stared at herself fucked silly on a young man’s cock.

Dawlish was behind her, but too far back to see anything. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement director was quite stunned, so much so that she couldn’t even raise the wand in her hand.

“Well this is awkward.” Harry let go of Tonks, letting her slide off of him. She dropped down onto the cot, rather unresponsive, leaking profusely from her nether regions. “I think that’s my queue to leave.”

“Don’t let him get away!” Amelia Bones — the real one — screamed at the top of her lungs, returning to her senses. 

She finally raised her wand. Dawlish forced his way into the room, more Aurors at his back. Before they could get a proper look inside, Harry turned on the spot and Apparated, punching through the Ministry's impenetrable protections with a louder-than-usual crack. His shoes and mask disappeared with him.

The entire room was silent, the Aurors stunned by the sight of their boss fucked silly, and their boss stunned by the sight of herself fucked silly. Finally, Amelia addressed the lookalike.

“Auror Tonks, I presume?”

Tonks giggled in her sleep, still trussed up in the chains Harry locked around her.

“Finally,” she mumbled. “I knew the hero would end up in the cell eventually.”

Madam Bones stormed from the room.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 7

Good Fortune

With a great crack, nothing appeared inside a mediocrely lit hall inside the Ministry’s bowels.

Technically what appeared was one Harry Potter, his trusty Muggle mask in his hands and an invisibility cloak wrapped around his frame. But owing to the cloak, nothing is what any passing person would have seen, had they been present and attentive.

In this instance, the hallway was quite empty though. It had brick walls and a smooth, well-mortared floor that reflected what light there was. A window on the wall looked out on a pleasant night with a clear sky. A lie, of course. This was the Ministry of Magic. Deep beneath the ground, any window was simply a clever charm on an ordinary pane of glass.

From what he remembered from his past lives, Harry decided that he was on Level 3: the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. The destination itself wasn’t what he was looking for, but who was here.

Catching voices from the other side of a nearby door, Harry crept forward.

“Please, Mrs. Malfoy, I just need to know if there were any side effects—”

The young-ish, slightly awkward voice was cut off by a mature woman’s, speaking much louder.

“Why are we being questioned? Is this what the ministry has come to? I demand to know where my husband’s donations have been going! You ought to be out catching the cretin who did this!”

“I understand your distress—”

“Like Merlin you do! Get out, before I have my husband fire you!”

Harry heard the male voice pause.

“But your husband doesn’t work in the ministry.”

“You see if that stops him,” said Narcissa with an audible sneer.

There was another pause, then the scrape of a chair being pushed back. Footsteps approached. The door opened, revealing a man likely a decade older than Harry himself with a strained look on his face. Harry slipped around the ministry wizard while the door was open, entering the room.

The space he found himself in awoke ancient memories Harry honestly thought he’d forgotten, all the way back to his first childhood with the Dursleys. It gave off the distinct impression of the waiting room inside to a Muggle hospital. 

It was all very sterile, perhaps that was it. The walls and floor were both white. Cheap, moderately comfortable chairs were gathered up behind a wide table suited to interviews or interrogations, depending on the mood. At the far side, Narcissa Malfoy sat up straight in fresh robes, her fingers woven together on the table. Her son sat next to her. Draco was glaring at the floor as if it were the linoleum’s fault the whole world knew how unendowed he was. On the close side of the table, a smattering of ministry workers sat on wooden chairs, four in total. Among them was a familiar face.

Arthur Weasley was doing a remarkable job keeping his face neutral as he sat opposite the wife and son of the only man Harry had ever seen make him lose composure. Weasleys and Malfoys mixed like Incendio charms and piles of paperwork.

Invisible to the room, Harry removed the tracking charm he’d covertly cast on Draco the night before. If things went well, he would be wasting his time here. But he'd dealt the Malfoys a major blow at the World Cup’s ‘after party’ and so he was going to play it safe. If there was one thing he knew about this family, it was that they always tried something whenever they were upset.

Right on queue, the door behind Harry hurled open so fast that the handle left a crack in the wall. Lucius Malfoy stepped inside with the severest of expressions.

“Shall we start this farce in earnest?” he said.

He marched directly to one of the seats on the ministry side, sitting down.

“Sir,” said one of the officials, “for interviews like this, those seats are supposed to be for ministry personnel only—”

Lucius just looked at him. He raised one eyebrow. The man clammed up in an instant.

“Allow me to lay things out,” said Lucius, “so that we can all acknowledge where we are right now, and you can understand exactly how ridiculous it is. Last night, while I engaged in festivities with friends — where a great many people laid eyes on me — a madman invaded my tent and abducted my wife and young son. That madman proceeded to publicly humiliate them… while countless ministry officials looked on and did nothing. Only when it was over did they step in. And what do they do at that point? They arrest the victims.”

Lucius looked over the room, daring any officials to disagree. Only one did.

“Nobody has been arrested, Lucius,” said Arthur Weasley. “And the officials didn’t act because they were worried for your family’s safety. It’s the same reason they hadn’t got Mr. and Mrs. Roberts down.”

“So my family is the same as some Muggles to you, Weasley?”

“Yes, they are,” said Arthur.

Another ministry official hastily cleared his throat.

“What he says is true. About the arrests, I mean! Or lack of. What I’m saying is that there are no charges against your wife or son, and they’re only here for their own benefit.”

“Against their will,” Lucius added.

“It’s standard procedure to inspect them!” protested the poor wizard. “We just needed to know there were no adverse side effects.”

“What is your name?” asked Lucius.

Looking like he rather didn’t want to, the man said, “It’s Bentley Macmillan, sir.”

“And are you in charge here, Bentley?”

“I am, yes, sir.”

“Not for much longer,” Lucius declared.

“Now see here,” said Arthur Weasley suddenly, putting his weight forward in his seat. “You can’t just go about threatening the junior head of a department in his own office!”

“ You can’t,” said Lucius. “You’ll find that I have quite enough authority to get away with it.”

The ministry officials flinched as one as he said ‘authority,’ hearing the word for what it really meant: money. And as if summoned by the very implication of bribes, the door swung open again and admitted a very pale Cornelius Fudge.

“What is the meaning of this?” demanded the minister, striding in with John Dawlish and Kingsley Shacklebolt at his back. “Do you have any idea how busy I am? And then I get news of you lot detaining peaceful citizens!”

“Minister, it’s basic procedure!” protested Bentley Macmillan.

“I got my start in this division!” Fudge said. “I think I would know if such a thing existed—”

“Section 7B, on page twenty-seven: Any victims subjected to unknown magic of the propulsive, resizing, or transformative natures are to be interviewed thoroughly after the fact by professional personnel, in case of complications,” recited Bentley Macmillan. “You added that passage in your own tenure.”

“Well it… I…” His small brain quickly overtaxing itself, Fudge turned quickly to the blond man sitting at the table. “What’s really going on here, Lucius?”

From his invisible vantage, Harry had a fantastic view of the entire room, along with the reactions of various wizards in it. One of the ministry workers gaped. Shacklebolt shook his head slightly. But Lucius? He smirked, directly at Bentley Macmillan, then adopted a thoroughly outraged expression by the time he had faced Fudge.

“I will tell you, Minister,” he said. “My family is being harassed as a scapegoat for your people’s incompetence.”

Fudge gasped. “Say it’s not true, Lucius!”

“But it is,” Lucius said gravely. “Just look. The truth is right there!”

He pointed— directly at Arthur Weasley.

“Consider. This man, while nominally a ministry employee, has nothing to do with this department. His office is not even on this level. And yet here he is sitting in on the interrogation of my family, who he has always done a poor job disguising his hatred for.”

“I’m only here as a witness!” Arthur exclaimed. “I left my loved ones alone at home on Holiday because the office needed me. I won’t have that demeaned!”

“You know how he is,” Lucius said to Fudge, ignoring the man altogether. “Ever obsessed with studying the ways that Muggles roll in their filth. Do you think he cares at all about seeing tormented muggles replaced by my lovely wife and dear son? Do you think he felt the slightest bit of remorse about their fate? It's more likely that he offered them to the perpetrator himself, letting that twisted pervert enact his sick games.”

Fudge looked back and forth between Lucius and Arthur, moving his head quickly enough for the fat in his cheeks to flutter. His dislike of the Weasley patriarch was a well known fact. He held him back from a promotion for years, all the way to the end of his tenure as Minister, because he took the man’s Muggle fascination as a sign of middling pride (the greatest sin one could commit, in his Fudge’s worldview). But Fudge was also an utter coward, and it seemed Lucius was pushing him to take a stand. That frightened Fudge— just as much as the thought of disappointing Lucius did.

Seeing he would need to push harder, Lucius played his trump card.

“This regretful situation has wounded me deeply,” he said. “After an experience like this, I no longer believe in the donations I’ve offered this great ministry.”

“No!” cried Fudge.

“Sadly, it’s true.” Lucius rose, leaning his weight on his cane. “If such a tragedy can occur, where could my Galleons be going? Paying the wages of incompetents so that they can feed their overcrowded families, it seems like.”

Lucius turned, walking toward the door. Narcissa and Draco rose behind him, walking past the ministry officials with their noses pointed up. Fudge had a hand pressed to his lips. For every step Lucius took, he bit through one of his nails.

“I’ll get rid of him!” Fudge shouted.

The entire room went still. Lucius slowly turned back. He was smiling.

“Tell me more, Minister,” he said.

“I’ll fire Arthur Weasley,” Fudge said. “I’ll have him gone by tonight— no, within the hour.”

“Minister!” Arthur protested, ashen-faced.

Fudge wheeled on him. “Not another word out of you! On the scene of this awful crime, and you used it as nothing but a chance to get back at a great wizard! Too long I’ve put up with your twisted thoughts, Weasley. No longer!”

Beside Arthur, Bentley Macmillan looked like he wished awfully badly to speak, but feared that if he did, he would be next. 

“I’ve done nothing wrong!” Arthur insisted.

“You have some gall to say such a thing with a straight face!” bellowed Fudge. “Out already! You’re dismissed!”

“Give it up, Arthur,” Lucius purred. “The minister has made his decision. You of all people should know you can’t sway his decision.”

On the surface, it seemed he was saying Fudge was a man of conviction, who stood beside his decisions. But everyone in the room except Fudge understood the real meaning.

Arthur Weasley was too poor to buy the time of day.

The freshly-fired man rose, his face nearly as red as his hair.

“Do you know,” he said deceptively quietly, “how long those two waited in our care? Over ten hours. Where do you think their husband and father was that whole time? To me, that sounds like just enough time to shed a cloak and buy a handful of alibis.”

Fudge gasped. Lucius sneered.

“Careful there, Weasley,” he spat. “Any more words and I’ll have you for defamation. You wouldn’t want to lose the last few Knuts you have to your name, would you?”

“Perhaps I should just say I’ve been Imperiused,” Arthur said. “You can get away with anything then.”

Lucius grabbed his wand. Arthur was already holding his. Dawlish stepped in front of Fudge, aiming his wand at Mr. Weasley. The department officials ducked away. A heavy hand landed on Mr. Weasley’s shoulder.

Kingsly Shacklebolt had stepped forward. He held Arthur’s wrist with one hand, and his shoulder with the other. The towering, dark-skinned Auror walked them toward the door.

“Come on, Arthur,” he muttered quietly. 

Still hiding behind Dawlish, Fudge shouted, “And clear out your office on the way out!”

Shacklebolt opened the door, guiding Arthur through. Harry followed them. Back inside the room, he caught one final glimpse of Lucius approaching Fudge.

“I must say, Minister, you’ve really won back my trust recently. Terrible business like that attack must be causing you a lot of stress. How does two-thousand galleons sound— to help the ministry navigate this trying time, of course.”

As soon as the door closed, Shacklebolt let go of Arthur, rubbing his back instead. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for.” Mr. Weasley sniffed. He looked torn between bursting into tears or casting a curse at the next moving thing he saw. “You’re right of course. I had to get out of there. I… I… Merlin, what am I going to tell Molly?”

Shacklebolt continued rubbing his back, right up until, abruptly, he turned and began to sprint off down the hallway, footsteps resounding.

Mr. Weasley jumped, staring after him. “Kingsley?”

“He’s perfectly fine,” said Harry. “I think I just overcooked the aversion charm a tad.”

The man jumped as Harry appeared directly next to him, shedding his cloak. His ski mask was back on, along with the cheap prisoner robes the Aurors outfitted him with. The same one he tore down the middle when he was with Tonks, leaving a vertical sliver of his flesh completely in view.

“You!” Mr. Weasley exclaimed.

He went for his wand, only to stop part way.

“Oh what's the point,” he said. “That’s not my job anymore.”

“Good chap,” said Harry. “You know, I saw what happened back there. Bad business. Bad, bad business. I don’t like it one bit.”

“I don’t know if being consoled by a criminal makes me feel that much better,” Mr. Weasley admitted. “Was there something you wanted?”

Harry flicked one of his Elder Wands. Mr. Weasley flinched slightly, but the only change to the hallway was a single strip of parchment appearing from thin air. Harry grabbed the conjured paper.

“You could say all of this was my fault,” he said. “I embarrassed Malfoy, and he took it out on you. But I like you. You've got guts. That weasel would have nothing on you, if it wasn’t for his fortune.”

“What’s your point?” Mr. Weasley asked.

“My point is that we should even the odds.”

Harry held the paper out to him. Mr. Weasley took it, read it over once, and looked back at Harry. “It looks like the instructions for a potion.”

“That’s exactly what it is!” Harry said. “Take it. Create it— the steps are simple, shouldn’t even need a proper lab. Start selling it. That’s all you have to do, and you’ll never need to think about money again.”

Harry would know. It was a potion he himself pioneered in his last life. It turned out he had a real talent for the art, Snape just had it out for him, limiting his original growth. With private tutors, Harry had reached mastery. And of all his creations, the most successful one by far was detailed on that paper, now in Arthur Weasley’s hands.

Mr. Weasley stared at the paper. “I have to think about my family. Will doing this let me get my job back?”

“Eventually it will, sure!” said Harry. “If that’s what you want. After all, you can buy anything these days, for the right price.”

Mr. Weasley gulped hard.

O-o-O

The following day found Ron, Ginny, Hermione and Harry sitting on the living room floor of the Burrow. The first two were enjoying a game of Exploding Snap, while Harry was playing as well but was yet to crack a single smile. Hermione was reading a book.

Arthur Weasley sat in an armchair in the corner with three pieces of parchment in front of him. Fred and George kept to the opposite side of the room, while even Molly gave her husband plenty of space. Everyone had known something was wrong when he arrived back the day before, far too early to have finished work and frighteningly pale in the face. “Would it work…” he was muttering to himself, and had been for the last three hours, eyes darting between the three pieces of parchment in front of him.

Ron went to tap a matching card sitting in front of Ginny, only have it explode on him. Ron flinched back, a bit of black mixing into his eyebrows as his sister laughed at him.

“I don’t know!” Mr. Weasley suddenly shouted in the corner, seemingly to himself.’

They all looked over at him, including the twins and Hermione, who temporarily pulled her eyes away from her book.

When they looked back mere seconds later, a few things had changed. Harry was smiling, for one, which was surprising because it hadn’t happened once since the night of the Quidditch World Cup. And for another thing a blond girl was sitting with them wearing glasses of her own, which had pink plastic rims. 

“Can I play?” she asked, looking at the game.

“Who are you?” Ginny asked. “Wait… Aren’t you in my year?”

“I’m Luna,” said Luna. “I was invited over. Can I play?”

Ron resplit the cards and gave Luna her own pile. With all the children home and Harry and Hermione over, being invited by one person or another seemed plausible enough, even with a total stranger.

“Harry, you’ve got a tattoo!” Ginny said, looking at the waving lines of ink she now spotted on Harry’s forearm.

“Wicked!” exclaimed Ron, leaning in to look. “Did you just get that?”

He sounded like he didn’t know how that would’ve worked, but was also confident he would’ve noticed it if it had been there before this.

“Oh it’s been here a little while,” said Harry.

“Been ‘ there’ a little while,” Hermione corrected.

Harry just smiled.

The game started up again, the four of them playing including Luna. Harry quickly turned his attention to Mr. Weasley, though, watching the man read the same thing over and over, muttering to himself.

“What’s your dad up to?” he asked Ron.

Ron winced. He turned over one of his cards, scanning for a match but not spotting any. “You know how he lost his job?”

Harry nodded.

“Well apparently somebody approached him about a ‘business venture’. That’s all he’d say. Cagey as hell, except with Mom. He sent off owls last night. Got some back in the morning.”

“I think he’s desperate,” Hermione said very quietly, so that Mr. Weasley couldn’t hear even if he were listening. “Give him some space.”

At that moment, Luna picked herself up and walked directly over to Mr. Weasley.

“What are you doing?” she asked pleasantly.

“I’ve got a potion idea here,” he said aloud, talking distractedly as if he hardly realized he was speaking out loud. “If it works… If it works, it would be the biggest breakthrough since Wolfsbane. No, even bigger. But I just can’t… What it does is supposed to be impossible…”

“And what does it do?” Luna asked, prompting him so casually that Mr. Weasley continued to talk.

“It cures squibs. They drink a dose each night for a month, and by the end they can cast magic. It has to be a joke. But I sent off a letter to Dumbledore last night, just in case, and he wrote back this morning saying that it looked legitimate. And I sent off another to an independent Potioneer, and she wrote back saying the same.” He looked up, eyes dazed. “That should mean it’s real, shouldn’t it?”

“It sounds that way,” Luna said gravely.

“Then I ought to follow through on this, shouldn’t I?”

“If you were so inclined,” said Luna.

He stood up abruptly, sending the three papers in his lap — the letters from Dumbledore and the Potioneer, along with the original recipe — wafting to the ground.

“I’m doing it!” he yelled into the room, sounding thoroughly surprised with himself but happy at the same time. “I’m going to patent this, and then… and then… We’re just going to see! What do I have to lose?”

Luna clapped for him.

“Thank you,” said Mr. Weasley. His eyebrows furrowed as, with his outburst done, seemed to be returning to his senses. “I’m sorry— who are you again!”

“Luna!”

“Luna?”

“Luna!” she repeated. “I was invited.”

And that was that.

O-o-O

Five days later, as children all over the house were getting ready for Hogwarts, their dutiful packing was interrupted by Mrs. Weasley. Hardly able to get a word out, she gathered them from all over the house faster than she ever had before. Soon, everyone was around the dinner table, standing behind Mr. Weasley, who was sitting with a piece of paper in his hands. 

Rather than a potion recipe, or letter from one expert or another, this one came directly from Gringotts. It was signed by the Weasley account manager, something the family never had before a few days ago. The entire family read it over Mr. Weasley’s shoulder, who seemed quite unable to read it aloud himself.

Their eyes started on the left side of the page, then traced the number on it all the way to the right, passing digits and commas the entire way.

“Am I reading that right?” Mr. Weasley asked.

“I didn’t know numbers could get that big!” exclaimed Ron.

“I don’t think you should be admitting that, Ron,” said Ginny.

Mr. Weasley turned his head around, beaming as the situation sunk in. “Kids, do you understand what this means?”

All the Weasley children present looked at one another.”

“We don’t have to worry about money for a bit—”

“We’re rich,” his kids corrected him in unison.

“Filthy rich,” Harry said, standing at the far edge of the huddle. “Try to spend it all in one place. You wouldn’t even be able to.”

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Chapter Text

Chapter 8

Smells Like Lavender

Rain poured from the sky, scouring the Burrow’s garden and running muddy channels along the sides of the driveway. Harry stood on the front step beside the Weasley's and Hermione, only Percy Weasley missing, as he had gone into work. It was almost the same scene Harry remembered from the past, only with a couple key differences.

“Are you dry enough, Sir?”

“Hm? Oh, yes. I’m doing totally fine,” he said, flashing a thumbs up to the black-suited muggle holding an umbrella above his head. 

Everything the man wore was black— his shoes, his clothes, even the sunglasses over his eyes. Spread around Harry and the Weasley's were more men dressed exactly the same, one for each of them, all holding umbrellas over somebody’s head at the cost of becoming drenched themselves. Another three men carried the kids' school things to the car.

Harry remembered being driven to school for his fourth year in three cramped taxis. This time, an enormous limousine sat in front of them, with tinted windows and glistening, shiny hubcaps. The Muggles never complained, even when toting what must have seemed truly bizarre to them, like owls in cages and suitcases stuffed with fireworks that somehow worked in the rain.

When something out of Fred and George’s luggage caused a nasty little explosion, almost singeing the arm of one of the men, Arthur Weasley hurried forward, apologizing profusely. The man just looked at him.

“For what you’re paying us,” he said reverently, “I would willingly take an entire bundle of fireworks right up the asscrack.”

“Well!” said Mrs. Weasley from beside Harry, loudly and perhaps a bit hurriedly, “I suppose it’s a good thing no one is asking that!”

When the last of their things were packed and they themselves were tucked snugly into the back of the car, all of the men except the driver ducked their heads and then hurried down the road to a van of their own. The limousine started, and soon they were gliding down the bumpy driveway, towards King’s Cross and the Hogwarts Express waiting there.

“I said I would pay extra because I was sure they wouldn’t want to come out so far,” said Mr. Weasley. “All I expected was something a bit nicer than taxis. You know, a little bit of leg room. I didn’t expect all of this!”

“Are all muggles so loony?” Bill asked, putting words to the question his dad was dancing around.

Mrs. Weasley slapped his knee, but Harry just laughed.

“It’s not Muggles,” he said. “Lots of people that are like this. You just haven’t had access to the thing that makes them snap.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

“Money.”

Harry wasn’t all that familiar with Muggle currencies, but he’d bet every Galleon in the Potter vault that Mr. Weasley knew even less than he did. This kind of service couldn't have been cheap. Add in the fact that he paid ‘extra,’ however much that meant, and voila! You get men in suits standing like drowned rats, just to keep the hairs on your head nice and dry.

It wasn’t quite Harry’s speed. Wealthy extravagance wasn’t something he sought out, nor was it what he spent his money on even when his own vault had been full to bursting. But he couldn’t deny that it felt nice once in a while as a change of pace.

He was mostly worried about Mr. Weasley himself, who was sitting in the corner rubbing the leather upholstery on the door over and over again, giggling very quietly to himself at irregular intervals. There was a gleam in the man’s eyes that Harry had never seen there before. In fact, the only similar look he could recall he’d only spotte on goblins .

Harry didn’t spend too much time focused on Mr. Weasley, however. He was too busy scooching away from the man’s daughter.

He didn't think much of it when Ginny chose to sit with him. He remembered the crush she harbored back in these days. At one time it had grown into a decades-long marriage. In another time, he let her down gently, spending his life with Hermione instead.

But at this age Hermione was not obsessed with him. And Ginny?

Well, her parents had read her a couple hundred too many Boy Who Lived bedtime stories when she was young, and even at eighteen years of age she hadn’t completely forgotten them.

“During the attack at the World Cup, when we all had to run away, you stayed so calm!” Ginny told him, leaning toward his personal space.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I imagine I was,” Harry said.

“You must be used to that kind of thing by now, right? Dark Wizards can’t phase you anymore.”

“I think I just hide the panic better than most,” Harry said.

He was continuously shifting in his seat, pressing himself into Ron’s shoulder on the other side of him. He could feel how closely Bill and Charlie were watching him. He may be able to take on Voldemort now, but overprotective older brothers was one challenge he’d rather not try his luck against.

Besides, he’d rather not get Ginny’s hopes up when they’d inevitably be let down. Even old memories don’t die easily.

All in all he was thankful when they reached London and filed out of the car. It was raining here too, and they got a bit wet before making it inside, but it was worth it to put some distance between him and the youngest Weasley. In short order they had passed through platform 9 and ¾ and stowed their luggage in a train compartment, doubling back to see off the older Weasleys.

Just as the kids were being teased about a ‘big event’ this year that the adults refused to name as the Triwizard Tournament, there was a commotion on the opposite side of the platform.

A family had entered, all three of them with the same blond hair. Around them there was an increase in chatter and laughter. Harry saw fingers pointing at them. The son glared at everyone like he wanted to go for his wand, while his mother walked with the hood up on her robes. Only the father looked as if nothing strange was happening, and it seemed to be taking him a considerable amount of effort.

“Malfoys,” spat Charlie.

Word had trickled back to the rest of the Weasleys about how their father lost his job. The fact that things worked out in the end, didn’t change what Lucius had tried to do.

Narcissa bent forward to hug Draco tightly, her face peeking out of the hood she had on. Even Mrs. Weasley was glaring.

Watching Draco squirm slightly, Charlie suddenly laughed. As the others looked toward him, he just gestured.

Other students passing the Malfoys were whispering. More than a few were giggling. When they thought nobody was looking, they pointed toward Draco. Being students, who were not the most naturally gifted of creatures when it came to indiscretion, Draco had to be aware of at least half of these fingers jabbed in his direction.

You could see it, too. His scowl stood out across the entire platform.

“It’s about that Prophet Article,” said Charlie.

“What article?” demanded Mrs. Weasley.

“You didn’t see it, Mum. Too busy worrying about Dad’s job. But they ran a whole front page about the attack at the Quidditch World Cup. Mostly it was tearing the Ministry a new one for shoddy security, but they used what happened to the Malfoys as an example, moving photos and all.”

“I don’t see why that would get them laughed at,” said Mr. Weasley. “It’s not like Lucius has been exposed for being among the rioters.”

“Well, no,” said Bill, who had apparently read the same article. “But I think they were supposed to blur the picture, and whoever’s job it was to charm it ‘forgot,’ because they ran the article with Draco stark naked, right there on the cover.”

“There wasn’t a whole lot to see,” reported Charlie. “Now, most of the students at the school know exactly what’s under those robes.”

The was a brief pause, where they all watched Narcissa finally relinquish Draco, who patted down his robes and did his best to look suave and cool.

Ron and the twins burst into laughter. Harry cracked a smile. Hermione just shook her head.

“I don’t think even he deserves all that,” she declared. “But… I suppose it couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.”

Ron patted her back. “That’s the spirit, Hermione!”

They bid the Weasleys goodbye a moment later, after one more round of teasing from the adults about the upcoming event they wouldn’t explain. The trio returned to the cabin with their luggage, while Ginny and the twins split off to sniff out their own friends.

When the train lurched to a start, Hermione predictably pulled out a book, while Ron turned to Harry.

“You’ve chilled out a lot since you first came over,” Ron told him bluntly.

“What’s this about?” asked Harry.

“Well, you were a bit strange the first night, and at the World Cup too. But you’ve been pretty much back to normal these last few days.”

“Ah. I found a good outlet,” said Harry.

Ron looked confused. “Like… Quidditch or something?”

“Yeah, something like that,” he said.

All that chaos had its appeal, and he certainly didn’t plan on remaining quiet for his fourth year. But he had an alter-ego now, and the last thing he wanted was for anyone to connect Harry Potter with Tom Marvolo Riddle, proponent of Half-Bloods everywhere. So he figured a tad more restraint wouldn’t go amiss…

For as long as his mask was off.

The trip had only just begun when the door opened again. Just from the way it was hurled fast enough to smack against the wall, they could tell this wasn’t going to be one of their friends stopped to poke their head in.

Sure enough, Draco Malfoy stood there in the hallway. He’d traded out his parents for bodyguards, Crabbe and Goyle’s brutish frames looming either side of him.

“I thought I smelled something,” Draco said. “Of course the corridor stunk. There’s a Mudblood and a pair of filthy blood traitors right here, spreading their stench!”
“Y’know, I always wondered why you went everywhere with the two biggest kids in our year,” said Ron as he glared at Malfoy. “It makes sense now. This is that one thing… what do they call it… contemplating?”

“Too stupid to even know your own language, Weasel?” sneered Malfoy. “The word you’re failing to find is compensating .”

Ron’s savage grin said he knew the answer the entire time.

“That’s it!” he said. “See? Even you can admit what you're up to.”

Harry laughed out loud, bumping his fist against Ron’s. That had been a good one. The redhead looked awfully proud.

On the other side of things, Draco was red in the face. Still, he mustered all his Slytherin composure to keep his cool and hit back.

“How’s the family, Weasley?”

“Good,” Ron said, although his proud smile disappeared. “What’s it to you?”

Draco shook his head. “There’s no need to lie. You were hardly keeping afloat before your dad went and mucked up. You know, maybe you should try and compete this year! There’s a cash prize. If you win, you can put some food on your parents’ table! And if you lose, well, at least they’ll have one less mouth to feed.”

Hermione seemed ready to grab her wand, looking nervously at Ron to see if he would blow up.

“Compete in what?” asked Ron.

Draco’s face lit up. “Oh, I suppose you wouldn’t know, with your father tossed out and all. But my father heard it straight from the minister that this year—”

“The Triwizard Tournament is coming back,” said Harry.

He picked his ear absently, looking out the window, before turning back as if surprised to find their attention on him.

“The Triwizard Tournament was discontinued centuries ago for being too dangerous!” exclaimed Hermione. “The last one was all the way back in seventeen ninety-two!”

“Yes, well, they’ve decided to start it again,” Harry said mildly. “Although to make it safer, they’re only letting seventh years and up take part.” He looked at Malfoy. “I guess your daddy didn’t learn that much, if you were asking Ron whether he would participate. Understandable, really. Fudge probably only has so much time to spend on a simple donor.”

Everyone in the compartment knew that was hardly true. If there was one thing that motivated Fudge like no other, it was the promise of money, making Lucius quite probably his favorite person on the planet.

But Draco didn’t care about what was true, his kind only cared about appearances. Harry had made it look as if his father wasn’t important at all, and the very idea made the blonde’s hands clench.

“You’d best hope you don’t end up in that tournament, Potter,” he said. “If you find a way to enter, it’ll be the end for you. Real wizards from Durmstang will be entering. The kind that’ll curse you before you even raise your puny wand.”

Malfoy turned on his heel, slamming the compartment door shut with as much force as he used to open it.

“Do you always let other schools fight your battles?” Ron shouted after him.

“Should’ve told him that he would know a thing about puny wands,” said Harry.

Ron groaned. “That is better. Damn.”

“Harry, how do you know about this tournament?” Hermione asked.

It looked like it was chafing her something fierce. Hermione liked almost all types of knowledge. The only sort that got on her nerves was the kind she couldn’t understand the source of. 

“One of the politicians blabbed about it at the Quidditch World Cup,” Harry lied. “I was going to tell you, but it honestly slipped my mind.

Ron got quiet. Hermione asked, “Don’t you think that’s a bit important to be forgetting about?”

“Well, it’s not like we can enter,” said Harry. “I didn’t think it mattered much.”

“I wish we could,” said Ron. “Enter, I mean. We’re students too. What right do they have to keep us out?”

“Didn’t you hear what Harry said? That rule is there to keep us alive ,” said Hermione. “I for one am glad to have it.”

“But the glory,” Ron said longingly.

“Do you want to enter?” asked Harry.

Ron blinked, returning to earth as his head cleared of whatever daydream he’d been picturing. “But you said we couldn’t!”

“Theoretically, then. Do you want to compete? Do you want to win ?”

“Of course!” said Ron.

Harry smiled.

“I don’t know why you encourage him,” said Hermione. She returned to her book. “Boys.”

Harry excused himself a moment later to use the bathroom. And he did go there, just not for the purpose others would’ve expected. As soon as the stall locked, he held out his arm.

It was the arm with a complex tattoo on it, and as he willed it too, the tattoo peeled away from his arm. It dripped to the floor as if made from liquid, pooling in an inky puddle. A moment later the puddle rose and expanded, taking on a new shape. Harry’s shape.

“What now?” asked Death in an awfully resigned voice.

“Keep my friends company,” Harry told it. “I’m off to explore the train now, and I don’t want them to worry.”

“You could have simply talked to them instead of summoning me,” said Death.

“You’re right! But why do that when I have a slave— servant available to do it this way?”

Death sighed and left the bathroom. Harry left himself a moment later, wrapping himself in his cloak as he went.

He roamed the train for a moment. He didn’t have a goal in mind here. Rather, he assumed he could find something entertaining if he kept his senses peeled. And what do you know? He was right.

Nearly on the opposite side of the train was a half-full compartment with the door wide open. As Harry walked past, the sound of his own name reached his ears. 

“Don’t you think Harry’s a little dashing,” said the voice. “I mean, he’s got the fame going for him, but even without that. I’ve seen much worse looking guys.”

Naturally, Harry stopped. He crept closer, slipping inside the open door. 

The girl who spoke was a brunette of medium height, with her hair back in a ponytail. She had prominent eyebrows, a cute face, and an athletic build. A year younger than Harry, he’d shared a Quidditch locker room with her, if only for a single year in each of his lives. Demelza Robins.

The cabins’ other two occupants looked at eachother.

Both gorgeous, one was fair while the other was dark. One had curly blond hair while the other’s was straight and black. The blond was busty where her friend’s chest was flatter, but Harry knew from experience that when they both stood up, it was the dark girl who had her beat beneath the waist.

Despite all this, the two were best friends. Probably because beneath the superficial level, they couldn’t have been more similar.

“You’re just noticing now?” asked Parvati Patil. 

“Honestly,” said Lavender Brown. “I’ve been able to see for years that Harry Potter was going to be exactly the kind of wizard I’d love to have bend me over and—”

Lavender shrieked as the seat she was sitting on suddenly bounced, Harry himself appearing on it next to her, seemingly from thin air. The other two also jumped. Harry looked quizzically at Lavender.

“And?” he prompted. “Don’t leave us hanging now.”

“How did you do that?” Lavender exclaimed.

“I thought I would take a page out of Voldemort’s book and put a taboo on my name,” said Harry. “Except that mine only activates when gorgeous horny witches are gossiping about me on their lonesome.”

When the compartment went silent, Harry clarified, “That was a joke. I was walking by and heard my name, so I snuck in with an invisibility cloak.

“You have an invisibility cloak?” Lavender asked.

“The best around.”

“Interesting.” she smirked. “I’ll have to remember that.”

She bumped his shoulder as she said it, leaning toward him. Harry grinned. So Lavender was the type to double down when she felt embarrassed. He could definitely work with that.

“Please, don’t mind me!” he said. “Go on, girls, keep talking. I don’t want to intrude.”

“You want us to talk about that kind of thing now ?” said Demelza, red in the face.

“I could go back under the invisibility cloak if that would help,” said Harry. “But alas, if the moment is ruined, we can move on. How have you girls been?”

Lavender and Parvati, at least, he knew quite well in this time. Being in the same house and the same year ensured they ran into each other enough, and this being before Lavender’s short fling with Ron, things weren’t awkward between them yet. She proved that by jumping straight into telling him animatedly about her summer.

Parvati joined in quickly, both of them sharing details of their family trips and days out in Diagon Alley. Demelza was still quiet and a tad red, but then again, she didn’t know Harry nearly as well as the other two.

“What about you?” asked Lavender.

“My summer? It was pretty ordinary,” said Harry. “I ate some good food, hung out with my friends… watched the Quidditch World Cup from the VIP box and went home with a veela…”

Demelza and Parvati laughed. Harry just smiled.

“You know, one of my ex-boyfriends said he thought I had some veela blood in me,” said Lavender. “What do you say? Think it’s true?”

“I think,” said Harry, “that he wanted to get into your knickers. But if you did have any veela blood in you, I know where it ended up.”

He didn’t disguise the way his eyes were locked on her straining t-shirt. All the girls were dressed in muggle garb, and on Lavender, it was working overtime to keep her assets hidden. Lavender caught the way he was looking; all of them did.

Instead of shying away, Lavender leaned forward, giving Harry the best view possible down the window of her cleavage.

“You say the nicest things,” she said.

Parvati sighed, smiling. She knew her friend well enough to see where this was going.

Lavender stood up, bending forward as she pushed herself to her feet, letting Harry look even further down her shirt.

“I think I’ll put on my Hogwarts robes a bit early this time around,” she said.

“Why are you telling us?” Demelza asked.

By way of answer, Lavender turned straight to Harry.

“I would love a bit of help,” she purred.

Harry stood. “Well, ladies, I think that’s my cue!”

Giggling, Lavender snatched her robes from her trunk. She and Harry walked out of the compartment. As they did, Harry didn’t bother to hide the way his hand latched onto Lavender’s firm ass, groping it through her jeans.

“Come on,” Harry said, “let’s explore the train a little.”

“Oh, I’m going to show you all my favorite spots on a certain passage,” Lavender told him.

Parvati groaned as the door slid shut behind them.

O-O-O

“Mmph!” Lavender exclaimed. 

Her back was pressed to the wall of the empty corridor. Even though no one was in sight, other compartments were all around, their closed doors capable of opening at any moment.

Which didn’t stop Harry from pushing Lavender right up against the wall and snogging her roughly. His hands flipped up her shirt, then yanked down her bra a moment later, causing her breasts to bounce into sight.

Lavender Brown didn’t have the best chest in Hogwarts. It was close, but a few girls had her beat. What Lavender did have, at least over the other girls in their year, was that she was the first one to hit her growth spurt.

Guys have a way of remembering that kind of thing. 

“Harry!” Lavender protested. “What if — ooh! — someone walks by and — ah! — sees?”

The interruptions were her voice bubbling out as Harry’s teeth bit at her exposed flesh. Already three bite marks had formed on her soft, succulent breasts. That number would be ten times higher by the time Harry was done.

Still, he reluctantly pulled his mouth away to answer. “Come on. Where’s that Gryffindor courage?”

His hands were still kneading her doughy chest. Lavender moaned.

“I can’t focus on you like this!” she complained.

“That’s fine. I’m more than capable of focusing on you.”

Harry’s teeth attacked her again. They bit with varying amounts of force, closing on Lavender’s sensitive skin. He pulled her breasts away from her chest, then released them, letting them bounce back.

At the same time he undid the button of her jeans with one hand. He shoved his hand inside, two fingers sliding beneath her panties to enter her. 

Lavender moaned again, more loudly, then moaned even louder still when Harry slid her up the wall slightly, so that she had to go on her tippy toes to touch the floor.

He gathered her wrists with his other hand, holding both of them together and pinning them above her head. With her arms stretched above her, Lavender’s breasts were pushed out even further for Harry to attack.

“Where did you learn all of this!” she wailed, her voice thick.

It didn’t surprise Harry that she was shocked. He was technically cheating, with two lifetimes of experience to draw on where anyone else their age had only a couple years at most.

Harry’s fingers dug straight up into Lavender’s depths, using the way her weight was pushing her down to reach deeper than he ever would’ve been able to otherwise. Lavender’s cries were growing louder in proportion to how wet she got between her legs. In the cabin behind them, they heard voices.

“I’ve got to use the lou I think,” said one.

“I told you not to drink so much water,” said another.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll only be gone for a minute.”

“No!” wailed Lavender.

Just as the door behind them opened, Harry moved.

He wandlessly opened the door of the compartment to their left. Then, lightening Lavender’s body with another burst of magic, he easily pulled her with him inside of the open compartment.

The door shut behind them before anyone could see inside. Feeling herself tumbling into a random compartment with her jeans open and her tits out, Lavender’s whole body stiffened from fear… and something else.

The intensity of it all made her hurl her head back, sending her blond curls bouncing, as she came on Harry’s fingers.

They had landed with Lavender beneath him on the floor, her arms still pinned over her head, only against the floor now instead of a wall. Slowly, Lavender caught her breath and cracked her eyes open, looking around the compartment. It was completely empty.

Of course it was. Harry had made sure to magically compel the occupants to find another spot before they ever started, just to use for something like this. But Lavender didn’t know that, and she began to laugh with exhausted relief.

“You are absolutely crazy!” she said.

“And you can’t get enough of it,” Harry teased her back.

“I definitely could,” Lavender disagreed. “But until I hit my limit, I’m going to enjoy the ride as much as possible. Now, it’s my turn .”

She wiggled loose from his grip, and when Harry stood up, she was the one who pushed him against a wall. His shirt pressed onto the chilly glass of the window. Lavender unworked his belt with practiced movements, pulling his pants down to his ankles and resting her hands on his boxers.

“I certainly hope you're not about to pull a Draco on me,” she said.

Harry laughed. “I think you’ll find the two of us are opposites in every way.”

Lavender yanked his boxers down to join his pants. When his erection bobbed loose and bumped her on the nose, she licked her lips.

“Merlin, you weren’t kidding!” she said.

She enveloped him in her wet little mouth. 

Her first charge only got her halfway down his length, but the second time she reached three-quarters, and after that she progressively gained a bit more ground each time she forged down his shaft.

Harry could feel his glans punching against the back of her throat. He could even hear it. Lavender audibly gagged every time she engulfed his cock, lacking the effortless grace Fleur had sucked him off with. But that was a turn on in its own way. It was a permanent reminder of how hard Lavender was working.

He grabbed the back of her head, but didn’t push her down. He let Lavender control this part just like she wanted.

Whether it was because her throat was becoming sore, or simply because she got a new idea, Lavender eventually quit her deep throating of him. Instead, she pulled off the shirt Harry had hiked up, and unclasped her bra a moment later. Her breasts bounced further down her chest, enjoying their newfound freedom, bedecked all over by the marks of Harry’s teeth. 

“You like these?” Lavender asked, pushing them up from the bottom to show them off.

“I’d be a crazy man if I didn’t,” said Harry.

Lavender giggled girlishly.

“Then you’ll absolutely adore this.”

She leaned forward, molding her great tits around his length. Only Harry’s glans peaked out from the crevice between the fleshy mountains, and soon even that disappeared, hidden by Lavender’s pouty lips.

Her hands pressed the sides of her breasts, rubbing them up and down to jerk off Harry’s stiff length. Her lips suctioned around the head of his cock. The entire time she looked up, meeting Harry’s eyes. He felt her tongue spell out shapes on his sensitive skin.

Lavender pulled her lips off of him, just to stick out her tongue and show him the way it was dancing against him. Her hands came up, caressing Harry’s balls. She even knew when the job was done. At the exact moment Harry was pushed over the edge, Lavender pulled off of him, pressing her breasts together like a basin and opening her mouth.

Harry sprayed a load all across her, splattering white spots on her pale skin. Some of it plopped down in her mouth, but most landed across the breasts that had driven him crazy. 

Lavender wiped a glob off of one areola, sucking the finger clean before leaving it in her mouth as she looked up at him. “How do I look?”

“Like a sexy minx who’s more than earned the way I’m about to fuck her,” Harry told her.

Before Lavender could answer, Harry had pulled her to her feet and swapped their places, so that it was Lavender against the window. He dragged her pants off from behind as he pushed her forward. Her slick bust flattened against the cold glass, and without the chance to do more than yelp, Lavender felt his moistened cock slam firmly inside of her.

Seeing as they had warmed up so thoroughly, Harry didn’t bother taking it slow. He went right to the main event, pumping the witch with powerful and unhesitating thrusts.

“You’re as big as a Bludgers Bat!” Lavender wailed. “Oh, Harry! Oh Harry fuck me!”

The compartment filled with the sound of clapping flesh, but it was accompanied by constant squeaks, almost like the windshield wipers of the limousine Harry arrived in. Lavender slid up and down the window she was pressed against, her lubricated upper body causing the sounds as Harry’s thrusts moved her.

The position left his hands free, what with Lavender propped against the window. One of Harry’s hands gave her ass a few quick slaps. While not as nice as her best friend’s, it still offered more than enough to be worth a smack or two. 

His other hand reached underneath the girl. He found the spot just above where his cock was ramming into her, and after just a few seconds of searching, located her clit. He took it between his fingers, playing with the bundle of nerves while his hips continued their work.

“I’m going cra-aa-aa-zy!” Lavender moaned, the syllable stretched out as her body jerked forward and back. “Plee-ee-eea-see… Don’t sto-oo-op!”

Harry felt her walls tightened as she came, driven over the edge by his pinching fingers. Lavender yowled. He decided it was a good thing he’d silenced the cabin before they started, back when he was clearing it of people.

Lavender wasn’t the only one feeling good in all this. She was remarkably tight for a girl of her reputation, although Harry knew better than anyone how easily rumors could become exaggerated. Whatever her history might’ve been, there was no denying that Lavender was pushing him to his limits.

With one great final thrust, he pulled himself out of her, spewing his second load across Lavender’s bare back. He stumbled away, the intense bit of exertion making even his athletic body waver. Lavender’s body slid slowly down the window, before she eventually collapsed onto the floor.

Both of them were panting. Harry had worked up more than a mild sweat to this point, and he mopped his brow. He looked around the compartment, silenced and sheltered, with even the glass on the door too fogged up for anybody outside to get a look in. Lavender’s robes lay by the door, while their muggle clothing was scattered with his across the compartment’s carpet. After collecting a breath, Harry was pleased to find a second wind coming on.

“How long do you think we’ve got before reaching Hogwarts?” he asked. “My money is on at least an hour.”

Lavender trembled. She gulped, hard, and when she pushed herself up to look up at Harry, she was smiling.

“Come on,” she said, twisting around and spreading first her legs, then her lower lips, letting more of her juices dribble out. “Let’s see if Harry Potter can be the first man to break me.”

And if that wasn’t an offer Harry could never refuse.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 9

Nighttime Chat

Much later in the train trip, Harry and Lavender returned to their original compartment, now each in their Hogwarts robes. Like when they left, their arms were draped over each other’s shoulders. Unlike when they left, it was no longer about flirting, but keeping Lavender standing.

The blond collapsed back onto her seat with a heavy groan. Harry sat down beside her with an innocent smile. Demelza swallowed very thickly. Parvati looked intrigued.

Soon conversation started again— all ordinary things. When the train disembarked Harry walked the girls to a carriage, casting a quick charm to keep off the heavy rain, before saying goodbye and breaking away. Instead of riding with them, he picked out another group of three standing beside a different carriage, only a short distance away.

He didn’t count on how difficult getting over to them would prove to be. It was nearly a full five minutes before a voice asked, “Harry?”

Stumbling the last bit of the way, he looked up to find Neville Longbottom looking at him, standing beside a blond and redhead both with yellow ties.

“Hey there, Neville.” Harry straightened, catching his breath while glancing quickly over his shoulder. “Room for a fourth?”

“Of course! But, um, Harry? Why is your hair like that?”

Harry was already leaping into the carriage, yanking the door open on the way inside. He rapidly patted the seats beside him, gesturing for them to join him, which they did, albeit looking confused.

When the door was shut, Harry relaxed with a great sigh. “What was the question again?”

“Your hair,” Neville said, pointing.

Giving his wand a short wave, Harry conjured a hand mirror from thin air, making the other occupants jump. He turned it toward himself, studying his reflection.

He looked quite bedraggled. His spectacles were crooked on his face, while his scar was on complete display. The hair that often hung down over it was sticking straight up in the air, as if he were spotting the world’s messiest, least flattering mohawk.

Groaning, Harry quickly handed the mirror to Neville, who accepted it reflexively, and began to paw down his hair to flatten it.

“Not the best style I’ve ever rocked,” Harry admitted as he battled his hair. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“But how did it get that way?” asked the blond with the yellow tie.

Harry turned his attention to her, and the redhead sitting beside her. Both from Hufflepuff, both in his and Neville’s year, the two had been inseparable since the age of eleven. Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones were as close to each other as Harry was to Ron and Hermione.

Hannah was a cute girl on the chubbier side, with a stocky frame and the kind of cheeks made for a grandma to pinch. She was the blond, the one that asked Harry about his hair.

Susan was the redhead. She was very quiet at the moment, staring down at her lap. Nearly every boy in their year knew who she was, partially because of her gorgeous face but mostly because of another feature.

When Harry mentioned that Lavender’s chest wasn’t the biggest at Hogwarts, Susan was the one who had her beat. And it wasn’t even particularly close.

“The hairstyle was just from a couple of reunions,” said Harry. “I hadn’t seen some old friends in a long time, and they got more worked up than I expected.”

“It looked like something had been licking your hair,” Hannah said, appearing a touch horrified. “ People did that?”

“No, no. Not people.”

There came a squeaking sound from the carriage window, as if windshield wipers had begun working on their highest setting. The other students jumped in their seats, staring at the window.

“Don’t open that,” Harry said.

“What is it?” exclaimed Susan, pointing.

“It’s so… long. And purple ,” said Neville.

Hannah looked between them and the window, where she could see nothing except a strange swirling pattern in the water collected on the glass’s exterior. “What on earth are you both talking about?”

Harry just sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“And right after I got my hair sorted again,” he mumbled angrily.

He looked at the offending window, where a thin and slippery purple muscle slid all over the glass, looking for a way inside. The appendage was multiple feet in length, stretching out of sight toward the front of their carriage. A moment later, an identical one smacked against the carriage’s other window.

“It’s the Thestrals,” Harry explained tiredly. “They’re as sweet as Kneazles once you get to know them. Thing is, Kneazles aren’t big enough to draw a carriage, and their tongues don’t extend up to fifteen feet.”

A suspicious thud sounded at the back end of their carriage, hinting that the Thestrals pulling the carriage behind them were trying just as hard to get a taste of Harry.

“Wait, you guys can see them too?” Susan asked.

Neville blushed. “My Granddad,” he said. “I saw him at the end. Ever since, they haven’t been invisible to me.”

“I didn’t watch any family members die,” said Harry. “Unfortunately.”

He didn’t elaborate any further. Susan hurried on.

“I told you I wasn’t crazy!” she said to Hannah. “They’re really real! They really are big horses that pull the carriages, with long wings and tight skin and… long tongues, apparently!”

Hannah looked at her, before casting her eyes suspiciously over Harry and Neville.

“Did she get you in on this?” Hannah asked. “Convince you to pretend there are demon horses pulling the carriages at all times?”

“They’re real!” Susan protested.

“Thestrals very much exist,” said Harry. “You have to watch someone die to see them, but once that’s done, they’ll never be invisible again. They’re very rare magical creatures.” He looked out the window. “And, apparently, they’re pretty persistent.”

The entire cabin rocked to the side. The girls shrieked. Hannah collided with Susan, who collided with the wall. Harry managed to hit his backside with a sticking charm, but wasn’t quick enough to get Neville, who bumped his head on the window.

Harry winced. “Sorry, Neville.”

While the boy was blinking stars out of his eyes, the cabin pitched sideways again, this time in the opposite direction. Harry got Neville attached to his seat, but the girls were still loose, and they slid back across their seats, wailing.

“What is happening?” Hannah moaned.

The whole cabin was pitching around nonstop now, shoved from a different angle every second. It felt like the wheels weren’t even touching the ground any longer.

“I think,” said Harry loudly, “that the Thestrals have decided that they really need to keep saying hello to me. Meaning that they want to kiss me with those long purple tongues, and they’re willing to break into this compartment to do it, if that’s what it takes.”

They were odd creatures. It was a shame, but they were commonly maligned as bad omens, just because most of the people who could see them were the type who knew tragedy a tad too well. But there was nothing unlucky about Thestrals. You just stood no chance of seeing one if you’d never seen someone die in front of you.

In his first life, Harry had gotten on pretty well with Thestrals, at least the well-trained herd that Hagrid kept. He and his friends rode them to the Department of Mysteries, while another was used in the Battle of Seven Potters. But it was only after he became the Master of Death that their attitudes changed from something like respect, into pure adoration.

Though, as the cabin shook, Harry considered that maybe ‘obsession' would be a better word.

“I’m sure they’ll calm down in a second—” he started to say.

Instead, they gave the carriage its hardest push yet, this time lifting from the  front. Hannah and Susan's eyes widened as they flew forward, directly into the boys that were facing them.

Hannah fell spectacularly, so that her feet were the highest point on her body by the end, brushing the roof. She would have banged her head nastily, were it not for Neville, in a sudden burst of reflexes, catching his future wife by the sides.

The reward for his good deed was immediate, as, in the process, his head disappeared straight up the bottom of Hannah’s robes, while her thick thighs wrapped around his head.

For his part, Harry was currently drowning… Very happily, in the enormous bosom of Susan Bones.

With a great deal of regret, he quickly pulled his face out of Susan’s cleavage, settling the blushing girl into his lap in a less suggestive position.

He looked over at Neville, who was working to extricate himself from Hannah.

“Doing alright there Nev?” he asked.

“Better than alright,” Neville muttered, looking quite like he was trying to figure out if this was all a dream. Harry wondered how hard he had hit his head earlier if he was saying that out loud.

As Hannah was being helped around by the gallant Gryffindor, Harry turned his attention to Susan. The redhead was sitting sideways across his lap now, holding onto his arms as they kept her from flying back across the cabin.

“Are you alright?” Harry whispered.

Susan, blushing redder than her hair, nodded very fast.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll make it up to you sometime. Promise.”

Even if he hadn’t caused it directly, it wasn’t like she asked to end up in his lap, and this whole thing traced back to the Thestrals acting up in the first place. Quietly, Harry shut his eyes.

He hadn’t wanted to resort to this, because the death-horses were only trying to be nice, but at a certain point enough was enough. He grabbed a hold of his magic, forever changed by the Hallows’ effects on him. Instead of casting a spell, he simply let off what amounted to an explosion, one you would have to be a magical creature to sense.

Shrieks erupted all around the carriage. Harry’s back hit the cushions as they accelerated faster than a car. Creaking spokes were audible out the windows as all the Thestrals matched the insane pace, completely forgetting about breaking inside to pay Harry a visit.

He had probably scared them, which didn’t feel good. He would have to make it up to them later somehow, like he promised to Susan.

Speaking of the red-haired witch, Harry let go of her now that they weren’t in any more danger of flying around. Rather than return to her seat, Susan chose to stay on his lap. She was still blushing and wouldn’t meet his eyes, but she didn’t move, even when Hannah slipped back across the carriage.

Eventually, all of the carriages reached the castle. As soon as the occupants were out, Thestrals pulled them away with just as much speed as they used to reach the castle, fleeing into the night. Harry and Neville remained with the Hufflepuff girls until the moment they broke apart to join the Gryffindors. With skill that was growing quickly through all the practice he was getting, Harry replaced his doppleganger seamlessly, coming to stand beside Ron and Hermione when nobody was looking.

The feast turned out rather ordinary, all things considered. At least compared to the ride up to the castle. It went about how Harry remembered it, down to the protests when Dumbledore announced there would be no Quidditch, and the raucous cheers as he revealed the Triwizard Tournament’s return.

Dumbledore. Harry stared up at the aged headmaster, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

He saved the man last time. It was only natural, when he got to the Resurrection Stone first, purging the Hallow of Voldemort’s soul and adding it to his collection. There had been no need for Dumbledore to fight Voldemort personally, when Harry was already more than the Dark Lord’s match. So the Headmaster survived, though not for very long.

It turned out his time had been approaching anyway. Harry had been there when he passed, standing beside his bed with the remains of the Order’s core. It wasn’t a tragedy, merely reality. Harry thought it was the greatest mercy possible for the old man.

He didn’t… His relationship with Dumbledore was complicated. The headmaster placed him with the Dursleys, yet that was one of the reasons Harry survived. He faced so many dangers under the man’s watch, here in these halls. And, again, he survived. The plots and plans were exhausting. They made you feel like a chess piece on the board. But Harry refused to be so shortsighted that he would deny everything the man did for him.

Really, with such complex feelings, there was only one way to resolve this properly.

That in mind, he pushed aside his dinner plate and leaned forward, planting his forehead on the smooth wood.

“Er, Harry?” Ron asked. “What’cha doing there?”

“Resting up,” Harry said, his eyes closed.

“At dinner?”

Based off his tone, the redhead thought that was the most ludicrous idea he’d ever heard, which to him it probably was. Nothing — nothing — came between Ronald Weasley and a full plate of food. 

“Yes,” said Harry. “Dinner seems like the best time for it, all things considered.”

And he drifted off, catching what sleep he could before a prefect shook him, making sure he was prepared for the late night he was about to have.

O-O-O

There was a lot of gossip, among bored witches and wizards, about just how the great Albus Dumbledore must live. They pointed to his flashy outfits and argued, based on that, that his private quarters must be bedazzled in at least six different ways, with walls painted a primary color each. They were wrong.

Dumbledore lived in a deceptively normal room tucked deep inside Hogwarts. It had a fireplace with a cozy chair beside it, where he liked to sip warm drinks in the cold months. His bed was only big enough to fit one, because Dumbledore was a man who had chosen long ago to face life alone. In addition to these things he had one bookshelf, a dresser, and a portrait frame through which an old headmaster of years past could fetch him in case of emergency.

Very few ever saw the inside of this space. Dumbledore himself, or course, and beyond that only his most trusted colleagues, Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick. Privacy was an old habit of the Headmaster’s, leftover from the days of his youth.

Now, another person had been added to the list.

Albus Dumbledore awoke without twitching. He was tucked snugly beneath his blankets, aching old bones as content as they ever got these days. He opened his eyes slowly. His wand was beneath his pillow, perfectly in reach. Another old habit.

“I should warn you,” he said, “that despite my looks and age, I am not completely senile yet. Nor am I willing to die.”

“Oh death gets all of us,” a voice said dismissively. “Well, almost all of us. Only the really, really unlucky ones can’t even manage that.”

Dumbledore still did not move. He remained laying in bed; though his fingers twitched.

“If you wanted to hold a philosophical discussion, there were better venues to choose,” he said.

“That’s not what I’m here for, just what conversations with you inevitably seem to devolve into.”

“You seem to know me. But I do not know you. I confess, that leaves me at quite the disadvantage.”

“Oh. Right. That was rude of me.”

It was nearly silent, almost imperceptible, but Dumbledore’s ears had been trained for such things over more than a century. He heard a wand being raised.

He was sitting up in an instant, just a blur of hot-pink pajamas until the elder wand was extending from his bony fingers. his joints shrieked at him, but they put up with his greedy demands for now.

As quickly as he sat up, Dumbledore felt himself freeze. He had not been hit with a body-binding spell, though the effects were quite similar.

As he pointed the elder wand at the intruder, now illuminated by the light of a simple Lumos as he sat in Dumbldore’s armchair, the masked man pointed two of them back at him.

“You’re outgunned, for once, headmaster,” he said. “Please. I’d really not like to fight you right now.”

“Impossible,” Dumbledore breathed.

The intruder looked down at the wands in his hands. “I really wish you were right. It should be impossible, and I reckon I’d be happier if it were, yet here I am. So I guess we can settle and call it improbable.”

He leaned back in his seat, and then, with a great sigh that sounded so weary Dumbledore half expected to find it had come from his own lips, the intruder lowered both wands.

“See?” he said. “Let’s talk. That’s all I want.”

The stranger was dressed confusingly, wearing regular trousers but lacking a shirt altogether, appearing more like a muggle at the end of a wild night out than as a proper wizard. Adding to this impression was the black cloth mask pulled over his face. When he finished taking in the stranger’s appearance, Dumbledore lowered his own wand, reaching to his bedside table and affixing his spectacles under his pointed nightcap.

“So,” said the headmaster, gazing down his nose at the intruder. “Who are you?”

The man laughed. “I thought you’d know already, to be honest.”

“Going by the mask… and the lack of clothes… I would say you’re the one who proudly called himself Tom Riddle. But that is not your name, just one that you took. I know Tom Riddle. You are not he.”

“Yeah, well, that’s actually the reason I wanted to talk to you.”

The stranger tapped his foot on the floor, looking down and taking his time. It was the kind of behavior Dumbledore was used to seeing in students. If he strained his ears, the voice did sound familiar… But surely something like that was impossible?”

“You know who Tom Riddle really is,” said the stranger. “By my count, there’s probably four people alive who can say that. You, who’s been alive for this long. Lucius learned about it from the diary. Slughorn knows because of the Horcruxes, and I’m betting Bella figured it out. Maybe a couple other members of the Inner Circle, but this is all guesswork. The point is, if you come out and say that I’m not Tom and I’m nothing but a loony imposter, people are going to believe you. I’m asking you personally here, from the bottom of my heart, don’t . Just keep quiet about this one thing. Whatever else you want to do, how you want to fight this war, have at it. But let me have this ! ”

“You’re aware, then, of what exactly you have done.” Dumbledore slid his spectacles further down his nose. “You know much. Too much, I’m tempted to say. Who are you?”

“Do you want a funny fake name, or an accurate fake name?”

“I take it your real name is not on offer?”

The intruder shrugged. Despite himself, Dumbledore chuckled.

“I will take the accurate fake name, in that case.”

“Call me Mod,” said the stranger. 

“An… interesting name.”

“It better be,” said Mod. “I spent a whole ten seconds coming up with it.”

Dumbledore leaned forward in his bed, squinting. “I suppose the question, then, Mod, is why you are so hellbent on making a mistake.”

The room was completely quiet, buried in the depths of Hogwarts with just the two of them, a single Lumos casting arcs of light over each of their faces.

“The real Tom Riddle does not do things by halves, and to him, insults are the most serious business there is. You are playing with his name, and if he gets a hold of you, he will not let you die quickly for something like that.”

Mod glanced down at the wands on either side of him.

“Let him try,” he said.

“I don’t mean to belittle you. You’re clearly in possession of an extreme set of skills. But there have been those who were confident they could handle Voldemort before. They are not here now.”

“Excluding you.”

“My secret,” said Dumbledore heavily, “is that I have never been confident.”

“Fair,” said Mod. “Let me worry about Voldemort’s anger. You don’t have to do anything differently. Hell, you can even try to stop me when I really get things going, because I can tell you now, you’re going to have problems with what I do. But if you reveal that my identity is fake, you’ll only be helping the real Tom. Whatever else you do, I know you don’t want that.”

“We could work together,” Dumbledore suggested. “You clearly have no love for dark wizards. Together, we would stand a better chance of stopping Voldemort, before he can bring more harm.”

But Mod shook his head.

“Been there, done that,” he said cryptically.

The light from the Lumos that he had cast went out abruptly, plunging the room into darkness. When Dumbledore lit candles all over the room with a swipe of his wand, the masked stranger was gone.

And so was the chair he’d sat in.

“I liked that recliner,” Dumbledore muttered forlornly.

And then he went back to bed, pondering this strange new player in such a deadly game, right up until the moment sleep took him once more.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 10

Su Me (Part 1)

Su Li was eight years old on the day she would forever remember her grandfather by.

Every year they did it— her parents, her, and her grandfather himself, gathering in late January at her grandfather’s home. He lived in a simple house, with forest on one side, the trees standing tall with dark spaces between them. Su’s family assembled outside, standing atop dewy grass in the biting nighttime air. But the cold never lasted for long.

Holding the stuffed goose toy she slept with every night, Su watched, entranced, as her grandfather began the annual dance.

He stomped his feet, first leaning his weight to the right, then shifting it onto the left. He skipped about, moving jerkily. The only smooth thing about him was his wand, flowing in elaborate patterns, and from its tip spewed fire.

Su’s mother and father also had their wands raised, but instead of fire they conjured sharp bangs. Her grandfather moved in time with the sounds, and so did the flames.

It rose in great shapes. Tendrils split off, taking the form of lanterns, while between them a many-legged serpent made of pure sparks slithered in the sky, long whiskers trailing from its snout.

In years to come, this serpent would be replaced with a small darting mouse, or a proud and prowling lion. But on that night, under those stars, it was a snake, for this was the Year of the Dragon they were welcoming.

The more her grandfather danced, the more life the dragon flew with, until he lowered his wand with a sheen of sweat all across his tanned skin, and the dragon kept flying on its own.

“Ye Ye,” Su said, “your snake got loose.”

Her grandfather laughed. He bent down on one knee, placing himself at her eye level, as he always did to speak with her.

“It was never mine,” he told her. “That snake is here to protect us.”

Su looked up, at the flaming lanterns above them and the fiery dragon, streaking over their heads like a comet, framed against the darkened sky.

“Protect us from what?” she asked.

“Something very frightening,” her grandfather said. “A monster known as the Nian, that even Muggles know but only wizards truly understand. Long ago, it would snatch and eat up young boys and girls… as small as you!”

Su stepped back quickly as her grandfather chuckled.

“Stop scaring her!” said Su’s mom.

Her grandfather cupped her arms, stopping Su from retreating any further.

“Don’t worry, little one,” he said. “The Nian is a monster from the homeland that we left, not cold and dreary Britain. But just in case, on this day when the Nian used to emerge, we fend it off the same way that our ancestors learned to. Always remember this: fire, loud noises, and the color red. Those are the things that the Nian fears. So long as you have those, you’ll always be safe.”

“What if I can’t get any of those?” Su asked, thinking fearfully that the reason he could be so calm about this was because he was not a small girl, and so was not in any danger of being eaten.

Her grandfather leaned in, bumping her forehead with his own. And as he did, the dragon he had conjured flew overhead again, reflecting in his dark-pupiled eyes.

“In our village, none were better at these spells than I was,” he told her, “and I have not allowed my skills to slip one bit in the time since. Do not worry. I promise you, every year, you will have all the fire and noise you could ever want, for as long as I am here.”

O-O-O

Su didn’t know what in Merlin’s name she was doing, which was a ludicrous thing for a Ravenclaw to admit. Even worse, she was skipping classes. On her first day .

She could already hear her mother’s voice. 

“Su, don’t you want to follow in your Ye Ye’s footsteps? You cannot get detention! You must go to class! Exceeds Expectations will not be enough to become an Unspeakable!”

Su looked toward the ceiling, attempting to blot out both her mother’s voice and the pungent scent of owl dung around her.

“I know I’m screwing up,” she mumbled. “Of course I know that! But what else am I supposed to do?”

“How should I know?”

BANG!

Su shot to her feet with a scream. She’d picked the Owlery partially because she couldn’t stop thinking about the letter she hoped to receive any day, and partially because no one ever visited it on the first day of school.

Except, apparently, Harry damn Potter.

The Boy Who Lived peered at her over the top of a nice, cozy armchair, which he had levitated all the way up the stairs, then promptly dropped on the Owlery floor. That had been the cause of the bang. Even after discovering the source, Su still felt her heart beating much too fast from fright.

Seeing that she wasn’t answering him, Harry shrugged and proceeded to drag his chair across the floor. When he approached the roosting owls, a snowy white one fluttered down to land on a lower perch. 

“What do you think, girl,” Harry asked, looking between the owl and the chair a couple of times. “Could you get that all the way to him?”

The owl cocked its head, doing an impressive job expressing disbelief. It leaned down, pecking Harry’s nose sharply.

“Ow!” Harry exclaimed, rubbing the spot. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. Stupid question.”

He turned to the recliner and sighed so sadly that Su felt compelled to ask, “What are you trying to do with that?”

“I want to get it overseas, as a gift to an old friend,” he said. “It’s a bit heavy, though, to travel halfway around the world.”

“And you thought your owl could carry that?”

“Hedwig here has already made sure I know how stupid that idea was,” he said. “I’ll figure something else out.”

He walked around, dropping into the recliner he had failed to ship across continents, and crossed his legs, looking at her. His owl fluttered down a moment later, landing on one of the armrests.

“Now that you got to know — and make fun of — the reason that I’m here… what about you, Su?”

“You know who I am?” Su asked.

“We’re in the same year. It would be a bit strange if I had no idea.”

“I guess,” Su admitted.

She just never expected Harry Potter to pay much attention to the little people around him. Maybe it was silly, because he was a classmate like any other, but she always assumed that he just had bigger things on his mind, between being a Quidditch star, international celebrity, and gaining (as well as losing) more house points than anybody else at the school. If you lived a life like that, why remember the name of one Ravenclaw girl you shared a few charms classes with?

“So?” said Harry.

Su nearly told him it was nothing. She almost lied that she was here for a bit of fresh air, the way she’d been passing off her strange behavior to friends for the last day and a half.

But… Harry was basically a stranger. And he was trying awfully hard to listen to her. Before she hardly realized what she was doing, Su had begun to talk.

“Over summer, my grandfather died. He was old, but it just… doesn’t feel real still. I looked up to him more than anything. He was the one who first brought our family over from China. He worked as an Unspeakable, and he always seemed to love it so much that, growing up, I couldn’t help but think, ‘I want to do that too!’”

Harry stroked the side of his owl’s head. “Tell me about him,” he said.

And Su did.

She told Harry how her grandfather’s favorite candy had been sugar quills, and how he stockpiled so many that he eventually ran out of real ones to write with. She talked about his deep love of the color red, to the point that when his son was sorted into Ravenclaw, he wrote to the headmaster, detailing across a four-page essay all the advantages of swapping Gryffindor and Ravenclaw’s colors, so that “the clear best house could enjoy the best color, as they deserved.” Su even spoke of his work before joining the Unspeakables, and how she would always remember peeking into his room, late at night, to find him scribbling away under the light of a Lumos spell. She said, her voice hitching briefly as she did so, that her Grandfather often claimed that the mind was the most important part of any person, and that the rest of your body was nothing more than its vessel.

Only when she paused to collect her breath, many stories later, did Su realized she was smiling for the first time in days. Harry was smiling too.

“He sounds like a good man,” he said.

“He was.”

“Then, if you’ll let me, I’d like to give a little bit of advice.” Harry leaned forward, looking at her over the tops of his glasses. “Treasure your memories of him. Don’t forget the man he was. But even though you miss him, keep moving forward, because passing on at the end of a long life is its own reward, not a punishment.”

Su nodded, but she couldn’t look him in the eyes as she did. She chewed her lip, feeling her nails slicing the palm of either hand.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “There’s something more to all this, isn’t there?” he asked.

Su didn't answer.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to. But if you need help… I’m right here.”

Su nodded again, and turned away very quickly, hoping that he hadn’t seen the tears that were beginning to form. She paced away from the Owlery.

And, behind her, she could feel those green eyes against her back, watching her the whole way.

O-O-O

By the end of the day, Su was so sick of it. Her friends meant well, but their soft looks to each other when they thought she wasn’t looking, and the way they danced around her as if she were made of glass, instilled an urge in her to scream . Because skipping classes and getting called into Flitwick’s office on the first day was mortifying enough, Su didn’t give into this urge, but that didn’t make it go away.

She was grateful to finally pull the curtains shut on her four-poster bed in the Ravenclaw Girls Dorm. Sleep was slow coming for her anxiety-ridden mind, but she longed desperately for it, and eventually, it arrived.

Her dreams ensured that the wait wasn’t worth it.

Su found herself standing in a hazy version of the woods outside her grandfather’s home. It was dark, but unlike how she remembered it, there were no lanterns, bangs, or flaming shapes. It was only her and her grandfather, who was standing a distance away with his back to her, his wand held idly beside his hip.

She walked toward her grandfather, but although he wasn’t far, it took her ages to reach him, because her legs shrunk with each step. By the time she reached his side, she was eight years old again

“Ye Ye?” Su asked, her voice as high-pitched as it had been in the past. “Ye Ye, conjure the flames! We need fire!”

She grabbed his hand, finding it cool to the touch. She yanked his arm, desperately pushing past the unease she was feeling.

Her grandfather turned toward her, but only because she pulled him, as if he were a marionette unable to move on his own. Su looked into his eyes, and screamed.

His mouth was open, drool dribbling from the corner of his mouth. His dark eyes were cross-eyed. Just from one look, Su could tell, right down to her core, that if she were to open up his skull, she would find nothing but an empty cavity.

Something roared. The world shook. From the woods a titanic shape soared out, coming straight for them. Su screamed again, dropping her grandfather’s hand and scrambling back, all too slowly.

The Nian consumed her, and she woke up screaming. 

She pressed both hands to her head. Her panting breaths had a tremor to them, while all around her she’d sweated through her blankets. Su felt her fingers shaking.

She should have felt relieved that it was all a dream. Instead, she could do nothing but dwell on what had been true within it.

Su scattered her blankets, hurling them off. When she pulled back the curtains of her bed, light was leaking in the dormitory window. It was early, but still morning. She gathered her clothes, leaving the room.

Showering quickly (to clean her body, and to clear her head) she dressed and went to breakfast. She found the Great Hall far emptier than usual, although there were students scattered about. At the Gryffindor table, Harry looked up from fiddling with what looked suspiciously like a shrunken armchair, waving at Su. She managed to wave back.

She ate quickly, feeling calmer by the end of her meal. In fact, she felt almost returned to normal, until the post arrived, and an owl she had never seen before dropped a letter in front of her.

At first, Su just stared at it. The envelope had ‘Ms. Li’ written on it in scrawling script. Hands trembling, Su tore it open, eyes devouring the letter held within.

Dear Ms. Li.

First of all, as dear friends of your late grandfather, we must say that his passing has affected all of us. It heartens us to see that he had a granddaughter who loved him dearly enough to pen your letter that reached us. Now, on a personal note, I believe that you wrote about your desire for his body to be returned to your family, for a proper burial. I confess, this has me stumped. We Unspeakables have already done this, you see, with only one tiny exception. And, if what you meant in your letter was that you would like his brain returned, too, then I can only ask you not to be selfish. Zhen Li possessed an exceptional mind, one that will be better off in our care. I notice you professed your own dream of following in his footsteps as an Unspeakable. If you cannot understand something this simple (and, indeed, if you saw the need to pose such a ridiculous question in the first place) then I’m afraid I don’t see the slightest bit of hope for you. I advise you find a new dream.

All the best,

Broderick Bode, and the rest of the Unspeakables Office.

Su was overcome with such a rush of anger as she reached the end of the letter that something which had not happened for years occurred. She enacted accidental magic, frying the paper into a smoldering black crisp.

The students either side of her yelped, scooting further away. Others looked over at the noise, only seeing wisps of smoke rising up from between Su’s hands. The Ravenclaw girl didn’t notice. She was too stuck inside of memories.

She had been there herself, with her parents, on the day her grandfather passed suddenly. Even in his old age he had refused to stop working, going into the Ministry each day. So when his years finally caught up with him, they did so beneath the earth, in the underground department where he devoted decades of his life.

Yet the body the Unspeakables returned had been wrong . Su just knew, from the first moment she saw it. It was hollow in the most crucial way. It was, as her grandfather would’ve put it, nothing but the vessel .

Her parents had proceeded with the funeral. They bathed her grandfather’s wand-arm with water, cleansing it for the next life, then placed him in the casket, conjuring candles and lit sticks of incense. Su helped them. But she cried as she did, because it all felt wrong.

She wrote the Unspeakables herself. She begged them, although she did so with concise language and rational arguments, because she never got the impression they were the type to be swayed by pity. 

More people looked toward her as she suddenly struck the table in front of her, making her fork rattle against her cleared plate. Apparently, even logic had not been enough to reach them. A few lines of empty platitudes, followed by a rejection even harsher and more condescending than she thought possible.

When she looked up, Su discovered someone familiar among the students looking at her. 

Surrounded by his friends, Harry Potter watched her silently. They made eye contact, and Su jolted. She swore she could feel his attention, as if it were tangible.

“But if you need help… I’m right here,” he had said.

He was a student, just like her. Unspeakables sometimes ignored the Minister of Magic himself, if they disliked his decisions. What could Harry possibly do? He would be just as helpless as her.

So why was she standing up, climbing over the bench and walking toward him?

More eyes followed her as she walked, leaving behind the table where she belonged to approach the red-and-gold one. Nerves set in. She wasn’t used to being paid attention to like this. Her mind screamed at her to turn around and sit back down.

She completed the walk, standing directly in front of Harry, holding onto fistfuls of her robes and looking toward the floor.

“I need help,” she said, very quietly.

He smiled at her, and stood up, not needing to hear a single thing more than that.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 11

Su Me (Part 2)

“Harry?”

“Yes?” he asked, looking back along the nearly pitch-black staircase at the outline of Su Li. “Is something wrong?”

“Not wrong , exactly, it’s just… When I asked for your help, I thought you would use your reputation, or your connections, or something like that. I didn’t really expect to be dragged away in the middle of the night to commit a crime.”

Harry stopped two steps off of the staircase’s bottom, which leveled out into a straight (and even darker) hallway, ending in a large door.

“Let me put it this way,” Harry said. “What do you think is the real crime out of these two? A little bit of innocent, well-meaning breaking and entering into a government office, or coming between a loving family in its most sensitive moment?”

“The breaking and entering?”

Harry sighed. “Fine. Maybe it’s against a law, or two. But trust me on this. The Unspeakables are as stubborn as Kneazles. You can’t talk them into doing anything they don’t want to. We’ve got a better chance at stealing something they think is theirs than we have of ever convincing them to give it up.”

“But we haven’t even finished school! How do you expect us to break in?”

“The front door is a good start. Don’t worry about anything except getting your grandfather back. I’ll handle the rest,” he promised.

He planted his hand on her shoulder, making Su straighten. She nodded, and Harry decided to assume that the doubt on her face was just a trick of the low light.

Then he turned around, completed the descent, and reached the door. Standing still for a moment, he chose not to do anything that might be overkill.

The iron door flew with a deafening crash as his blasting curse threw it from its hinges.

“I heard you kids were being naughty!” he announced, grinning. “Don’t worry, daddy is here to straighten you out!”

The door finished skidding along the floor. When he got his first look inside the room, even he was forced to stop and do a double take.

He’d been inside this place before. He remembered the room’s smooth black tile floors and featureless walls. It was about four times larger than the Gryffindor Common Room, with doors lacking handles all around the sides. But back then it had been lit by eerie blue torches to make up for its lack of windows, leaving the space feeling like a high-budget haunted house.

That wasn’t anything like what he saw now. In fact, in contrast to the dark stairwell he and Su arrived from, they seemed to have stepped out into the light of day, despite the time being later than midnight. An artificial sun was visible along the ceiling amidst blue skies, casting its light down onto the floor, with the sole exception of one corner that was stuck in perpetual night, complete with its own moon. Beds, couches, and cushions were spread across the floor, filled by men in varying states of undress. Some of them were accompanied by women, but not all of them. One lay beside something that was a woman from the waist up, and a fish from the waist down. Another seemed to be cuddling a wooden puppet animated by his own magic. The room reeked of Firewhiskey and illicit potions. More than a few wizards were too hazy-eyed to notice their front door being knocked in, while others scrambled to their feet and snagged wands.

Most of the ones who moved were looking at Harry with as much confusion as he was looking at them, but one wizard did make a break for the far wall, where a large switch featured prominently. He reached out, ready to bring it down, before Harry’s stunner hit him mid-sprint, making him faceplant against the wall.

“What is the meaning of this?” demanded a man with slicked-back brown hair and sunken eyes.

Harry actually recognized him. Saul Crocker attended the Quidditch World Cup, one of the many ministry employees Arthur Weasley had named as they passed by. Harry hadn’t been listening all that closely, but he remembered Crocker’s calculating gaze.

“That’s actually the question I’m dying to ask,” Harry admitted. “I’m no expert when it comes to research, but it looks to me like the only thing you all are researching is how many positions you can bone in. And what does this thing do, I wonder?”

Harry bludgeoned the switch on the wall that an Unspeakable had made a break for. When it was hit, the room plunged into darkness, clearing of furniture and returning to the bluish hue Harry remembered from the past. He hit the switch again, and the room returned to how it had been when they entered.

Everyone seemed disoriented, but many of the women in particular cried out, shrinking against the beds fearfully. Harry went still.

“Are they muggles ?” he asked.

“Oh just tell them already.”

A stocky man pushed himself up, away from two women lying on either side of him, shooting an irritated look at Croaker.

“Are you sure, Broderick?” Croaker asked.

“What’s the harm? It’s not like they’re going to remember anything. Look at them. They’re kids!”

Croaker cast a discerning eye at Harry and Su, before shrugging.

“Welcome to the Department of Mysteries,” he announced, spreading his arms. “Nothing done in this office will ever reach the outside world, be it adultery, indulgence, or anything else nice that this world has to offer.”

“No!” Su, who had thus far lurked behind Harry, stepped forward, her eyes wild. “I refuse to believe this! The Unspeakables are supposed to be the brightest minds the Wizarding World has to offer!”

“We are,” said Croaker. “Every single one of us worked hard to reach this point. We only take wizards of the highest caliber. Every person in this room has earned the right to enjoy himself, even if it's in ways you couldn’t get anywhere else. See Wallace over there?”

Croaker pointed to the man Harry had spotted with a wooden puppet, which moved and clung to his body like a cuddling lover. When the puppet sensed his eyes, it raised its featureless head, somehow giving off the impression of a glare.

“He’s the leading authority in all of Britain on animation charms. He got so good at them, in fact, that he divorced his wife and designed a better one. But the ministry wouldn’t file the new union, so he came down here, where nothing could get in their way. Barrett in the corner is the one who made this lovely ceiling. It gives off real vitamin D, so you can live down here for years without ever going out! He’s a real genius, but he could never find anything in life that gave him pleasure, until a vampire bit him one night. Nearly killed him, but that’s how he learned that he gets off on having his blood sucked.”

Wallace sat in a wooden chair in the one corner of the room that was stuck in perpetual night. His arms hung slackly beside him while his head lolled to the side, eyes open but unseeing. His skin was utterly pale. A gorgeous, buxom blond sat sideways across his lap, her face tight to his neck. When she sensed their eyes and pulled back, thin red trails spanned from her sharp canines to his pallid neck.

“Hold on a second,” Harry said. “Rosmerta?”

The blond vampire giggled, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Harry? Is that you?” she asked. “Oh dear. Aren’t you a bit young for a place like this?”

Despite the concerned words, her voice sounded rather… hungry.

“Don’t worry. I don’t plan on staying long,” Harry told her.

“Quite right,” said Croaker. “Now, not all of us have such eye-catching tastes, but we were equally busy, so I’d like to keep this disruption to a minimum.”

Harry eyed the undressed women spread around the room. It was clear what they were here for. But something was still off-putting to him, which just refused to add up.

Croaker caught him looking. “Hookers,” he said with an impressive amount of relish. “Isn’t it an incredible idea those Muggles had, to trade sex for money? It’s so inspired that it could’ve come from one of us Unspeakables! We can just send someone out to snap them up, enjoy their services, and then erase the entire evening from their memories. Oh, but we’re not monsters! We always pay them. Ministry budget has to go somewhere.”

The man sounded proud of the scheme. Harry looked at the women, some of whom looked back at him. He didn’t like the shine in their eyes. It reminded him of Mr. Roberts, the disoriented Muggle at the Quidditch World Cup, getting blasted by memory charms every few minutes. He wondered how many times these women had gone through this before.

“How long?”

Su’s voice was dangerously quiet. She was standing very straight, with her limbs stiff. When she looked up, her eyes were wide.

“How long has this been all that the Unspeakables are?” she demanded.

“I’m not sure I appreciate the implication there little lady,” said Croaker. “But this is what the department has always been, at least as long as I’ve been here. So… decades? Perhaps a century? Certainly longer than any of us have been alive.”

The wail that Su let out made Harry flinch. She put her head down and ran, disappearing through the closest of many doors spaced around the circular room. Croaker shook his head.

“Damn it,” he muttered. “I knew we should’ve Obliviated you sooner. Now we’ll have to go and track her down, and who knows how long that will take.”

As he spoke, he pointed his wand at Harry, as did many of the men around the room.

“Well, I think we've been very helpful,” Croaker said, “so I hope you return the favor and hold still while we put department security first. This will only take a moment.”

Harry pulled his eyes away from the door that Su had run through.

“You really like memory charms, don’t you?”

“Oh, they’re the best!” Croaker said. “They’ll fix up any problem in an instant!”

Harry smiled. “Honestly, that’s a load off my shoulders. I’m not the greatest with them, see, and if you all weren’t such wonderful fans, I might’ve felt a little bad about this.”

O-O-O

When Harry caught up with Su, she was crying beside a fountain. He patted her back, but also eased her away from the pearly liquid burbling nearby. It was too shiny to be water, because it wasn’t: Amortentia, the most potent love potion known to wizardkind.

Su was crying. Harry didn’t blame her. She had told him about her problem, from her grandfather’s job to her dream to follow in his footsteps. She’d lived for over a decade striving to become an Unspeakable, only for the reality of them to be shoved in his face.

In hindsight, Harry probably wouldn’t have done things this way if he’d known what the Unspeakables really were, but apparently there were things even two lives hadn’t been enough to teach him. Exposing a government-funded sex party hadn’t been on his to-do list for the night.

Abruptly, Su stood up. She was still crying, but her mouth split in a snarl.

“How could he?” she yelled, snatching her wand from her pocket. “I idolized him! Everything I did was to be like him! And you’re telling me he— with those assholes —”

She jerked her wand without casting a proper spell, but the emotions roaring through her called on her magic. The stones in the fountain cracked. Pearly liquid splattered across the room. Harry yelped, just barely casting a shield fast enough to prevent both of them from becoming drenched.

“Careful, Su,” he warned, watching the liquid drip down his shield in a beautiful array of glistening color. “Amortentia is serious stuff. Even a bit on your skin could have you obsessing over the next person you see.”

She hardly seemed to hear him, turning away and beginning to cast spells at the rest of the room, cutting bureaus of potions and blasting shelves to splinters.

“What did any of it mean?” she wailed. “The celebrations, and the late nights, and every story he told me about the Nian and fending it off… How could all of it be lies? How can it feel like I just lost him for a second time?”

She turned back to the main fountain, a blasting curse on her lips, before Harry grabbed her hand.

“You’re wrong about that,” he said. “They’re real.”

Su was so surprised, her rant stopped dead.

“What’s real?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

“Nians, and all the rest of those myths. Those at least are true. I’ve seen them. Want me to prove it?”

She stared at him as if trying to tell whether he was joking Slowly, Su nodded. Harry smiled.

“Then hold on tight.”

O-O-O

Su had only sidelong Apparated five times in her life. Every time, she swore the sensation was so awful that she would never put up with it again. But it had never been quite as bad as when Harry wrapped his arm around her and they left the Level 9 of the ministry with a huge crack. 

He’d Apparated them into the ministry earlier that night. Su had thought that was impossible, both leaving Hogwarts’ grounds and appearing directly inside the ministry, but he was the Boy Who Lived, so she assumed he had some kind of special clearance. That trip had felt like normal, uncomfortable Apparition.

What he just did was not the same as that. One second they had been standing together, the next she felt as if she had been crushed down to a miniscule size, her whole body compressing while speeding up to untenable speeds. She had been sure she was going to die, and she almost wished for it, the feeling was so awful. Then she was in China.

She had never been to the homeland that her grandfather left behind, but she’d heard stories and seen enough Pensieve memories to recognize its mountains, with the tall sheer rocks wrapped in green cloaks of foliage. The air was humid. Su collapsed to her knees on arrival. One look down was enough to prevent her from even trying to refind her feet. 

Harry held his arms out to the sides, laughing as he balanced on the edge of the rock that they were standing on, the whole thing no wider than a car. He leaned over to one side, staring down a canyon hundreds of feet deep. 

“Yep,” he said. “This is definitely the right place.”

Su focused on the feeling of the stone beneath her palms and knees, carefully avoiding looking at the drop-off. “Where are we?”

“Where the Nian lives,” Harry said. “You wanted to see one, didn’t you?”

“I…”

He peered at her. “You do want to, right? If not, we can go back, straight to Hogwarts. I could even take back what your grandfather was missing on my own. The Unspeakables wouldn’t remember a thing.”

That sounded nice. Su could go to sleep, wrap herself deep in bed, and maybe even skip classes tomorrow and keep her face buried in pillows. She wouldn’t have to worry about anything. It would make her life so easy.

But she didn’t need easy. She needed something — anything — to replace the hole that had formed inside her chest in the Department of Mysteries.

She stood up, even though her knees shook.

“Show me,” she said.

Harry grinned and jumped off the rock. 

Su gasped as he plummeted down, his robes flapping. She leaned closer to the edge than she felt comfortable with, staring after him, but could only see darkness in the canyon below. It was very early morning, and the rising sun could only illuminate so much.

Su was alone, except for the brisk breeze scouring her back.

“Harry?” she said.

There was nothing. The breeze snatched her voice as soon as it left her lips, carrying it far away.

“HARRY?” Su yelled. “HARRY?”

She thought she heard the name echo, but the sound wasn’t qutie right. It was too deep. It grew louder, and louder…

A shape blasted past her into the sky, making Su shriek and shield her face. When she lowered her arms, craning her neck to look up, Su couldn’t help but gape. 

There was a beast in the sky, framed against the shining moon. The sound she heard was coming from its throat, as loud as a whole pack of giants screaming in unison. It possessed the muscular body of a bull, only many times larger than any Su had ever seen. It reared back, clawing the air with enormous taloned paws. Its tail was one giant muscle, whipping about at impossible speeds. In spite of all of this, it was the head that Su couldn’t make herself look away from. Enormous canines. A long and flowing main. Intelligent, yet wild eyes. Su could easily imagine entire villages being snapped up by its jaws one household at a time, chewed and swallowed by this force of nature.

“WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Jolting, Su managed to pick out one more feature she missed at first. Perched on its back, fastened out of the beast’s reach by an impossibly overpowered sticking charm, was Harry Potter, whooping with joy as if he’d taken his Firebolt out for a joyride. 

Su watched the Nian buck and claw at its own back. When nothing it did could reach the pest, it dive bombed, attempting to dislodge him that way, but as it passed the mountains they came alive, trees transfiguring into long and sturdy chains, wrapping it around its throat. The Nian roared and strained, but it was fighting to move an entire mountain. The chains stretched taut. More wrapped around the beast, leashing it in place with wooden binds, all of which regenerated as fast as they tore. In the end, the beast was immobilized, and came to a final growling stop directly beside Su.

From its back, Harry leaned down, extending a hand to her.

“Miss?” he greeted, as if it were a simple horse-drawn carriage he was inviting her onto. 

Su swallowed. Then she took the hand, allowing him to pull her up, onto the back of the beast that once terrorized her childhood mind.

Harry covertly fastened her butt in place with a sticking charm, before the chains slithered off, freeing the Nian once more. Su wrapped her hands around his waist as it took off into the night, carrying two passengers in tow.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 12

Su Me (Part 3)

The world slipped by beneath them, nothing more than specks of light with the occasional bump of a mountain peak. They were covering ground impossibly quickly, passing countries in a matter of minutes, flying backwards through time as they crossed timezones and left the rising sun further behind.

Harry felt Su squeeze him tighter. Her skinny arms had an impressive amount of strength as they gripped his waist. But when he looked back, it was pure wonder that he saw in her eyes.

“We can reach Britain in an hour at this rate!” Harry shouted over the sound of the wind. It didn’t feel like they were traveling all that fast, but it was as if distance was shortening for them. Some kind of magical ability the Nian possessed; one of many.

Su turned her head, nuzzling her chin into the side of his neck in order to be heard.

“I have an idea,”she said. “Can you control this thing? Enough to make it go somewhere specific?”

“Would that place happen to be underground and filled with a bunch of unfriendly, memory charm obsessed half-nude men?”

Su giggled quietly in his ear. Harry spurred the Nian on, urging it toward their home country.

He’d only met this creature once before, on an expedition in his last life. Luna managed to talk him into a global trip for sightseeing, except all the sights happened to be the magical world’s most elusive and dangerous beasts. It was how he knew where its den was, as well as being able to Apparate there (although that much distance wouldn’t have been remotely possible before he mastered the Hallows).

He hadn’t ridden the beast then, though, only seeing it briefly as it took to the skies with a great roar. He’d been impressed with it. But only now, atop its back, could he feel how majestic it really was.

He lost himself in the sights, enjoying the fantastic experience that was like the greatest broom flight ever, until he noticed the English channel underneath them. He hit the Nian with the strongest compulsion charm he knew. It was enough to turn the beast’s attention toward the ministry, but Harry could feel that it would fight off his magic soon.

The beast dove, plowing straight through the ground in a London park, its great taloned feet digging rapidly. In seconds it had created its own tunnel, burrowing all the way to a great stone wall, then breaking directly through that wall.

Voices screamed as they emerged in the same circular room where Croaker explained the department to them. The muggle hookers had mysteriously disappeared, along with Rosmerta the vampire. It was exclusively male Unspeakables left in the room, a few of them sitting quite stupidly and staring at the ceiling, looking as if they had forgotten their own names. Harry definitely had no idea how that could have happened.

But most of the men were perfectly lucid, and able to quickly understand that a Class XXXXX Magical Beast had just burst through the wall, catching them — quite literally — with their pants down.

The men weren’t complete fools. Even the ones who looked unresponsive acted quickly in the most intelligent way: running. They each tore toward the doors, yanking them open and disappearing into the Department’s many rooms. Harry and Su both slipped quietly off of the Nian, which bounded after easier prey. It swiped away Wallace’s animated wooden wife, causing the puppet to break against the wall, before it bounded up to Barrett, the vampire-obsessed Unspeakable sitting in his dark corner. It sniffed the man, before deciding that he didn’t have enough blood left to be worth a meal, chasing after the others instead. Instead of using the door, the Nian simply ran through the wall, busting it down and disappearing from sight. Staring at the wreckage that had been the Unspeakables’ pride and joy, Su began to laugh.

“Yeah!” she cackled. “It doesn’t feel nice, does it? Seeing what you treasured torn down and ruined! Feeling it all just get… ripped out from under you! So Run! And… And… And keep running!”

Her gleeful tone dipped at the end. She pumped her fist, before lowering it slowly, the burst of energy fading.

“Did you mean it when you said you knew where they were keeping his brain?” she asked, much more subdued now that she’d gotten her outburst out.

“I know where it’s most likely to be,” Harry admitted.

“Can you take me to it?”

Nodding, Harry led her silently to one of the doors. 

They traversed the department quickly, feeling the floor rumble periodically as the Nian’s rampage brought it close to them. Harry navigated to one of the first rooms he ever saw down here back on his very first visit. It was a simple one, with a few desks surrounding a large tank of green liquid. Brains were suspended in the liquid, floating idly.

Unlike when he had been here as a Fifth Year fighting for his life, he noticed details that had escaped him then. The brains were actually labeled, separated by their discipline, listing things like charms, time, Legilimency, or runes.

“What was your grandfather’s specialty?” Harry asked.

“Arithmancy,” said Su.

He actually paused, looking back at her. “Really? I mean, don’t you think that’s a little cliche?”

She looked confused. “What?”

“Never mind. Arithmancy… Right here. Third one down. Be careful. They can get testy when they’re disturbed.”

Harry levitated out the correct brain. Su winced slightly as it sunk in exactly what she was looking at. Even if this was what she’d been chasing, it was still a cut-out part of her family member.

As soon as the brain left the tank it grew thick, dark tendrils that began to lash out. Harry conjured a shield to protect them, but Su laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Let them reach me,” she said.

“They can hurt,” Harry warned.

“It’s alright.”

Dubiously, he lowered the shield. The tendrils struck Su’s arms, wrapping around her forearms. She winced. But as quickly as they made contact, they began to recede. Su smiled sadly as she reached up, grabbing the brain with her hands.

“I knew you would recognize me,” she said.

She held the brain and shut her eyes. Harry wondered momentarily if she could actually understand it, but that was impossible. She was simply telling her grandfather what she needed to, whether or not he could hear.

Clearing his throat, Harry turned and took a few steps away. 

“I think I believed in you too much,” Su said. “That’s not your fault. I’m not sure it’s mine, either. I think that’s just what kids do… But you weren’t just my grandfather. You had your own life, beyond just protecting me every New Years. I won’t lie and say that I’m not disappointed by what you got up to. But I couldn’t ever hate you for it. Not for long.”

She paused, and Harry tried to stay very quiet, though the effect was ruined somewhat by a distant roar from the Nian. Su heard it too, looking up.

“In a way, I think you taught me one final lesson,” she said. “I was always relying on you to keep the monsters away. But I’m grown now. At some point, I have to learn to do that for myself. I think I’ve done that now. With a little bit of help, of course.” Harry felt her eyes on his back. “What I’m saying is, I’m here to take you home. But if you don’t want that… If you’d prefer to stay here, and maybe all of this was your idea in the first place… then stay. I can’t make that decision for you.”

Harry was sure that these brains couldn’t function. They lacked bodies, couldn’t talk, and in his experience, lashed out at random at anyone they came in contact with. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe they had some semblance of understanding, enough to listen and even make decisions for themselves, because the brain floated up at exactly that moment.

It grew tendrils again, but instead of attacking it crawled like a spider, scaling the tank and stopping at the rim. One tendril came up, drifting back and forth as if waving. Then it plopped back into the tank with a splash.

Su sighed deeply. When it finished, she was smiling.

“Let’s go,” she said huskily.

Before Harry could react, she had grabbed his hand, pulling him along.

“Go where?” Harry asked.

Su didn’t look back as she dragged him to the far door.

“This place is a shithole,” she declared. “I don’t regret making these Unspeakables scramble for how they treated me. But as much as I hate it, my grandfather loved this place, enough to want to stay here. We’re going to send the Nian on its way now. It’s done enough.”

As they passed through the door, Harry was already brainstorming what spells would be best to use when Su abruptly let go of his hand. While he was still deep in thought, she hurled her arms around his neck, kissing him furiously.

When Su pulled back, Harry couldn’t help but stare at her. Her dark hair was wild, falling across her forehead at odd angles after being blown by the wind on their flight. She wasn’t as popular at school as her housemate Cho Chang, but that didn’t mean she was any worse looking. She just had the studious kind of personality most young boys avoided. 

Right now, though, she looked positively wild . 

“This time, we’ll deal with the Nian my way,” she declared with a smile. “One that shows just how much I’ve grown up.”

They had ended up back beside the Amortentia fountain where Su ran away to cry. The signs of her fury were still obvious. Wreckage that used to be shelves was strewn around the edges, while the fountain had burst near the base, letting Amortentia pool along the floor. 

Su stepped back, unwinding her arms from Harry’s neck. She summoned an intact bottle full of crystalline, colorless liquid. Harry recognized it instantly; he was familiar with it to an unfortunate degree after his last two lives. Love Potion Antidote.

Su uncorked it, grabbed the front of his robes, and yanked his collar open wide, promptly pouring the contents directly down the front of his body.

Harry gasped as he felt the cold liquid run down him. He shed his top to prevent it from getting soaked, revealing glistening muscles where wet trails ran down him, ending at his waist where they seeped under his pants. Maintaining eye-contact with him, Su stooped down, dipping her hand into the pooled Amortentia and scooping up as much as she could hold.

“One little dose will leave me obsessed with the next person I see, right?” she asked.

Before Harry could warn her to think carefully, she brought the hand to her mouth and chugged it.

Her body twitched. Then it twitched again. She spasmed, her head dipping, before she slowly raised it up, standing at the same time. The hooded look she gave him transcended the natural limits to lust.

“Harry,” she moaned, beginning to tear off her clothes at record speed.

“I’m not sure you realize how in-deep you are right now,” Harry warned her.

Su, who had gotten off the top half of her robes, stood in nothing but pants and a bra, saying, “I know I want you deep in me!”

She was petite, much shorter than Harry and extremely thin. She looked light enough to throw across a room without resorting to magic. Perhaps that was why her perky breasts and tight butt looked huge on her, just by contrast. Su reached back, undoing her bra to reveal dark brown, almost purple nipples. Her breasts bounced as she walked forward, her hips swaying wildly. She unbuttoned her pants while she moved. They slid down to her ankles, where she easily stepped out of them. By the time she stood in front of Harry she was in only panties. Hooking her thumbs through the insides, she twirled as she bent to push them down, giving him a three-hundred-sixty degree view of the treasures that had been hidden underneath. When she stood up she awaited his verdict, nude and eager.

Harry sighed. “You didn’t need Amortentia to get me to sleep with you.”

“Then give me the antidote,” Su said cheekily.

Harry almost groaned. But he had to admit, he hadn’t been unaffected by that spectacle. Reckless or not, this was hot .

“Come and take it,” Harry ordered.

It wasn’t an offer, but a command. Su trembled all over, goosebumps breaking out across her bare flesh. Her mouth collided with Harry’s muscled chest, lapping at him with desperate, sloppy licks and kisses. She slathered his chest in her spit as she did her best to slurp up the leftover potion. As her mouth worked, so did her hands, undoing Harry’s belt and shoving down his pants.

She lowered her whole body as she pushed his pants down, trailing her tongue from the top of his abs down to the base, then to his pelvis, then lower. He was hard, of course… and the shine of his shaft showed where the majority of the antidote had ended up.

Su looked up, only to find Harry watching her expectantly. With no more delay, she rammed her mouth around his cock.

It was sloppy in the beginning. She could only take so much of him, unlike Lavender and Fleur’s experienced techniques. But she had a raw devotion at the moment that outstripped even Fleur’s most nympho tendencies. Su gagged each time she shoved her head down. She just refused to stop. 

She wouldn’t even use her hands, because they were preoccupied elsewhere. All of her fingers were jammed to her crotch, buried in thick black muff as she fingered herself with as many of them as she could fit. Her eyes, still half-closed in the most sultry way imaginable, stared straight into Harry’s. Tears formed, but with the Amortentia in effect, her expression seemed strangely overjoyed, as if she would gladly choke to death… as long as it was on Harry.

As hot as it was, Harry was a bit worried what she would do if left up to her own devices. So he grabbed her head with two strong hands, taking control.

“Amortentia is more potent than any other potion,” he grunted. “That means you have to take lots of the antidote, and swallow as much as possible.”

Su found a way to fit even more fingers into her pussy as she felt his touch, her eyes rolling back. Harry jerked his hips forward while holding her in place, forcing himself inside of her to his hilt.

It achieved the primary effect of forcing more antidote into her, but it came at the cost of completely blocking her airways. In this position even her nose was squashed flat, while his cock filled her esophagus, giving no route for air to get in. Su squirmed— although most of that was her fingers plunging into her with renewed desperation.

Harry pulled himself out of her mouth, then thrusted in again, holding her when he was at the deepest point. He repeated this a few more times, making sure that every last drop of antidote rubbed free in her mouth. Su’s fingers hit paydirt. She squirted all over the floor, cumming wildly. Hary grunted. His intent to fit as much antidote into her as possible had the side effect of creating a damn good blowjob. So much so that his balls contracted, and he gave Su something else to swallow.

He growled out loud as he pumped her mouth full of semen, but it was impossible to hear, as the Nian picked that moment to smash through the far wall.

Harry flinched. He needed to get his wand out, and repel it, but the orgasm was making his thoughts cloudy, and his reactions slow. The beast stamped closer, picking out two teens with their guards down as prime targets.

Su didn’t seem to notice. She reared back, gasping in much-needed air with her throat finally free of Harry’s cock and the stream of semen that had blocked it. Her bout of asphyxiation had turned her face bright red.

The moment the Nian saw it, the monster pumped the brakes, shrinking back from them while releasing what sounded like a whimper.

Harry was dumbstruck. But before he could voice his confusion, Su had leaped onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist. She was so light that the addition of her weight didn’t even make him stumble.

“The color red,” Su said huskily. “It’s one of its weaknesses.” 

With her face now pointing toward Harry, the Nian had begun to recover, starting to prowl forward. Su wiggled her waist, rubbing her soaked entrance on Harry’s dick but also making her ass bounce enticingly.

“Hit me,” she moaned.

Like their lives depended on it, he brought both his hands down on her ass cheeks, filling the room with a great crack and causing Su to moan lightly. The bright handprints he left made the Nian retreat again. 

“Loud noise is its other weakness!” Su exclaimed. “You know what that means. Make me scream .”

Harry shoved his hips forward, propelling his cock up into her.

“Ah!” Su cried immediately. “Ahhhh!”

In this kind of situation, it would’ve made sense for her to fake her noises, but there was no need. Harry filled her small body so completely that she struggled to accommodate his length. Each thrust reshaped her, opening her up wider than she’d ever felt before.

Su continued to scream while Harry slapped her backside over and over, turning it redder than a Chinese New Years lantern. The sound of his hips crashing against the bottom of her thighs beat loudly through the room, only upsetting the Nian even more. It began to retreat, actually backing away from them.

“It’s working!” Harry said, genuinely surprised.

“More!” Su moaned. “We need even more for it to run!”

Harry was happy to oblige.

He reached behind himself, prying her legs loose before taking a grip of her thighs. Leaning forward so that her body fell back slightly, he quickly twisted her around, catching her before she could really fall. Su gasped as she slid one-hundred-eighty degrees with his dick inside of her. Harry kept her up by hooking his arms under her legs, pulling them up so that her knees were against her shoulders. He reached up, savagely groping her perky breasts, each small enough to fit inside his hand. By the time he released them, they were as red as her ass had been.

“Hit me!” Su begged.

“Where?” Harry grunted, continuing to thrust up into her.

“The face! Just once is enough!”

Harry’s hands came up, slapping both her cheeks at once. When his hands peeled away, her cheeks had turned scarlet. Under the stinging sensation, she released a stuttery wail which pinged off of the walls, rising to deafening proportions.

She came across his cock, bathing him in her juices, a favor Harry promptly returned by filling her tight walls with his seed. His own voice joined hers, proving the final straw.

The Nian whined, tensed its legs, and leaped directly up, breaking through the ceiling. It plowed through the ministry one level at a time, opening a path all the way up to muggle London, dust and bits of debris drifting down. Harry and Su didn’t notice.

Harry’s legs grew weak after his second orgasm. He dropped onto his butt, then fell onto his back. Su came with him, ending up sprawled across his chest. But despite having cum twice already, Harry was still hard.

He kept thrusting, not offering either of them any respite. This time, without a need to be so rough, he could focus completely on his hips, and so could Su. The girl moaned, starting to force herself down into his movements. Now that the danger had passed, it was as if the two had no worries in the world; none except for making the other’s body feel as good as possible.

He let go of her legs, grabbing her hips instead. Su brought her feet down, planting them on the floor, giving her more leverage as she shoved her hips down. She threw her head back, turning her neck to kiss his lips. The angle made it clumsy and amateur, but the effort it took made Harry find it extremely hot.

She was still moaning, but not so wildly anymore. She was adjusting to the feeling of him— which didn’t mean she found it any less pleasurable. Harry squeezed her narrow hips, feeling his fingers dig into the very thin layer of fat there. Her hair was rubbing against his ear, making the subtle sounds much louder and more noticeable than usual.

“Please Harry!” Su gasped. “One more time!”

Her voice had returned to normal a long time ago, no more hints of Amortentia clouding her thoughts. This request was one-hundred-percent her speaking. Harry growled as their hips clapped together a final time.

His orgasm was small after the two directly before it, but neither of them cared about that one bit. Su shuddered as he added new spunk to what was already inside of her. They lay on the floor, slowly catching their breath, listening to the sounds of fresh debris falling from the hole the Nian had left.

Su rolled over, burying her face in his neck while curling up against his body, snuggling in.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by Harry’s neck. “For everything.”

“I’d say you thanked me pretty well already,” Harry admitted.

Su giggled. She had a great laugh, Harry noticed. Maybe he really did have a thing for Chinese Ravenclaws?

They’d need to leave soon. To not be caught, of course, but that wasn’t the only reason. If he scooted his head to the side, Harry could see up through the hole out of the ministry, all the way to a sky where dawn was breaking.

“The question is,” he said, “will we be back in time to make First Period Charms?”

Su just groaned, pushing her face deeper into his neck.

It had been a long night.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 13

A Business Opportunity

They did not make it back in time for charms.

By the time that Harry Apparated them to Hogwarts, dropped Su off at the Ravenclaw Dormitory, took an extremely needed shower and changed his clothes, it was already lunch time. Harry seamlessly replaced his doppelganger, catching the last bit of a very excited Hermione’s rant.

“—applications are just so varied and exciting! Can you imagine it? So many mundane chores could be accomplished without the use of your hands, freeing them for other things!”

“Like reading, right?” guessed Ginny.

“Of course!” Hermione said, perhaps a bit too quickly.

Ron was staring at something in his lap while Ginny and Neville Longbottom listened to Hermione’s monologue. Harry grabbed himself a sandwich, looking curiously at his friend.

“What’s this about?” he asked.

The question earned him a funny look.

“Animation charms, of course,” Hermione said. “What we just sat through an entire lecture on.”

“I guess I wasn't paying a whole lot of attention,” Harry admitted.

“Really?” Neville said. “It looked like you were listening pretty closely.”

Realizing that it sounded like he was contradicting Harry, his social anxiety immediately acted up, making the boy blush and add, “I could be wrong, though!”

Harry shrugged to show he wasn’t offended. “It just didn’t really stick with me.”

“What’s wrong?” Ginny asked. “Do you have a lot on your mind?”

As she asked this, she scooted closer to him, and even lightly touched the back of his hand. Harry blinked. Had she always been so… forward?

“Nothing unusual,” he said. “Just a bit of homework that kept me up late.”

“We’ve only had one day of classes,” Ginny pointed out.

“Call it extra credit, then.” He quickly turned away from the redhead in favor of another one. Ron was being uncharacteristically quiet— and, even more uncharacteristically, was actively holding back from stuffing his face at a mealtime.

He looked dazed, to tell the truth. Harry craned his neck to get a look at what the redhead had in his lap. He found a sizable pile of gold .

As Harry whistled lowly, Ron looked up at him.

“Where’d you get that from?”

“Dad,” Ron said, as if he was struggling to believe it himself. “It came this morning by owl, with a letter and everything. He said he heard me arguing with mom about how I didn’t like my dress robes. So he told me to order new ones. And he sent all of this.”

Harry’s eyes scanned how many Galleons were piled up. “I think you could buy a whole new wardrobe with that much.”

“Right?” Ron said, looking back down at the gold in his lap. “Right?!”

And then he went back to silently staring at it, determined to discover what the catch was. Harry couldn’t help but smile slightly. It seemed the Weasleys were settling into their money.

Hermione quickly wrested back control of the conversation, gushing once more about the many great uses for animation charms. Ginny told her that Madame Pomfrey wouldn’t be so happy to see her when Hermione ended up losing half her hair to a badly animated hairbrush because she wanted to read in the morning. People laughed, and even Hermione cracked a smile, but only Harry knew that while Hermione definitely planned to charm her hairbrush, it was the handle-side she was interested in.

In his last life, Hermione had been one of the most skilled witches in the world when it came to these kinds of charms, skills that came from decades of repeated practice. When Hermione found out that magic could breathe life into the inanimate ‘toys' she collected, well, she never looked back after that. 

Harry had even seen it in effect, on occasion. It was almost emasculating, watching enchanted rubber work so fiercely.

Feeling a tad reckless at the memory, Harry drew his phoenix feather wand underneath the table. He cast a quick, silent animation charm, focusing on the food on Hermione’s plate.

She had a helping of roast beef with mashed potatoes and green beans for sides. In her excitement to rant about animation charms, she’d left the food almost untouched. Harry’s magic hit the plate, animating it very subtly.

Only Hermione noticed as one green bean gained a life of its own, inching like a caterpillar to reach the roast beef. When it got to the destination, it promptly began jamming one end between two slices, pushing in and back out over and over.

Hermione gasped quietly, but the others were too absorbed in their conversations (or, in Ron’s case, the money in his lap) to notice. Hermione couldn’t pull her eyes away. After the show went on for thirty seconds, bits of creamy mashed potato slid across the plate, scattering itself around the roast beef slices while the green bean went limp.

“You know, Hermione, I think you’re right,” Harry said. “The animation charm definitely has its uses.”

When she looked up at him, an excited little smile had made its way onto her face, which took visible effort for her to force down. Someone cleared their throat.

Harry turned to find Su Li standing behind him. She had her arms crossed. She seemed to be torn between trying to appear dignified, and rolling her eyes at what he’d been up to.”

“Can I borrow Harry?” she asked.

“What do you want with him?” Ginny asked, eyeing the stranger suspiciously.

“To thank him,” Su said. “And to catch up.”

Harry rose quickly. “I’ll catch you guys later.”

As he and Su walked away from the Gryffindor table, he heard Ginny asking, “Have those two always known each other?”

“Nice charms work,” Su said when they had left the Great Hall, walking without a destination through the school’s halls. “Magically nice, I mean. Difficult to pull off an animation charm that well… especially for something so stupid.”

“Thank you,” Harry said brightly.

Su shook her head, smiling. “You’re deplorable.”

“Only this time,” Harry said, refusing to elaborate.

They climbed the staircase, then another one, turning down an empty hallway. Su was smiling the whole way. Harry wondered if that was normal for her when she wasn’t dealing with family crises, or if this was just a good mood because of the night before.

“You said you wanted to thank me?” he prompted. “What did you have in mind?”

“Nothing,” Su said bluntly. “That’s my problem. You helped me so much. But what can I give to a guy that teleports to China for a stranger and out-duels a mythical beast? So I figured I would just ask. What do you want?”

“You know, I said this in the ministry, but in my books I’ve already been thanked,” Harry said. 

“Sex isn’t a thank you,” Su said stubbornly. “Not when it’s that good for me, too. I’m not about to scam the person who saved me.”

“Then…” Harry raked his brain. “Maybe keep this whole thing a secret? Especially the whole Nian bit, or the Apparating to China, or my knowing my way around the Department of Mysteries.”

But Su just looked at him like he was stupid.

“That was a given,” she said. “Besides, it’s not like anybody would believe me.”

When he didn’t speak, Su sighed. “There’s got to be something ,” she said.

Harry tried his hardest to come up with an answer. While he was still drawing blanks, someone called Su’s name.

They turned to find Susan Bones jogging up to him, waving her hand above her head. On the topic of gratitude, this was one sight that Harry was very thankful for. He tried not to watch her chest bounce but, well, some things were just too large not to notice.

“There you are,” Susan said, breathing a bit heavily. “I couldn’t find you this morning. Even your roommates said they hadn’t seen you.”

“Ah. Yeah. Imagine that,” Su said. 

Harry looked between them. “You know each other?”

It wasn’t like it was impossible, but it was somewhat rare to find close friends from different houses, and this certainly wasn’t a pairing he’d seen hanging out in the halls beforebefore.

“I tutor students in charms and Arithmancy,” Su admitted. “Susan is one of them. I help them study enough for their grades to improve a bit.”

“A bit?” Susan said. “Su, you’re a lifesaver! My grades from Professor Vector doubled after I found you! Your lessons are the best five sickles I ever spent.”

“I do my best,” Su muttered. “But, Susan, you shouldn’t need help yet. Arithmancy isn’t until tomorrow, and the first charms class can’t have been that hard.”

“It’s a bit different this time, actually,” Susan admitted. “It’s… I really need to raise my grade in a different class. You’re good at Defense, aren’t you Su? Aren’t you?”

Susan’s voice sounded more hopeful than expectant. Maybe even desperate. Su winced.

“That’s… my worst subject,” Su admitted.

Susan’s smile froze in place. “Oh.”

“What’re you having trouble with?” Harry asked.

Susan had noticed him before, but it was only now, as he asked her something directly, that she came to notice exactly who Su had been walking with. She blushed, remembering the compromising position she and Harry ended up in the last time that they met. It was a testament to just how worried she was about her classes that it took her that long.

“Hi, Harry,” she said shyly. “It’s nothing that important. I just felt like raising my grades a little… you know?”

Even without the nervous laugh she tacked on at the end, Harry could tell she was hiding something. 

So he said, “I’ll help.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—” Susan said quickly.

“But I don’t mind,” Harry said. “I owe you anyway after that carriage ride. I probably don’t have Su’s grades, but when it comes to Defense I’m one of the best in our year.”

“But I’m sure you’re busy—”

“Just let him help, Susan,” said Su, who was looking between Harry and the redhead. “It can’t hurt. And he’s offering.”

“Well… alright,” Susan said quietly.

Su met Harry’s eyes, giving him a look and a nod. Harry didn’t think his motives were as impure as she seemed to think they were. He thought they were just a little impure.

“When were you thinking about for these lessons?” Harry asked.

“Hufflepuff has a free period after lunch,” Susan said, “but I can’t ask you to miss classes—”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ve got it handled,” Harry said. “After lunch it is!”

Susan looked a bit taken aback. Su leaned over to him, whispering in his ear.

“Is that alright?” she asked. “After we missed charms this morning, you’re going to end up with double detention for skipping…”

“After you missed charms this morning,” Harry whispered back.

Su looked lost. “Neither of us were on castle grounds!”

“Ask Flitwick if you don’t believe me,” he said. Glancing at Susan, he flashed Su a final smile. “I’ll see you later— and I promise to think of some way you can pay me back.”

It wasn’t like he cared himself, but he knew some people hated to be indebted to others. If finding some favor or another would let Su relax about this whole thing, that was what he would do.

Without wasting any more time, he walked to where Susan was waiting for him.

“Lead on,” he said, gesturing with his hands. Blushing at the floor, Susan walked a bit ahead of him, moving deeper into the castle.

It seemed like she knew where she was going. Sure enough, Susan took him to a part of the castle less-used than most, stopping in front of a random door. When she opened it, an unused classroom was revealed, although it lacked the grime and clutter Harry was accustomed to from such rooms.

There were quite a few of these around Hogwarts, perhaps a sign that there used to be more students at some point in the past. Most lay under a thick layer of dust and had old desks and chairs stacked off to the sides. This one had been like that at some point, but work had clearly gone into what he saw now.

Liberal cleaning charms dealt with the dust. Chairs and desks had been unstacked, decorated with cushions, and pushed together to make larger surfaces, books and notes stacked on top of them. The room smelled of flowers, a scent that seemed to be coming from a charm, because a cauldron bubbled in the corner, and Harry hadn’t yet run into a potion that smelled like daisies.

“Well this is cozy,” Harry remarked.

“My roommates and I found this place,” Susan admitted. “It wasn’t being used by anyone, so we kind of moved in. We do our homework here a lot. When I started doing lessons with Su, it just made sense to use this place.”

Susan was still standing somewhat awkwardly. To set her at ease, Harry walked to some of the cushions set along the floor, dropping onto them.

“So!” he said. “What exactly are you having trouble with?”

“It’s not so much that I’m having trouble with anything yet,” Susan said. “But Alastor Moody is a famous Auror, and he’s teaching us now! I have to impress him. No matter what.”

“Do you want to be an Auror?” Harry asked.

“Not exactly.”

“Then why do you have to impress Moody?”

“I don’t want to be disappointing,” Susan muttered. A moment later, she straightened, brightening a bit. “I know! I made notes on the things I had the most questions about! They should be somewhere…”

She paced around the room, shifting papers on the desks and checking stacks on the floor. Harry watched her chest flatten against the surface of a table as she leaned over it, so big that it got in the way of such a simple task. She moved on moments later, bending down to check a different stack as her robes drew tight at the back.

Harry cleared his throat, standing up before he got too distracted.

“I’ll help you look,” he offered, heading for the far side of his room.

“What? No, that’s okay—!” Susan said quickly.

She tried to jump in front of him, but clumsily tripped over her ankles, falling forward. Harry caught her, and she steadied herself on the table Harry planned to search, rattling open a box that had been shut.

As the top slid off, Harry saw it was full of vials of pearly cream-colored liquid. There were at least eight of them, and while Harry was far from a potions expert, he was familiar enough with this one to recognize it on sight. He glanced over at the bubbling cauldron in the corner. Sure enough, the contents had the same consistency and color.

It almost looked like men’s semen, which was ironic, because this potion’s only purpose was to render that substance useless.

Susan was redder than her hair, but Harry smiled reassuringly.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t tell a soul. Consider my lips silenced.”

“I haven’t used them!” Susan cried out.

“But you plan to, right?”

“Well…”

Harry laughed. “Relax, Susan. It’s perfectly normal at this age. Although most girls just buy it, rather than brewing their own stock in an abandoned classroom.”

Susan groaned, straightening and patting down her robes. She still looked embarrassed, but that was an improvement over how mortified she first appeared.

“I’d love to be able to buy it,” she admitted. “Do you know how long this took to brew?”

“Then why don’t you?” Harry asked.

“I can’t,” she moaned. “My Aunt would kill me!”

That pulled Harry up short. “Amelia Bones?” he asked, unable to stop himself from picturing Tonks in that form, naked and orgasming on his cock.

“You know her?” Susan asked.

“I’ve heard of her. But I didn’t know that she was on a crusade against contraceptives.”

“It’s not just contraceptives!” Susan moaned. “You know what she told me the moment I turned ten? ‘You will not be bringing any boys into my house until you’re at least twenty-five!’ I won’t even be living with her by the time I’m twenty-five. And I was ten! What kind of things did she think I was getting up to?”

Harry patted her back, but Susan was on a roll now, and she showed no sign of stopping. 

“She's just too much! I haven’t even had my first kiss! I’ve only held hands with a boy one time, and it was Professor Lupin trying to calm me down after the Boggart lesson! Hannah and Megan convinced me to help brew our own stock… But what am I even supposed to do with it? Who would want to sleep with an ignorant girl like me?”

Harry opened his mouth, before slowly shutting it again. Somehow, he didn’t think this was the right time to tell her that almost every boy in their year had fantasized about her more than once. Susan looked on the verge of tears, so Harry moved from patting her back to rubbing circles into it.

Susan sniffed. “My Aunt expects so much out of me,” she muttered. “I think… Well, I’m the only family she has left, so I guess I got all of her expectations. I don’t want to let her down.”

“You aren’t,” Harry said firmly. “You’re trying so hard to get good grades for her. And this sort of stuff?” He gestured toward the contraceptive potions. “It’s just a way to relieve stress. Sometimes that’s as important as studying.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Susan laughed. “It’s not like it matters, anyway. I made them, but I don’t know any boys. It’s not like I’ll actually use them.”

The room went quiet. They both stood there, Susan smiling bitterly at the potions while Harry’s hand paused as it rubbed her back.

Finally, Harry cleared his throat.

Susan’s head twisted to look at him as if seeing him for the first time. She eyed him from head to toe, taking in Harry’s muscled frame and sharp jaw, her eyes finally settling on his face.

“You mean…?”

“I said I would help you study,” Harry said. “Whether you want to learn defense or how to make love, I’m hardly interested in backing out.”

“Oh,” Susan said quietly.

Then she tried to kiss him.

‘Tried’ being the key word, because despite earnestness and enthusiasm that no one could fault, Susan missed. 

At least, Harry was pretty sure that she did. That was the only explanation he could imagine for why her puckered lips were mashed against his jaw an inch and a half away from his mouth.

He had to give her credit, Susan was giving this her all. She didn’t even notice that her aim had been skewed. Her eyes were shut, and she continued pressing her lips against his chin until he eased her away.

She opened her eyes, a thrilled smile forming, only to freeze as she saw where her lipstick ended up. She looked back and forth between his mouth and the red mark at least five times, trying to find some proof that she hadn’t done what she just did.

“Here,” Harry said gently.

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her in. He squeezed her lower back, keeping it classy (for now) and kissed her firmly, taking the lead this time. 

Only slowly did he get their tongues involved, easing into it in a way that Susan could keep up with. The feeling of her breasts pressing his chest made his body demand that he speed up, but he refused, unwilling to rush Susan.

He slid one hand down her back onto her butt. Susan stiffened in his arms, then relaxed. Her tongue stroked his with even more enthusiasm. Harry’s other hand dropped to her backside, squeezing her through her robes, only making her lean into him more.

When their lips separated, Harry maintained his grip. Susan looked in danger of passing out.

“Wow,” she muttered.

Harry just smiled.

He lifted her, setting her down on the table, stepping forward so that she could wrap her legs around him. Susan was still sloppy, but she followed his lead with plenty of enthusiasm. Harry reached up, holding onto her breasts. Susan squeaked… but he felt her nod.

His fingers squeezed, making her body ooze between them. Susan moaned, breaking their kiss and burying her face into the crook of his neck. Harry continued molding her flesh, making sure not to get too excited and overwhelm her. The table shook beneath them as Susan trembled. Yet he suddenly felt her teeth, biting his neck to help her cope with the stimulation from his fingers.

Harry gradually increased the strength he squeezed her with. Yet as much force as he applied, there seemed to be no end to how deep he could sink. Wet slurping sounds echoed up to his ear as Susan got her lips involved in the hickies she was leaving on him. He slipped one arm behind her, summoning a full potion from the storage box.

As if she sensed something, Susan pulled away from his neck, looking up at him. Harry uncorked the potion and tilted it forward. In an effort not to allow any to spill, Susan wrapped her lips around the neck of the bottle. Harry didn’t think she even realized how suggestive it looked.

But the fact remained that Susan was looking up at him, maintaining eye contact from below, while she hollowed her cheeks and placed her lips around a cylindrical object. She swallowed every last drop of what Harry knew to be a bitter potion, her throat bulging repeatedly with each dutiful gulp. Harry’s underwear tightened to almost painful proportions.

Susan gasped as she finished the potion and found her mouth free once more. As soon as she had her breath, she peeked at Harry.

“Did I do good?” she asked.

Harry scooped her up on the spot, making Susan yelp. He carried her like a voluptuous princess, dropping her onto the comfortable cushions he first sat on. Her chest recoiled as she landed with a cute squeak. She looked up just in time to watch Harry shed his robe.

The outer layer came off first, followed by his shirt, which he pulled over his head. Susan blushed as she stared at his chiseled chest. When he dropped his pants, she actually covered her eyes.

The effect was ruined by the way she immediately peeked through her fingers to get a look at his manhood. She had a good view, considering the way Harry immediately dropped to his knees between her legs.

He peeled off her clothes one article at a time. Susan wiggled and shifted when needed. Her gorgeous features were almost shining, like they were designed to display this mix of nerves and excitement. When only her underwear was left, Harry bent forward to unclasp her bra.

The position had the side effects of leaving their faces inches apart while his stiff cock brushed Susan’s exposed stomach. She suddenly grabbed the back of his head, kissing him, and this time, she didn't miss.

Harry’s fingers unlatched her bra. When she released his head and broke the kiss, he pulled back, taking her bra with him. Susan tried to cover her breasts, but pitting five fingers against each of those was a bigger mismatch than Colin Creevey trying to duel Voldemort.

As he pulled down her panties, Susan pressed her thighs together, reflexively attempting to shield her slit behind auburn muff. Harry continued kneeling, watching and waiting, even though both felt like torture. He forced himself to stay inactive until he saw Susan relax. Slowly, she let go of her breasts, allowing large inverted nipples to come into view at the tip of each huge mound. At the same time, her legs unclenched, relaxing until her quim came into view.

Harry descended on her.

He didn’t try anything fancy. No elaborate positions, aggressive tricks, or fast starts. He pushed his cock against her, scowly inserting it while he put his weight forward, planting his hands on the cushion Susan was laying on. He remained above her, allowing her to wrap her arms around his head and her legs around his waist. Then he eased his way inside her.

Susan gasped. Her arms squeezed. She hurled her head back, trying to stifle the whimper she let out. 

Harry bent down, kissing her again.

“When you’re ready,” he promised after releasing her lips.

She nodded timidly.

Susan shut her eyes. Her breathing was still heavy, but it gradually leveled out. Her arms and legs relaxed, returning to their original looser grip, rather than how hard they clenched as pain shot through her body. Finally, Susan met his eyes. Harry knew it was time.

His hips started to rise and fall, making the cushion beneath them puff out at the sides. Susan’s voice started again, but now it wasn’t tinged with pain, only filled with pleasure. She hadn’t broken eye contact. Her features twisted, giving Harry a soulful look while he plunged through her.

It wasn’t just her breasts— her whole body was soft, from the thighs pressing into Harry’s sides to the forearms resting on the back of his neck. She was more like a cushion than the one she was laying on. But of course, as nice as the rest of her was, her chest was still the best part.

Even though Harry was sticking to a mellow pace, her breasts bounced in circles from the rocking of their bodies. They shook and swelled under even the slightest of movements. Harry couldn’t hold back. He dropped his head, biting to his heart’s content while he thrusted into her. 

Instead of pushing him away, Susan groaned and pulled him tighter, choking him in her warm and squishy embrace. Harry marked her body dozens of times over. He was sure her breasts would bruise after this… just like his neck would. That was fine by him. Neither of them wanted to forget this in a hurry.

As lovely as a death by titties would’ve been, Harry was eventually forced to yank his head up for air. Susan’s expression had changed. It almost looked like she was in pain again.

“Cumming!” she gasped out.

Her first orgasm with a man encompassed her entire body. Her toes curled while her diaphragm shook. Harry felt the warm pressure of her fluids engulfing his member, watching the way her pockmarked breasts jiggled as she spasmed. When he continued fucking after this, Susan’s voice erupted from her throat, twice as loud as before.

“You’re so much better than my fingers!” Susan cried. “Even my toys can’t compare! Take me, Harry! Oh make me yours!”

Really, there was no reason to ask him for the obvious. 

Susan’s legs tightened around him, holding him as close as possible while his hips rose and fell. Harry could feel this was her first time just from the way she was squeezing him. She was so wet, so warm, so inviting .

He grunted as he forced himself to hold back, extending their coetus by more than ten minutes as he focused completely on making his body rise and fall, tuning out the rest. He held out well… until Susan jolted up.

She pulled herself forward, stuffing her breasts in his face. Harry sucked them reflexively, too surprised but Susan’s first proactive move to react. So much warm flesh in his face proved the final straw. He came, Susan’s legs pinning him deep inside her, putting the contraceptive potion to good use as her insides flooded.

Even after he came, Susan refused to let go. She dropped back on the cushion, pulling him with her, cradling his head against her bust like it was a pillow. Neither of them spoke.

“Are you available next Tuesday?” Susan finally asked, her voice hoarse.

His head still flat against her breasts, Harry said, “I can think of at least two reasons to make sure my schedule’s cleared.”

Long after they had risen and Harry helped Susan clean up, he was thinking about their next appointment. It wasn’t just daydreams about what kind of sex would be involved, either, but about what an appointment like this could represent. By the time he left the Hufflepuff hangout room, he’d made his mind up.

O-O-O

“Su!” Harry called out.

The petite Ravenclaw stopped in the hallway, looking back at him.

“Harry,” she greeted warmly. “How was the lesson with Susan?”

“Excellent,” he said. “Hey, listen. I think I know how you can repay your favor.”

Su perked up immediately, waiting with rapt attention.

“I’m thinking about getting into tutoring. Like you do, but with a slightly different subject. Maybe you can help me get set up…”

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Chapter Text

Chapter 15

Certification

“No,” said Su.

She and Harry were in the library, sitting either side of one of the many tables provided for studying. Only a few overeager Ravenclaws were there this early in the year, providing the two plenty of space for Harry to explain his brilliant new idea.

“I thought you wanted to pay me back,” Harry said.

“I did. I do . But Harry, I want you to say that again, slowly this time, and see if it makes any sense even to you.”

“I want to start tutoring…”

“Uh huh.”

“...helping my fellow students with confusing topics they may not understand…”

“Right.”

“...like sex.”

Su’s head thudded into the table. The librarian, Madam Pince, looked over angrily, before spotting Ravenclaw robes and deciding to let it drop.

“And how are you planning to help them with that?” Su asked, her voice muffled by the firm wood beneath her face. 

“By sleeping with them of course!”

“Of course,” Su mumbled.

“Repeatedly,” Harry added. “Over and over. With youthful frequency. Can’t expect to improve if you don’t keep practicing, after all.”

Su lifted her head, strands of hair falling across it at odd ankles from her forehead’s downward slam.

“Do you honestly think the professors are going to sign off on this?”

Harry blinked. “Do they have to?”

“If you don’t want to get shut down with an extra helping of detention to go with it, then yes. All tutors have to be cleared by the professor of the subjects they want to teach. It would be a nightmare otherwise, if students started running around sharing bad information and undoing months of lectures behind their backs.”

“The more you know. So if I get a professor to sign off on it, I’m good to go?”

“Yes. Technically. But before you even go to a professor, you need at least three students interested in hiring you. If you can get those—”

“Be right back.”

Harry abdicated his seat so fast, the chair was left rattling back and forth between two of its legs. Su stared after him as his back sped away and disappeared out the door. Then she sighed, collecting a book from her bag and cracking it open, joining her fellow Ravenclaws around the room in getting a little bit of early-term studying in. 

She almost finished a single chapter before a voice said, “I’m back.”

Su jumped, not having expected anyone to bother her for at least an hour. Yet fifteen minutes after fleeing the room, Harry was standing in front of her, a girl on either side of him.

Harry looked proud, patting the backs of Susan Bones and Lavender brown. Su couldn’t help but stare at the girls.

“You both want him to tutor you?” she asked.

They nodded.

“No, I mean— you know what he’s talking about tutoring you in, don’t you?”

“Making love,” Susan said at the same time that Lavender said, “Pounding our pussies.”

They promptly stopped to give each other slightly odd looks, but Harry just beamed. 

“So,” he asked Su, “how do I go about getting a professor’s permission.”

“Just set up a meeting with one. But Harry, I said you needed three students for that.”

“I have three,” he said.

Su frowned. Her eyes slid off of him, glancing first at Lavender, then at Susan. As the best Arithmancy student at the school, she was pretty sure she could count… to… three…

Slowly, her eyes slid directly down, looking at herself. Harry waggled his eyebrows.

“Fine,” Su sighed.

O-O-O

“Thanks for agreeing to this, Professor,” Harry said. “It means a lot. Obviously, Hogwarts doesn't actually have a position for what I’m trying to teach… Not even for Sex Ed, which is awfully shortsighted if you ask me… But it put me in a bit of a bind, so I’m really grateful to you for helping us out.”

Professor Sinistra watched them perfectly silently. After a long moment, she gave a stoic nod.

The dark-skinned witch was the beauty of the Hogwarts faculty, as attractive as she was strict in class. At the moment, Harry stood with the three girls arrayed behind him in Sinistra’s private quarters, which turned out to be a room most of the way up the Astronomy Tower. The woman was certainly passionate about her subject. Other than her bed and the wooden chair she currently sat in, observing them, the room was cluttered with telescopes and nearly nothing else. 

“So, should we just get started, or…” Harry said.

Sinistra raised one eyebrow. Overcome by a bit of awe at the sheer suaveness of her character, Harry nodded, jumping into the demonstration. 

The first step? Shedding his robes in one quick move, leaving himself stark naked.

Four sets of eyes was a lot to have on his naked body, but Harry had nothing to feel ashamed of, so he sucked in a breath and let them look. It was nothing new to (three of) them, after all.

His body was muscular without being bulky like a Beater’s, with most of the definition focused around his core and the best parts of his arms. His cock was mostly flaccid, but that was about to change. With varying degrees of eagerness, the three girls he brought with him moved around to his front and kneeled down.

They pulled off their tops, revealing they hadn’t worn bras underneath at all. Just like Harry, they saw it as a waste of time; all of them knew what they were here to do. Susan ended up on the left, Su in the middle, and Lavender on the right.

With their shirts out of the way, Su couldn’t help but look left and right.

“I resent the composition of this line-up,” she said, crossing her arms under her perky breasts.

Lavender grabbed the back of her head, pushing her forward into Harry’s crotch. Su grunted, but recovered quickly. Harry had been growing hard at the sight of three topless beauties, but as Su began using her mouth on his hardening length, the speed of the process increased exponentially. He groaned, his head tilting up, as a succession of licks and kisses brought him straight to full-mast.

As soon as he was hard Susan jumped forward, replacing Su. The redhead had been a complete novice very recently, and it showed as she dove into an awfully clumsy blowjob. Harry tried not to wince as her teeth grazed him, focusing instead on the sensation of her enormous tits pressing into his thighs.

“As you can see, they still have some things to learn,” he said to Sinistra, holding eye-contact with the stoic professor over the tops of the girls’ heads. “But it’s not their skills we’re trying to display. It’s mine.”

He paused, allowing Susan a few more moments of her excitable slurping, before gesturing for Lavender to take over. His housemate did so in an instant, deepthroating him immediately with even more enthusiasm than she had on the Hogwarts Express. It seemed that someone had a performance kink. 

Susan pouted, crossing her arms as she watched Lavender outdo her, but Harry patted her head.

“Don’t worry,” he said, a very slight tremor to his voice as Lavender sucked him more fiercely than a Dementor. “After we pass, I’ll have you going at it like this in no time.”

Susan brightened. “You mean it?”

“This is so weird,” Su muttered.

But as Lavender pulled her puckered lips off Harry’s head and caught her breath, Su wasted no time in jumping in, shoving him down her own throat. Harry grunted, moving his feet slightly to keep his balance.

“As you can see, Professor, Lavender here is capable of an absolutely exemplary blowjob with that dirty little mouth of hers—”

Lavender giggled, shielding her smeared lipstick with a hand. “You’re making me blush, Harry!”

“—yet here I still stand, refusing to give in. You have my heartfelt promise, I will not cut short a single lesson with any student because of performance issues. When it comes to stamina, I’ve got as much in the bedroom as on the Quidditch Pitch.”

He rounded off his speech with a charming smile that bared half his teeth. Professor Sinistra continued to watch in silence, while Su actually pulled her head off his cock to glower at him.

“That was so corny.”

Harry grabbed the back of her head with both hands, plunging her down his shaft as if trying to administer another batch of Amortentia antidote.

“Of course, stamina cannot be all that I offer,” Harry said. “Otherwise, I’d be more of a dildo than an educator! As you can see, I am more than capable of taking command when the need arises. But it’s not just that— I can tell after just one sexual encounter what the best approach to take with a student will be.”

He looked down toward where a succession of guttural coughs were echoing out of Su’s throat. Her hair flew as her head was jerked smoothly through the motions. Her lipstick had already become a casualty of the blowjob, smeared lengthwise along the veins of his member. 

“Though this looks extreme, I promise you, it’s the correct approach,” he said, looking back up at Sinistra. “Girls?”

Lavender and Susan crawled over, sliding Su’s robes the rest of the way off her petite body. Su had gone up on her knees to accommodate the rough work her head was being put through, and now, Susan and Lavender reached around, exposing her entrance to the room with prying fingers.

Lavender gasped. “He’s right! She’s sopping!”

“Super, super wet,” Susan agreed timidly, glancing at Su’s bulging eyes. 

“My kink-guessing abilities currently have a one-hundred-percent success rate,” Harry said proudly. “When it comes to customer satisfaction, no one else offers what I can.”

He mashed Su’s face flat against him while giving his hips a small side-to-side wiggle, rubbing his cock through her gullet. A shiver hit her body, starting around the neck and traveling down to her toes. Moaning into his body, she sprayed a short but fierce orgasm on the floor. Harry released her, and she slid back, pulling off of him and sitting there on her knees looking dazed.

Harry winced briefly, before forcing it into a smile.

“Of course, even the most talented of tutors have their limits,” he said. “Sometimes, recognizing the valiant efforts of pupils and offering proper praise is the most important part.”

The excuse had just barely left his lips when strings of cum fired out of his cock, which had been pushed too far. He turned as he came, making sure to share the load evenly between the three girls. Susan and Lavender both pushed up their breasts, collecting the gift on their cleavages. Lavender immediately started licking up every drop, and after seeing what she was doing, Susan copied her, although it took her twice along and she ended up smearing half the cum across her puffy cheeks. Su simply sat there, catching her breath, and allowed the warm drops to land directly over her face.

“As important as delaying an orgasm is, that’s only one part of stamina,” Harry said sagely, addressing Sinistra once more. “As you can see, despite having just offered my students more than adequate praise, I am still completely hard.”

He gave his cock a short smack, letting it bob and bounce around wildly, demonstrating its stiffness. Susan, Lavender, and even Su tracked it with their eyes through every bounce and bob.

“What do you think, Professor?” Harry asked. “Have I convinced you yet?”

There was no answer. Sinistra had not moved in minutes. Harry stared into her dark brown eyes and felt pinned there by their intensity, as if he were some distant star trapped at the opposite end of her telescope. He wasn’t ashamed to admit this— his heartbeat actually sped up. He wondered, for the very first time, if maybe Sinistra had been a pick too familiar with sex, because even his best efforts hadn’t even been enough to make her flinch—

As doubt crept in, someone grabbed his hand. Susan pulled him onto the floor, where he landed with a brief grunt. She climbed on top, swinging her wide hip across him. 

“Sit still Baby,” she said, looking at him from under half-lidded eyes. “Let me show her the work you’ve already done.”

Harry’s eyes widened as Susan dropped down, enveloping his hard length in her tight, moist, and extremely wet insides. Her sensations snapped him out of his fear-induced reverie just in time to twist, addressing Sinistra from the floor.

“Off the books, purely recreationally, I’ve done a bit of work with Ms. Bones,” he said hurriedly. “Just recently, she had never done anything of this sort, yet as you can see, now , Ms. Bones is—”

Susan twisted him around, burying his face between her breasts.

“Don’t call me Ms. Bones,” Susan said huskily. “That’s my no-fun, never-ending dry-spell Aunt. I’m not like that! I’ve got your thick cock to see to all my needs.”

She was getting remarkably good at bouncing her hips remarkably quickly. Or maybe Harry was just too deep in her breasts to think clearly, so anything felt like perfect form. He allowed himself to shut his eyes, remaining buried in her breasts, but his hands reached around, latching onto her hips. 

Susan wasn’t nearly as small as Su, but she was still light enough for him to lift. She yelped as she felt his hands take the brunt of her weight, only to drop her back down right after. Carefully, Harry pushed her toward even better movements, teaching her in real time the best ways to milk his cock.

Although maybe that wasn’t all what he was showing her was good for, because it was Susan who hit her limit first. She moaned loudly, hugging his head into her bust, holding him there so tightly that air escaped him, somewhat similar to what he had done to Su moments before. But Susan trembled inside, her fleshy walls tightening around his cock. The next time she rose up and dropped down, as their skin collided with a loud crack, she hurled her head back and warbled out her loudest cry yet, cumming hard across his cock.

Her arms weakened from around his head, and her weight pitched back as she slid off of him. But When Harry slid out from under her, his glistening length was just as hard as it’d been when she climbed on.

“Even while under pressure, I can still educate!” Harry said. “Ms. Bones… Susan, I mean, might have taken the initiative, but I still ensured that she found a way to improve through the experience. Look at this face. Do you see any regrets?”

Sinistra’s eyes slid off of him, taking in Susan where she lay sideways, giggling to herself with mostly-closed eyes. Her huge breasts were pooled against the floor, while she was leaking her tangible ‘lack of regrets’ across Sinistra’s floor.

Eager to continue the demonstration, Harry turned to Lavender. The blond grinned at him, attempting to appear nonchalant… but the way her thighs were glued together belied her true excitement.

She gave him an enticing smirk, then sat still waiting for him. Harry pounced on her.

Lavender giggled while his weight came down on top of her. Even as his hands still kneaded the blond into position, Harry was looking back up at Sinistra.

“While teaching under adversity is important, the true measure of any educator is how they can instill lessons in ideal conditions,” he said. “If you have any doubts about my ability to perform while in control… Let me alleviate them for you.”

With a firm hold on Lavender’s ankles, he pinned them against the floor on either side of her body. The position made her breasts pop out to nearly the same proportions Susan’s sat at naturally. Lavender gasped as she felt her body flex, then gasped a second time as Harry’s length was promptly inserted in her.

“Oh, please Harry!” Lavender wailed. “I need this!”

“Do you mean my dick, Ms. Brown?” he asked.

“Yes—! I mean, no. I need your instruction. It’s been so long since I stopped improving!”

Her voice bounced in pitch as his firm thrusts shook her whole body, her chest jiggling like jello. 

“And what seems to be the problem?” Harry asked.

“No matter how much I practice, I don’t get any better!” Lavender wailed. “I just can’t improve in bed!”

“Ms. Brown, that’s because you aren’t getting the right sort of practice,” he said. “You need men that can show you new tricks. Men like me .”

He let go of one of her legs, allowing it to spring up and return to its natural position below her waist. At the same time, he turned her slightly to the side, pressing the leg he was still holding against her head. Lavender let out an unearthly scream of pleasure.

“I’ve never been hit in these spots!” she screamed.

Harry nodded, gradually pressing her leg even deeper into the extreme position, bending her body in ways it never had before.

“Flexibility opens up a world of new possibilities,” he coached. “With my help, we’ll have you bending and twisting like a whole new woman. Not only will you be able to wow any man, the experience will be like night-and-day for you.”

Lavender failed to answer coherently, continuing to wail as she contorted deeply, Harry plunging into her from angles she had never experienced. In short order she had cum as hard as the fresh-faced Susan. As Harry pried himself off of her, her leg bobbed up part way, but remained at a strange angle, a sign of the progress she was already making. 

“Not only do my lessons help beginners, they can even teach something new to the most experienced of students,” he said proudly. “If Lavender Brown can learn something new from me… Who can’t?”

“It sounds kind of mean when you put it that way,” Su said.

The only one of the girls still fully conscious, she had greatly recovered from her blowjob, though she still had his cum messily dotting her face. That wasn’t because she’d forgotten about it, though. She was just kinky that way.

“It only sounds mean because you’re judging,” Harry said. “I don’t judge. That’s what’s great about me.”

Su rolled her eyes, standing and joining him. “Are you sure it isn’t your overwhelming modesty and self-admitted good looks?”

Harry grabbed her around the wrist, pulling her closer. Su squeaked and stumbled over, where Harry promptly grabbed her by both arms, holding her there.

“I don’t think my ability to teach is in any more doubt,” he said to Sinistra. “In my mind, that leaves only one question left. Can I handle disciplinary issues?”

He let go of Su’s hands to grab her hips, tossing her into the air, where he promptly caught her. Looping his hands under her knees, he folded her into a position similar to the one Lavender first occupied on the floor, except Su’s petite body was being held up completely within his arms. Before she could complain or say a single thing, he’d plowed his cock into her from below.

“The best punishment is one that relates to the lesson,” Harry said. “I find that bratty attitudes are most easy to deal with in the bedroom. All they require is a firm hand… or two.”

His elbows hooked inside of Su’s knees, freeing his hands to squeeze her breasts in a vice grip. He walked forward, still plunging up into Su, her voice warbling from deep in her chest, until they were directly in front of Professor Sinistra.

“Tell me Professor,” he said, holding Su’s face directly in front of the instructor’s. “Do you think she’ll be tempted to cause trouble for the rest of the lesson?”

He could only see a faint approximation of Su’s expression reflected in Sinistra’s dark eyes— her mouth hanging open, her tongue lolling halfway out, while her hair flew around her face, propelled by the powerful thrusts jerking her body. 

Professor Sinistra just stared as Su’s voice rose in both pitch and volume, filling the room even louder than the brutal collisions of their bodies. Harry fucked her with just as much force as he had while fending off the Nian; like their lives were on the line, in other words. He knew for a fact she could take it.

After three back-to-back performances, Harry hit his limit when Su did. They orgasmed together, Su’s walls crushing against him while he filled her crotch with a load just as large as what the girls shared at the start. Harry groaned loudly, Su screamed, and both of them landed on the floor as Harry’s legs gave out.

Breathing heavily, Harry couldn’t keep a smile off his face as he looked up. “Well, Professor? Have I proven myself?”

But Sinistra was entirely stiff in her seat, staring forward over their heads, still looking at the spot they had been when standing.

“...Professor?”

The dark-skinned witch suddenly slid off her seat sideways, landing on the floor with a slightly ugly thud, out cold.

Harry stared uncomprehendingly, his smile frozen in place. 

“She… fainted?”

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Chapter Text

Chapter 15

As Cold as Space

Age eighteen, Aurora Sinistra stood in a noisy room with a cup of Firewhisky in her hand. She’d taken one sip and recoiled from the taste, but kept the glass raised for all around her to see, trying to prove that she belonged there. 

Someone nearby squealed, grabbing her shoulder to slow themselves down from a full sprint.

“Aurora!” cried Becca Brocklehurst, her best friend in her year. “Aurora, he’s coming over!”

“Who is?” asked Sinistra. 

Becca gasped. “What do you mean, who? Argus McLaggen! The Argus McLaggen!”

Her warning out, Becca promptly pulled her wand from her pocket and began clumsily reapplying cosmetic charms. Sinistra felt frozen. Sure enough, across the room, a broad-shouldered boy with dark hair was ambling their way, chatting to nearly everyone he passed.

His red-and-gold Gryffindor robes were filled out well by his muscular form. For the first time since Sinistra took a sip of the wretched drink in her hand, she felt herself begin to salivate.

Sinistra whipped toward Becca. “What do I do? What do we do? I think he wants to talk to us. He wants to talk to us, Becca!”

“I know, Aurora,” said Becca, her words slurred as her mouth was open, layering on a new layer of lipstick. She shut her mouth and smacked her lips together, offering Sinistra her full attention. “Listen. We’re adults now! That means he’ll take us seriously, and he might even…”

Both of them looked at each other, old enough to drink but not yet old enough to boldly finish that sentence.

“I’m panicking,” Sinistra confided.

“Don’t do that. Anything but that. Listen, Aurora, what’s your favorite thing?”

“Space,” Sinistra said instantly.

“Well, just think about that,” Becca said. “This is nothing new for you. No reason to freak out. Think about space and just… play it cool.”

Becca twisted as someone said, “Hey there ladies. I couldn’t help but notice the two of you looking lonely all the way over here… can’t be having that.”

McLaggen waggled his eyebrows at them — and what eyebrows they were, Sinistra thought privately — while Becca offered him a suitably girly giggle. Sinistra’s heart hammered. She tried to remember Becca’s advice, but unless she was imagining things, it was her McLaggen was looking at…

As her heart’s hammering hit unbearable levels, Sinistra forced herself to take a deep breath. For three seconds (the longest amount of time she thought she could reasonably get away with) she shut her eyes.

In the darkness, she pictured her favorite thing in the world: space. There wasn’t a ton of difference between the inside of eyelids and the sights beyond her telescope; all it took was a moment of imagination for her to picture the stars she loved so much glittering against this dark background. 

She recalled the vast arrays of lights she looked at late each night, every individual moon and nebula. More than that, she focused on the gaps between each of them, how immeasurably distant they all were, distances filled by a vacuum that would freeze you faster than any cooling charm ever could.

Space was frigid. She loved space. And in that instant, she found it effortless to bring all that frigidity straight into her own manner. Play it cool, Becca had said? She would be the coolest .

“Hello McLaggen,” Sinistra said, looking him right in the eyes. 

It was so effective that McLaggen was the one to flinch, actively taking a step back. “Sinistra,” he said, his unflappable voice stuttering. “Enjoying the party?”

“It’s excellent,” Sinistra said. 

She tilted her glass back, drinking half her Firewhisky without flinching, despite the awful taste and the burning in her chest. How was that for cool?

McLaggen was certainly staring at her now. He looked as nervous as she had felt. Thrilled with the stellar results, Sinistra focused everything she had on keeping the act going. 

Play it cool , became a mantra inside of her head. It was all she focused on, until her expression was flawless and her nerves a thing of the past. She focused so hard on it, in fact, that somewhere along the way she stopped even paying attention to the other people around her. Play it cool .

Some time later (and Sinistra could not even begin to guess at how much), when she finally dipped back into the moment and looked around her, she found that she was alone, standing at the fringes of the party with nothing but her partially-empty glass for company.

“Where did everybody go?”

O-O-O

As years passed by one after another, Sinistra began seriously wondering if Becca had cursed her back then. 

Hardly anyone called her Aurora these days. It had become Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy Department’s newest higher. She was back at Hogwarts, still in her early twenties, barely older than the plentiful male population.

And she still didn’t have a single kiss to show for it.

Not one. Not in her whole life. She didn’t think she was that hideous, but every time a man got close, they inevitably fled. It was like clockwork. Sinistra even had a Slytherin girl approach her in the hall to tell her that her icy demeanor had been an inspiration, and that this girl was going to use it to craft her daughter into the perfect Ice Princess of Slytherin house.

What the fuck even was an ‘Ice Princess?’

Well, Sinistra had had it. She was sick to death and back with this whole reputation of hers, and she was going to break it, one way or another. Relations with students were heavily frowned on, of course, but if she had to lose her job to lose her virginity, she’d accept that trade-off.
Because she had the perfect target. Oh, if he didn’t make his loins throb just sitting there! His friends were on either side of him, the pallid but studious one and the long-haired with a wild sort of good looks. Oh, and the fat one was there too.

The four of them all wore Gryffindor robes, identical to the ones Argus McLaggen wore on that fateful night. But only the boy Sinistra had her eyes on truly resembled McLaggen.

There were differences, of course. James Potter wore glasses. His grin was more mischievous, rather than just charming. But the important bits were the same… including a reputation for wowing the robes off of any attractive witch he came into contact with.

“She’s looking over here,” Sirius muttered. “I’m telling you!” 

He seemed to think he was being covert, but the Astronomy classroom was nearly silent, even during classes. Sinistra looked away, realizing she’d been caught staring. But she continued to listen.

“Are you sure you’re not imagining things?” James asked.

“She was definitely looking. Do you think she saw us charm Mulciber’s—”

“If she didn’t, she’ll know after you finish that sentence,” said Lupin.

James Potter had gone silent, though. When he spoke again, his voice sounded contemplative.

“Don’t you think Professor Sinistra is a bit…”

He trailed off with a slightly lecherous gesture that Sinistra caught in her peripheral vision. In a flash she had turned toward them.

She was just looking, trying to see if it was really lust in his eyes, but the moment she did they all clammed up and scrambled apart, jamming telescopes to their eyes.

She had done it again. Sinistra nearly groaned, feeling lightheaded. How could she…

No, this was nothing new. And this time, she refused to give up so easily.

An hour later, as the class filed out the door, Sinistra said, “Mr. Potter! Please stay behind.”

Remus gave him an I-told-you-so look while Sirius offered a commiserating pat to the back. James walked back into the room, standing with his arms at his sides while the class left. He was so used to getting into trouble, even his stance for these sorts of talks was flawless.

“What is it professor?” he asked innocently.

Sinistra’s heart was beating again, just like it always did when she tried to talk to boys. She cleared her throat. For the last fifteen minutes she had planned out this entire interaction: she would ask if he needed help with his homework. He would say yes (she had seen his homework, she knew he did). Then, while she caringly took him under her wing, the distance between them would shrink, and eventually…

“Did I do something wrong?”

Sinistra jumped at the question, realizing James looked ready to bolt. She had fallen back on old habits as she fantasized, her face losing all expression. She forced herself to smile as she cleared her throat.

“If you would like some help with how to properly chart planet paths, or any other help with assignments for my class, I would be happy to explain it to you again anytime after class,” said Sinistra.

“I’m alright professor.”

Sinistra froze with her mouth open. The next fourteen steps of her plan came crashing down inside her head.

“Did you need anything else?” James asked.

He was starting to inch toward the door. At the thought of yet another man running from her, Sinistra cried out, “Do you like Saturn?”

James frowned. “Not particularly.”

She was babbling, looking for anything she could say to make him stay. Saturn wasn’t good enough. He was still trying to leave.

“Let’s study Uranus together!” Sinistra said.

She breathed hard after she shouted it. James looked at her. And in his gaze, Sinistra saw something that nearly broke her.

He couldn’t even consider the fact that she was making a pun. In his view of her, she was all business. Her best attempts at flirting only made her look like more of an all-business nerd.

“Maybe another time,” he said, fleeing from the room and his kooky Astronomy teacher.

Sinistra fell to her knees as soon as she was left alone. For the first time in her life, she began to genuinely consider that she was really going to stay this way for the rest of life.

Not even the planets could cheer her up that night.

O-O-O

“Hey, I think she’s waking up!”

“Well don’t jostle her. Let it happen naturally.”

“Who’s jostling? I’m not jostling. I’m trying to make sure she’s comfortable.”

“Let’s focus on making sure she’s awake, first.”

“No reason we can’t multitask,” said a dark haired boy kneeling above her as Sinistra opened her eyes.

“James?” she said faintly.

Then her vision cleared, and she saw another girl’s eyes on the face that looked so much like her old crush. Harry Potter cocked his head. “You knew my dad?”

“Forget about that.” Someone pushed his shoulder, and suddenly Su Li was leaning over her. “Are you feeling alright, Professor?”

Sinistra blinked, doing her best to recall what she had been doing. Then it all rushed back to her, one vulgar position at a time.

She groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead, feeling lightheaded again for a moment.

“I think it’s your face,” Harry told Su. 

“Oh shut up.”

“It’s true! When she looked at you she fainted, and it almost just happened a second time! That’s a correlation.”

“The sample size isn’t large enough to be relevant!”

“Calm down,” said another female voice. “There’s no reason to shout.”

Someone picked up Sinistra’s head. The students had carried her and laid her across her bed, before all crowding around and joining her on it. Sinistra felt her head being laid back against a pair of soft, voluminous thighs.

“Just relax,” Susan instructed her. “Get as comfortable as you want.”

“But what caused this?” Lavender asked.

“From the symptoms she showed… I would have to say shock,” said Su.

“Shock over what?” Susan asked.

“Gee, I don’t know. Maybe the orgy we shoved in front of her?”

All four students looked down at Sinistra, who had gone very still.

“I don’t buy it,” Lavender said, looking back up. “There’s no way the Sinistra hasn’t been around the block with this kind of thing.”

The professor audibly sobbed, making the students jump. She covered her face out of shame, but she knew all of them were watching her.

“It’s trueeeee,” she moaned beneath her hands. “Oh it’s tru-ue-ue-ue… I’ve never even kissed a man! I wanted to! I tried so hard! But I just… I just…”

She continued to cry while Susan laid a comforting hand on her elbow. It did make her feel better, but the thought of being consoled by a student half her age didn’t let that relief last long.

“Great,” Su said. “Well done, Harry. You’ve traumatized a professor.”

“I thought she would be used to this kind of stuff!” he said.

Su frowned. “I almost don’t want to ask, but… Why did you think that?”

“Well, look at her. Who wouldn’t want to sleep with her?”

That one sentence punctured Sinistra’s crying like a bludgeoning curse. She froze, listening, as Harry continued talking.

“Who on the staff do you think would’ve seen more action? I thought maybe Vector… With an outside shout for Babbling… but Sinistra was teh clear pick.”

“You weren’t even looking for an expert, were you,” Su said. “You just wanted a hot woman.”

“Most man do. That’s why I assumed they’d be the experts.”

“Don’t bite his head off too hard, Su,” said Lavender. “It was an honest mistake. And it’s not like anybody got hurt.”

“Sinistra passed out!”

“Sure,” said Lavender. “But she had a great time before that.”

Everyone paused to look at the blond, including Sinistra, who lowered her hands to do it.

“Did none of you notice?” Lavender asked. “I mean, I can smell her arousal from here!”

“What are you, a bloodhound?” Su muttered.

“When it comes to matters of love,” Lavender said with a straight face. “I’m right, aren’t I Professor? You’re still wet even now. I’ll bet you wanted nothing more than for Harry to leave us behind and pounce on you…”

“As if!” Sinistra said. “After all, it’s not like he’d want any part of an old woman like me…”
The students looked up, making eye-contact above her while she squirmed uncomfortably. Sinistra should’ve been glaring at them by now, colder than ever, but somehow she was finding it easier than ever to be honest about her emotions, as if her whole system reset when she passed out and hit the floor.

“The whole point of this was to prove to her that I know what I’m doing,” Harry said slowly. “But if she’s never had sex, how is she supposed to understand from watching?”

Sinistra sighed, waiting for them to say they would go and find a different professor, one who could handle adult things… unlike her .

“She’ll have to experience it herself in order to figure it out,” Harry said.

“Pardon?” Sinistra said.

Suddenly, she was being rolled out of her robes. All three of the girls, including Su, stripped her quickly, working in perfect tandem. Sinistra shielded her body as layers were stripped away, but privately she was glad. If they were taking the first steps, maybe this could really happen.

But no, there was no way. She had gotten high hopes before. There was simply no chance that Harry could look at a forty-year-old and…

A shadow crossed Sinistra’s face, thick and oblong. She went slightly cross-eyed in order to look up at it, staring at the veiny and twitching penis hovering above her.

“I know this is moving fast, but I can’t help it,” Harry said. “You’re just too hot.”

“Me?” asked Sinistra.

In her surprise she lowered her guard, allowing the girls an opening to pry off her underwear. Sinistra’s eyes widened as her dark body ended up fully visible, from her stiff nipples to her completely shaven crotch. Her hips weren't quite as narrow as they’d been a few decades ago, and her stomach wasn’t as smooth, but Harry hardly seemed to care. With a ravenous grunt, he rolled her over onto her stomach.

Sinistra felt his hands sink into her lush backside, his strong young fingers grabbing good chunks of her flesh. Something pressed against her entrance from behind, much warmer than any of her toys.

He filled her in an instant with one smooth thrust. Sinistra’s eyes bulged. Her voice emerged from her throat— a short squeak that couldn’t have been more different from the chilly monotone she’d been stuck using for so long.

Of course, with the pleasure came pain. She was far from uneducated about this. She knew from the start that it would hurt, but only for a little bit. Though, if she were being honest, she hadn’t pictured the pain being this sharp.

“I know it hurts.” Susan leaned forward, staring at Sinistra’s prone form with wide, empathetic eyes. “It passes. I’ll help you through it.”

The redhead laced her fingers into Sinistra’s, gently holding the professor and massaging the back of her palms. The touch was utterly sweet, and as Sinistra focused on the warmth, she found that Susan was really helping. With each stuttery breath, she hurt slightly less.

Soon, Susan looked up and nodded. Harry, who had left himself inserted in the professor but remained inert, finally started for real.

Sinistra cried out as his hips clapped firmly against her ass, time and again. That had always been her best feature. Sinistra felt her flesh ripple, though the sensation paled in comparison to what she was feeling inside of her. As Harry’s youthful muscles brought him repeatedly against her body, Sinistra groaned and grunted. She felt like she was on fire between the legs, but without any pain, only burning pleasure.

“Feels good, doesn’t it.” Delicate hands touched her from the side as Lavender Brown reached out. She eased Sinistra up, bringing the professor onto all-fours from flat on her stomach. With Sinistra’s body raised, Lavender reached under her, slipping two fingers near the spot Harry’s cock was thundering in and out of her.

Sinistra couldn’t figure out what the girl’s game was, until she felt a firm pressure on her clit from above. Susan was still gently holding her hands, and Lavender’s touch was equally gentle, yet it felt different. Lavender wasn’t trying to calm her down, she was trying to drive Sinistra crazy. And it was working.

Sinistra hurled her head back, crying out louder than she ever had while masturbating. Harry was still pounding her insides to mush, and combined with Lavender’s targeted attack, pleasure was lancing through her whole lower body.

A moment later, Sinistra gasped as she felt something sharp and painful. Long nails were pressing into the flesh around her nipples, which had been twisted halfway around as they hung beneath her torso.

“It stings, doesn’t it?” Su, usually the voice of reason in this group, sounded fervent as she whispered in Sinistra’s ear. “It hurts. Sometimes it really hurts. But it’s always soooo good…”

Sinstra felt her nipples twist back and forth rapidly, and as her skin burned, she screamed .

Susan’s reassurances. Lavender’s erotic stimulation. Su’s harsh touches. And, most importantly, there was Harry. Sinistra felt as if she’d been missing him behind her for her entire life. He filled her so well, his cock ramming places that felt designed to be pounded, his hands so strong and his body so stiff… and warm… and quick …

Under such an onslaught, Sinistra’s walls clamped down hard.

“Cumming!” she shrieked, hanging her head. 

All the touches to so many different parts of her body felt twice as intense in that one moment, right as she squirted her first orgasm with a man all across Harry’s cock. He grunted, smashing his hips into her ass one last time. And suddenly it wasn’t just her squirting, but Harry filling her up with his thick warm semen…

She slumped forward, landing on her face. Her breath was coming in gasps. But all she could think was about the fact that she had finally, finally done it! She had her first time!

And what a first time it was…

“Well, Professor?”

At the sound of Harry’s voice, she managed to roll over on her back, looking up at them once more.

“What do you think?” Harry asked. “Can I teach?”

All of them seemed to be waiting with baited breath. Even Su, who spent so much of the time acting like she didn’t care. Sinistra couldn’t help it: she laughed.

“Mr. Potter, not only can you teach, you’ve found your fourth student,” she said.

Their eyes widened. “You mean…” he asked.

“You. Here. Every wednesday,” Sinistra said, her professorly tone emerging once more. “I’m warning you, though, you’ll be worked exceptionally hard. I have a lot of wasted time to make up for, after all.”

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Chapter Text

Chapter 16

Riding Brooms

The Room of Requirement really was one of the marvels of Hogwarts. Where else could you find (let alone create) a room that was one-third library, one-third office, and one-third ominous laboratory?

In the library portion, where steep shelves ran all the way to the ceiling, Su lounged on a full-body cushion. She held a book above her as she lay on her back, completely naked. She hadn’t seen any reason to bother getting dressed again when it was just her and Harry in the room, their first tutoring session recently finished. As she relaxed, Su was unable to help glancing at the other parts of the room, looking back and forth between them.

In one portion, Harry moved frenetically through his lab, collecting and organizing things in small vials. In the other portion, Harry sat behind a broad desk, dutifully scribbling out a potions essay with no emotion on his face.

“Motherfucker,” she said, her voice lacking any heat.

The Harry working in the lab looked up, while the one behind the desk continued writing.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just realized how you pulled it off,” Su said. “No wonder you didn’t miss any classes when we were off campus. You have a clone!”

“I call him my shadow,” Harry said. “Jealous?”

“Of course I am! If I could be in two places at once, I could… I mean I could read two books. At the same time .”

“Now that’s living.”

“I’d do other things, too,” Su said defensively. “I just haven’t thought of them yet.”

A curious glint entered her eyes. She shifted, looking at the copy of Harry instead of the original.

“Are you identical in every way?” she asked.

“Other than the eyes,” said the original, shrugging.

“Two places at once…” Su’s eyes unfocused, picturing something. “That sounds wonderful .”

Sound from the laboratory brought her out of her fantasies. She looked back at the real Harry in time to watch him seal away a chunk of bone inside a vial. He stashed the bone inside his bag, storing it for now.

“What are you up to, anyway?” Su asked.

“Just getting ahead on a bit of work,” Harry said. “I’m about to get pretty busy. So I want to finish some things in advance, so that they’re ready to go.”

“Busy with what? Your tutoring?”

“I’m not taking new students yet,” Harry said. “Let’s just say that the school year is about to get a whole lot more action packed.”

He winced as he pressed his wand to his forearm, slicing the flesh and causing a trail of blood to leak out. It collected in a vial, which he put away in the same place he’d put the bones.

Su, meanwhile, was frowning deeply.

“The Triwizard Tournament is about to begin,” she said.

“That it is!”

“The other schools are arriving tomorrow.”

“That they are!”

“You aren’t going to ruin it, are you?” she asked fearfully.

Harry grinned.

“Ruin it? Of course not. I’m going to make it so much better.”

O-O-O

Charlie Weasley was shaking, and he couldn't tell if it was from excitement or terror.

Of course, that was exactly the reason he chose this kind of life.

He stood with his wand raised atop the windy peak of a mountain in the Dolomites. Charlie refused to let himself blink. His breath appeared in front of his face as cloudy puffs. A group of wizards dressed in the same robes he wore stood around him spaced out by a good twelve paces in either direction. Ahead of them, one man tilted a barrel forward with his hands, emptying it into a giant scaly maw. It wasn’t until clear liquid finished pouring out of the barrel, and this wizard retreated with slow steps, that Charlie allowed himself to relax. He couldn’t help but release a thrilled giggle.

This was the best job in the world, and nobody could tell him different.

His mother had tried. It was too dangerous, she said. But that was why Charlie loved it. Where else could he feel this alive?

As his coworkers clapped him and each other on the backs, relaxing from the tense moment, a voice said, “I can’t believe you nutters do this by choice.”

With the Triwizard Tournament on the horizon, the British Ministry turned to the reserve Charlie belonged to as a way of supplying the first task with a suitably dangerous challenge. The deal involved an exorbitant fee and the rather awful headache of finding a way to transport multiple adult dragons across most of Europe. The dragon handlers settled on tranquilizers as the only way to pull it off. The barrel Charlie watched his colleague empty was filled with Draught of the Living Death. Each one of those barrels likely cost more than what he and his colleagues made in a year, and four of them had to be used every few hours, one for each of the dragons they were busy transporting. 

As if that weren’t enough, the Ministry also sent Aurors with them. Charlie wasn’t certain what five more wizards and witches would do if any of these beasts woke up and felt belligerent, but he assumed it a political gesture, and didn’t waste any more time thinking about it.

He hadn’t expected to finda familiar face among those Aurors, though.

“You just don’t get it,” Charlie said, addressing the pink haired Metamorphmagus as she watched the sleeping dragons. “We choose this job because it’s crazy. The risk is why it’s fun, like we’re throwing ourselves into Wronski Feints all day long and actually getting paid.”

“There’s no chance of them waking up, is there?” Tonks asked.

Charlie shrugged. “Of course there’s a chance. It’s pretty miniscule, though. We’re giving them twice the recommended dose, just to play it safe.”

“Of course,” Tonks said. “They’ll keep napping until our job is over and done with.”

Charlie assumed she was saying it like a mantra to calm her nerves, although he swore she sounded almost disappointed. He decided to consider it one more strange thing about the Hufflepuff he’d gone through Hogwarts with.

“Say, Tonks,” Charlie said, staring past the young Auror. “What’s wrong with them?”

He nodded at the four coworkers she arrived with. All of them were much older, with scowls he hadn’t seen fade since the moment they arrived.

Tonks looked back briefly.

“Aurors have got egos,” she said simply. “After being around them for a few months, I can say that for certain. None of them like a job that they feel is beneath them. They think we’re just here as a precaution. It’s like babysitting.”

“You seem in a good mood though?” Charlie noticed.

“I don’t mind this job,” Tonks admitted. “There’s always a chance…” she caught herself looking longingly at the nearest dragon, a Chinese Fireball, and shook herself. “Anyway, I’m not as grumpy about being here as them, but I didn’t exactly choose this job, either.”

Charlie winced commiseratingly. “Sucks to be the lowest on the totem pole.”

“Plus my boss has it out for me,” Tonks said.

“What’d you do?”

“It… That’s…” Tonks blushed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

She was saved from further questions by Charlie’s boss beginning to bark orders. Dragon handlers returned to their brooms, Charlie included, while the Aurors did the same. Ropes were conjured, connected to enormous leather muzzles, which were in turn snapped onto the dragons’ bodies. The riders rose into the air, the ropes connected to their brooms. Through sheer number of tethers, the dragons’ hulking bodies were pulled from the ground and into the air.

Tonks flew beside Charlie, clearly somewhat bored. She looked down beneath them, where a grassy valley had a collection of lights visible from the sky.

“Imagine going about your day in a village, and you look up to see dragons being dragged across the sky,” she said. “It’d be mental.”

“I think that village is plenty mental already,” Charlie said. “It’s a veela colony. Said so on the map.”

“Hoping to pay a visit?” Tonks teased.

“Maybe when I’m off the clock,” he said.

The broom beneath him groaned and creaked. It had held out so far, and he was sure it would make it to Britain, but he couldn’t shake a wince. Brooms were meant to speed through the skies like a bullet. They weren't supposed to feel lethargic and burdened. It made him want to play Quidditch again, just to remember the proper feeling.

“I agree,” said the dragon handler next to him.

It made Charlie wonder if he spoke out loud on accident. But he was sure he’d kept the thought to himself. He looked over, only to find he didn’t recognize the man that was supposed to be his coworker.

It’s hard to recognize someone in a mask, after all.

“I love brooms,” said the stranger. “Want to know a secret? You can fly without using one, if you use the right charm. Voldemort can do it no problem. Even Snape can pull it off, so you know it isn’t anything difficult. But I always fly with a broom. The feeling just can’t compare.”

“Who—” Charlie said.

“Diffindo!” someone cried.

It was Tonks. She’d seen the masked man at the same time Charlie did, and much to the Weasley’s shock, her first reaction was lethal force. He yelped as the severing charm flew just in front of him, aimed at the stranger. But, to Charlie’s shock, the masked man managed to make his laboring broom leap up, Tonks’s spell severing the rope trailing his broom instead of cutting his body.

“Thanks,” said the masked man, “but that’s the next step, Tonks. We’re not ready for that yet. First, I have to do this. Accio Draught of the Living Death!”

He didn’t even raise his wand. Yet, four streams of clear fluid erupted from the mouths of each sleeping dragon, flying directly at him. It collected in a massive orb, which promptly fell to the earth like rain.

Four sets of slit-pupiled eyes opened at once. 

“ Now we can cut the ropes,” the stranger told Tonks.

He finally drew his wand. With a spell Charlie had never heard before, he stripped the enchantments directly off of Charlie’s broom. The redhead plummeted, wind beating his face too hard for him to summon the concentration to apparate.

His coworkers fell too, as well as the four Aurors other than Tonks. Charlie spotted this out of the corner of his eye as he fell, and to tell the truth, the majority of his thoughts were preoccupied with his imminent landing.

A spell hit his back. Cushioning charms hit each of the dragon handlers, causing them to bounce as they struck the ground, rather than splattering as they would have. But Charlie’s spell was a bit different. The one that struck him altered his trajectory, sending at least a half-mile off course. 

Something must’ve been done to soften his landing, because he didn’t die on impact. It still hurt. He landed with a great thud, groaning and looking up at the stars. He vaguely noted that there were lights here, as he pushed himself up, although it wasn’t houses he was surrounded by. Instead, he saw lots of odd circular buildings made up of nothing but thousands of woven tree branches, all knitted together.

“My head…” Charlie groaned. “What was that?”

His only answer came from a musical voice, spoken in what he was pretty sure was Italian. A woman with olive skin was standing in front of him. The moment Charlie laid eyes on her, he forgot all about dragons, life-threatening plummets, and even his own name.

“Er, I’m Charlie,” he said dazedly. “Who're you?”

The woman said something more in Italian. Two more equally beautiful women appeared on either side of her, all three so perfect that Charlie was convinced his vision was blurring. But they kept on appearing, faces poking up over the rims of those odd woven buildings, which seemed to open from the top like nests.

Every single face Charlie saw was gorgeous, and all of them were women. Slowly, through the shock of the impact, his fate dawned on him.

“Oh,” he said quietly. “I’ve landed in a veela reserve.”

It would be a very, very long time before he made it back to Britain as he planned.

Charlie was not complaining.

O-O-O

“What are you even doing here?” Tonks whined.

She was still aiming curses at Harry, who as of yet, hadn’t defended himself. Instead, he was using border-line deadly curses as an obstacle course to test his flying, all while drowsy dragons flapped their wings and slowly woke up behind them.

“Making an entrance!” Harry said. “Or, setting up an entrance, really. This is the prep work.” He frowned as he corkscrewed beneath a nasty purple curse. “I’m more curious why you’re here. This kind of work is bottom-of-the-barrel for Aurors.”

“That’s why!” Tonks screamed. “Amelia Bones has had me on every crap job she can dredge up for weeks, and it’s all your fault!”

Tonks was so overcome by emotion that she actually stopped trying to murder him. Harry piloted his broom to a stop.

“I didn’t tell you to transform into your boss during sex!”

“You seduced me, as a prisoner!”

“You kissed me first!”

“Because your honeyed words turned me on!”

“Well… Just give it a few weeks!” Harry said. “By then, she’ll love you! Everyone will.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Harry just grinned. It was at this point that the drowsy dragons regained their usual energy. Four roars shook the sky, making Tonks press her hands to her ears. The dragons attempted to fly away, but no sooner had they tried than huge translucent chains erupted from the back of Harry’s broom, wrapping around their throats. The beasts were tethered to him like dogs on a walk, and no amount of straining their scaly muscular necks could cause the chains to buckle.

“Well, Ms. Tonks. It’s been fun. There’s just one thing left now.”

Harry waved one hand. At first, Tonks was certain nothing had happened. She certainly didn’t see anything as flashy as simultaneously capturing four adult dragons. But her broom did become — well — it became slightly more scratchy against her.

When Tonks spotted the cloth in Harry’s hand, pink with small white polka dots on it, she felt as if her stomach had made the hundred foot drop to the ground.

“Motherfucker! Give those back!”

“Only if you can come and get them,” Harry said.

“Those are my lucky panties!”

“I know,” Harry said. “More reason to hurry up and take them.”

He braced his hands against the shaft of his broom, tucked his legs, and accelerated away at maximum speed. The dragons were pulled after him, roaring and spewing gouts of frustrated fire as they chafed against their chains. Tonks was left alone, but only for a moment before she cursed.

“He thinks he can get away with this, does he?” she growled. “We’ll see about that.”

She sped after him, leaning down as she pushed her own broom to begin the chase.

O-O-O

Harry was feeling awfully proud. All things considered, this had been a very good night. He had to knock Charlie Weasley out of the air, but he thought he made up for that with where he sent the man to land. Tonks was angry with him, but then again, that had been the point.

After all, it wasn’t his own entrance that he was planning, but hers .

The hero battling dragons, saving the damsel in distress. Those were the stories that first started Tonks’s fascination with heroes. Well, how many legends included taking on not just one dragon, but four?

Everything was coming together. Now, all he needed to do was create the proper stage.

Well, that and the hero herself. He glanced down at the bunched panties in his hand, flapping from the wind, before looking behind him. He’d only been flying for thirty minutes. Tonks started right after he did. She should’ve still been in sight, even if she wasn’t quite as good a flyer.

What was slowing her down?

O-O-O

Tonks gasped. Her cheeks were pink, while her skin was slightly sweaty. She needed to speed up and catch him, so just…

She bent forward, ready to push her broom, only to gasp again as the movement slid her lower half back along the broom. The turbulence made the wooden handle shake almost violently. She never realized before how important panties were to cushioning your ride on a broom.

Not that this way wasn’t nice too. It was extremely nice, in a distracting way. But she was on the clock, and as a valiant hero she would push through, speed up, and—

She hit another patch of turbulence, causing the vibration to double.

“Oooh,” Tonks moaned, her whole lower body tensing up. 

Maybe she could go a little slower. She’d still catch up with Harry eventually…

Some things were just too nice not to enjoy.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 17

Damsel in Distress

“Honestly, where is Harry?” Hermione complained.

“If I didn’t have an answer for you the first few times you asked, I’m not going to have one now, am I?” Ron pointed out. “I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe he went to write to… You know…”

Neither of them spoke the name out loud here, packed in with so many students around them. Even now, almost a year after his escape and a summer since his terrorizing of the Hogwarts population, Sirius’s Black’s name wasn’t the sort that people ignored.

“But now?” said Hermione. “The notice told all students to be present! That’s the whole reason they let us out of classes early!”

“Oh no,” said Ron. “A broken rule.”

Hermione pursed her lips, turning back to the horizon.

It was cold and growing dark. There was just enough of the afternoon’s glow to see by. As the Hogwarts population stood, ordered by age with the first years in front, a jittery atmosphere was palpable. Two schools, full of exotic foreign students, were due to arrive any second, and nobody could wait to see how they would do it.

“Look!” cried a first year standing at the front, pointing up at the sky. “It’s a dragon!”

“Can’t be,” said Dennis Creevey. “That’s obviously a flying house.”

Ron and Hermione squinted. As the dark blob came closer, its shape distilled into a large square, being drawn through the sky by horses big enough to trample Hagrid.

“A flying carriage!” Ron muttered. “Harry will be sorry he missed that .”

“He shouldn’t have broken the rules then,” said Hermione.

Ron rolled his eyes.

The carriage landed and Beauxbatons filed out, led by their enormous headmistress. Her students shivered behind her as she talked with Dumbledore — Dumbly-door, as she put it — wrapping their arms around their own bodies, huddling in blue silk and nothing else. Only one girl wasn’t shaking, and the first boys were beginning to notice her as they lost interest in Madame Maxine’s huge size.

“Oh, wow,” Ron said. 

Hermione followed his gaze.

“She’s pretty,” said Hermione.

“Just pretty? It’s more than that! Look at the shape of her—”

“Doesn’t it seem like she’s looking for something?” asked Hermione, stopping Ron’s rant in its tracks.

This perfect girl with flowing blond hair was staring intently at the crowd of Hogwarts students. Her blue eyes darted over all of them, hardly pausing anywhere, until they picked out Ron and Hermione. She stared at them for a full fifteen seconds, scanning the places around them, before sniffing and turning her head.

“Did she just look at me?” Ron asked.

“I think so,” said Hermione. “Seems she didn’t enjoy what she saw.”

Within minutes Durmstrang arrived, their boat splitting the water of the lake and sailing up into view. They were dressed much more appropriately for a British winter— if anything, their thick fur coats looked overly warm. There was a lot of excited chatter when Victor Krum was unveiled as a student, including Ron trying (and failing) to make Hermione see how momentous this was.

The sun had fully set by now. The woods were dark, the Durmstrang ship had set down its anchor, and Beauxbatons delegation seemed half frozen, leaving everyone present ready to get back indoors. As the professors were marshalling the crowd, reorienting them back to the castle, one first year girl refused to turn away.

“Dragons!” she yelled, pointing at the horizon.

“Not you again—” someone groaned.

The Beauxbatons’ pegasi bolted.

They tore loose from their restraints, snapping them by kicking their hind legs. Their wings beat fiercely the moment they were free, carrying them toward the castle fast enough that the wind knocked over a few first years. Something in the Forbidden Forest howled. Then something above the trees roared.

Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang students alike covered their ears. By the time the brutal sound had passed and the students looked up, they had arrived.

Four full-sized dragons hit the ground at the same moment. The dirt earth shook and bounced. Some students screamed. Others pointed. And some ran, trampling over others on their way.

“Greetings, ladies and gentleman,” said a voice that must have been using magic in some way, because it was audible over the roaring dragons and panicking crowd. “Fine night tonight, isn’t it? Perfect to prove a point.”

Atop the largest dragon’s pitch-black head, a figure sat cross-legged, resting one arm on his knee. He wore a mask and flowing, dark robes, looking an awful lot like the wizards that attacked the Quidditch World Cup.

But he wasn’t one of those, although he had been on the scene at the time. Hermione gasped.

“That’s him!” she said. “The one the Prophet wrote about! He stopped those dark wizards, ranting about Half-blood supremacy!”

She had been speaking to Ron, but just before she spoke an amplification charm struck her, boosting her voice as if it was coming from speakers. Ron watched the man atop the dragon wave his wand, canceling the charm as soon as Hermione was finished.

“Indeed!” He laughed maniacally, although it irritated his throat and made him cough. “It is I,” he said once recovered, “Tom Marvolo Riddle Junior!”

He stood up on the dragon, balancing his weight, before taking a running leap off of its head. The dragon, a Hungarian Horntail, extended one arm, allowing Tom to slide down it like a ramp. He landed on the ground with a dull thump, having leapt from the end of a claw large enough to skewer him. He looked back and thanked the dragon with a succession of hisses, causing what students hadn’t fled to gasp.

The professors were working desperately to orchestrate an organized retreat, but it was a difficult proposition. Half the kids were panicking and trampling each other as they ran, while the other half were desperate to stay and watch.

“You may be wondering, right now, just why I’m here,” said Tom Riddle. “What do I have to gain from bringing my considerable might to bear on a poor, innocent school? It’s quite simple. This is just a stage, one fit for my most nefarious announcement.”

He paused. On queue, as if they’d done a rehearsal beforehand, all four dragons reared back and spewed out magically-heated flames. Two sent gouts into the air, one hit the lake and caused a plume of steam, and the last spat its flames backward, catching the tops of the Forbidden Forest on fire.

Ron and Hermione had only retreated a short distance. Ron looked to either side, making sure that the younger kids had gotten back. He was just as likely as anyone else to end up dead facing a dragon, but he thought that prior experience might at least make him less likely to freeze up, so he’d stayed close to the front to make sure other students got to safety first.

It left him with an awfully good view of what the masked nutter did next. From the shadows behind him, something bubbled into view and took shape. Slowly, the shadows changed color, revealing what had been hidden away inside.

“Behold!” cried Tom Riddle.

Ron’s blood went cold, while his head turned hot.

There was Harry Potter, his best mate.

And he was wrapped in chains.

O-O-O

“This is demeaning,” said Death.

“Keep your voice down!” Harry whispered urgently. “They’ll hear you.” He turned to the assembled crowd, away from his restrained doppelganger, and looked at the collection of expressions ranging from awed to fearful. “To tell the truth, I already have what I came here for!”

He waited a moment for dramatic effect, then carried on.

“The Boy Who Lived! The Half-blood that overcame the killing curse! His potential is enormous… but it is being wasted, instructed by doddering purebloods! I will make up for your inadequacies myself. I will be taking him, and I will train him into my ultimate weapon… Unless someone steps in to stop me right now!”

He waited, and it seemed as if the whole night waited with him. Unable to help himself, Harry glanced up at the sky, trying not to let his nerves show.

He’d stalled for as long as he could…

So where on earth was Tonks?

He’d promised the dragons this wouldn’t take long. He explained the situation to them on the way, and they had been grateful enough for their freedom to play along, but these were not patient creatures. Harry tapped his foot against the ground, hoping no one noticed the nervous tick.

“Let him go!”

Harry beamed as he heard a voice challenge him, although his expression turned confused as he realized this one was clearly masculine. He peered at the crowd in time to see Ron Weasley step forward.

His best friend’s hand was shaking, and it wasn’t from the cold. But he’d drawn his wand. He was trying to look brave. It wasn’t really working, but when you willingly walk toward four adult dragons, it really doesn’t matter what you look like doing it.

“You can’t have him,” Ron said, raising his wand.

Just as quickly, someone pushed his wand back down.

“Fifty points to Gryffindor for outstanding bravery,” Albus Dumbledore said with a smile. “Now, you ought to head back to the others, Mr. Weasley. I will handle this.”

Ron stared at him, before slowly backing away. Dumbledore turned to Harry— the real one, dressed up in his disguise. Not that the headmaster knew his true identity.

“Don’t try to fight me, Headmaster! As a fellow Half-blood—”

Harry was forced to draw his wand as three curses flew at him. He conjured a strengthened Protego, but two of the spells tore through even that. Harry conjured physical shields in the path of the spells, finally stopping them, but one of the shields melted while the other was torn to scrap.

“Hold on—”

Harry’s plea was cut short by another round of curses. The ground underneath his feet turned to spongey sand, limiting his movement. Harry’s eyes widened.

He hit the ground with an overpowered warming charm, turning the sand Dumbledore created into class, and propelled himself across the surface, out of the way of the curses. One of them hit the Hungarian Horntail in the leg, and even managed to tear away a scale.

“Kill?” the dragon hissed in Parseltongue, pain audible in its voice.

“No!” Harry said. “Just… just give me one second!”

Dumbledore had closed the distance. The old man moved with way more speed and dexterity than should’ve been possible. As he ran forward, constructs grew out of the ground around him, animated golems lumbering at Harry.

“This really isn’t—”

Dumbledore conjured another golem directly behind Harry. It brought a heavy earthen fist down, nearly crushing Harry underneath it. Harry rolled aside, ending up back beside Death, which was watching him curiously.

“Let me finish a sentence!” Harry roared. 

The head of every single Golem exploded, their bodies dissolving on the spot. Dumbledore kept coming. Every spell that left his wand was obscure and deadly. Harry watched each one, drawing his second wand and fighting with both simultaneously. 

It was admirable, really, as frustrated as he felt. He had never seen Dumbledore this way. The only time that came close was when he fought Voldemort in the Department of Mysteries, a duel that ended up at a standstill. So this was how the headmaster reacted when he felt his school was threatened?

“In their memory, I will strike you down,” Dumbledore said.

“I haven’t killed anyone, though?” Harry said.

They exchanged another chain of spellfire. The professors across the lawn had completely forgotten about evacuating the students, who had themselves forgotten about evacuating. They were mesmerized by the duel in front of them.

“For those who have been lost, I will fight on.”

“Again, I really haven’t killed anyone!”

“All the times we shared together… Those cozy nights spent in each other’s company… I will avenge every last moment here and now!”

The headmaster’s wand swished, spitting out a vomit-green spell that caused all grass in the vicinity to wither and die on the spot. Harry didn’t even attempt to block it. Instead, he conjured a rope around the Hungarian Horntail’s claw, and when the dragon jerked its front leg out of surprise, he was yanked out of the path of the nasty curse.

Still dangling in the air, swaying slightly, Harry asked, “Are you… Are you talking about your chair?”

“Her name was Tiffany,” Dumbledore said. “And you will pay.”

The old man raised his wand. If Harry let this go on any longer, he was pretty sure the man was going to start throwing around Unforgivables, and he’d really rather not give Lucius Malfoy an actual good reason to get the headmaster arrested.

Still, Dumbledore was a force in his own right, and Harry didn’t know how he would deal with him without using lethal force in a fair duel. Which meant it was time for a bit of trickery.

He stowed one Elder Wand, his hand diving into a pocket. When it emerged, it was wrapped around something about the size of a snitch. He gave it an underhand toss, sending the object into the air.

Mid-flight, it grew greatly in size, back to its original dimensions as a faded-yet-comfy armchair, complete with sporadic stains. Dumbledore’s jaw fell open.

“Come to me!” he cried, holding out his arms. “I’ve got you!”

Harry hit the chair in the back with banishing charm, propelling it down to the headmaster far faster than a chair had any right falling.

It didn’t quite work as well as he hoped. Even distracted, Dumbledore managed to slow down the chair’s descent with a bit of wandless magic. But he refused to move out of the way, and its weight still landed on him, leaving only his legs and arms visible. It looked suspiciously like he was using those arms to hug the chair, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like, “Tiffany…”

The important part was that Dumbledore wasn’t getting back up for the moment. Harry let go of the rope he’d been hanging from, falling back to the ground. The watching crowd had gone deathly silent after watching Dumbledore ‘fall’. 

“Is there anyone else willing to try and stop me?” Harry asked loudly. “Anyone at all?”

He nearly sagged with relief when he heard a broom arriving above him. It was about time. 

Tonks sped in, landing near the chair, not even noticing Dumbledore’s legs sticking out from underneath it. She just glared at Harry.

“Return it, now!” she demanded.

“Of course I’ll return the Boy Who Lived,” Harry said. “That is, if you can defeat me?”

“What are you talking about? I just want my panties back,” Tonks said, but her words were buried under the noise of the crowd, who were looking at this lone Auror like their last hope.

Harry swished his cape the way he always saw supervillains doing. “If you want what you came for, then prepare to do battle— Are you alright?”

Harry’s declaration ended in a question as he noticed how shaky Tonks’s legs were. Her knees were pointing toward each other, while her thighs trembled like they were about to give out.

“I’m fine!” Tonks said. “I didn’t discover a new kink! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Ah. Alright, I guess. Like I was saying then! Time to do battle!”

Harry drew both wands. His dragon accomplices took flight. All four of them roared and breathed fire, some narrowly missing the crowd of onlookers. The boldest among them, the Hungarian Horntail, even aimed at the castle, charring the Astronomy tower with its breath.

People were screaming, which was a logical reaction. But Tonks was grinning ear to ear. She watched four dragons rampage above her and raised her wand.

“Stupefy!” she cried.

Harry almost rolled his eyes. Really? Of all spells?

Whatever, he’d work with it. 

He allowed the red beam to come directly at him, blocking at the last second with a shield he purposely made difficult to see, so that it looked to anyone watching as if it hit him. Then all hell broke loose.

Harry stumbled and fell onto his back, his hands going up in the air. A great gout of flames erupted behind him, and unlike what had been spit from the gullet of the dragons, these flames were more pyrotechnics and less raw heat, featuring a variety of pretty shades of red. The dragons roared at once, releasing their loudest cries yet, and scattered, each flying in a different direction.

“Oh no!” Harry announced loudly. “She exploited my one weakness— the most basic spell ever!”

He shouldn’t have bothered; nobody was listening to him. The students were looking at the fire show behind him, the professors were looking at the dragons that were now on the loose within Great British borders, and Tonks was too busy getting goosebumps from the feeling of chasing off dragons. She giggled to herself, looking down at her own wand as if seeing it for the very first time.

“You win this time, Tonks!” Harry said weakly. “Next time, however, victory will definitely be mine!”

In the shadow of the bright fire he set off when he fell, Harry’s masked body disappeared.

At least, that was what it looked like to anyone watching. What really happened was that the version of Harry Potter tied up in chains melted into shadow, and while everyone was distracted, a new one took its place.

Tonks marched forward while everyone else was too stunned to move, just as the bright sparks faded and died, leaving the night dark once more. In the sudden quiet, you could distantly hear the dragons if you peeled your ears.

“What’s your angle?” Tonks asked when she came to a stop in front of Harry, looking down at him.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked. “You saved me, hero!”

Before Tonks could grill him any further, she took note of his state. Harry’s shirt was torn in places, showing the wiry muscles underneath. His pants were loose in one corner, giving a view of his hip and the skin around it. His green eyes were wide and soulful as they stared up into hers. Tonks swallowed thickly.

“You can’t fool me…” she said weakly.

“I’m so grateful,” Harry said. “I was so scared, but then you arrived. What are you going to do with me now, Hero? I’ll do anything to reward you.”

“Anything?” Tonks asked.

“Absolutely anything. And I know lots of tricks.”

Before anyone could react, Tonks had scooped Harry up bridal style. Her face was bright red, though the onlookers couldn’t see that.

“I’m taking him in!” she said too loudly. “For questioning!”

Newfound strength surged through her legs as she nearly ran to her broom, hopping on with Harry still held in her arms. They surged off into the sky together, leaving as suddenly as Tonks arrived, Harry perched on the front of her broom like a passenger princess.

Across the lawn, people came to their senses slowly.

“What did we just watch?” Ron asked.

Their Headmaster was still buried beneath a chair, and in places, fires still raged.

“I have no idea,” Hermione admitted. “But I’m not going to forget it in a hurry.”

“Excuse moi.”

The Hogwarts staff turned, finding the perfect blond girl that caught Ron’s eye at the start standing in front of them, her arms crossed.

“There has been a casualty,” she said.

Behind her, the Beauxbatons carriage was alight. One of the walls collapsed into embers, the roof following suite seconds later.

“The dragons burned it,” said the blonde.

Flitwick looked puzzled. “But none of them breathed any fire in that direction—”

“The dragons burned it!” The blond repeated loudly, hiding her wand behind her back. “We will need new accommodations for our stay!”

“We will come up with something,” McGonagall promised. “That will, however, need to wait until we have performed a headcount and our headmaster has— Ah, returned to his senses.”

The blond smiled, and as beautiful as it was, Ron couldn’t shake the impression that she looked downright devious.

“I have a suggestion,” she said.

O-O-O

The moment Tonks flew off of Hogwarts grounds, she sidelong Apparated them straight out of the air. Harry was certain one or both of them would end up Splinched, but they arrived with all the important (and even the unimportant) parts intact. Maybe lust had beneficial properties when it came to focusing magic? Perhaps that was the secret to ultimate power: permanent horniness.

They appeared inside the bedroom of a classic apartment. There were clothes strewn about the floor, and even at a glance Harry could see that many of them were in different sizes. That was an advantage to being a Metamorphmagus that he never thought of. You could buy whatever clothes you liked, and change your body to fit them.

Tonks tossed him onto her bed, where Harry landed on the messy sheets in between a pink sweater and an old pair of panties.

“You’re insatiable,” she said. “Do you get off on playing a damsel in distress?”

“I’m not the one drooling right now,” Harry pointed out. 

Tonks wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “You saw nothing.”

A sudden thought occurred to Harry. “Do you want your panties back now?” he asked.

Tonks was already crawling onto the bed.

“Keep them,” she said. “I won’t be needing any for this.”

Harry was still bound around the wrists and ankles by chains. Considering he was the one who conjured them he could have dispelled them at any time, but he chose to let them stay for now. Tonks seemed to be into it. She rolled him over onto his stomach, yanking at the chains with her hands.

“Look at you,” she said. “All trussed up…”

Judging from the way she said it, bareback broom-riding might not have been the only kink she learned about tonight. 

She tugged the chains off of his hands, tossing them away where they clattered onto the messy floor. She was pulling his shirt off in seconds— although with its many tears, she was soon yanking away fabric like it was wrapping paper, making Harry’s muscular torso the present hidden beneath.

When his shirt was gone, she didn’t roll him back over. Instead, with his legs still bound and Harry still on his stomach, Tonks descended on him, pressing herself to his back.

She kissed and bit his skin. Her hands were pressed to his shoulder blades, allowing her to lean in. Harry was sure this was going to leave marks. Tonks worshipped his back, feeling out his muscles with her mouth. She even trailed her tongue between his lats, dragging it along his spine. Harry could feel cool air against the saliva she left behind.

Tonks bit the back of his neck, working higher and nibbling the top of his ear. “This is fun.”

She pulled up off of him, her touch momentarily disappearing. Harry heard her clothes being removed, one by one. Moments later, he heard them landing on the floor, joining the others scattered about. She crawled along his back, delicately placing her palms and knees on him, before sitting so that her back was to the headboard. She spread her legs shamelessly, letting Harry look straight up at her pussy with his chin still resting on the bed. Tonks had grabbed her wand when she disrobed, and she used it now to slice through the chains on Harry’s ankles.

Harry used his newfound range of motion to rise up on all fours, crawling forward. When he got close to her, Tonks grinned, planting one hand on the top of his head and pushing him down. Harry didn’t fight her. His head descended, pressing his mouth against her crotch.

Tonks shivered the moment his tongue entered her. “Oh, that’s just perfect!”

Harry aimed to please. He looked up at her, holding eye contact as he slid his tongue through her wet folds. He grabbed the insides of her thighs, squeezing the sensitive skin and holding her in place. Tonks went stiff. The hand she pressed his head down with was still there, and it now grabbed a clump of his hair. She continued pushing down, keeping his mouth glued to her.

Her insides were moist and warm, while he could feel old dried residue on her thighs, slightly scratchy against his palms as he gripped them. When Tonks said she enjoyed the broom ride, she hadn’t been exaggerating one bit. He had stiff competition to outdo, it seemed, so he better go all out.

“Testing, testing,” Harry hissed.

“Holy!” Tonks howled as his tongue vibrated twice as much as the broom had. Her hair began to lengthen and shorten rapidly as her control slipped.

Harry grinned as he continued to hiss. He moved his shaking tongue throughout her, refusing to spare a single part of her pussy. Tonks’s body shook the whole time. Her toes curled, catching on the sheets. The longer Harry worked, the wetter she became. The moment he brought his tongue to her clit she orgasmed.

Not that he stopped there. While Tonks gasped for breath, Harry pressed his magic (literally) tongue against her clit. Immediately, her clit reacted.

Harry wasn’t talking about another orgasm, either. No, Tonks’s clit actually began to change shape. It grew in size, the hood expanding to meet his tongue. Like the rest of her body parts, there was no reason Tonks couldn’t control it when she wanted to.

“You won’t believe how helpful this trick was for my first boyfriends,” Tonks panted. “Not that you need it.”

She was holding onto Harry’s hair tight enough now that he could feel his scalp being tugged up. He didn’t mind. That was just more evidence of what a good job he was doing. Tonks aimed her wand, vanishing his pants and underwear, leaving him just as naked from the waist down as he was from the waist up. It was a good thing she did it then, too, because moments later pleasure wracked her body and she dropped her wand.

“Being a hero is bloody awesome!” Tonks exclaimed.

She bent forward, shoving her tummy against the top of Harry’s head. He was pretty sure she was making her breasts bigger, because he felt them pressing into the base of his neck, but he didn’t know if that was a conscious choice or just a reaction. Her thighs definitely thickened so he’d have more to hang onto. With her loudest moan yet, Tonks orgasmed hard. Harry felt the clear nectar rush into his mouth, filling it until he swallowed.

“Thank you for the meal,” Harry hissed in Parseltongue.

“Oh bugger this. I need you inside me.” Tonks rolled them over. “And I need it now .”

She inched her hips back along Harry’s toned stomach, trailing juices as she did. Harry’s cock was sticking up at an angle. Tonks wrapped her fingers all the way around it, angling it up toward her entrance.

“Just lay back,” she moaned. “The hero will handle the rest.”

She dropped down, biting her lip so hard that he thought she would draw blood. It only took a moment for him to realize that something was different about the way she was riding him. Harry audibly gasped. He felt like he was a cow being milked.

Tonks wasn’t just tight, she was squeezing him with different parts of her pussy. Each time she slammed down, she would tighten herself around the base of his cock, then the middle, then the head, as if she was giving a hand job in the middle of sex.

“You like that?” Tonks’s face was flushed. “I practiced since last time. After you made me feel like a fool. I wonder how many other tricks I can discover.”

She leaned forward, her breasts growing to rival Susan’s. Or maybe these were more like Susan’s Aunt’s. After all, Tonks showed last time just how well she could imitate her mature boss. As the breasts filled Harry’s face, he was left with no choice but to bite into them. There were certainly worse fates.

“That’s it,” Tonks cooed at him. “Put that mouth to use. I like you better this way. Maybe the trick this whole time was to keep your mouth stuffed, so that you can’t run it.”

Harry reached behind her, grabbing a firm grip on her bum. Tonks kept flicking her hips, riding him with even more vigor than she applied to her broom. The wet popping of Harry’s lips suctioning on and off of her breasts accompanied the slapping of their flesh, filling the narrow walls of her bedroom.

With the tricks Tonks was pulling with her crotch, it was inevitable that Harry was going to break. But he was a man of many talents, and stamina counted among those. So he didn’t worry too much when he came inside her, because he remained rock hard.

“I wonder…” Tonks said between heavy breaths. “...how many times can you fill me up before you're finally worn out?”

Harry pulled his head away from her breasts just long enough to answer. “Why don’t you find out?”

Tonks grinned.

She reached back, grabbing his wrists and pulling his hands away from her backside, pinning them to the bed on either side of his shoulders. Her hips sped up. More importantly, the way she was manipulating her pussy quickened, gripping Harry in those fascinating ways at a pace he found almost terrifying. He could barely toy with Tonks’s nipples anymore, too preoccupied with what was going on around his crotch. That didn’t stop Tonks from filling his face with soft, gooey breasts, smothering him until he found it difficult to breathe.

Harry found it incredible, to be honest. Even after this long, he was still discovering new things he never had before. Metamorphmagi were incredible. Tonks was incredible. And it was time that she received the reward she had earned.

Tonks’s eyes widened. She cried out as she felt him fill her with a second load. Every last drop of his orgasm was wrung out of his cock by her clenching muscles, and no sooner had Tonks adjusted to the feeling than she orgasmed herself. Another harsh climax so soon after so many others temporarily overwhelmed her powers. She slipped over sideways, her breasts and bum shrinking to their usual dimensions as she landed on her side. The sound of panting filled the bedroom, coming from both of them.

“Hey Harry?”

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Are you done?”

Harry pressed his chin to his chest, looking down at his crotch, where his cock bobbed up and down, semi-flaccid.

“I’ve probably got a few more in me,” he said. “But I need a minute.”

“Me too,” Tonks said.

They both went quiet. Tonks nestled her head against Harry’s arm, pressing her temple to his bicep.

“You did all that for me, didn’t you?” she asked. “All that business with the dragons, and everything else?”

“What’re you talking about?”

“Fine,” Tonks grumbled. “Be that way.”

There was another bout of silence, and this time Harry was the one to break it.

“Why did you want to know?” he asked.

“Well, because I would’ve been grateful. And because, depending on your answer, I might’ve changed my mind about how many of my holes you can use when we start up again.”

Harry never confessed to anything faster in his life.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 18

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As he stood in Tonks’s living room, he couldn’t help but notice the decor. It was rather eye-catching. She had a sofa, a chair, and one coffee table, all of which were pushed into a different corner as far as they could go. There was nothing else. A rug that had been in the center of the room was rolled up and pushed against the wall. Standing in the middle of the room beside Tonks, waiting for the flames in her fireplace to turn green, Harry almost felt like he was on a stage, just because there was so much open space.

“Hey Tonks…”

“Don’t say anything,” she said.

“I just had a quick question.”

“I don’t want to answer it. I don’t even want to hear it.”

“Is your furniture maybe arranged like that… Just possibly…”

“Uh-uh.”

“Because you kept tripping in your own living room?”

Tonks glowered. But as sullen as she got, she didn’t answer, noticeably not denying it.

“Wow,” Harry said. “There’s clumsiness, and then there’s that.”

“Shut up,” Tonks muttered. “I can still tell them that you’re Tom Riddle!”

“I’m not,” Harry said. “I’m impersonating him. But go ahead, tell them! They won’t believe you. I just got a couple hundred alibis earlier tonight.”

“I think that might’ve been yesterday,” Tonks said, glancing out the window where dawn was breaking. “Stamina definitely isn’t one of your weaknesses. Point taken, though. You and that stupid body double of yours.”

“He can hear you, you know.”

“He’s here?!”

Tonks jumped, spinning around as if expecting to see a second Harry smirking behind her. Unfortunately for her, that clumsiness showed itself in the process. Her boot came down on the hem of her Auror robe, promptly tripping her forward. She landed face-down, her rump sticking up in the air, and it was at exactly this moment that the fireplace finally turned a Floo-affected shade of green.

A witch's head appeared. She was exceptionally beautiful, but her face was so severe that it felt dangerous to even think that, like she might use Legilimency to pull the thought from your head and flog you for it. Her red hair was a more auburn shade than her niece Susan’s, though the resemblance in their faces was striking. It was impressive, in a way. She looked like an older version of Harry’s Hufflepuff friend, yet managed to give off a completely different aura, steely and harsh in comparison to Susan’s warm and friendly personality.

Amelia Bones looked at Harry. Her eyes slid off of him, looking down at where Tonks lay, looking up at her boss with a frightened smile.

“At least your clothes are on this time,” Amelia said.

Tonks scrambled up. “Auror Tonks reporting in, Madam!”

“I can see that,” Amelia said.

Her tone gave away nothing. Tonks fought the urge to fidget and failed.

“Well, Auror?” Amelia asked. “Would you care to explain how you went from escorting dragon handlers across Europe to standing in your apartment with the boy who lived? And what’s this I’ve been hearing about Hogwarts and—” Amelia paused to inject her voice with a suitable amount of disbelief “—dueling four adult dragons?”

“I didn’t really duel them,” Tonks said. “They kind of ran off as soon as I started casting.”

“Forgive me. Not dueling dragons— frightening them off with nothing but your fearsome aura.”

This time, even Harry could catch the sarcasm in Amelia’s voice.

“It’s a long story,” Tonks said. “Same bloke from the Quidditch World Cup was behind it. He… took Harry hostage. But I got Harry back.”

“And brought him home.”

“Just to change our clothes!” Tonks protested. “I wanted to give him a breather before dragging him in to the Ministry for questions.”

“I imagine both of you are good and ready now,” said Amelia, “considering you’ve been off of the grid for five hours.”

“We have?” Tonks cleared her throat. “I mean, yes! Good and ready. We’ll be right in.”

“As will I.” Amelia paused, casting another critical eye over them. “A mess like this will require my personal attention. I look forward to seeing you there.”

Harry couldn’t help but notice that when she said this, it was only him she was looking at. Her head disappeared. The flames turned orange again, and Tonks cracked open her jar of Floo powder, preparing to open a new connection straight to the Ministry itself.

“She’s more brusque than I remembered,” Harry said.

“Well, she’s been in an awful mood ever since she walked in on someone banging her brains out,” Tonks said, sprinkling powder on the flames.

Harry could imagine she was. Having talked to Susan since then, he knew Amelia Bones wasn’t just anybody: she was apparently a world class prude. The type of woman who wouldn’t even let her niece hold hands was sure to lose her shit at seeing a copy of herself cut loose. No wonder Tonks had been in the doghouse. But…

“I still stand by that being your fault,” Harry said.

Tonks grabbed his wrist and threw him into the fireplace.

Harry stumbled forward, feeling the characteristic rough sensation of Floo Travel before stumbling out in the Atrium. It was deserted at this hour with the exception of a single security guard, who was patrolling the perimeter at an ambling pace.

Tonks appeared behind Harry, resting her hand on his shoulder and pushing him forward.

“I’m not a prisoner,” Harry reminded her.

“Not officially. But I feel like if I let you walk on your own, you’re going to get distracted and run off somewhere,” Tonks said. “I can’t afford to get into any more trouble.”

They had their pick of every lift when they got to them. After taking the nearest one down to the proper level, they stepped out into chaos.

The ministry might have been nearly deserted, but the Aurors’ office certainly wasn’t. It seemed every single employee was up and working frantically. A few were still in pajamas.

“Nice cap!” Harry told a man who passed him in slippers, a nightgown, and a tall fluffy hat.

“Keep walking,” Tonks told him exhaustedly, giving his back another soft shove.

They navigated the chaotic office until they reached a very broad oaken door. A nameplate fixed in the center proclaimed: Head of Department . Tonks opened the door and pulled Harry inside. 

Amelia Bones’ office looked a lot like Harry would’ve expected. There was a chair for guests, only one, so Tonks pushed him into it and stood nearby. There was a very large desk, a couple of bookshelves, and facing anyone who walked inside was a coat of arms with a badger at its center. Amelia didn’t bother with trinkets or paperweights. The only decoration was a very small picture, close to the far side of the desk, featuring Amelia posing beside a young Susan.

Shortly after they entered, the door banged open again. Amelia Bones stood in the entrance, dressed in a trench coat that covered her from the neck to the ankles. Harry wondered if she rolled out of bed like her subordinates, but hadn’t been willing to show off her pajamas. She looked at Harry, then at Tonks, and walked purposefully into the room, dropping into a much nicer high-top chair than the seat Harry was in.

“You may leave, Auror Tonks,” Amelia said.

“Madam, I haven’t even told you—!”

“We will have plenty of time to discuss your… adventures at a later time. Preferably with more of your superiors present.” Amelia paused. “I have heard talk of you as a hero , Auror Tonks. I plan to investigate these rumors. If there is truth in them, I’ll make note of that. If they’re farcical… I will make note of that. Wherever the truth lies, I am not in need of you at the moment. You may leave.”

Harry wasn’t fooled by the presence of the word ‘may’ in that sentence. It wasn’t a suggestion.

“Yes Madam,” Tonks said.

Her gait was stiff as she walked from the room. The door opened and closed, leaving Harry alone with Amelia.

He waited for her to speak. This was supposed to be a questioning. Or an interrogation. Or something along those lines… He wasn’t completely sure, given the elaborate (some might say convoluted) direction the night had taken.

Amelia’s nose wrinkled as she audibly sniffed the room. She leaned forward in her seat, shutting her eyes to focus better on the scents she was picking up. When her eyes opened again, she stared directly into Harry’s.

“I smell depravity,” she declared.

Harry blinked. First it was Lavender smelling Sinistra’s lust, now this. Did witches these days transfigure their noses to be as sharp as a dog’s or something?

There didn’t seem to be any point in denying it. He and Tonks had gone at each other for hours, resting and starting again and repeating the cycle until they were thoroughly satisfied. Underneath his clothes were a variety of bruises and bite marks, and he’d be lying if he said his body was clean. He wasn’t quite clear how Amelia picked up on that, but he didn’t need to lie.

“I was grateful, Madam,” Harry said, forcing himself to blush. “She swept in and saved me! How could I resist a gorgeous older Auror taking me back to her apartment? It’s all my fault. I seduced her while we were there to change clothes.”

“The motive is irrelevant,” Amelia said. “And I’ll be the judge of who is at fault. That’s what my job entails.”

“But… why do you care?” Harry asked. “What does it matter what Tonks and I do?”

He was trying to make his voice sound innocent, but it was mostly coming out nasally. It had the effect of making him sound like a whiny little shit whenever he opened his mouth. Harry would have to remember this voice— it would drive Snape absolutely bonkers if he used it on the potions professor.

Amelia Bones leaned her weight back in her seat. She shed her coat, revealing a simple, somewhat elegant white shirt beneath.

“I care because Auror trainee Tonks has a questionable record of behavior,” she said. “On at least one occasion, she has acted in ways far too naughty for a member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Tell me, Harry. Did you sleep with her?”

Abruptly, Harry dropped the innocent/nasally voice, speaking normally.

“I fucked her for hours,” he said. “First I ate her out. Then she rode me. After we rested for a bit, I pounded her from behind, both holes. She especially likes taking it while on her side. Anyway, after a few more rounds, she cleaned me up with her mouth. She really got a kick out of it, too, considering she was touching herself the entire time.” He paused. “Sorry, is this an official report? I can try to remember the details if you want.”

Amelia looked up from laying the picture frame on her desk flat, preventing the young Susan inside from hearing any more.. “Those aren’t the details?”

“Oh, no. You see there’s this spot about two inches down from her clit—”

“That’s alright, Mr. Potter,” Amelia said. “I’ve heard everything that I need to.”

“Tonks isn’t in trouble, is she?” Harry asked.

“I will assess Nymphadora’s position at a later time.” Amelia drew her wand, waving it toward the door. It locked, while the sounds of the hectic work going on outside dimmed to nothing.

“This office has state-of-the-art protection charms,” she said. “When activated, no one can get out no matter how much they try— and not even screams can be heard outside.”

Harry wondered if maybe he had asked the wrong question. Tonks might not be in immediate trouble…

But he seemed to be.

“Is there something you need my help with?” Harry asked.

“There is, in fact,” Amelia said.

She stood up, and Harry couldn’t help the way his jaw dropped open.

Beneath her white shirt was nothing but a lacy piece of lingerie with a whole cut out of it right in the middle, leaving her pussy bared to the whole room.

“You like to fuck, do you?” Amelia asked. “I’ve been looking for someone like that. Hold still, and I’ll give you the best night— morning of your life.”

She walked around her desk, hips sashaying side-to-side. She was biting her lip, not looking any less serious than usual, just with a new task to accomplish. Harry looked at the lingerie that was pointedly not covering the crotch it was strapped to, and pushed through all the confusion he was feeling to hold up his hands.

“Sorry to be a buzzkill, but I just had sex for hours,” he said. “I really don’t have anything left in the tank, as hot as you are..”

Amelia observed him. Then she returned to her desk. Popping open her dress, she pulled out a collection of potions.

“Modified versions of the Pepperup,” she declared. “They don’t just warm up your body, they fill it with fire. One is enough to get me through the roughest mornings.”

She scooped up five and approached Harry. Just before she got to him, she stopped. Amelia set down the potions, pulling off her shirt. Perhaps unsurprisingly, she had nothing underneath.

Strangely, it wasn't anything Harry hadn't seen before. Tonks had mimicked her boss’s body perfectly as he fucked her. With an almost suspicious amount of accuracy, Harry decided, now that he was staring at the original.

Amelia’s boobs were as nice as Susan’s, just aged slightly, leading to them hanging slightly lower on her chest. She uncorked the first of the potions, dropping herself into Harry’s lap and straddling his legs. Tipping the potion over, she allowed its red-and-pink liquid to wash down her pale breasts, all the way to the broad pink areolas and stiff nipples tipping each.

“Drink,” she said, as if commanding an Auror.

Harry’s mouth went to work.

He bit the breasts hanging in his face, slurping up as much of the potion as he could imbibe. It tasted like the feeling of sprinting. Steam puffed from his ears while his body warmed up, but Amelia hadn’t been lying about these Pepperups containing something extra. His energy levels spiked, bringing him from near-exhausted back to feeling perfectly normal. Then he heard more bottles uncork.

Amelia poured three more down her breasts, forcing Harry to suck and lap desperately at her. When he missed a bit, he ducked his head down low, licking it off her flat stomach. Amelia Bones was in fantastic shape for her age.

As Harry finished off what totaled to his fourth potion, he was vaguely aware of steam pouring out of his ears like clouds. He felt on fire inside, and his cock that minutes earlier was struggling to get hard now felt like it would never be soft again.

As he looked at Amelia, her body glistening with residue from his saliva, she uncorked the last potion. Instead of pouring it over her body, she held onto the open vial for a moment.

“It’s been a long time since I felt a man’s touch,” she said. “I hope that you will not disappoint me like the last ones.”

She pushed the vial into her own mouth. Instead of drinking normally, she slid the entire thing into her mouth, holding on with two fingers on the very base. All six inches slid into her mouth and past it, to the throat. When Amelia pulled the vial out, steam pouring from her own ears, she looked no worse for wear.

Her hips started to grind on him with just as much fiery energy as Harry was feeling. The opening in her panties allowed her moist crotch to slide along his crotch, eliciting a groan from him. Running on his high from the potions, Harry reached around to grab her ass.

Amelia pushed his hands down. “Don’t interrupt!”

Harry frowned, but he lowered his hands. She went on grinding, her face filled with an odd mix of pleasure and utter focus.

Her whole body moved in order to flick her hips at exactly the right pace. Her weight pressed down on his crotch, while Harry could feel her movements getting faster. Moisture was beginning to leak through his clothes enough for him to feel on his skin. Growing excited, he moved his own hips, grinding back.

A hand grabbed his face, squeezing his cheeks in a way that had nails jabbing his skin.

“Not yet!” Amelia yelled.

Harry wasn’t able to help the bemused look he sent her way.

Amelia’s movements changed. She pressed into him more forcefully. Her breasts were swaying each time she slid back and forth. They looked tantalizing, but Harry just knew that biting them again would get him yelled at. It seemed like his job was simply to sit still and move as little as possible.

As it turned out, even that was wrong.

Amelia’s face twisted with pleasure. She cried out, planting her hands on Harry’s shoulders and squeezing. Her breathing turned shakey, then evened out, hinting at an orgasm having come and passed.

Suddenly, she was glaring at Harry.

“That was when you were supposed to grind back!” she said. “Don’t you know anything?”

“You wouldn’t let me do anything!” Harry said. “You kept getting mad!”

“Because you were doing it wrong! You’re just like the last ten. This is why I gave up on men for so long!”

“You can’t expect me to know exactly what you’re thinking at all times,” Harry said. “That’s crazy.”

“I have high expectations,” Amelia said snidely. “A shame they’re always being let down. Hold on. I’m sure I’ve got some paper in my desk. I'll create a diagram for you to follow, so that you’re not so hopeless.”

She slid off of Harry’s lap, turning and bending over the desk as she reached across to the drawers. To explain what happened next, Harry had to describe exactly how he was feeling in that moment.

He was irritated, because nobody likes to be told they’re useless, worthless, or hopeless, and they especially dislike being called all of the above. He was confused, because this wasn’t going how he expected it to. He was aroused, because a beautiful older witch had just orgasmed on his crotch, and now she was leaning over a table practically shoving her shiny lower lips in his face. And finally (as well as most importantly) he had an overdose of magical caffeine shooting his self-control to shit.

Harry stood and stripped quickly and quietly.

“I’m sure it’s in one of these drawers!” Amelia said, leaning even further. Her thighs bumped the close side of the desk, while her breasts were pressed down flat under her chest.

“Accio Pepperup,” Harry said.

The desk rocked as a drawer slid open and another one of Amelia’s private potion stock raced into Harry’s hand. She tried to turn to look at him, but Harry had hit her stomach with a sticking charm, keeping her melded to the desk.

“Improper!” Amelia complained. “That’s not how this is supposed to go!”

“There’s no such thing as ‘supposed to go’ in sex,” Harry said. “You can’t just come up with a plan and expect someone else to follow it.”

He uncorked the potion as Amelia said, “Sure I can! It’s not my fault nobody can keep up with me! Men are just a disappointment. I learned that the hard way.”

“So you tried to keep your niece away from them entirely. I get it now.”

“How do you know that?” Amelia demanded.

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry said. 

He spread the cheeks of her ass with one hand, and with the other, he poured the entire potion he had summoned.

Incidentally, that was how Harry learned that steam comes out of your ears no matter what hole you ingest a Pepperup potion through. Amelia’s ears fizzed as she cried out. With all the prep work done, Harry did exactly as he wanted.

He shoved his dick into her tight little asshole.

Amelia immediately put those office protections to the test with how loud she screamed. Harry slid in, finding the sensation a combination of brutal constriction and an odd fizzy feeling from the potion he’d used as lube. Harry sank deep inside Amelia, and before he even had time to pull back and deliver a second thrust, she had already spewed an orgasm over the floor.

“How long do we have before anyone comes looking for you?”

“They can’t get in.” Amelia’s voice was quiet. “We have hours, if we need them.

“Good! Because I have a ton of excess energy to work through! And I found just the way to do it…”

Harry’s pounded her from behind, creating ripples through her ass. Amelia was stuck in this position. She couldn’t pull away or stop him to tell him he was doing the wrong thing. Harry was finally allowed to improvise, and Amelia wasn’t complaining. She was squirting like a faucet.

Harry’s hips moved faster than he ever remembered from any of his lives. His fingers shook from the jitters as they held onto Amelia’s hips. She screamed and he laughed as his pelvis blurred, driving her through orgasm after orgasm.

A crazy idea came to him, and because he had absolutely no impulse control after all those potions, he just did it, not wasting time wondering if it was possible.

When his hips pulled back, he let his cock slip out of Amelia’s asshole. When he thrust forward, he did so straight into her pussy. He kept doing this, switching back and forth, and the speed he was going at made Amelia feel like she was getting double-teamed.

“This is sex?” she cried out.

“Isn’t it great?” Harry laughed.

Amelia moaned. “But I didn’t account for any of this! None of it was part of my plan!”

“I know,” Harry said. “That’s what makes it great.”

He might’ve been imagining things, but he swore her next moan sounded like she was agreeing.

Those potions might really have been dangerous, because Harry lost all track of time. There weren’t any windows in Amelia’s office, considering the Ministry’s underground nature, and no noise got in from outside. It was just the two of them, in their own little world. His first load he emptied inside of her asshole. The second one went in her pussy. He lost count after that. All he knew was that when the haze finally cleared from over his mind, he felt more exhausted than he ever had before.

His legs gave out. He fell back, landing in the chair he started in, his cock thoroughly flaccid now. If he closed his eyes even to blink, he felt like he’d fall asleep for the next week.

So he focused on the sight in front of him. Amelia Bones wasn’t moaning anymore, her voice having been rendered hoarse. His sticking charm had been canceled a long time ago, but she willingly remained in position, her ass raised on the edge of the desk to allow Harry easy access. Both her holes were overflowing with cum, and Harry watched it mix together, running down the insides of her thighs. The carpet under her crotch was dark with stains from her many explosive orgasms.

“Madam Bones,” Harry said, his own voice sounding quiet enough to shock him. “It has come to my attention that you’re not very knowledgeable when it comes to sex. There’s no shame in that! But it does raise a question.”

Amelia turned her head slightly, just enough to look back at him.

“Have you ever thought about tutoring?” Harry asked.

If you enjoy my work, check out the link in my profile for even more.

Chapter Text

Chapter 19

Whodunnit?

“You may take Mr. Potter back to Hogwarts promptly, trainee Tonks.”

“Err,” Tonks said.

Amelia Bones glared at her. “Is there something wrong with my request?”

“No!” Tonks said, raising her hands. “I can get him back there! Nothing at all to it! It’s just… are you alright, Boss? You’re looking pale.”

Amelia Bones pulled her coat tighter around herself, sinking back in her chair to hide her trembling legs. Underneath its fabric folds, she wore nothing but the remnants of Harry’s cum. 

“Your concern is noted, Trainee,” Amelia said. “If you would truly like to ease my worries… Then do as I say. Promptly.”

“Yes Boss!” Tonks snapped off a salute.

She led Harry out of the office, pulling him along by the hand.

The office was just as crowded now as when they entered. It might’ve even gotten busier. There were more than just Aurors running around. Clerks, other ministry officials, and visitors called in for statements or complaints all crowded the busy rooms. As they passed a branching hallway, a voice made Tonks and Harry stop.

“This is ridiculous! It’s absurd! Look me in the eyes and tell me that again, if you’re man enough!”

The response was too quiet for Tonks and Harry to make out, but it presumably consisted of looking the man in the eyes and telling him whatever it was again, because soon the shouter was back to shouting.

“I’ll have your head! I’ll ruin your life, and the lives of every single member of your family! You won’t survive this I tell you, you won’t!”

The door flew open. Out exited Lucius Malfoy in the flesh, his naturally-pale skin flush with anger.

He didn’t even spare a glance for Harry and Tonks as he swept past, two targets he would’ve normally delighted in ridiculing. His strides were long as he left the office in record time.

“Dad?” Tonks said.

Harry stopped watching Malfoy in time to see a man with light hair and a slight gut emerge from the same door. He had a book tucked under one arm, and a large smile on his face.

“Hey there Nymphadora!” he greeted with a wave.

“Dad—” Tonks hissed.

“I’m not calling you Tonks,” said Ted Tonks. “That’s just confusing.”

He walked over, studying Harry. He held out his hand.

“I’m Nymphadora’s father,” Ted introduced himself. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Harry was exhausted, and to be honest, quite ready to go to sleep. But he made sure to shake the offered hand. Ted Tonks was a good man… And Harry respected any Muggleborn man who somehow managed to fuck his way into the Black Family (even if it got him and his wife burned off the tapestry as soon as the news came out).

“Harry Potter,” Harry said.

“Ah! I should've figured,” said Ted. “I heard you got kidnapped.”

“Fortunately, your daughter swept in just in the nick of time,” Harry reported.

“Did she now?” Ted looked at his daughter. He was much sharper than he often acted, and in moments like this one, you could see it. “That’s fortunate.”

“Dad, what are you doing here?” Tonks asked.

“Working. What do you think? I know my cases aren’t quite as flashy as yours, considering they stick to the courtroom and all, but they still get me out of the house from time to time.

“Is someone suing the Malfoys?” Harry asked.

“People are always suing the Malfoys,” Ted said. “You just wouldn’t know it, considering ninety-percent of them get bought off, and the last ten percent end up with a corrupt judge.”

“Can a lawyer say that?” Tonks asked.

Her father shrugged. “I just did, and I haven’t combusted yet… So I’ll go with yes.”

“Lucius must really hate parting with his money if he was that mad about making a settlement,” Harry said.

Ted Tonks paused. He seemed to be fighting a smile.

“I know I said his money solves every case, but it might be closer to ninety-nine and nine tenths of cases.”

“He’s lost some?” Tonks said.

“Not yet. But this time… Well, I can’t spill the details. You should be hearing about them first, Harry.”

“Me?”

Tonks looked suspicious. “What did you do this time?”

“I don’t know!” Harry protested.

Was Malfoy taking the fallout for the dragon attack? He’d gotten off light after the Quidditch World Cup, and last Harry checked, your son having a micropenis wasn’t a suable offense. For once, he didn’t think he was behind something.

“You’ll see soon enough.” Ted clapped him on the shoulder. “Good meeting you! And in the future, be careful. My daughter tries her best… but you’re probably better off not relying on too many rescue missions from her. She’s liable to trip.”

“Dad!” Tonks complained, but her father was already walking away.

“He’s nice,” Harry said.

“Yeah, yeah.” Tonks pulled him along. “Let’s get out of here, before anyone else finds time in their busy schedule to insult me.”

O-O-O

Even a day later, signs of what had transpired were visible at Hogwarts. A large swathe of grass had burned away, and in one place, it seemed unable to grow back, no matter what anyone tried. It was as if every last root in that one spot had perished with no hope of repair.

Harry paused on the lawn, staring briefly at the hollowed-out and crispy wreckage of the Beauxbatons carriage.

“I swear I didn’t…” he said.

Shaking his head, he finished the walk up to the Great Hall.

Tonks left him at Hogsmeade, returning to the office. She told him not to get into any trouble, but her eyes didn’t fool him. Not only did she not believe he would listen, she was hoping he wouldn’t, giving her another chance to stop him. Harry loved a bit of ambition in his hero.

As soon as he stepped into the Great Hall, conversation stopped. He’d arrived right in the middle of lunch. Students stopped eating to whisper to each other, many of them pointing at him, and it wasn’t just the ones from Hogwarts. Viktor Krum stared stonily at Harry as he passed. Most of Durmstrang was seated with Slytherin, while Beauxbatons was more split. As Harry walked past, a voice called out to him.

“Looking to get kidnapped again, Potter?” Draco asked. “If it was me, I would’ve hid out for a few more days, just out of embarrassment.”

There were giggles along the Slytherin table. Harry cocked his head.

“Draco, I really couldn’t be less surprised that your first resort is running back to your mommy.”

“Jealous, Potter?”

“Of course I am,” Harry said. “Your mother is one sexy witch. I’d run to her in a heartbeat… and more.”

He kept walking as Draco attempted to summon a comeback. He was too tired to deal with that boy at the moment.

It took him five seconds after reaching the Gryffindor Table to realize he should’ve skipped lunch entirely and gone straight up to his room for a nice nap.

“Harry! Harry! Are you alright!”

“What was Tom Riddle like?”

“How’d you get grabbed!”

Harry blinked, holding his hands up as if they could shield him from the verbal barrage.

“Please, please, one at a time!” someone said fiercely.

Harry sighed with relief. “Thank you… Fleur?!”

The part-veela smiled at him.

“You are too sweet, Harry,” she said with a blush.

There were a few other Beauxbatons sitting at the Gryffindor table, now that Harry looked for them, but Fleur was by far the closest. She’d somehow managed to move directly next to him, despite the fact that someone else had been there when he sat down.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Harry admitted.

Not so soon, at least. He was sure she’d pay him a visit, but he definitely didn’t remember her eating at the Gryffindor table in the past. Fleur nodded somberly.

“After the poor fate our dear carriage met, adjustments had to be made. I suggested that we integrate in with the students of Hogwarts, staying with them. To deepen school relations, of course.” She paused. “I am ready to deepen our school relations any time, Harry Potter.”

More than a few students suddenly coughed on their drinks, while Alicia Spinnet stumbled as she walked past, heading toward an open seat beside Angelina Johnson.

“She’s staying in our dorm,” Hermione said from across the table.

“Oui,” Fleur said. “I asked to stay in the boys Gryffindor dorm, but your Professor McGonagall would not allow it.”

“I wonder why,” Harry said.

“The two of you know each other?” Dean Thomas asked.

He was usually always together with Seamus Finnegan, his best friend, but on this afternoon Seamus was nowhere in sight.

“We met this summer,” Harry said.

“When?!” Hermione asked.

“At the Quidditch World Cup.”

Lavender Brown, sitting next to Hermione, suddenly gasped.

“You cheeky fucker!” she exclaimed.

On the Hogwarts Express, Harry had told her and her friends that he watched the World Cup from a VIP box, and went home with a veela after. Harry shot her a wink.

Harry hoped that he would soon fade out of the spotlight, but he should’ve known better. Most of Gryffindor was still grilling him to learn how he got ‘kidnapped,’ and they didn’t seem to believe him when he said it all happened while he was taking a nap. Then Fleur wanted to feed him, and Harry couldn’t exactly say no to that. He just couldn’t escape the feeling, from the way various looks he was getting off other boys, that he’d have to be on the lookout for assassination attempts in his near future.

Eventually, during a brief lull in conversation, Ron managed to get close enough to whisper i Harry’s ear.

“I’m, err, glad you’re okay,” he said. “Don’t know who I’d partner with in potions if anything bad actually got you.”

Harry grinned at him— and he meant it with everything he had. Ron might be crap at sappy stuff, but Harry wouldn’t forget in a hurry how the redhead walked toward three adult dragons, just because he saw Harry on the other side.

“Say, you haven’t changed your mind about entering the Triwizard Tournament, have you?” Harry whispered back.

Ron blinked. “You mean if I want to? Of course I do! But I dunno, Dumbledore seems pretty serious about this age limit business…”

Harry looked at the staff table, where he found the headmaster rocking back and forth on a recliner far nicer than the wooden seat he usually used at the table. The man had a bruise in the shape of a chair leg spanning his face and forehead, and he was grinning from ear to ear. From where Harry was sitting, it looked like the only thing the man cared at all about was his ‘Tiffany’.

“Don’t worry about Dumbledore,” Harry said to Ron. “I was just asking out of curiousity.”

As lunch drew to a close, Harry had already decided to skip his next class. A bit of sleep sounded well worth one period of detention. The only obstacle was how to ditch Fleur, because frankly, if she got ahold of him now she’d drain what little his balls had left and leave him like a husk.

He was pondering the logistics of using his invisibility cloak when it happened. 

There was a loud groan, like a giant was snoring in the room with them. By the time that Harry and others looked over, the entire Slytherin table was enveloped by a great smokey Pop!

Students shouted. Green-robed Slytherins and fur-clad Durmstrang students sprung away, coughing on the smoke. Those sitting near the middle of the table looked slightly singed. Draco Malfoy, in particular, had lost his eyebrows altogether. 

But while this was a much more noticeable event, it was not the only problem students faced. Hermione sipped her goblet— and rather suddenly, a strange look entered her eyes.

“Did you know I can juggle?” she asked.

“Hermione, what? ” Harry asked.

She giggled. “Watch!”

She snatched up her goblet — still completely full — along with the goblets of the students on either side of her, tossing them in the air. She didn’t catch a single one, ending up totally doused in Pumpkin Juice. Instead of looking shocked, she merely continued to giggle.

“Did you know I can do flips?” she asked, beginning to stand.

Harry stunned her before she could offer a demonstration of that , softening her fall with a cushioning charm.

It wasn’t just Hermione. Select students at every table except for the Slytherin one were starting to act out in ridiculous ways. Harry reached over and wiped up trace amounts of Hermione’s Pumpkin Juice. When he sniffed it, he caught a whiff of something else.

“Some sort of potion,” he mumbled. “But why…?”

Colin Creevey ran past, moving awkwardly but with a wide grin, beginning to pull off his shirt. Harry stunned him as well, but the pattern was beginning to sink in.

It was only Muggleborns whose drink had been spiked.

The staff stood, even Dumbledore, though he had attached his chair to his own posterior, forcing him to waddle like a hermit crab. When the teacher in the lead, Professor Vector, went to step around the staff table, she was sent sprawling.

Enormous words made of sparks had appeared in the air, glittering like a wall between the students and the staff.

LONG LIVE TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE, SAVIOR OF ALL HALF-BLOODS!

Through the chaos, Su looked straight at Harry from the Ravenclaw table. 

‘Why?’ she mouthed at him.

But Harry could only stare back at her, his eyes wide.

‘This wasn’t me!’ he mouthed.

‘Then who was it?!’

Harry didn’t know. But he was going to find out.

Just as soon as he got his nap.

O-O-O

Classes were canceled for the rest of the day. Harry’s nap turned into something quite a bit longer. He slept until the following morning, and when he rose and stretched, he found Su waiting for him downstairs in a sparsely-populated common room.

“Fix this,” Su said, her arms crossed.

“I plan to,” Harry assured her. There was no one close enough to listen in, so he added, “Believe me, I’m not just going to let someone else use the name of someone else that I’m using for my own purposes for their own purposes.”

Su wrinkled her nose. “You phrased that terribly on purpose. But whatever, as long as you’re on board.”

“I’m surprised you’re so motivated about this,” Harry admitted. “You’re a half-blood, aren’t you?”

“That’s why!” Su shivered. “I’ve already caught people giving me suspicious looks, and it’s been a day. If this goes on much longer it’s going to turn into a witch hunt. We’ve got to stop it before then.”

As they talked, a few older years were passing by. One broke away from them. Alicia Spinnet approached Harry and Su, crossing her arms.

“Are you guys going to look into what happened yesterday?” she asked. “If you are, let me help. Your friend is right, Harry. I’ve noticed the looks too.”

“Sure, you can come,” Harry agreed. “I know just the place to start, too.”

O-O-O

The Hogwarts Kitchens were a room just as large as the Great Hall, located directly beneath the more famous room, just with far less grandiose decor. Instead of students and professors, it was filled at all times by a veritable army of house elves. They worked in elaborate formations at all times of day, prepping food for lunch as soon as breakfast was done, and for dinner after lunch, and so on, each and every day.

“Harry Potter sir!” 

A familiar House Elf leaped away from his work, waving a wrinkled hand above his even-more-wrinkled head. Harry smiled as Dobby approached them, hopping back and forth between his small feet.

“Dobby!” Harry said. “How are you?”

“Very good, sir!” said Dobby. “Very very good! Master Dumbledore has hired me, and he is giving me pay!”

“A free elf?” Su asked.

“Dobby is a bit irregular,” Harry explained. Turning back to the elf, he said, “Listen, Dobby, something bad happened yesterday.”

Dobby’s smile faded.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “Dobby was hearing about that. The professors came to the kitchens asking elves about it, but we didn’t know much. Someone put things into students' drinks. Bad things!”

“It wasn’t the elves?” Harry asked.

“Well, the elves did do it, yes,” Dobby said. “But we told the professors, it was because of a note! They had a signed note from Professor Vector, the lady with the hair that looks like a fresh brown rag! So the elves listened, and we did it. But when we looked for the note later, it was gone!”

“Must have been a fake,” Alicia said.

“Dobby, how did the note arrive?” Harry asked.

“Left outside the door, right where you came in!” Dobby exclaimed. “But we didn’t see who was doing it. No, we didn’t see nothing at all!”

Dobby pulled on his long ears in dismay, turning his head back and forth.

“That’s alright,” Su assured him. She looked at Harry and Alicia. “If this happened during lunch, then it had to be left by someone who wasn’t in the Great Hall. That should narrow it down a ton.”

“I can help!” Alicia said eagerly. “I’m a prefect, so I had to pay attention to what students weren’t in the Great Hall yesterday, in case they were in trouble somewhere else. Hold on, I’ll find the list.”

As Alicia dug through her bag, Harry said, “Thanks, Dobby.”

“Bring them to justices, Harry Potter sir!” Dobby said. “No one plays tricks on elves and gets away with it!”

He marched back to work, spotting the dirty looks he was getting off of his coworkers for abandoning his station. Su stared after him.

“Strange little elf,” she said.

“Always has been,” Harry agreed. “Dobby’s great.”

“Got it!” Alica had dragged her finger down the parchment she pulled out of her pocket. “It looks like the first name is…”

O-O-O

“Why me?” Tracey Davis asked flatly.

The Slytherin glared at them, looking a bit like a cornered stray cat. She was hunkered in the corner of an unused classroom, as far away from the beaten track as possible. It was a miracle they found her at all.

Tracey had pale skin and brown hair, paired with brown eyes that looked like they could cut glass if she glared. Currently, that glare was trained on Harry.

“We’re not just interviewing you,” Su said. “You just happened to be the first—”

“And why was I the first?” Tracey asked.

“Where were you yesterday?” Harry said. “Why weren’t you in the Great Hall?”

“That’s just none of your business, is it Potter?”

“It could be,” Harry said, “if you were the one that set off an explosion at the Slytherin table. You know, you were the only one that wasn’t there to get caught up in it.”

“Like you care what happens to Slytherins.”

“I’m cool with blowing them up, that’s true,” Harry said. “But whoever did it made it about half-bloods… which you happen to be.”

“So are you,” Tracey pointed out. “Maybe you did it.”

“As if the person who did it would be looking for suspects,” Alicia said. “Just tell us where you were?”

Tracey glanced around, assessing her options for ways out. Finding none, she eventually said, “I went to the kitchens.”

“To put potions in drinks!” Alicia said triumphantly.

“To eat a damn lunch!” Tracey said. “Ask the elves. I’ve eaten there almost every day for the last two years! They’ll back that up!”

“Why?” Su asked.

Tracey sneered. “You said it, didn’t you? I’m a half-blood. You see these robes?” Tracey yanked on the snake badge woven onto her chest. “Figure it out yourself. But quit bothering me.”

She went back to eating the sandwich she had been working on when they arrived, refusing to look them in the eyes. Trading looks, Harry, Su, and Alicia backed away, leaving the room.

“She could be lying,” Su said. “We’ll have to ask the elves.”

“Easy enough to do,” Harry said. “Alicia, there have to be more to check on, right?”

“Sure are,” Alicia said. “Let’s see. We’ll be looking for…”

O-O-O

“Me?” Seamus Finnegan said. “Really? You think I did all that.”

“Not necessarily,” Su said. “We’re just checking. Where were you yesterday at lunch?”

“Right here,” Seamus said, gesturing at the Gryffindor Common Room around them. “I was trying to finish a paper on Mandrakes before we went to Herbology.”

“We did have herbology that afternoon,” Harry said.

“You’re pretty outspoken about being a half-blood,” Alicia said. “You talk about it more than almost anyone else…”

“I’m proud of my mum and my dad,” Seamus said. “Is that something to hang my head over? Here!”

He grabbed a bundle of crinkled paper from his bag, thrusting it out to them. Su took it and began to read. Absently, she grabbed a quill from the table beside Seamus.

“This is the paper he was talking about,” she confirmed, absently marking corrections as she went.

“That’s good enough,” Harry said. “He answered what we were asking.”

Su handed back the paper. Seamus stared at it, then looked up.

“I might have to look at getting into this terrorist business,” he said, “if just being suspected gets somebody to do my homework for me!”

O-O-O

“Where were you yesterday at lunch?”

Cho Chang backed away a step as Alicia invaded her personal space.

“Why?” Cho asked. “I didn’t have anything to do with that nasty prank!”

“We’re just making sure of that,” Su assured her. “Whoever did it drugged every Muggleborn with a mix of Befuddlement Draughts and Confidence Boosting Brews. That’s a nasty combination, giving them complete confidence while getting rid of their impulse control. It could’ve turned bad. There’s not many students who could brew something like that— but you could’ve.”

“Since when does being a good student get you suspected like this?” Cho complained. “All my grades are good, not just Potions!”

“Then tell us what you were up to yesterday,” Alicia said.

“It was… I…” Cho looked at Harry apologetically, then faced Alicia. “I was in a broom closet on the second floor!”

“With?” Alicia asked.

Cho blushed even brighter. “Cedric Diggory!”

“We’ll check with him,” Su said. “I’m sure you’re telling the truth, but that will confirm it.”

Cho nodded tersely, quickly leaving them behind as she jogged down the hallway.

Su sagged. “I could never be an Auror. I feel awful, quizzing all these people! How many do we have left?”

“Just one,” Alicia said.

Harry snuck a look at her list over her shoulder. Immediately, he groaned.

“You’re about to feel a whole lot worse after this one,” Harry promised Su. “I know this name.”

O-O-O

“Do you honestly think you’re helping anyone running around like idiotic vigilantes?”

“Shut up and let us do the talking, Zacharias,” Harry said.

Zacharias Smith was a blond boy with an upturned nose, a very punchable face that was, regrettably, matched by his personality. He’d been an original member of the D.A…. but only to quiz Harry for details about Cedric Diggory’s death. He spent meetings insulting Harry and other members, and was the only one out of the whole D.A. to run before the final battle against Voldemort. 

They had cornered him just outside the Hufflepuff Common Room, walking awkwardly in robes that looked a little too big. As per normal, their question had only gotten them insulted.

“Just tell us what you were doing, and we’ll leave you alone,” Alicia said.

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Zacharias said. “And I don’t want to. Leave me alone.”

This wasn’t the first time they’d gone through a question and answer process like this one. Just as Harry was getting sick of it, someone else’s patience broke first.

“Look, slimeball,” Su said, grabbing Zachariah's collar. “Everyone else gave us something , no matter how annoyed they were. They came up with good explanations. So the longer you whine and deflect everything we ask, the more guilty it makes you look. What do you say we go straight to the professors? Are you going to be a little shit to them? Or is your lack of spine going to get you to confess to everything ?”

Zacharias tried to pull away, but he found her grip shockingly strong. Physically pinned back against the wall, that same cowardice that saw him duck every fight that ever came his way made him break.

“I was cleaning my robes!” he snapped. “In case you were wondering, it didn’t work. Look at this!”

He pulled back his Hufflepuff robes to reveal a better-fitting set underneath. These had a badger badge on them, but the colors were all wrong. They looked like an amalgamation of every house’s signature color, with green, red, and blue all mixing together like tie-dye. 

“Justin Finch-Fletchley did this!” he said. “Maybe you should go and interrogate him!”

“Justin?” Harry asked. “Why would he do that?”

“Because he’s a prat who can’t take a joke,” Zacharias said. “All I did was ask if Hannah had put on a little weight. It’s not my fault she went and started crying.”

Su released his collar, giving him a look of disgust. 

“We’ll check with Justin,” she said, turning and leaving. Harry and Alicia followed her, not wanting to hear another second of Zacharias’s nasally voice.

“That’s all of them,” Alicia said. “There weren’t any other half-bloods outside of the Great Hall at lunch. We’ll check their stories, but do you think you might know who did it?”

“I’ve got a few ideas,” Harry said. “Tomorrow, I’ll know for sure. Go ahead and meet me on the seventh floor, by the portrait of Barnabus the Barmy…”

O-O-O

A day came and went. When Alicia arrived at the specified place, she found an entrance to a room, one that once she passed through looked exactly like a courtroom from Level Ten of the Ministry of Magic. Every one of the half-bloods they interviewed were already there, while Harry sat at the top of the raised podium like a judge. She walked in and stood near Harry, beside Su.

“Thanks for coming, everyone,” Harry said. “We’ve checked out your stories. Tracey, the house elves confirmed that you come by often, and that you arrived after the potions had been left.”

Tracey smiled, crossing her arms.

“Seamus, I checked with the others, and you were in the common room when they arrived. Dean said you told him ahead of time what you would be doing. It all checks out.”

“Thanks,” Seamus grunted.

“Cho!” Harry said, making Cho jump. “Cedric backed up your story.”

She just blushed.

“And Justin confirmed he did curse Zacharias’s robes. He said it pretty proudly, too.”

“Git,” Zacharias muttered.

“So we have no clues?” Alicia asked. “We’re at a dead end!”

“We wouldn’t have called you here if that were true,” Su said.

“Exactly right!” Harry smiled. “Right now, in the room with us, is the culprit. And I know who they are.”

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Chapter Text

Chapter 20

Minion Acquisition

“Uh, Harry?” said Alicia. “What are you doing with your wand? I thought you were going to point out the culprit.”

“That’s what I’m doing,” Harry said.

“But your wand is aimed at me .”

Harry was still at the top of the podium. Only now, he had his wand out, and just like Alicia said, its wooden tip was pointing directly at her forehead. Harry smiled. He didn’t lower his wand.

“Isn’t that interesting,” he said.

Alicia stepped back. “I don’t understand!”

“Let’s explain it, then,” said Su.

The Ravenclaw was also pointing her wand at Alicia. The suspects were murmuring to each other, looking curious. Harry cleared his throat.

“Let’s start with the first point,” he said.  “We were assuming that the culprit had to miss lunch. But that’s not exactly true. They just had to drop the note and potions off to the house elves. There was no reason they couldn’t have come to the Great Hall after that. And you, Alicia, entered late. I remember you tripping when Fleur flirted with me.”

“You came late too!” Alicia said.

“True. That alone isn’t enough to make you guilty. But lots of little things add up. You were really eager to help us out. You made off-hand comments about how the culprit couldn’t be interviewing others, just to keep the heat off yourself. It was enough to make me suspicious. So I went and asked the other Gryffindor Prefects if they had lists of the people missing from the Great Hall, and Su asked the Ravenclaw ones. None of them did… except for you.”

“It… I…” Alicia stuttered. Suddenly, she smiled, even though Harry was still pointing his wand toward her. “Wow. Nice job, Harry! I honestly didn’t think you had it in you. I was sure you were going to pick one of these four and just call it a day.”

“Why’d you do it Alicia?” Harry asked.

“I don’t mind telling you. But not here. Let’s change the venue up a little bit.”

Robes swished around the room. All four suspects drew their wands, and aimed them at Harry and Su.

“You missed something,” Alicia said apologetically. “You got a correct answer, but there wasn’t actually a wrong one.”

“All of you?” Su asked in disbelief.

“Cho brewed the potions,” Alicia said. “Tracey planted the explosives along the Slytherin table. Zacharias and Seamus were supposed to keep from being seen, so that they could distract anyone looking into it. My job was to deliver the potions and stay undercover, but I guess I didn’t manage that. I underestimated you two. I can see why he wants you, Harry.”

“I don’t swing that way,” Harry said hastily.

“Oh, shut up,” Alicia groaned. “It’s not like that. You four! Get them moving.”

Harry and Su’s wands were confiscated, while Harry was pulled down off his podium. They bound their hands with rope as if they were prisoners being marched between cells. Su gave Harry a look, but he just smiled to tell her to go along with this for now.

Seamus walked to the door and peered out into  the hallway. When Seamus had checked the coast was clear, Zacharias gave Harry and Su a push in the back. They were moved through the halls for a few corridors before veering into a hidden passage protected by two suits of armor.

The passage was dark and angled, leading them up a long flight of stairs. They emerged in one of the suites that professors could choose to stay in if they didn’t want to live outside the castle. 

As soon as they arrived, the four half-bloods they had interviewed fanned out, guarding the entrance. Alica pulled Harry and Su toward a closed door at the far side of the room with steam leaking out of the cracks.

On the other side, Harry and Su found themselves in a lavish bathroom. A broad tub next to the far wall was filled to the brim with bathwater, flower petals and pink soap bubbles dotting the surface. A woman was humming to herself as she rubbed soapy water along her arm. Su gasped.

“Professor Vector?” she said. “But I thought that note was a fake!”

“And who was it who said that first?” said Harry.

Alicia giggled. “Guilty!”

Professor Vector looked over at them. Without a hint of hesitation or shame, she stood up in the tub and rested her arms on the rim, exposing her entire body. She had thick thighs, narrow hips, and perfectly bite-sized breasts shaped like teardrops. Her crotch was crowned by a patch of brown hair, while the hair on her head hung down in long, wet strands. She had a pretty if somewhat square face, with a broad jaw but a sharp chin. She beamed at Harry and Su… Or perhaps just Harry, because that was where all her attention seemed to be.

“Welcome!” she said. “It’s lovely to meet you personally, Harry. A true honor. I am Professor Vector. I teach Arithmancy, if you didn’t know, and I have great plans for you.”

Alicia had turned to the door, layering on locking charm after locking charm. Harry was discovering that it’s actually quite difficult to have a serious discussion with a woman who was both hot and nude. Vector’s nipples felt like they were staring him in the face.

“What kind of plans?” Su demanded, filling in for Harry as he forgot to speak.

“Oh. Hello Su,” Vector greeted. “I didn’t expect to see my star student here. I thought you would be too timid to get mixed up in all of this… but perhaps I was being hasty. To answer your question, I think I should first explain a bit about myself.”

Professor Vector pushed off the rim of the bathtub, leaning back to sit on the opposite side. She idly swished her leg through the water, a motion that offered glimpses of the lips of her pussy.

“I’m a half-blood,” said Professor Vector. “I don’t expect either of you to have known that. I try not to spread it around. Not because I’m ashamed of it— oh, no, I actually draw great amounts of pride from my heritage, and I always have. It’s just that sharing what I am has only ever held me back in the eyes of others. Fools like our dear headmaster are so concerned with helping Muggle-borns that they just don’t have time for our plight. Meanwhile, even though we’ve been raised around magic all our lives, pure-bloods act as if we aren’t the same as them. So while both sides toss favors to their favorites, we’re the ones that get left out.” She leaned forward, still smiling. “I loathe it.”

After a sufficiently long pause to let this sink in, Professor Vector leaned back.

“Now, I’ve always felt this way, but it isn’t like I actually did anything about it. We have no pull, even though there are more half-bloods than any other kind of wizard. So I put my head down. I lived my life the way I’ve always lived it. I was a coward, in short. But I was shown the error of my ways.”

“I don’t like that expression,” Su said, staring at the professor.

Alicia pushed her, making Su stumble. “Quiet! She’s getting to the best part.”

“The moment I heard about him, I knew it was fate!” said Professor Vector. “He made fools out of pure-bloods like it was nothing. He acknowledged the superiority we hold over Muggle-borns. But most of all, he was powerful! The Ministry was helpless to keep him captured. The moment I read about it in the Prophet, I knew I couldn’t keep living the way that I had been. I could no longer afford to be a coward.”

“That’s when you found us!” Alicia said excitedly.

Professor Vector smiled. “That it is, Alicia. I reached out to students the moment school started again, picking only half-bloods I could count on to show pride in their heritage. I’ve taken them under my wing with one goal: to train them for the day we can proudly serve the great Tom Riddle openly!”

Alicia applauded. Su, who had fallen down onto her knees when she was pushed, looked up at Harry as if to say, ‘Do you see what you’ve done?’

Harry thought that was exceptionally unfair. Crazy was crazy, and you couldn’t be held responsible for what crazy people did in your name. He’d know, considering he wasn’t quite sane himself.

“But what do you want with me?” Harry asked.

“Your cum,” said Professor Vector cheerfully.

Su gave him another look, this one even more disbelieving, but Harry could only stare at the professor. “Come again?”

“That’s right,” said the professor. “I need it. In here, specifically.” She pointed to her crotch around where the womb would be. “Tom Riddle chose you. I don’t care that you were torn out of his clutches at the last moment. If you’re good enough for him, you’re good enough for me. You will father the next generation of half-bloods, Harry. As many as possible! And with that, the half-blood will grow even more powerful!”

“You’re telling me to knock you up,” Harry said. 

“Oh, not just me!” Professor Vector said hastily. “Every woman here is willing to do what she must— Alicia, and even the ones outside. Tracey Davis is a dashing witch. You have a crush on Cho Chang, do you not? Imagine her bearing your child. This is for you, Harry, as much as it is for us!”

“Do I get a say in this?”

Professor Vector grinned. “Alicia? Get his clothes off.”

Harry’s Quidditch teammate immediately started stripping him, pulling his robes off over his bound wrists. Harry was left in just his boxers, which Alicia pulled off next. She had to unhook them over his erection. When she bent down to do so, she paused briefly with her face next to Harry’s cock, giving it a quick peck with her lips.

“I can’t wait to feel you inside me,” she said.

Harry had been hard since first seeing Professor Vector’s body, but he certainly wasn’t going soft anytime soon after that.

Alicia shoved him forward sending Harry stumbling up to the bathtub. Professor Vector walked closer, wading through the knee-high water.

“Excellent!” she said. “I just knew Tom Riddle would pick well!”

She grabbed Harry's cockhead with a wet hand, gripping it almost hard enough to hurt. She tugged his dick, and Harry was forced to hastily step forward, swinging his legs up to step into the bath.

Professor Vector stared down at his dick, rubbing her wet soapy hands along the length of it. “Oh, yes. This will do nicely.”

The tub was oval-shaped, with two sides that were narrower than the others. Professor Vector pushed him back into one of these, so that Harry’s back was touching the wall. She fondled his balls for a moment, smiling at the feeling. Then, she turned around, bending over.

Using her hands, she braced herself on the sides of the tub as she backed up her large, thick ass. Harry felt the lips of her pussy pressing against his cock. He slipped smoothly between them.

Professor Vector wiggled her hips, feeling things out. She slid back, until her bum slapped against Harry’s body. Then she began to move.

Her cheeks rippled and jiggled as they moved in mesmerizing patterns. Her pussy slid up and down Harry, riding him as well as he’d ever been ridden before.

“Oh, dear.” Professor Vector giggled. “This takes me back! I haven’t pulled this trick out in decades!”

Droplets of water flew off her body, spritzing Harry’s chest. With his hands tied and his back against the wall, he was forced to stay still and take it. Not that that was a bad fate. The professor’s hips were incredible.

“What do you think, Su?” asked Professor Vector, looking over without stopping. “Not bad, right?”

Su wrinkled her nose. “You enjoy that?”

Harry knew she was talking about the position, which had the professor in complete control, but Professor Vector took her disdain to be about something else.

“Sex is natural, Sweetie,” she said. “And with a man like Harry on hand, it can even be fun! You know, you’re a half-blood yourself. You’re a smart girl. I can’t think of anyone better to join us in siring the half-bloods of the future!”

“I’ll pass on joining your club,” Su said flatly.

Professor Vector sighed. “I was afraid you might say that. Alicia, make sure she gets the message.”

“Yes Boss!” Alicia said.

“Huh?” said Su. “What are you— Wait!”

Alicia tore Su’s clothes off with more violent motions than she used on Harry. Su was left with her hands bound lying on the floor, until Alicia slithered beneath her. The athletic blond wrapped her legs and arms around Su from behind, grabbing her face and pussy.

“Watch,” Alicia commanded. “We’ll see if that resistance keeps up.”

Her fingers started to pump through Su’s insides. Periodically, Alicia would yank them out and slap Su’s crotch, before starting up again. Su’s moans joined the groans from Harry in filling the room.

“Don’t hold back, Harry!” Professor Vector urged. “Statistics show that even well-timed sex only has a twenty-one percent chance of causing pregnancy, so there’s no point wasting time!”

Her hips sped up. She rolled them in circles, rubbing her slick pussy all along Harry’s throbbing length. Across the room, Su cried out.

Alicia had given her nipple a twist. The blond added another finger, shoving three inside Su’s pussy instead of two. 

“Do you really think this is right?” Harry gasped.

“Of course,” said Professor Vector. “What could be wrong about it? The Wizarding World is what’s wrong, not us. We’re just doing what we must. The half-blood will rise! So cum already!”

She threw her whole body back against Harry, causing her ass to compress with a loud clap. Harry’s back thudded against the wall. Professor Vector’s body continued to collide with him, creating a succession of loud thumping sounds.

“And Tom Marvolo Riddle?” Harry gasped. “You think that he’ll approve?”

“Approve? Approve?! ” Professor Vector turned her head, smiling broadly as she looked back over her shoulder. “Harry, he’ll love me!”

“...What?” said Harry.

“He’s not like these other men,” Professor Vector babbled. “He’ll see me for who I am. As soon as I show him everything I did for our cause, he’ll sweep me off my feet and carry me away as his wife! I’m not high-maintenance, no matter what any exes say. I just have high standards, because this whole time, I’ve been waiting for him!”

Her hips sped up again, pushing themselves even faster. The rhythmic clapping of her body against Harry adopted a quicker tempo. Her pussy devoured his cock each time she pushed herself back, her wet walls sucking at him as if they were vacuum-powered.

On the floor, Alicia was beaming as she watched. Seeing her leader kicking things up a notch, she did the same. She added a fourth finger, while at the same time grabbing Su’s throat. Alicia slid back until she was flat to the floor, dragging Su with her, the smaller girl wrapped up in her clutches. Her fingers were blurs as she used them on Su, lightly choking the Ravenclaw all the while. Her muscular legs were hooked around Su’s thighs, holding the girl still.

“Cum for me, so I can prove myself to the one I love!” exclaimed Professor Vector.

Her hips continued to rock and—

“Excuse me. Could you go a little bit harder?”

Professor Vector and Alicia stopped, looking across the room at Su. Su was still wrapped up in Alicia’s limbs, completely at her mercy. But despite all those fingers inside of her and the hand on her neck, Su’s face was politely calm.

“What?” said Alicia.

“Rougher,” Su clarified. “It’s just that, if we’re going to be doing this, I’d like to feel it. Your grip is too loose. And four fingers? Really? With the size of your hands, you should go and use the whole knuckle. If it’s not too bothersome.”

“Su, how can you be so calm?” asked Professor Vector.

“Did you really think my assistant couldn’t handle something like that?” Harry asked.

His voice was smooth and confident in a way that it hadn't been moments earlier. Professor Vector tried to speak, but something looped around her throat. The ropes that had bound Harry’s hands, now loose, knotted themselves around her neck, Harry holding the other end like a leash. A mask had appeared over his face seemingly from nowhere, completely dry despite the water splashing off of their bodies.

“Tell me,” he said, “who was it that I wouldn’t be able to help but love?”

Professor Vector gasped. “Impossible!”

Harry pulled the rope, dragging her body up with it. For the first time, he thrusted his own hips forward. His thighs clapped against the professor’s, filling the room with the noise of their resounding collision.

“Impossible?” he asked. “And who are you to tell me what is or isn’t possible?”

“I’m sorry, dear!” Professor Vector moaned. “I didn’t know… I never could’ve realized… I had no idea who you really were!”

“Of course you didn’t,” Harry said. “I was keeping that hidden. I trust that word of this won’t escape this room?”

“Of course not! I’ll make sure of it!”

“Good.” Harry reached around, casually groping Professor Vector’s small breasts. “I will hold you to that. Now, there's just one more matter to address.”

“And what’s that?” Professor Vector gasped.

“I’m not in the market for a lover,” Harry said. “Now, minions on the other hand… I’m sure we can work something out.”

“Anything!” cried Professor Vector. “As long as I can serve you!”

“Wonderful,” said Harry. “Now, you’ve gotten me all worked up. So for your first order, be a good girl and take what’s coming.”

He smashed his dick inside of her so hard that Professor Vector’s toes left the floor. She howled as Harry continued holding the leash he’d fashioned. Moments later they pitched forward, Professor Vector dropping onto her hands and knees while Harry positioned himself behind her. 

He powered through her pussy with brutish thrusts. Professor Vector moaned, her booty rippling just as much as it had earlier each time Harry barged against it. 

“For taking me and my dear assistant captive, this is going to be a bit rough,” Harry said apologetically.

“Do it! I can handle anything—”

Professor Vector’s head was shoved underneath the water.

Harry watched bubbles drift to the surface as he held her neck down. He didn’t ease up in his pummeling of her, but she was forced to keep her moans inside as she held her breath. Fifteen seconds later, Harry dragged her head up.

Professor Vector gasped for air. Her brown hair was hanging in a wet curtain across her face, water dripping from the ends.

“I told you I can take anything—”

Harry shoved her under again.

This repeated two or three more times as Harry continued dunking her. His thrusts grew more forceful, if slightly slower. On the fifth time Professor Vector’s head was pushed out of sight, he finally came— outside, of course. There was a certain level of one should never go past when (inadvisably) ‘sticking their dick in crazy.’

His penis emerged from her, and his load landed across her back, while a few trails instead dribbled down his length. He stood up, and as he did,’ Professor Vector didn’t follow, remaining on her hands and knees as she attempted to recover her breath.

“Su—” Harry blinked and paused as he looked over. Somehow, Su had not only gotten free from Alicia’s clutches, but had stripped the Gryffindor Witch out of her robes. Alicia’s athletic backside was sticking up as she lay flat on her stomach, Su kneeling on top of her, spanking her ass bright red.

“Yes?” Su asked.

“I’m dirty,” said Harry. “Have her clean me up.”

Su beamed as she stood up, taking a fistful of Alicia’s hair and pulling her toward Harry. Alicia was forced to crawl forward. Harry pulled himself out of the bath, sitting down on the rim of the tub with his legs spread. Su dragged Alicia until the Gryffindor was kneeling directly in front of Harry.

“Go on,” he said. “Clean it.”

Alicia shivered. She opened up her mouth and stretched her jaw, managing to wrap her lips around the tip of his cock. Harry felt her tongue running along him, while her hands rose and stroked the lower portions of his shaft.

“That’s not how you do it!” said Su.

Before Alicia could react, the other witch had planted two hands on her scalp and shoved straight down. Alicia was left gagging as Harry filled her throat. She grabbed onto his knees for stability. Su twisted her head back and forth, even as tears were beginning to dribble from Alicia’s eyes.

“ This is how you do it,” Su said cheerfully.

Harry smiled as he leaned back, admiring the view and enjoying the sensations. Sometimes, it really was amazing to have an assistant around like Su. Some things were just possible with her that he never could’ve pulled off alone. Like this.

And now, it wasn’t just Su he had access to. Six whole minions, all at his beck and call!

Hogwarts wasn’t going to know what hit it.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 21

A Goblet Full of Surprises

It was at times like this when Harry’s ski mask really felt appropriate. He tiptoed forward, creeping up a darkened staircase. Behind him, a stone gargoyle slept soundly, unaware that the passage it guarded had already been penetrated.

Of course, being a wizard, tiptoeing was completely unnecessary. All it would take was one charm to silence his steps. But sometimes it’s not about what’s effective, alright? Harry felt like a bank robber. What boy hasn’t dreamed of being a bank robber at least once in his life? A boring one, that’s who.

Harry reached the door at the top of the staircase. Hesitating, he turned the handle slowly… Then threw it open! He entered the room with an exaggerated somersault. 

It was completely empty of people. That made sense, because who would be in Albus Dumbledore’s office at the ripe early hour of four A.M.? 

The Headmaster’s broad desk stood tall in its usual location. Around the room, shelves were filled with eclectic magic objects. There was the Headmaster’s pensieve, silver steam-emitting curios not even Harry understood the purpose of, and a dozen other curiosities. But there was only one that Harry was here for.

“Who goes there?”

The office might've been empty of other people, but it still held portraits. The old ex-headmasters were stirring. Harry saw one dip out of frame, no doubt on their way to alert Dumbledore.

The one who spoke was a man with dark hair, sharp almost-slanted eyes, and a wonderfully angular beard.

“Hey Phineas,” Harry said, otherwise ignoring the portrait.

Phineas Nigellus Black bristled. Though, being a portrait with no physical body to speak of, he could do little else.

“I will not be addressed like an old friend by a skulking thief in the night!” he said. “I was headmaster of this school! I was a patriarch of the great Black family! I—”

“You aren’t going to be able to stall me,” Harry said, approaching one of the shelves.

“Oh bugger,” Phineas said. “Well, Dumbledore. I tried.”

He promptly went back to sleep. There was a reason Slytherins didn’t often go into the home protection business. 

Meanwhile, Harry pushed aside a few odd trinkets, lifting something off of the shelves. It was a book; one with a large hole through the middle of its innocuous leather cover. It felt brittle, as if it was at risk of turning to dust. However, when Harry turned to its first page, he found exactly what he was looking for right there at the top.

“Bingo,” he said.

He tore the page out and replaced the book. By the time the Headmaster arrived, summoned by his portraits, Harry was long gone, the pilfered page tucked nicely in his back pocket.

O-O-O

“You were not in your room this morning.”

Harry thought this might come up. He expected Ron, or Neville, or maybe even Seamus to catch that he went out, and ask him what he’d been up to.

He just didn’t expect that instead of his roommates, it would be Fleur Delacour to corner him.

He meant ‘corner’ literally, too. As soon as he stepped inside the Great Hall the blond witch had him pressed against the wall. She was dressed in her Beauxbatons Robes… and nothing else, Harry suspected, because he could see her stiff nipples sticking bulging the fabric out. Her hair was back in a bun, while her lovely lips were frowning.

“I had an errand to do,” Harry said apologetically.

“You had a witch to do as well!” Fleur said haughtily. She leaned in, until she was practically kissing Harry’s ear. “I prepared a surprise for you when I visited this morning. Since you have been ee-gnoring moi!”

Her accent thickened at the end, accompanied by a burst of warm breath on Harry’s ear. He could feel her body pressing against his. That would’ve been enough to break most men. But Harry prided himself on his composure… so he chose to escalate.

Harry grabbed one of Fleur’s wonderful large boobs, giving it his firmest squeeze he could muster, until he was sure he’d left a hand-shaped mark beneath her clothes. Fleur’s body blocked the sight of what he’d done from any students watching, leaving them confused as she moaned suddenly, her knees turning wobbly.

“I’ve been busy,” Harry said, having released her breast in time to hide what he’d done. “But I have been neglectful, haven’t I? How about for the rest of the day today, I give all my attention to you specifically. How does that sound?”

The look Fleur gave him was vaguely predatory in the most alluring way imaginable. 

She stepped back, allowing him to move away from the wall, and they walked to the Gryffindor table together. Harry smiled, reaching behind her to grope her bum as they walked, making Fleur twitch.

“Are you alright?” Parvati asked Fleur when they got close. “You’re kind of stiff.”

“I am excellent,” Fleur said, her voice strained. “Is there room for us to sit?”

Parvati scorched over, creating a space between her and Ron which Harry and Fleur promptly took. Across the table, Hermione and Ginny were already close to finishing their breakfast.

As soon as Harry relinquished his grip on Fleur for them to sit, she returned the favor, one of her hands grabbing his crotch under the table.

“Want some bacon?” Ron asked, offering a plate toward Fleur.

“No thanks,” Fleur said. “I am in the mood for sausage.”

Her toes rubbed Harry’s ankle. She smirked, feeling his cock growing solid underneath his clothes. Unfortunately for her, Harry was both crazy and competitive.

“Who’s that?” Harry asked, pointing at the staff table.

A large man, both broad and pudgy, was talking animatedly to Dumbledore with lots of hand movements.

Everyone turned to look at where Harry was pointing, except Fleur, who only had eyes for him. That meant the quarter-veela was the only one who saw Harry’s hand snake out, entering her robes from the top. He groped her again, this time clenching his fingers directly on her warm skin, before yanking his hand out just as fast. Fleur hissed. By the time everyone turned back, Harry was sitting there innocently, leaving none of them the wiser.

“That’s Ludo Bagman, Harry,” Hermione said. “We met him at the World Cup.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Harry said. “Silly of me to forget.”

“What’s he doing here though?” Ron asked.

“He’s in charge of the Triwizard tournament,” Hermione said, immediately descending into a spiel about not just the Ministry officials behind the tournament’s return, but the long history of the tournament itself. Harry had a hard time following along, because Fleur’s hand had entered his pants.

Her long fingers encircled his shaft. Somehow, she kept her upper body completely still, even as her fingers slid up and down Harry, slowly jerking him off.

Harry gritted his teeth, smiled, and pretended he couldn’t feel a thing. Fleur frowned, speeding up.

“I wish I could enter,” Ron said wistfully. “I wish Dumbledore hadn’t put that line there.”

He stared across the Great Hall where, right in the center, a towering goblet had been placed on a stand. A line ringed it— Dumbledore’s method to ensure no underage wizards or witches got close. The foolish ones who tried anyway ended up with long white beards, regardless of age or gender.

“It’s a good thing he did!” Hermione said haughtily. “If he hadn’t, anyone like you would’ve entered!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Ron, the Goblet is a Magical Contract. If it chooses you, you must compete, even if you can’t beat a task. If you try to quit, you’ll die.”

“But if the Goblet chooses you, doesn’t that mean it knows you’re good enough?” Ron said.

“If that were the case the tournament wouldn’t have been shut down for too many deaths, now would it?”

“Hey, Ron,” Harry said suddenly. “Before I forget, I’ve got that joint essay we wrote for Flitwick’s class. Put your name on it.”

Harry slapped the assignment on the table with a quill. Without thinking twice, Ron penned his name at the top beside Harry’s. Grinning, Harry stowed the assignment back in his bag. 

Fleur, meanwhile, was frowning. Her shoulder was beginning to visibly twitch as she sped up her hand job, desperate to make Harry crack. He looked at her and winked. A moment later, his left hand moved over, squeezing her inner thigh before sliding up, pressing her pussy through her robes.

“Ooh!” Fleur moaned briefly.

Everyone around her looked over, including Ginny, who gave her a particularly sharp look.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Parvati asked. “I think you might be coming down with a cold.”

“I actually feel quite warm,” Fleur said, her composure regained. She squeezed, her fingers constricting around Harry’s cock. “I was just thinking about something, and I’m afraid a noise slipped out.”

Harry was pretty certain that what she had been ‘thinking about’ was a night inside her tent at the Quidditch World Cup. He couldn’t blame her. As most of the others around them looked away, Harry and Fleur ramped up their teasing, one-upping each other until both of them were red in the face. Harry was glad Ron was sitting next to him. He loved his best friend, but the redhead was far from the most observant guy around.

Harry’s eye twitched as Fleur stroked the slit of his cock with her thumb. He jabbed a finger against her robes, making her flinch. When he heard Fleur panting, he knew they had pushed this as far as they could. She looked ready to pounce and strip him right there, with everyone watching, which was a tad too extreme even for Harry.

Instead, the two of them simply… disappeared.

There was a noise up by the staff table as Ludo Bagman had stood abruptly, knocking over his own chair as he loudly explicated about the tournament to come. Naturally, people looked up to see what the noise had been, and when they did, Harry acted fast. He pulled Fleur close to him, standing up with her as a cloak melted out of his robes, wrapping around them. When it had enveloped them, they were simply gone.

“Where’d Harry go?” Ron asked when he turned back, unaware that his best friend was a few feet away, invisibly carrying Fleur across the Great Hall bridal-style.

“Considering Fleur went with him, I’d rather not think about it,” Hermione said, wrinkling her nose.

Once Fleur realized they were invisible to the other occupants of the Great Hall, she wasted no time biting Harry’s neck, fiercely marking his skin. She did this for thirty seconds straight, only pulling away when she felt them stop.

“What are we doing here?” she whispered, pressing her lips to Harry’s ear.

Harry had taken them across the room, stopping beside a table predominantly filled with green-robed wizards and witches. Durmstrang students were mixed among them, including Krum, who was doing an admirable job ignoring the weasel-faced blond boy chattering in his ear.

“I think we both know what we’re going to be doing,” Harry whispered to Fleur. “As for why here…” He shrugged. “Sounds like fun innit?”

He dumped Fleur gently onto the ground, where she landed on her knees. He bent forward, grabbing the front of her Beauxbatons blouse, and popped it open with a burst of strength. Just as he suspected, there was no bra underneath, just an absolutely wonderful set of breasts.

Fleur looked up at him while tilting her head forward. She put her lips around Harry’s tip, only for him to grab her head. Directly behind Draco, Harry jammed Fleur’s face down, pushing her so far that her nose flattened against his body.

Fleur showed back in her tent that she could handle such things— even without Harry’s hands, she had no trouble stowing him deep in her throat. That didn’t stop her from releasing some very wet croaking sounds when Harry’s manhood speared through her mouth this time.

“What was dat?” Krum asked, perking up.

“Did someone choke?” Malfoy asked, looking eagerly around the table hoping to find someone he could ridicule. 

Harry allowed Fleur to pull her head back, then shoved her down. She slipped her fingers inside of her robes, touching herself as he used her throat. Between the gurgling sounds she released, soft effeminate moans leaked from her mouth.

“It sounds like a gurl,” Krum said, twisting on the bench to look around.

“I don’t see anyone, though,” said Draco. He paused, an ugly little sneer worming its way onto his face. “Speaking of girls, have you seen that veela? I’ve always said the French were useless, but I can think of a few uses for her!”

“I don’t see what’s so special about her,” said Pansy Parkinson.

“Everything!” Draco said. “Well, I could do without that arrogant personality. Don’t see why she’s so obsessed with Potter, either. But that body is worth it. Once I win her over, she’ll forget all about those Gryffindor chumps.”

Snorting, Krum stood up and excused himself. Harry saw his eyes narrow as he looked around, understanding that something strange was going on and wanting no part of it. Draco, meanwhile, continued extolling all the wonderful things he and Fleur would get up to in bed as Fleur choked on Harry’s cock directly behind him.

Eventually, Harry stopped moving Fleur’s head. He just held it in place, moving his hips instead. Fleur allowed her face to be fucked, her fingers moving rapidly over her crotch. Harry could hear the wet sounds emanating from her pussy even over the noises from her throat. It got so loud that he was forced to muffle them just to keep from being discovered.

The sight of Fleur on her knees alone was enough to break a lesser man, to say nothing of the feeling of her tight throat, so it was little wonder when Harry slipped up less than five minutes in. Fleur had already cum multiple times, if Harry understood her noises as well as he thought he did. He leaned his weight forward, holding Fleur down so that her face was buried in his stomach for thirty seconds. He poured his cum down her throat, groaning the entire time. When he finally released Fleur, her cheeks were pink, and she swayed as she struggled to stay up.

“Whew, that was good!” Harry said. “But now, I think we’re a little overdressed.”

He descended on Fleur, shedding clothes as he went. Fleur recovered enough to giggle as she felt him pull off her clothes, revealing the creamy sinful body hidden beneath.

She twisted around on her knees, bending over to raise her heart-shaped rear. When Harry got the last of her robes off, he found a peculiar kind of lingerie. It was pure white, and almost like a normal set of panties, except for the large window in the most crucial area that bared Fleur’s entire pussy.

“The surprise you prepared, I take it?”

Fleur wiggled her wonderful derrière. “Do you like it?”

Harry grabbed her bum, squeezing it as he aligned himself with her entrance.

Outside of the cloak, Draco was still ranting about his crush. 

“I’ll bet she’s a virgin,” he said. “When she falls for me, I’ll take her first time!”

Harry thrust inside of Fleur, clapping those delectable cheeks.

“Oh, mon amour!” Fleur cried out. “I am yours! I am your hole, Harry! Use it well!”

She twisted to look back at him over her shoulder, a beaming smile on her face. She bent her back even more, arching it with absolute grace. She was the only girl Harry ever met who could take a throat fucking like the one he doled out and not look the slightest bit worse for ware after. There had to be some kind of magic involved.

Her thighs rippled each time he brought his body forward. Fleur cried out, trusting the magic to hide her voice… Or maybe she just didn’t care if they were caught. Harry willed an aversion charm into existence as a passing Ravenclaw nearly tripped on them. Right in the middle of the Great Hall, with so many eyes looking past them, he claimed Fleur as thoroughly as he did that night in her tent.

“How do you feel so good inside?” Harry grunted between gasps. “You're like a vacuum. I — Merlin! — can barely hold on!”

Fleur giggled. At some point, her hair had come out of its neat bun, hanging halfway in her face.

“When veela lose their temper, they turn into birds who are on fire,” she said. “To attract men, they must have something worth the risk if they want to keep their mates around.”

“So they developed super-strength suction cup crotches?”

“Oui!” Fleur said. “Now excuse me while I make it tighter.”

She wasn’t joking. With a delightful moan, she tossed her head back and orgasmed again, and the moment she did Harry's penis was crushed even harder. Fleur was like quicksand in a mostly-human form.

In order to not crack, Harry strove for something like meditation. He fell into a trance, focusing on the rhythm of delivering firm thrust at regular intervals. Fleur cried out, beginning to move her body backwards, grinding on him as he moved. Students finished their breakfasts and started leaving, walking all around the invisible pair mating inches away from them.

“Do you smell something?” Draco asked when he started to leave, Crabbe and Goyle at his sides. Pansy had left in a huff earlier, irritated by his constant pining for Fleur.

“Smells like sweat,” Crabbe grunted.

“Goyle, I told you to shower more often!” Draco complained.

“S’not me!” protested his lackey, raising both arms to display that the aroma wasn’t coming from his pits.

Beneath the cloak, Harry gasped. There was only so long a guy could hang on, especially when he hadn’t orgasmed yet that day. Feeling what was on its way, he pulled out of Fleur, his cock sliding free.

He liked her a lot, but Fleur was a little too crazy for him to take any risks. Instead of inside her pussy, Harry’s load was delivered across her lower back, which was such a pale shade of white that the semen almost blended in.

Fleur shifted, turning to look back at him again. “What position would you like next?” she asked. “As I recall, we’ve already tried quite a lot…”

“I’ve got some ideas,” Harry admitted. “But first, I think a venue change is in order.”

They might’ve pounced on each other in the Great Hall, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable ensuring that no one stumbled over them. And it was getting very hot underneath the cloak’s surface.

However, before they left, there was one thing left to do. Harry’s shadow extended, then disconnected from him entirely. It oozed rapidly across the floor, before suddenly springing up in his likeness when no one was looking. Two papers were in its hands.

“Look!” said Draco, who hadn’t gotten far. “Potter is going to try putting his name in! This I’ve got to see.”

Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and a few other Slytherins watched eagerly as Harry’s shadow approached the line drawn around the Goblet of Fire. He got closer, and closer, and then stepped directly over the line, reaching the goblet.

“Huh?!” Draco said. “Where’s the beard?!”

Harry’s shadow emptied its hands into the goblet. Those watching were so preoccupied wondering how he got past the defenses that they didn’t even notice him deposit two papers, not one.

“Come on,” said the real Harry, scooping Fleur up. “I promised you a full day, didn’t I?”

“Oui,” Fleur said. “And if I find out you were exaggerating by a single minute, I warn you, I will not forgive it easily.”

O-O-O

That night was the night. There was an entire Halloween Feast on account of the date, but nobody’s mind was on it. They were all itching for what was after. The Goblet of Fire was still there, its flames a startling shade of blue as it finished its last calculations and settled on the most worthy out of the names roiling inside it.

It seemed like every student in the room let out a collective breath of relief when Dumbledore finally stepped forward, announcing the Goblet was ready. He gave a short speech about what the champions would do when their name was called, indicating the door they would leave through and details like that. Then, it was finally time.

There was a burst of light as the Goblet’s flames turned red once more. It regurgitated a slip of paper, and to no one’s surprise (least of all Harry’s, who’d seen this twice before) Viktor Krum was picked to represent Durmstrang.

There was only a short pause, filled with lots of applause, before the goblet turned red again. Dumbledore caught the second slip of paper, announcing, “The champion of Beauxbatons will be… Fleur Delacour!”

A few girls at the Beauxbatons table burst into tears at the announcement, but most of the Great Hall gave Fleur the same kind of applause they offered Krum. Those applause became a tad muted when they noticed she seemed to have popped up from under the Gryffindor table. As Fleur followed Krum through the far door, she was seen rather conspicuously wiping her mouth.

The third burst of flames was for Hogwarts, and just like in Harry’s past lives, Cedric’s announcement turned the Hufflepuffs rabid. They stomped and cheered and clapped him on the back three times each. It was a struggle for Cedric to even make it to the staff table, but he couldn’t have looked happier.

“And now,” Dumbledore said as Cedric passed him, “we have our champions at last! I urge you to show solidarity, and not to hold grudges if you were not chosen. We all have our time. For the sake of these three fantastic young wizards and witches, lend them your support as they—”

He stopped abruptly, just as Harry knew he would. The goblet flames turned red again, just as Harry knew they would. A fourth strip of paper was spat out. Dumbledore held this one longer than he first three, staring at it in silence before he read it out.

“Ronald Weasley,” he said.

Hermione gasped. All eyes swung toward the Gryffindor table. Ron himself was gaping. He looked at Harry, his jaw still hanging open.

“Huh?” he said.

The twins were the first ones to recover.

“Congratulations!” Fred said, clapping Ron on the back.

“Mum’s going to murder you!” George said in an equally celebratory tone.

“Would Ronald Weasley please follow the other champions,” Dumbledore said, his tone giving away none of his thoughts.

“Go on,” Harry urged Ron with a smile. “Be a hero!”

That was the push he needed. The redhead stood up, squaring his shoulders as he marched around the Gryffindor table toward the door. At first the hall was silent, but Fred and George started cheering, and Harry joined in, followed by a small portion of the Gryffindors.

When he was in the middle of the Great Hall, Ron stopped dead. 

“He lost his nerve!” Harry heard someone at the Slytherin table shout.

But that wasn’t it. Ron hadn’t stopped because he was scared, he was just distracted.

The Goblet had turned red again.

It belched out a dry piece of paper with a hole in the middle. Dumbledore grabbed this one, staring at it with wide eyes.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle,” he breathed.

The Great Hall erupted.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 22

Fucked Serious

“How long do you give it before he’s a red-haired smear on the floor?” Pansy Parkinson asked.

The girl was sitting on her bed with her legs crossed, dabbing Purified Tentacula Extract onto minor blemishes on her face. On the bed next to her, a drop-dead gorgeous blond looked up from her book.

“Does it matter?” Daphne asked.

“Not really, I suppose.” Pansy turned her face, staring at her reflection in a levitating hand mirror. “But it does bring one pleasure to think about.”

“Does it?” Daphne said.

“Of course it does. You think the same, right Millicent?”

Millicent Bustrode, a girl blessed with the build of a lumberjack, nodded her broad square jaw.

“See?” Pansy said. “Millicent agrees with me.”

“Shocking,” Daphne said, returning to her book.

Pansy finished applying her Tentacula Extract and moved on, opening a jar of Peruvian Salamander Cream— perfect for lustrous skin.

“If he’s lucky, he might reach the second task, but I’m betting the first one takes him down.”

“Mhm,” Daphne said.

Pansy waited for more, but Tracey Davis and Lilith Moon were listening in silence, while Millicent Bulstrode had always been a girl of few words. 

“I bet he’ll set a record for the worst score in the history of the tournament. And that’s counting contestants who died in the first task!

“I’m sorry, are you still talking about Ronald Weasley?” Daphne asked. “If I didn’t know better, I’d take you for a concerned wife.”

Pansy went scarlet as Tracey laughed.

“You take that back!” Pansy demanded.

“Alright,” Daphne said. “I apologize.”

There was absolutely no sincerity in her voice, but demanding more would’ve made Pansy look like a burke. Steaming mad, she was pondering ways of getting even for this disgrace when someone said, “I think he makes it to the third task.”

“You’re mad!” Pansy said.

“I’d even bet on it,” they said.

“Yeah? How much?”

“Pansy…” Daphne said.

The girl had looked up from her book. Tracey and Lilith Moon both had wide eyes. Even Millicent Bulstrode had gone stiff in bed. In this roundabout way, Pansy realized what was wrong. That accounted for all of her roommates, and none of them were the one talking.

It wasn’t even a female voice. There, on a bed right between Daphne’s and Lilith’s, was Harry Potter, rubbing cream on his face.

“Peruvian Salamander Cream, huh?” he said scathingly, giving Pansy’s cosmetics side-eye. “It’s alright, I guess, but it has nothing on Amazonian Salamander Cream. Explains a lot that you use it, though.”

“How?!” Pansy cried, jabbing a finger at him.

“How does my skin have such a natural, chic shine?” Harry batted his eyes. “You’d know if you had a decent skincare routine.”

“Not that!” Pansy snapped. “How are you here? And where did you get that?”

Harry was sitting on a sixth bed that had never existed before, yet matched theirs down to the last thread. 

“Does that matter?” Harry asked, patting the bed.

“It does not,” Daphne interjected smoothly. “Focus on the first question, please.”

“I just slipped in when you weren’t looking,” he said. “Why? Can I not be here?”

“Of course not!” Pansy said. “I’ll get Snape!”

“He’d love to be called into a girls' dorm room,” Harry said. “I’m pretty sure that’s why he took the job as a teacher in the first place. It definitely wasn’t for an actual love of teaching. He’d probably be disappointed about it being Fourth Years, though… Now if we were still Second Years, he’d be here in a flash!”

Pansy smacked her floating mirror out of the air. “My head of house is not a—”

“What are you here for?” Daphne said.

“Fun,” Harry said, shrugging. “But now, I’m here to make a bet.” He grinned, leaning forward on his bed. “What do you say, Pansy? You sure were ready to take me up on it a minute ago.”

“You really think your friend will make it to the end of the tournament?” Pansy said.

“Make it to the end? He’s going to win.”

“Hah! You’re a lunatic!”

“If I’m so crazy, take the bet.”

“Put your money where your mouth is first, Potter. What do you have to bet?”

“Calm down, Pansy—” Daphne said.

“I’ll swear a Magical Oath to be your servant,” Harry said.

A dropping pin would’ve been audible inside that room.

“Imagine having the Boy Who Lived as your human house elf,” he said. “You could make me do anything with a single order.”

Pansy’s breathing sped up. She was imagining not just the political implications of such a thing, but the more… practical ones as well. Namely: having a handsome wizard on hand to handle any of her wants and desires. One she could treat however she liked.

“Deal!” Pansy said.

“Fool!” Daphne hissed. “If he’s so confident—”

“If I win, I get the same for exactly one day,” Harry said.

He was betting his entire life, in return for a single day of hers? Pansy should’ve recognized an obvious trap. But her aspirations had gone to her head, and there was no saving her now.

“You’re on, Potter,” she said. “You better not try to back out.”

“I won’t have a reason to,” he said. “I’ll see you soon, Pansy.”

Laughing, he grabbed his blanket, lifting it like one of those Muggle con artists who went around claiming to be capable of ‘magic.’ When the blanket dropped, Harry Potter was gone, leaving nothing behind but the bed he’d been on.

“That wasn’t wise,” Daphne said.

“Come on, do you really think Weasely will pull it off?” Pansy said.

“I didn’t.” Daphne stared at the empty bed. “But I think, now, that he knows things we don’t.” 

Pansy huffed, choosing to ignore her. There was no way she could lose this. It was just impossible. Meanwhile, Daphne continued looking at Harry’s bed right up until she shut her book, slipping under the covers for the night, a thoughtful glint in her eye.

O-O-O

“You aren’t thinking seriously about this at all, Ron! If you didn’t enter your name, someone else must have. I think they were out to get you. Or maybe they were trying to distract you from more important things, like academic standards! Why, Ron, by the end of this, your life might be in danger. Or worse, your grades could sink to last place in our year!”

“But Hermione,” Ron said dreamily. “The glory!”

This had become his stock answer to questions all day long. The redhead looked one step away from laying down on his stomach and kicking his legs like a schoolgirl in love.

“Glory doesn’t secure job prospects, Ron,” Hermione said. “The charms exam this week is on material that will appear in our O.W.L.s. I got first place on the last one, so I might be alright without ample studying, but what about you? This is no time to be thinking about some tournament!”

The trio were outside, sitting on the shore of the lake. With them was Neville Longbottom and, at Harry’s invitation, Luna Lovegood. Neither Hermione nor Ron complained about the extra additions. They were out here to avoid the gossip and questions Ron had been  barraged with all day long by their peers, and Luna in particular was useful for driving off the few students brave enough to follow them  here. The last third year girl who came around asking questions got trapped in a discussion with Luna about Crumple-Horned Snorkack mating habits, and fled soon after.

Now, Luna was leaning back reading a book titled, Magical Creatures and How to (Un)Safely coax them. She wasn’t shy about disagreeing with the book, and had been healthy outraged when Nargles were skipped entirely (which she insisted hurt their feelings). Neville was sitting beside her and Harry, who was skipping stones on the surface of the water. Ron lay on his back closer to the top of the embankment, smiling a bit stupidly while his eyes looked far away. Hermione, however, was pacing around the four of them.

“I can’t get through to him,” she muttered under her breath. “I just can’t get through!”

“It’ll be alright, Hermione,” Neville tried to comfort her. “We’ve still got almost two years before O.W.L.s. He’ll be okay.”

Hermione whipped toward him, her brunette curls fanning out. “You think he’ll be alright?!”

Neville flinched slightly.

“I think so, yeah,” he said, and although his face looked timid, his voice was calm. “Aren’t you at least a little bit excited that the Goblet picked him? I’m happy we can cheer for a Gryffindor. And it’s even someone that we know.”

Harry patted Neville’s back.

“He’s right Hermione,” Harry said. “Can’t we just be happy for Ron?”

Hermione’s lips twitched. After a moment of hesitation, she dropped down with a great sigh. 

“I suppose as long as he studies…” she said.

There was a moment of silence as everyone was content. Hermione had finally calmed down, and Neville seemed glad to see the tension bleed away. Luna was absorbed in her book.

“Really, it’s like this author never did a lick of research,” she said. “Everyone knows that Dementors eat two things— human souls, and cabbage. He’s completely forgotten the cabbage!”

“How could he,” Harry said.

“Just look at this,” she said.

Luna leaned over to Harry, plopping her book in his lap. He looked down expecting to find an entry on some magical creature or another. It was a safe bet for a book on this topic. Instead, what he found wasn’t even a proper page.

A slip of paper had been slid into the book. Because of the angle, only Harry could see it.

It was written by hand. CONFIDENTIAL, it said at the top, followed by a small red heart. Harry scanned the rest of the letter.

If you’re reading this, you have been scouted as a potential client of the dashing, desirable, and slightly-dastardly Harry James Potter. A client for what, you might ask? The naughty. Tricks of the night, the kind that your mummy used to pull your seed out of your daddy’s long schlong. In return for a bit of your time, Harry Potter is more than capable of teaching you the ins-and-outs of doing the nasty. If interested, please see the Boy Who Lived, slayer of voldemort, and ladykiller extraordinaire, Harry Potter himself.

Near the bottom, the author had not just signed her name — Lavender Brown — but even treated readers to a small illustration of herself topless, flashing a peace sign.

“This book really is shocking,” Harry said.

Luna  pulled the book back into her lap, still looking serious.

“Isn’t it ludicrous?” she said. “Not a single entry about Plimpies in the whole thing, yet I could show you three different nests in under an hour.”

“Why don’t you then?” Harry said. “We’ve got time.”

“Harry, don’t tell me you’re seriously—” Hermione said.

But Harry was already standing, as was Luna.

“No time to chat, Hermione,” Harry said. “Important work to be done.” He turned to Luna. “Lead the way, my fine guide!”

Luna linked her hands behind her back holding the book, walking away, and Harry followed her.

“We’ll be back in an hour!” he called back. 

Pausing, Harry glanced at Luna, particularly the outline of her pert bum underneath her robes.

“Or maybe a little bit longer,” he amended.

Neville and Ron waved goodbye while Hermione just huffed. 

Luna led Harry along the edge of the lake before hanging a left. The trekked to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, stopping just before the first of the trees. In the daylight, the forest didn’t look as pitch-black and frightening. It was almost pretty, seeing the trees with the last bits of fall color still visible on their branches. Luna approached one tree with a hollow trunk, setting her book down in order to lean forward, sticking her nose into the dark and sniffing.

“That’s strange,” she said. “I was sure there was a nest in here. With hatchlings, too!”

She was using her hands to prop up her upper body as she leaned against the tree. This position had the side effect of leaving her bum awfully exposed, sticking out invitingly. Harry came to stand behind her.

“I wonder if they’re hiding,” Harry said.

Luna still hadn’t removed her face from the hollow cavity inside the tree, causing her voice to echo slightly as she answered. “Plimpies are very good at hide and seek. They like warm, moist places that they can burrow deep inside of.”

“Like this?”

Luna stiffened as Harry’s fingers snaked around her hips and slid under her skirt’s waistband. Harry smiled. His hands slid along Luna’s warm skin, finding the puffy shape between her` legs. His fingers prodded her, teasing out the location of her entrance.

“What do you think?” Harry asked. “Reckon there are any Plimpies inside of here?”

“No,” Luna said. “But… I think you should check anyway.”

Harry’s fingers took the final plunge.

They entered Luna, delving all the way to her depths. Luna moaned, although she did her best to tamp her voice down, hiding her head inside the hollow tree.

Harry put his weight forward. He pulled one of his hands away from her body, planting it on the tree above Luna’s head. Leaning forward at the same angle, he was perfectly able to whisper into her ear. 

“I don’t know if it’s a Plimpy, but I’ve certainly found something ,” he said. “Could you help me identify it?”

His middle and index fingers surrounded her clit, pressing it from both sides. Luna’s head dipped lower, accompanied by a sharp moan.

“Well?” Harry said.

Luna murmured something too quiet to hear. He pressed marginally harder, eliciting a second moan, this one making Luna hurl her head back.

Her face came back into sight, and Harry was thrilled to discover her cheeks flushed. Luna groaned and panted, missing a great deal of the dreamy aura she usually carried.

“Let’s hear it,” he said. “From your own mouth.”

“It’s my clit,” Luna moaned. 

“Is it? I’m sorry!” Harry said. “That was rude of me, treating it improperly. I’ll make up for that.”

His fingers pressed down in a whole new way. Luna’s thighs constricted around his hand. Harry’s fingers were flicking back and forth rapidly, nearly vibrating, and Luna’s whole body reacted. She was struggling to collect a single breath while her hands had clenched into fists, still pressing against the tree’s coarse bark. 

“I’ve heard something about Plimpies too,” Harry said.

“What is it?” Luna gasped, turning her head to look at him.

“I read about it once. Apparently, the best way to catch one is to lure them in. But the only thing that can act as bait is their favorite drink— the orgasmic juices of a nice young witch. Do you think that’s true?”

“I’ve never heard—” Luna moaned again, clenching her neck as another wave of pleasure washed over her. “Of course it’s true! We’ll have them here in a flash, Harry!”

He smirked. Harry dug his fingers into her with such renewed enthusiasm that Luna’s feet were temporarily lifted off the ground. Her lower half was being carried by a single hand, two of its fingers were digging into her deepest parts. Quite unable to help it, Luna screamed.

Harry couldn’t recall ever hearing her raise her voice, even when she was bullied by girls at Hogwarts. She took most things with her own kookie brand of calm, making her a kind of emotional anchor within his friend group.

It was a new experience for him, hearing her make sounds like these. It reminded him of an alley cat yowling in heat. Luna’s shoes fell off over her feet as her legs dangled in the air, and Harry watched her toes curl. Her nails dug thin white lines into the soft bark of the tree. He felt an orgasmic rush washing over his fingers, followed by an immediate slackening of Luna’s body.

Harry set her down gently, where Luna’s legs promptly buckled. To keep her from falling, he laid her back on the grass.

Luna turned her head, glancing at their surroundings.

“No Plimpies,” she said. “I have a feeling you lied to me, Harry Potter.”

“And what if I did?” he said. “What’ll be my punishment?”

“None,” Luna said. “You’re far from the first.”

Harry lost his smile. Despite all the momentum, Harry chose to sit down next to Luna, rather than pounce on her and continue their lesson.

“Why did you want to hire me?” he asked.

“A Nargle told me I’d be a fool not to take this deal. I still wasn’t convinced, but a Crumple-Horned Snorcack proceeded to back him up. If those two can agree on something, it’s certainly a good idea.”

“Obviously,” Harry said.

Luna looked over. “I don’t have much to pay you with. I had some pocket change, but that always disappears from my pockets when I’m not looking. I think Hogwarts has a dreadful Pixie problem.”

“Must be,” Harry said, still not smiling. “Listen, the thing about these lessons is, they’re free of charge. I’m a bit selective about my students, but once you’re in, that’s it.”

“Oh, no,” Luna said. “Well, thank you for letting me know this way. That was very nice of you.”

She thought that was his way of shooting her down. She just assumed that if not everyone was picked, she wouldn’t be. Something about that hurt Harry right in the heart.

It was awkward, and he’d never been the best at using his words to make others feel better. Usually, he relied on actions.

Which was perfect in this situation.

Harry casually unbuttoned his pants and unzipped his fly. Luna looked over, her eyes promptly going wide as he brought out his large penis, holding it with his hand.

“See this?” Harry said, sliding his hand along his stiff length. When Luna nodded weakly, he said, “You did this.”

“Me?” Luna asked.

Harry nodded. “You and your perfectly inviting pussy. It was lovely to be inside it, and I’d love nothing more than to shove all of this in there.”

“You’re quite certain?” Luna asked.

“Absolutely.”

“Well… Well I’m sure it’s okay, as long as the Nargles give their permission.”

“How long will that take?” Harry asked.

Luna blushed. “I’ll ask later,” she whispered.

Smirking, Harry rolled on top of her.

As they kissed, his hands unfastened the clasp around her neck. Her blue Ravenclaw Robes rolled out like a beach towel. Underneath, Luna wore a simple shirt and skirt, the latter of which was crooked after Harry’s earlier venture. Harry’s hands slid under her shirt, groping her breasts past her bra, giving them good squeezes while his tongue rubbed hers.

Luna soon moaned, pressing her head against the ground. Harry used the break to drag her shirt off, showing the sky-blue bra underneath. He bent down and bit her cleavage, impressed by the size of her chest. Luna wasn’t exactly Lavender or Susan, but apparently no one had noticed the odd girl who spent her time talking to imaginary creatures growing a healthy rack of her own.

Harry’s hands eased under her back, undoing the latch of her bra. Luna showed her first bit of initiative as he did, pulling at the hem of his shirt. Harry couldn’t help but smile. When he straightened, pulling Luna’s bra away as he did, he immediately rewarded her with what she was after. Rather than removing his shirt himself, he grabbed Luna’s hands, helping her get it up and off of him.

His cock was still sticking up above his loose pants, and Harry took the chance to kick the clothing off now. There was no one around to see their naked bodies here at the edge of the grounds. He sucked Luna’s bare chest, feeling her fingers slide along his back as he did, and pushed down her skirt. Her skirt and panties ended up hanging off of one ankle, rather than coming off entirely, but neither of them cared so long as they were out of the way.

Harry’s cock rubbed Luna’s stomach, making goosebumps break out along her skin. They both looked down at it.

“Have you ever felt one before?” Harry asked.

Luna shook her head.

“I just experimented a little bit,” she admitted softly. “With Ginny.”

Harry blinked. That was a detail his first wife never shared with him. He caught himself thinking about the airy blond and the fiery redhead locked together in bed, putting their tongues and fingers in moist places, and felt his erection harden further.

“It will hurt at first, but only once,” Harry said.

Luna nodded.

Her hands looped around the base of his neck. Harry angled his hips, rubbing his cockhead along her slit. It was easy to find— all he had to do was locate the leftover liquid from his fingers.

Harry’s dick entered her in stages, letting Luna adjust to each one. When her hymen snapped, Luna moaned, tucking her head against Harry’s neck. He waited until she was ready, which she signaled by biting his neck, leaving a hickey.

Harry’s dick plunged inside of her, discovering Luna’s folds much wetter than he imagined. Her orgasm earlier had been serious business. Harry drove his length inside of her, and over Luna’s soft moans he couldn’t help thinking that each wet slap sounded a little like  the word “Plimpy.”

Luna was still biting his neck. Harry planted his forehead on her rolled-out robe. There was something addictive about smelling fresh grass and feeling a cool afternoon breeze as you fucked. It felt so… natural.

“This is much better than a magic creature,” Luna moaned. “My body feels strange in the loveliest way!”

Harry could feel her squeezing him, and sure enough her second orgasm soon arrived. It was less intense than the one brought on by his fingers, but it made her body quiver all the same. She clung to him, squeezing his back while her legs stuck straight up in the air. Harry made a resolution. If he was going to be the one introducing her to sex, he was going to do it right and make this a day she’d never forget.

Harry slid his hands behind her head, mixing his fingers into her blond hair. He held her there, pulling her face toward his own, where he kissed her fiercely. His hips fell with more vigor. The noises only grew louder, his body slapping against Luna’s faster and faster.

At the very last second, he pried himself up. Harry escaped Luna’s clutches, grabbing her thighs instead. His dick stood up almost straight, spraying semen across Luna’s flesh. Ever the curious Ravenclaw, Luna wasted no time in wiping up a glob and sucking the finger clean.

“Tasty,” she said. “Reminds me of Nargle milk.”

Any more observations were cut off as Harry rolled her onto her side. He dropped down behind her, bending her upper leg forward and re-entering her pussy. Caught off-guard, Luna was left moaning loudly as Harry crashed against the pert bum he admired on their way over.

Harry refused to stop. Every time he came he stayed hard, switching positions and starting over. Luna’s voice grew hoarse from repeated use. By the time Harry had her on top of him, her legs raised in a V-shape while Harry thrusted into her from below, Luna was barely able to moan. Her skirt and panties hung off of one ankle, flying like a flag off of a flagpole. At some point her tongue had begun hanging out of her mouth. Her right eye was completely closed, while her left eyelid had stopped halfway down.

Harry grunted, a sheen of sweat across his whole body. He was putting everything he had into this, determined to give Luna the best experience possible. But perhaps he gave her a little bit too much.

Luna hit her latest orgasm, but her body simply couldn’t keep up. Her pussy spasmed all around Harry, driving him to an orgasm of his own. He pulled out, delivering a last small load onto Luna’s stomach before going flaccid.

The noise Luna made was chilling. She screeched, sounding halfway between a Demiguise and a territorial barn owl. It was the kind of noise that could make a seventh year piss their pants at night inside the Forbidden Forest. Luna slid limply off of Harry, landing on her side. 

Harry rolled over to check on her. He shook her side. “Luna? Luna!”

She was unresponsive. Her tongue was hanging out. Harry lifted the half-open eyelid, discovering the eye underneath had rolled back in her skull.

“Luna!” he shook her harder. “Are you alright?”

Without warning, Luna sat up, making Harry jump back.

Her face was normal again. Her tongue was back inside her mouth, and her eyes were fully open again. She scanned their surroundings, bright eyes taking them in quickly. When she faced Harry, she used two fingers to adjust a pair of glasses that she didn’t have.

“I have full control of my faculties,” she said. “In fact, based on the throbbing feeling emanating from my crotch, I would estimate that my mental health has reached an all-time high. My only current weakness is the lack of use of my legs, which are thoroughly non-functional.”

Harry blinked. “You’re sure you’re okay? You’re… Well you don’t sound like it.”

“What gives you that impression?” Luna asked. “As I said, my faculties are functioning more than admirably. Now, as the cause of the damage to my legs, I think it’s only right that you complete this transaction by returning me to my dormitory post-haste.”

She held her hands out, waiting to be clothed and carried. More than a little confused, Harry complied. He assumed a good night’s sleep would have her back to normal. He assumed wrong.

O-O-O

“And now, what you’ve all been waiting for!” Flitwick said excitedly, standing on his desk like a pulpit. “It’s that time again. Time to reveal the scores for the latest quiz!”

He clapped, but no one joined in. Hermione might’ve, if she wasn’t so desperate to hear the results. She looked like an illicit potions addict going through withdrawals as she rocked at her desk.

Flitwick handed back tests until he got to the part he always announced to everyone: the top three scores in the class. Padma Patil got third. Flitwick lifted the next test.

“And, in second place,” he said, “we have… Hermione Granger!”

Hermione released a strangled cry that definitely wasn’t healthy for her vocal chords.

“Which means first place this week is none other than… Luna Lovegood!” Flitwick said. “Stunning improvements, Luna!”

The blond Ravenclaw, who had replaced her pink plastic sunglasses with thick-rimmed spectacles ever since that day by the forest, calmly came to the front of the class, taking her test back.

“Thank you for your magnanimous teaching, Professor,” she said. “It was insightful and the root cause of my success.”

Flitwick beamed as Luna casually returned to her seat, the whole class watching her. Harry couldn’t help but shake his head.

He’d heard of people being fucked silly before, but apparently, like a double negative, when it happened to a girl who was already sufficiently silly, it was possible to do the opposite. He’d fucked her serious.

He watched Luna after the others in the class had looked away, catching a small satisfied smile flickering across her face. He shrugged, turning away.

As long as she was happy.

If you enjoy my work, check out the link in my profile.

Chapter Text

Chapter 23

A New First Event

The Riddle House loomed like a blight above Little Hangleton. You could tell something was wrong with it just by looking. The locals knew its history, about the murders that happened there, but they didn’t know the full truth. Only wizards knew that, and a select few of them at that.

On that particular afternoon, a fat man stood in the garden. He hadn’t gotten far. His back was pressed to the door, and he was crying.

What a mess he was in. He’d gone and gotten mixed up with his old master again, because he was too frightened to disobey the Dark Lord even when that Dark Lord was a shade on the border between life and death. But he really wished he’d stayed away. Now, Pettigrew was stuck here, living in this nasty old house, caring for the weak and sickly version of Voldemort that he’d found. The thing was detestable to look at, let alone to touch! But Pettigrew had no choice. To run now would only confirm his death; the rest of the Dark Lord’s servants would certainly hunt him down when they found out.

There was only one thing he could do. He had to help the Dark Lord return to life, and hope the war would be won quickly after that. He’d be famous then! A war hero. And war heroes… those were rich. They didn’t have to worry about being killed, or arrested, or milking magical snakes to bottle feed crippled mummies.

“Ah. There you are.” 

Pettigrew had been lost in daydreams when the voice spoke to him. His eyes bulging out (for this place was not supposed to be visited by anyone) Pettigrew drew his wand.

The man standing there in the garden didn’t mind having a wand aimed at him. He was one of the more peculiar sights Pettigrew had ever seen, and that was saying something. He wore a Muggle ski mask, wore very bright yellow robes, and had a satchel over his arm. 

“Wh-Who are you?” Pettigrew demanded.

While most would say Pettigrew had no talents, that wasn’t actually true. There were three things he was excellent at— putting down large quantities of cheese, saving his own skin, and recognizing wizards more powerful than him. The last two went hand in hand. And right now, this man in the mask… Pettigrew was certain he was dangerous.

“Don’t worry about the name,” said the wizard. “That doesn’t particularly matter. What you should be interested in, is what I’m offering.”

Another fact about Pettigrew was that he dearly loved making a profit. Anything that could get him ahead in life, be it money or gifts or favors, got him unhealthily excited. Case in point, Pettigrew started to lower his wand.

“You want to make a deal?” he asked. “For what?”

“Not a deal so much as a gift.”

Pettigrew tried and failed not to drool. He liked where this was going.

“What kind of gift?”

“What you want most,” replied the man. “Take a glance at this.”

He pulled off his satchel. Pettigrew jerked his wand back up, but when nothing dangerous emerged, he lowered his guard again. The man tilted the satchel forward so that Pettigrew could see inside, displaying one of the oddest assortments of things Pettigrew could remember seeing.

A set of black robes had been included, the rest of the items resting on top of them. Near the back was a tall vial of blood, and in front of it, a small bag stuffed with bits of bone. Finally, a yew wand lay in the back, resting against the bloody vials.

“That’s the Dark Lord’s wand!” Pettigrew exclaimed. “I hid it myself! How could it be—”

“I fetched it to save you some time,” said the masked man. “Now listen, this blood belongs to Harry Potter—

“Harry Potter!”

“That’s what I said. And the bone is from Tom Riddle Senior—”

“The Dark Lord’s father!”

“Do you have to interrupt? You’re not adding anything of note right now.”

“Sorry,” Pettigrew said immediately. “I’ll stay quiet. I promise.”

Part of that knack he had for keeping himself alive came from knowing when to have good manners, and when to follow orders. Pettigrew didn’t know who this man was, but he did know that his best chance at survival hinged on not upsetting the powerful, unpredictable stranger.

“These two are important ingredients in this kind of potion. Has the Dark Lord mentioned the potion to you yet? He must have, because you’re looking awfully pale. He’ll be wanting the wand when he comes back, of course, and the robes I thought would be a nice touch. So what do you say, Pettigrew? Will you go and resurrect your master?”

“Won’t I be taking your credit?” Pettigrew asked.

He suspected that this was a Death Eater from the first war. Probably a member of the Inner Circle, too. Maybe Crouch escaped? This man didn’t sound like Crouch, but that long in captivity was bound to leave some lasting effects.

Death Eaters were the only ones Pettigrew could think of who would want Voldemort back. However, he just didn’t understand what Death Eater would be fine with someone else getting the credit for the Dark Lord’s resurrection.

“That’s perfectly fine,” said the masked man, pulling off his satchel and passing it over. “I don’t need anything like that… and you could use the help I imagine. It can’t have been easy, serving him like you have.”

Pettigrew didn’t sense any malice behind his words. Slowly, the rat-like man started to tear up. He reached out to gratefully accept the satchel. 

“I won’t forget this!” he said. “Once I’m a war hero… I mean, once I resurrect the master, I’ll make sure to pay you back.”

“Really, you don’t have to worry about it,” said the man.

The satchel passed into Wormtail’s hands, and the ex-marauder prepared to duck back into Riddle Manor. He couldn’t wait to share this turn of fortune with the Dark Lord! He’d have to leave out how it came about, of course, so that the Dark Lord’s favor shone on him properly, but he was sure this magnanimous ally would understand. 

Pettigrew had his hand on the doorknob when the stranger said, “Oh!”

Pettigrew looked back, smiling.

“There’s one more thing,” said the man. “It slipped my mind until just now.”

“What is it?” Pettigrew asked. 

“I forgot how much I hated your stupid fat face,” the masked man said pleasantly.

He had a wand in his hand. He didn’t draw it, it just appeared there, as if conjured. Pettigrew felt a great pain in his neck. When it passed, he felt nothing at all. He fell to the ground, blood gushing from his throat, while the satchel remained floating in the air.

“Can’t have your contents damaged by a fall, the masked man said to the bag as he took it back. He looked down at Pettigrew, and as he died, Peter saw the unfiltered loathing in those green eyes. 

Green… Eyes… Wait. This couldn’t be—!

Peter Pettigrew died before finishing his last thought.

“Who else can I go to?” Harry mused. “Crouch is still trapped at home, so maybe… What was that executioner called again? Macnair? Yes, that was it. He’ll do.”

One way or another, by the next afternoon, Lord Voldemort would be reborn. As he Apparated away, Harry couldn’t help but laugh.

He couldn’t wait.

O-O-O

“Morning!” Harry said cheerfully as he arrived at the Gryffindor table.

Ron nodded at him, but the redhead’s teeth were chattering too hard for him to speak. He’d gone chalk-white, which together with his red hair left him looking like a segregated candy cane.

Hermione paid Harry even less attention. He was pretty sure she hadn’t heard him, even though he was sitting right next to her. She had her nose buried in a textbook, frantically flipping through its pages.

Harry leaned over to Neville, who was sitting on the other side of him.

“Have they been like this long?” he asked.

“All morning,” Neville whispered back. “Hagrid came by to talk to Ron, and he’s been that way ever since. Hermione…. I don’t know. She’s just been like that.”

Harry reached over and stuck in had in between Hermione and her book. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she tried to push his hand away on autopilot. But when Harry proved stronger, and she couldn't move his arm, she finally looked at him, even if it was just to glare.

“Do you mind?” she asked.

“I get why Ron is like this,” Harry said. “He’s got pre-tournament nerves. But what’s gotten into you.”

“We’re students, Harry . We don’t need reasons to study, do we? We should all strive to be the top of our classes and perform to the best of our academic abilities….”

Buzzwords continued pouring from her mouth, but her eyes gave away the real issue. She was looking across at the Ravenclaw table, where Luna Lovegoood was casually eating eggs. Around Luna, every other Ravencalw in their year was collectively looking down at textbooks, reading with the same amount of fervor as Hermione. Luna looked unbothered.

Shrugging, Harry removed his hand, allowing Hermione to dive back into her book. If that was how she wanted to spend her time, he wouldn’t get in her way about it. He just wanted to know.

Harry pulled ham, bacon, and pancakes onto his plate, eating a large and hearty breakfast. As time passed, he found himself growing excited. There was a tangible sense of anticipation that had settled across the students of all the schools, eager to watch the champions compete. The only place that seemed partially immune was the staff table— and even that was a pretty even split between composed faces and excited ones.

Most of the nervous faces weren’t teachers at all, but the Ministry officials present for the tournament. The table had been magically extended, creating seats for Crouch Sr., multiple Aurors, and other department heads involved in the spectacle to come. As Harry watched, a new Auror entered the room, whispering something in the ear of the others. Faces turned from serious to grim. As a group, all the Aurors present stood and excused themselves. No one but Harry seemed to notice, and if they did, they certainly wouldn’t have understood… but Harry knew the truth.

McGonagall came to collect Ron soon after. Gryffindor joined the rest of the students in a huge procession to the stands. As he led Hermione, who refused to leave her book behind even for this, Harry thought about how not even he knew what the first task was going to be, just that Ludo Bagman looked unhealthily excited when Harry saw him at breakfast.

The first impression was a bit boring, at least to him. They were using the same stadium that Harry remembered stealing dragon eggs in during his last two lives. 

He was alone in his disappointment though. The other students looked at the coliseum-like stage that had been set and couldn’t stop whispering to each other.

“What do you reckon the first task will be?” Harry asked.

“Mm,” Hermione grunted, turning a page.

“I hope Ron does well.”

“Mm.”

“You know, I’ve always thought buck teeth were actually cooler than normal teeth. They have a unique kind of charm.”

When he got no response, Harry sighed, accepting that he’d lost his friend to the great trap that was Intermediate Charms for Expedited Minds. Maybe he should get this new Luna to throw a couple of tests, just so Hermione would remember she was a living breathing girl.

The tent where the champions were waiting was in the same spot as ever. The nest with the fake dragon eggs was missing, though, along with the dragons themselves. Ludo Bagman stood up, clearing his throat at the judge’s table.

“Hello hello HELLO!” he said, his naturally-loud voice amplified to deafening proportions. “Welcome all of you… TO THE GREATEST TOURNAMENT IN THE WORLD!”

A few of the most ardent Quidditch fans in the crowd grumbled at that, but Bagman succeeded in what he was trying to do: get the crowd excited with infectious enthusiasm.

Clearly pleased, Bagman pressed a meaty fist to his mouth, clearing his throat. “I’m sure you’re wondering. How will we test these great champions? You may have heard rumors in the Prophet that the answer was dragons. You might’ve even heard that we lost our dragons!” He laughed manically, and only a few in the crowd chuckled with him, because he was starting to sound a tad unhinged. “Of course that’s not the case! Do you think we’d settle for mere dragons? For you? Of course not.”

He slammed his hand down. Harry saw Igor Karkaroff jump, while Madame Maxine visibly wrinkled her nose at the uncouth English ex-Beater. Bagman was too caught up to notice.

“These competitors will run a gauntlet,” he declared, “pitting them against the most dangerous creatures from multiple continents. The goal is simple. All they need do is steal one part off of the beast's body— be it a claw, a hair, or a scale. Trust me when I say, this is more difficult than it sounds! Each of these creatures… Can kill as easily as they breathe!”

Bagman belly-laughed, while some of the younger students in the audience were starting to look fearful. Harry stared at the judge turned announcer, finding him more unhinged than he remembered.

It must have been the loss of the dragons. Gambling problems had Bagman in very deep debt, if Harry remembered correctly, and he had a lot riding on this tournament to get him out of it. He planned to make a name for himself as the one who organized these games, and use his newfound fame to pay Gringotts back. When the first task derailed itself before it even started, Harry could only imagine the stress the man had been under.

Bagman was certainly confident now, though. What could he have possibly gotten as a replacement that could compare—

A bellowing roar (quieter than a dragon but still fearsome) tore through the arena. Harry spotted cages far too small for something like a dragon, which was why he missed them at first. His eyebrows rose as a gout of fire spewed out, melting the bars.

“Looks like we’re getting started now!” Bagman said, apparently unbothered. “Up first, Viktor Krum! And as for his opponent…”

Something climbed out of the cage, heedlessly walking through molten metal as it marched through the melting bars. It had the head of a lion, but with curved horns. Its body looked like a goats, with hooves and all, only as tall as a bus. At the back end, a serpentine tail flicked restlessly. It pulled its head back and released another gout of flames, this one aimed straight into the air.

“Only once has such a monster been killed by a wizard, and it cost the hero his life! Wielding the venom of a snake, fangs of a lion, and fire as hot as a dragon’s… Help me in welcoming the Chimera!”

Part of the crowd cheered, while the rest of the spectators remained conspicuously quiet. Hermione had finally forgotten about her book.

“That’s a class XXXXX magical creature,” she said. “You don’t think they all are, right? Ron won’t have to face…?”

“I think now we know why he was so nervous this morning,” Harry said.

This task was even more insane than the one he took part in. Alone, a Chimera wasn’t as dangerous as a dragon, but the champions in the old task hadn’t been told to gouge out a dragon’s claw to win. They didn’t have to fight the dragons, just get around them to steal an egg. What other creatures had the Ministry gathered?

Viktor Krum emerged from the champion tent. Durmstrang cheered. Harry thought they sounded a tad nervous, though. Krum lifted his wand, and the Chimera spotted him. With that a fierce duel began.

Harry thought Durmstrang’s love for combat courses showed. They had always been the most violent school out of the three, and Krum showed it, fighting tooth and nail against the beast in front of him. Unfortunately for Krum, the Chimera shrugged off curses and ate jinxes like they were love taps.

The ‘fight’ went on for five minutes, Krum barely keeping himself from burning up with a combination of cooling charms and shields to handle the fire breath. He hit the Chimera dead on with his strongest cutting curses to no avail.

If he focused on a single spot, landing consecutive curses there, he could have lopped off a lock of its fur. But without Harry’s experience, Krum didn’t know that, and eventually the Chimera overpowered him.

He tried to duck a strike from its snake tail, but he never spotted its rear legs. A hoof hit him in the shoulder, sending him flying with a loud crack. A collective wince traveled through the crowd. Soon, Quidditch fans in the crowd were clamoring. Harry heard some very unkind words directed at Bagman about risking ‘The Quidditch world’s greatest star!’ Wizards wearing heavily charmed protective equipment swarmed in, forcing the Chimera out of the arena before it could celebrate its victory.

“Excellent show!” Bagman said when the round was done, earning a glare from Karkaroff. “Onto the next challenge! Please welcome, Cedric Diggory!”

The home crowd quickly forgot Krum’s fate, roaring for the first Hogwarts champion. Cedric smiled and waved to the crowd, though he looked nervous.

“He’ll be trying his luck against Appalachia’s most dangerous inhabitant! Namesake of one of Ilvermorny’s houses… It’s the Wampus Cat!”

Another of the cages opened. Everyone waited with baited breath. They kept waiting, and waited some more…”

Bagman’s smile became nervous very fast. He cleared his head, making eye contact with the handlers and jerking his head at the cage. They squared their shoulders and marched inside. They didn’t come out.

Cedric was starting to look really worried, and so were the crowd. Minutes ticked by. Just as everyone was convinced nothing was going to emerge, a cat strolled out. 

It could have passed for a regular cougar if not for its six legs, three of them on either side of its body. It walked out, stopped, and looked at the crowd with its yellow eyes. The Wampus Cat cocked its head. Then it stood up like a human.

It looked straight at Cedric. He stared back determinedly, moving his wand.

“Oh dear,” Hermione said. “He shouldn’t have done that.”

Seconds later, Cedric fell on his face. Hufflepuffs nearby screamed. The Wampus cat turned around, dropped back onto all-sixes, and walked into its cage.

“They can hypnotize you with one look into their eyes,” Hermione said. “They aren’t particularly violent though. He’s probably fine.”

Sure enough, when the magical screens at the top of the stadium zoomed in, they could see Cedric was snoring away. He was even smiling. Apparently, the Wampus Cat was considerate enough to give him good dreams.

He wouldn’t wake up, though, so tournament officials had to levitate him back to the tent. Two bouts were finished, and neither champion had succeeded or even gotten close. 

Fleur emerged in time to watch Cedric float past her. She got cheers as loud as Cedric did, but there were mixed with boos. Her fans included Beauxbatons and the male half of the audience. The boos came from the other women.

“Ms. Delacour has perhaps the most dangerous opponent,” Bagman said. “Famed for hunting with the ultimate level of stealth, it’s the apex of the Amazon! I give you, the Nundu!”

Even Fleur looked frightened. Compared to a Chimera or even a Wampus Cat, her odds seemed very low. Harry leaned forward in his seat. Nundus weren’t known for mercy like the kind that the Wampus Cat showed. He might have to move his plans along faster than anticipated if he wanted to keep his favorite part-veela alive.

Fleur looked around waiting for a sign of what the Nundu might be up to. One of the cages had opened, but there were no clues to give away that something large moving around, not even a spot of displaced sand.

Fifteen minutes later, when nothing had changed, everyone started to relax. It was becoming apparent that there was no Nundu. Or on the off chance that there was, it didn’t want to fight.

Then, slowly, the same realization sunk in everywhere.

If the Nundu wasn’t doing anything… was it even still the arena?

“You assured me there was a Nundu in there. You assured me!”

Bagman’s frantic whisper to Crouch went wrong when he forgot to cancel his amplification spell. Blushing, Bagman cleared his throat. 

“It seems Ms. Delacour has intimidated the Nundu away! What a stunning show of defensive posture!”

No one bought that for a second, not even Fleur herself, but Bagman hurriedly moved along.

“That covers the first three champions,” he said. “Normally, that would mean things were finished. But not this time! Ladies and gentlemen, here comes the fourth champion, Ronald Weasley.”

Ron walked into sight looking as pale as he had during breakfast. It seemed Fleur emerging in perfect condition hadn’t helped the nerves of seeing Krum and Cedric carried away.

Bagman went on narrating, but Harry forgot to listen. He felt something strange. Unable to take his eyes off the final cage, he tried to figure out what he was sensing and why it felt so familiar.

It wasn’t until he saw who else was staring at the cage that he placed the feeling. Just like him, Su Li was entranced. She turned back from where she was sitting a few rows below, making eye contact with Harry.

‘It’s here,’ she mouthed.

The last cage exploded into shrapnel, and standing in the wreckage, its huge bull-like body covered in flexing muscles, was the Nian. It roared, and the magical barrier protecting the stands flickered and broke. People screamed, some starting a stampede to escape the stadium, while the Nian watched these panicking people like they were gnats.

This… not even Harry expected.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 24

A Short-Lived Return

“Oh Merlin!” Hermione said.

She was covering her mouth, staring at the spot where Ron stood frozen. While the crowd panicked around them, Hermione grabbed Harry’s forearm, fearing for their friend. The Elder Wands appeared in Harry’s hands. Professors were screaming at students to follow them, Ministry workers were fighting to get the protective barrier back up, and above it all Ludo Bagman could be heard laughing, his voice amplification charm still active.

The Nian surveyed the scene. It seemed pleased, in a twisted way. This was a creature that brought ancient China to its knees. It walked forward, each step shaking the ground beneath its feet.

Its eyes fell onto its opponent. Ronald Weasley hadn’t moved. Maybe he was frozen with fear like Hermione. Maybe, he saw this as a chance for glory. Whatever it was, all that could be said for certain was that he didn’t flee. The Nian took this for a challenge.

It charged, the movements of its powerful body whipping up wind all around it. Ron managed to lift his wand, but couldn’t utter a spell. There were none he knew that would’ve made a difference against a beast like this. The Nian studied its prey, unhinging its huge fanged jaws while Ron’s hair scattered on his head. Voices in the audience screamed. Just as it was about to snap its jaws down, the Nian froze.

Something strange happened to its monstrous expression. It shut its mouth, backing up multiple steps. Just as confused as the audience, Ron watched the beast cower. From him .

From what was on top of his head, specifically. His ginger hair had been thoroughly blown around, strands sticking out in every direction. For all its power, red was one of the Nian’s critical weaknesses. There was nothing redder than a Weasley’s hair. Nothing . Faced with such a pure, concentrated example of redheaded pigmentation, the Nian had no choice but to hurriedly rethink every one of its choices.

The Nian wasn’t mindless, however. It had an animalistic sensibility, and that included a sense of pride. It hated to run from anything. Maybe, if it closed its eyes and bit down, it could fell this foul-haired wizard without having to look upon that nasty color.

“YOU GET AWAY FROM HIM YOU NASTY BEAST!”

The scream was somehow louder than the clamoring of hundreds of other voices. It didn’t take a voice amplification charm like Ludo Bagman’s, either. Just the righteous fury of an overprotective mother.

The Nian flinched, looking at the front row of the stands to find its worst fear. There were more humans with the same nasty hair.

There were three males and two females. One male had a ponytail, while the other two of them were identical. Of the females, one was young, a barely-matured human. Finally, there was her .

She was leaning over the bannister like she might use the lack of barrier to vault into the arena. She had more hair than any of the others. It went all the way past her shoulders, horribly puffy and horrible in every other way as well. The Nian took another step back, and that was before she opened her mouth.

“IF YOU TOUCH HIM SO HELP ME!”

Her scream was worse than any drum the Nian had ever faced. Its second weakness, loud noises, sealed the deal. What had it been thinking, staying in this awful country? It thought it might be able to get revenge on those who brought it here. But clearly, the Nian had made a grave mistake. This place was the den of another kind of beast. One that was roughly five feet tall and in possession of monstrous lungs.

The Nian turned and fled, soaring away from the redheaded clan as fast as it could flee.

“I did it?” Ron said.

There was an odd moment of calm around the stadium. Those stampeding the exits stopped one by one as they realized the threat was gone. The judges were all gaping, except for Dumbledore, who was merely smiling. The world stood still.

“I did it!” Ron shouted, lifting his fists into the air.

The crowd came back to life. They screamed and cheered, and even the students from other schools joined in. Most weren’t sure what they just witnessed, but they knew it would go down in the history of the tournament as one of the greatest victories of all time.

“Whew. At least it all worked out.” Hermione slouched down in her seat, letting go of Harry’s forearm. “I was really worried for a moment there. Weren’t you, Harry?”

“Worried about what?” Harry asked.

“About Ron!” Hermione said. “He really could’ve died!”

“Death isn’t a bad thing. In fact, it’s quite wonderful. Everyone should try it some time.”

Hermione glared at Harry, but her look quickly softened.

“Look at you, trying to seem unbothered,” she said. “You don’t fool me. You were so worried that your eyes changed! Were you crying?”

Harry blinked, his pupils dark almost to the point of being black.

“No,” he said.

“You don’t have to lie,” Hermione said. “It’s only human.”

Exasperated, Death turned its eyes back toward the arena floor. Humans were odd. Especially these female ones. You tell them a fact and they don’t believe you. Utterly perplexing.

Death wondered if its master was having better luck with whatever his newest plot was supposed to be. Only time would tell.

O-O-O

Things hadn’t gone quite as expected, but everything more or less worked out so Harry was still counting it as a win. As he stood in the arena underneath his invisibility cloak, he looked at Ron’s face while the redhead absorbed the crowd’s adulation. Harry couldn’t help but smile. Yes, that worked better than expected. And he didn’t even have to secretly help Ron like the thought he would.

The crowd went on cheering, and Ron soaked it up for at least five minutes. When the redhead finally left, waving the whole way out of the arena, a hush settled over the crowd. It was gradual at first, then came on very quickly.  They were all thinking the same thing. There was only one champion left.

Ludo Bagman cleared his throat. “Now, I suppose it’s time to welcome Tom Riddle! If, that is, he’s here…”

There was a long pause, during which no one seemed to speak at all. Even the crowd’s breathing felt hushed.

Harry whipped off his cloak.

He wore a mask now, as well as having swapped his robes for a pair that made many Hogwarts students flinch— the right arm was Slytherin green, the left arm was Gryffindor red, and the legs were colored yellow and blue for Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw respectively. 

“He’s here!” Ludo Bagman cried. “I’m saved— I mean, the tournament just became even better! The mysterious madman who has terrorized Britain! A wizard who can tame dragons, thwarting the Ministry at every turn—”

Crouch glared nastily at Bagman, but the ex-Beater was on too much of a roll to notice. 

“He has the whole country alight with talk of him. However, can he best the other champions? To prove it, he will face a whole pack of mature Quintapeds! Let’s see if he…”

Bagman trailed off with a perplexed frown. Harry had raised his hand.

“I believe our champion has something to say,” Bagman boomed.

“I'm not a champion,” Harry said pleasantly, his voice just as loud as Bagman’s. “I won’t be taking part.”

Bagman’s face turned slack.

“What? But you’ll die!”

As the crowd clamored and grew louder again, Bagman picked up steam.

“Your name came out of the goblet! The real Goblet of Fire! That’s a magically binding oath that can’t be ignored! If you don’t compete, it’s suicide! You’re done for! Dead!”

Harry cleared his throat. He shut his eyes, looking as regal as one could in a balaclava and garish robes.

“Nuh uh,” he pronounced.

“Yes huh!” shouted Bagman.

“Nope.”

“Yep!”

“I don’t think so.”

“I know so!”

“I don’t think you know what you think you know,” Harry said. “And I’m going to prove it. I won’t be competing! Despite being chosen as a champion in this tournament, I’m dropping out before the first task, and I am going to be completely fine!”

O-O-O

On the other side of England, the day was inexplicably grim. Sun had been forecast, yet it was cloudy and bleak above Riddle Manor. A man in loose-fitting black robes grunted as he dragged a heavy cauldron into position.

“You are a wizard, are you not?” hissed a voice.

“Yes Master!” said Walden Macnair. “Of course I am, Master!”

“Then use your wand!”

Macnair snatched it from his pocket, levitating the cauldron into position instead. He’d never been the brightest, as his mother loved to remind as a child, but Macnair had his own talents. Killing, mostly. He’d reminded his mother of that one when he first turned of age.

“Good,” hissed the voice, which was coming from Macnair’s back. “Now begin the preparations.”

“Right away, Master,” Macnair said.

He opened up the satchel that had been gifted to him by a mysterious benefactor, drawing out a container of blood and a piece of bone. The cauldron was filled with murky liquid, and he tossed both items into the mixture. They disappeared with quiet plops.

Macnair almost didn’t come back to his master. Everything fell into his lap quite literally, when a mysterious man offered Macnair all he needed to win back Voldemort’s favor. But Macnair left this behind when the master seemed dead that Halloween night years ago. He avoided Azkaban narrowly, and over time found a job at the Ministry as an executioner. Getting paid to kill magical creatures was a solid living. Over time, however, he came to crave more. He wanted to hear human screams again, like he used to, the way they loved to plead and beg! So he returned to his master’s side after all, even if his master might still be displeased with him.

Voldemort was an echo of himself. He was in a weak vessel that could speak but do little else. Without constant care, this body would wither and fail. That was nearly the fate he met when Peter Pettigrew ran away without a trace. But Macnair arrived in time to resuscitate his old master, bearing gifts. All that was left now was the ritual that would restore Voldemort’s former strength, and they possessed every component needed.

“Is that it?” Macnair asked, peering into the heavy cauldron.

“Very nearly,” said Voldemort. “It needs just one thing. The flesh of a servant, willingly given.”

Macnair failed to keep his displeasure off his face.

“Need I remind you of your past, Macnair? You bear my mark. That makes you mine, until death finally claims you. Yet you fled. By refusing to search for me, you failed in your duties, and even crawled to the Ministry to become its dog. You must atone. Offer me your flesh, just as you swore to when you took my mark!”

Macnair stuck his trembling hand over the cauldron. He pressed his wand to the tip of his finger.

“More,” said Voldemort.

Macnair moved his wand back to the base of his pointer finger, his wand-hand beginning to shake too.

“More,” said Voldmemort.

Macnair whimpered. He moved his wand all the way back to his wrist.

“Perfect,” said Voldemort.

Macnair uttered the spell. A brief flash followed, and he screamed. His wrist was sliced through the way his ax cut so many necks while working as an executioner. It hurt so much more on this side of things. He fought his way through the incantation to a minor healing charm to staunch the bleeding.

Blood seeped out around where his hand landed. The cauldron fumes took on a metallic quality. Voldemort laughed.

“Finally!” he said. “Lower me in, and waste no time! A new age is dawning!”

Macnair unstrapped the echo of his master from his back, setting him in the burbling mixture that had been created. Macnair quickly stumbled back, shielding his face from the wall of sparks that erupted above the cauldron. As he watched, the sparks faded, replaced by a column of mist. He heard laughter inside it. 

A silhouette became visible. The steam cleared, and Macnair needed only one look at those red eyes to drop to a knee. 

“Your wand, Master!” he shouted, holding up the robes and wand that had been included with the package that was delivered to him.

Macnair could hear the sloshing sounds of a body pulling itself from the cauldron. A few drops landed on the back of his head as something plucked the offerings out of his hands. Each drop was scaldingly hot, but he didn’t dare flinch or whimper.

The figure pulled on the robes, then said, “You may stand.”

Macnair did so slowly, still looking down. He saw impossibly pale feet sticking from the bottom of black robes, with an equally-white hand holding the wand.

“Forearm,” Voldemort commanded. 

Macnair stuck out his still-complete arm. Long, bony, and superhumanly strong fingers grabbed it, holding it in place. A wand tip was pressed to Macnair’s skull tattoo. The tattoo flared to life, going from nearly invisible to stark and obvious.

It took mere minutes for the first pops to be heard as Voldemort’s supporters Apparated to them. Each fell to their knees, lowering their head. The Dark Lord deigned not to speak until they stopped arriving, pacing in front of them.

“As you can see, I am back,” he said. “You must be devastated.”

Protestations could be heard, but they stopped as soon as Voldemort said, “Silence!”

“I am not a fool,” he said. “I have seen how you lived. For each one who remained loyal , there are twenty who turned their backs. It would bring me the greatest pleasure to punish you properly for this transgression. However, I can be reasonable. I will give you a chance.”

“Tell us what we must do, Master,” said Macnair.

Before, he would never have had the courage to speak at such a large meeting. He was nothing but an ordinary Death Eater, never a member of the Inner Circle. After what he’d done tonight, however, he imagined that wouldn’t be the case for long.

Those long fingers returned. They stroked Macnair’s cheek. 

“You? Nothing,” said Voldemort. “You have already proven your loyalty. You made a sacrifice that I will not soon forget. Lord Voldemort rewards those who serve him well.”

He moved his wand and Macnair felt something beneath the stub of his right arm. A cold and metallic shape swirled there. When he looked down, Macnair saw a whole new hand. One that moved the same way as what he lost.

Macnair dropped back onto his knees, lowering his head as far as it would go. “Thank you, My Lord!”

“The rest of you however…” Voldemort paused to let his servants sweat. “You will get one more chance. I warn you, you will have to start again. Prove to me once more that you have the hunger of purebloods within you. You will have ample opportunities. Starting tonight, we will be at war again! The Wizarding World will be reminded why they once trembled at my very name! Voldemort has returned, and this time, nothing can stop him!”

Voldemort lifted his wand above his head, holding it triumphantly. Then he fell forward, dead by the time he hit the ground.

Macnair’s new hand fell off his arm, turning into inert metal. The Death Eaters surged to their feet. They watched as a shade rose from the pale body of their master, which lay bent and unmoving upon the ground.

“No!” Voldemort’s spirit wailed. “Not agaiiiiiiiiiiiiiin!”

His shade dispersed into the air, too weak to remain visible. His consciousness was scattered, left to claw its way toward life from square one again. The area around Riddle Manor was reduced to silence. Gradually, the Death Eaters present turned to each other.

“We never speak of this again,” said one.

Everyone else nodded. They Disapparated away, leaving behind a lifeless inhuman corpse and a festering pot. True to their word, none of them ever mentioned that day again, not even to each other. Over time, they convinced themselves it had been nothing but a dream. All of them except Macnair, who’d lost a hand which couldn’t be so easily forgotten. But that was a tale for another day.

When Aurors arrived just thirty minutes later under orders from their boss Amelia Bones, all they found was the wreckage of the failed ritual.

“What on earth?” said Tonks.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, the lead auror on the mission, peered into the cauldron. He cast a couple of diagnostic charms on the body, which proved it had been alive once and wasn’t any longer.

“I get the feeling we’re late,” he said.

The others all agreed, but late to what… They couldn’t say. 

O-O-O

Back in the arena, thousands of people waited for ‘Tom Riddle’ to drop dead. He seemed to be doing alright. He was even humming to himself, broadcasting it to the whole crowd. A shame he couldn’t carry a tune to save his life.

Suddenly, he grabbed his chest. “Oh!”

“Is it finally taking effect?” Bagman asked eagerly.

Harry’s face showed sudden discomfort. He gasped, opened his mouth and— burped. 

“Sorry, had to get that one out,” he said. “By the way, it’s been long enough hasn’t it? I think my point has been proven. I quit the tournament, but I’m perfectly fine.”

“How?” Bagman demanded.

Although only he could be heard, acting as the announcer as he was, Karkaroff and Madame Maxine looked similarly shocked. Crouch appeared to be on the verge of passing out. Dumbledore didn’t seem to care much… But he was the odd one out.

“It’s simple,” Harry said. “My half-blood might is too strong to be bound by a dusty old antique. If I want to, I can tell the Goblet to stuff itself anytime I want, like I just did. In fact, I only showed up today to make a statement.”

He crossed his arms. Behind him, the cages holding the magical creatures other champions had faced reopened. The Chimera charged out, as did a group of five-legged creatures with hands for feet and big mouths in the middle of their torsos. They howled ravenously, spit dripping from their jagged teeth.

Quintapeds, Britain’s most dangerous magical creature. They were meant to be Harry’s opponent in the tournament, but now they charged him alongside the Chimera, picking him out as the nearest human. Harry casually aimed a blasting curse at the ground in front of them.

The plume that resulted was an explosion as large as what a ballistic missile might create. The magical creatures and the crowd both looked dumbfounded as they watched soil and bits of burnt sand rain down like ash. Without a second thought, the Class XXXXX magical creatures — defined as completely untameable — obediently lowered their heads.

“More minions!” he said. “ My favorite .”

The Wampus cat crawled out of its cage to join them, keeping its gaze lowered, and the creatures came to stand around Harry like his own personal bodyguards.

“By the time today is up, I am going to have laid waste to this school,” he declared. “Unless anyone can stop me. But oh? What’s that?” He cupped a hand to his ear as if listening to something invisible. “It seems Nymphadora Tonks was called away on important business! Surely there are no other heroes to get in my way.”

Harry summoned incredibly potent winds. Sand was whipped up by the cyclone. It grew so intense that the crowd shielded their faces, Karkaroff was blown out of his chair, and the tent for champions was torn out of the ground and carried away.

Krum was revealed cradling his bad shoulder, a Medi-witch in the process of treating him. Cedric was still out cold. Fleur looked perfectly fine, but was staring at the scene in the arena with wide eyes. Ron openly gaped. 

Fleur was the first to react.

“Oh no!” she shouted. “I hope he does not kidnap me!”

She hugged herself in a way that pushed her breasts out, wiggling her hips back and forth.

At about the same time, Krum showed the better part of valor and ran. The Quintapeds roared, scampering toward the champions. Fleur was still batting her eyes at ‘Tom Riddle’ upon whom she could sense the stench of Death. Cedric was out cold. Ron looked around himself and realized that if he ran, the other two would be left behind. 

He lifted his wand.

C’mon, Harry thought. Cast something. Anything.

Ron did that much. He must’ve been panicking a decent bit, though. Out of every spell he knew, he picked the Bat-Bogey Hex.

Harry could still work with it. The moment the hex struck the closest Quintapeds, Harry levitated it up and banished it, and he didn’t hold back.

The monster launched out of the arena like a meteor. It would fly for hundreds of miles before landing. They were tough creatures, though. It would be fine. So long as it landed in water.

Hey, the odds were good! Seventy-one-percent and all that, right?

The other two Quintapeds stopped their charge. They looked betrayed, if man-eating monsters could feel such emotions. It didn’t matter. Seeing his initial success, Ron was on a roll. He cast two more spells, and Harry hurled the next two Quintapeds away just as fast.

Ron turned his attention to the Chimera, but before he could do anything, it averted its course and charged back into its cage, kicking the door shut. Only the Wampus Cat remained. 

“Mew?”

Thinking quickly, the Wampus Cat dropped onto its back, displaying its belly as it rolled back and forth. A collective “Awwwwww!” emanated from the previously terrified crowd.

“My elite forces, defeated? Curses!” said Harry. “Where do these heroes keep appearing from?”

Ron swaggered forward. “Surrender, villain!”

He was really getting into this. Good for him. Harry appreciated a suitable sense of grandeur, even if he hadn’t known his best friend had it in him.

Harry swished his dual wands as Ron approached. “You won’t find me defeated so easily!”

“We’ll see about that,” Ron said. “Expelliarmus!”

Harry almost laughed. What a spell to choose in a climactic moment. Honestly, who would do that?

He cast a spell of his own that was all flash and no substance, making it look as if Ron’s spell struck him. The crowd could see their duel, but not hear Ron’s voice, leaving them guessing as to what spell he might’ve used. Harry took advantage of that to lose with style.

He coughed blood (fake, of course) leaving Ron visibly confused.

“I’ll be back!” Harry swore. “And next time, I’ll remember you, pureblood scum!”

Then he treated himself like a Quintaped and hurled himself.

It was something he’d always wanted to try— a levitation charm combined with a feather weight charm, followed up by banishing his own clothes. Weightless and floating, he accelerated to an extreme speed, disappearing in a blur.

His eyelids and cheeks flapping, Harry flew almost as fast as a human could travel, loving every second of it. He left Ron behind in the middle of the arena for the second time that day, the crowd worshipping him as a hero.

Harry couldn’t literally hear it, having already flown too far away, but he could imagine it.

This is what you were always after, Ron, he thought. Make the most of it.

He whooped his way through the rest of the trip, relaxing and enjoying the high-speed flight like the adrenaline junky that he was, right up until he landed in the ocean in a huge plume of water, a last-minute shield stopping him from pancaking himself. Harry broke the surface again spitting saltwater with a huge grin and a bruised body.

He was so doing that again sometime.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 25

Slithering Into the Snake Den

“He cheated! I don’t know how, or in what way, or– or– or anything! But I’m sure it’s true!”

Pansy had given up on her usual nightly routine. She was just too mad . Her skin care products were scattered around her on her bed, while the mirror she typically used lay on the floor after she plucked it from the air and dashed it at her mattress. It wasn’t like her to raise her voice, but right now she couldn’t help it.

Ronald Weasley chased off a mythical beast? Ronald Weasley defeated the mysterious terrorist even Dumbledore struggled against? Ronald Weasley saved the school ? 

She couldn’t believe it. Wouldn’t believe it. The blood traitor could barely pass potions, let alone accomplish stunning feats like some kind of dashing handsome hero. Pansy inhaled sharply to continue ranting, only for someone to cut her off.

“If you utter one more overly-loud protestation about that ginger-headed scarecrow, I am going to silence you if I have to use my wand to do it,” said Daphne. The Greengrass heir was attempting to read from a textbook— something Pansy’s voice was absolutely ruining. 

“But—”

Daphne shut her book with a resounding clap.

“First of all, we all saw what happened,” Daphne said. “That lion-like beast certainly fled, and Ronald Weasley was in front of it when it did. Second of all, what if he cheated? We are Slytherins, Pansy. Cheating is what we pride ourselves on. Or is it only cunning when we exhibit it?”

“Yeah! You tell her!”

The Slytherin fourth year girls collectively jumped. Somehow, without any of them noticing, Harry Potter had appeared again with a bed of his own. He was laying on his stomach with his head facing the footboard, kicking his legs behind him. It all created a fierce sense of deja vu for the last time he appeared from nowhere, except now he was dripping head to toe like he just crawled out from the sea.

“You’re looking… wetter than when I saw you last,” said Tracey Davis. 

“Thank you!” Harry said. “It’s an artistic choice symbolizing what happens between beautiful women’s legs when they lay eyes on me.”

Pansy Parkinson picked up her bottle of salamander cream and hurled it at his head. With reflexes that had traumatized Slytherin House ever since Harry Potter stepped on a Quidditch pitch, he caught the thrown object easily. After taking a look at it, his face wrinkled with disgust.

“I told you last time!” he said. “I don’t want anything to do with Peruvian Salamander Cream. I’ll only go near the Amazonian stuff.” He threw Pansy’s improvised weapon away over his shoulder, incidentally headshotting Milicent Bulstrode, who frowned and rubbed her broad brow.

“So you’re back,” Daphne observed.

“Sure am!” Harry said.

“Why?”

“Can’t I check in on the roomies?” Harry rolled around and sat up. “How are you feeling, Pansy? Getting nervous?”

“Lightning only strikes once, Potter,” she said, raising her pug nose.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” he said. “And the rest of you? How’s life?” When nobody answered, he shook his head. “What’s with those looks? Can’t we just have a girl’s night without any drama?”

“I have a question,” said Daphne.

“If it’s the meaning of life, all I can say is, ‘Blubber warts.’ You’ll have to figure out the rest on your own.”

Daphne frowned. “It is not. And, for the record, you are the last place I would turn for such wisdom.”

“Ouch.”

“I simply wish to know why you’d make that sort of bet with Pansy?”

Daphne leaned forward. She was wearing silk pajamas that were modest when it came to her body, but brought out the best in ice-blue eyes. 

“Because it sounded fun,” Harry said.

“That’s it?”

“Hey!” He sounded genuinely upset. “There’s nothing minor about doing something for fun. I’ll have you know that’s the reason for everything I do.”

Daphne arched a blond eyebrow, whilst the rest of the room began to feel they’d been forgotten. “Truly?”

“Cross my heart and hope I didn’t lie,” Harry said. “If that wasn’t how I operated, why do you think I’d take the risk of being in a steamy friends-with-benefits relationship with Fleur Delacour? If I didn’t love doing her so much, she’d have sucked me dry and turned me insane by now. When I catch wind of doing something fun, I don’t hesitate! Even if it almost got Lavender and I caught on the Hogwarts express… Or if it includes accidentally taking a professor’s virginity… Or doing Fleur under an invisibility cloak right beside the Slytherin table.”

“I knew I smelled sex!” Tracey muttered.

“I’ll… keep that in mind,” Daphne said.

She was renowned throughout the school for her composure, but even she couldn’t keep a pause out of her voice after a declaration as shameless as the one Harry just made. Then again, if you were routinely shagging Fleur Delacour, you just had to find ways to work it into casual conversations if you have any kind of pride.

“Come on, do you really believe that?” Pansy asked. “Even Draco couldn’t get Fleur to pay attention to him. Do you think she’d crawl into bed with Potter?”

The other girls all traded a look.

“Yes,” said Daphne, Tracey, and Lilith. Millicent stayed silent, but that mostly seemed to be out of politeness toward Pansy.

“It probably didn’t help having his lonesome inch plastered across the front page of Britain’s biggest Newspaper,” Harry added innocently. “I think the headline was longer than Draco.”

Tracey snorted while Pansy fumed.

“So, Harry,” Tracey began, “Lavender, Fleur, and a professor? How did you manage all of that?”

“It’s two professors now, actually,” Harry said. “Plus Luna Lovegood, Susan Bones, Alicia Spinnett, Su Li…” He shrugged. “I do have a good time.”

Tracey leaned forward. “The question is, do they?”

The brunette witch was like a different person compared to the defensive rebel Harry met while interviewing half-bloods. Her hair was messier, her brown eyes had a much softer expression, and her smirk was enticing. Her pajamas consisted of a large shirt and shorts that were loose and tight in wonderful ways.

“They’ve never complained,” Harry said.

“Not even once?”

“Not yet,” Harry said. “Their only issue is when we finally stop. If they’re still conscious, anyway.”

“Big talk.”

“That’s not all that’s big.”

Lilith and Millicent were watching the exchange like a tennis match. Daphne kept her eyes just on Harry, still looking thoughtful. Pansy, however, huffed.

“You can’t seriously be buying this!” she said. “He’s full of crap.”

“I’m not,” Harry said. “But if you want to check for yourself, go ahead and try.”

He leaned back, supporting his weight with his hands behind his torso, and spread his legs. The water dripping off of him dried, as did the sheets underneath him. There was a moment of silence as the girls considered his offer.

“Millicent!” Pansy said. “Go and check!”

For the first time, real fear appeared in Harry’s eyes.

Millicent Bulstrode was an interesting girl. A half-blood like Tracey, she was effectively the female Crabbe or Goyle of Slytherin. Instead of Draco, Millicent followed Pansy’s orders as well as she could, using her large body to bully other students when necessary. She also happened to have a face that looked like a child’s first attempt at drawing a troll.

Millicent started to stand up, willing to take on this challenge if Pansy ordered it, only to suddenly slumped over sound asleep. Harry had used his magic wandlessly — fueled by pure panic — to ensure she wouldn’t be able to follow through. As soon as he saw her sleeping, he let out a deep and relieved sigh.

“What in Merlin’s name? Are you narcoleptic now?” Pansy complained. “Now who will do it?”

“Are we taking volunteers?” Tracey asked.

She crawled to the edge of her bed, slipping off and sauntering across the room. She stopped just in front of the bed, crossing her arms.

“Are you sure you can handle it?” she asked Harry.

“Come and find out,” Harry teased. 

Tracey crawled onto the bed. As soon as she got close enough for it, Harry’s arms encircled her, pulling her toward him and squeezing. His hands went right to Tracey’s assets, one squeezing her bum and another fondling her chest. Despite her bravado, Tracey was caught off guard by the force he kissed her with. Something his fingers did caused her to melt against Harry’s body, turning to putty in his hands. 

Harry wasn’t done. He twisted Tracey around, managing to smoothly remove her shirt. The white bra underneath held her medium-sized breasts in a way that was neither risqué nor conservative. Harry pushed Tracey down on her stomach, his body pressing onto hers from above. His hips grinded against her loose shorts. He brushed aside her hair, biting Tracey’s neck. Tracey immediately became a moaning wreck, her eyes widening with panic. The position he had her in left her facing Lilith bed, and Tracey stuck out a desperate hand that clawed the air.

“Backup! Please!” she pleaded.

Lilith Moon was a petite girl with long curly brown hair and a smattering of freckles. She was known for being quiet and shy despite her house, leading many to theorize about the scheming mind she must’ve possessed beneath the veneer. Right now, however, her hazel eyes were frightfully wide. On shaking legs, she stood up and approached.

“Tracey, stop screaming like you’re in Playwitch!” Pansy snapped. “You’ll make his ego even more insufferable!”

It was as if Tracey couldn’t hear her at all, which was a very real possibility with how the girl was moaning. By the time Lilith got close to the bed, Harry had Tracey’s shorts and panties pulled down, his face buried against her arse. Tracey pounded the bed with an open palm from what Harry’s tongue was doing to her. Lilith froze, looking stunned as she stared at what was unfolding in front of her.

Pansy felt something deep inside her crotch that was deeply uncomfortable— not because of the sensation itself, but because of what it represented.

“I’m going to bed!” she declared. “I won’t watch something like this!”

She pulled her blankets over herself and turned away, staring at the wall. If only that were the end of it.

Taking her eyes off of them somehow made every noise sound ten times as loud. Tracey’s moans pinged off of the walls around them. Pansy could hear slurping as Harry put his mouth to work. As Tracey’s voice rose an octave, there was no mistaking what was happening. Listening to her roommate cum her brains out, Pansy squeezed the blanket with her fingers, bunching her hand into a fist.

“Your turn,” Harry said. “Get those clothes off.”

The rustling of fabric signaled that Lilith had pulled off everything she was wearing. Immediately after, the bed squawked as she joined Harry and Tracey. Harry himself must’ve gotten naked as well, because there was only one thing he could’ve meant when he said, “Suck it.”

Lilith slurped, gagged, then coughed. While she hacked up a lung, Tracey filled in for her, taking a turn on Harry’s dick. Pansy could tell which of them was sucking based on the way their mouths sounded. The noises were so wet. Pansy’s hands unclenched, sliding deeper underneath the blanket.

Millicent was sleeping peacefully and Daphne was watching without any visible emotion. Lilith and Tracey were clearly occupied. No one would notice if Pansy… With just one finger…

“Alright, you two,” Harry said. “I expect you to share now.”

There was a splattering sound— quiet, but Pansy’s ears caught it all the same. She pictured Harry’s cum glazing her roommates' faces. What would it look like? Her fingers slipped underneath her panties, touching herself, and soon Pansy’s own quiet moans joined the louder ones from her roommates.

Soon Lilith was screaming. No one at Hogwarts had ever heard her raise her voice before, but as Harry plowed her she screamed until her vocal chords turned hoarse. At the same time, Tracey was whispering assurances to her, telling her she could take it and similar things. The girls seemed to have formed a cohesive alliance in the face of Harry’s skills. Rather than competing with each other, they’d chosen to use teamwork to wear him down. It remained to be seen if that would be enough.

Pansy added a second finger to her snatch. She started to kick her legs slightly, panting as she masturbated to the sounds coming from behind her.

Harry abruptly changed over to Tracey. Whatever position he put her in made the bed squeal and its legs thump loudly against the floor. Pansy could hear him slamming against Tracey’s arse.

“I didn’t know I could stretch this much!” Tracey said. “Is it all fitting inside? How is it all inside? Ahh~”

Her moans increased in volume, as did the frequency of the impacts. Pansy heard kissing. Lilith had recovered enough to keep Harry’s mouth busy, attempting to distract them. A new moist noise joined the cacophony as Harry started to finger her without missing a beat.

Pansy’s moans grew so loud that she had to cover her mouth with her other hand. Her fingers felt better than they ever had, she was so turned on. What was this? Was this what Gryffindor boys were like?

What had they been missing all this time?

Her pussy contracted. In addition to muffling herself with her hand, she had to bite down on her lip hard enough to draw blood just to keep from screaming like Tracey was. Moisture rushed between her fingers and trickled down her knuckles, staining her sheets. Pansy felt her body shake. Pleasure filled her for at least ten seconds before it faded.

But the noises hadn’t faded. She thought Harry might have switched positions (and possibly partners) but she was too frightened to look. If just the sounds had her this way, that might be more than her self-control could handle. So Pansy kept herself from rolling over, evened out her breathing, and did her best to actually go to sleep now.

She lasted five seconds before three fingers were shoved inside her snatch.

O-O-O

Harry grinned as he felt nails scratching his back. Lilith was clinging onto him for dear life. She was a cute girl, short in height and petite in build. Her breasts and bum were both small, but she was skinny with nice hips, so they were still plenty alluring. As Harry repeatedly pushed his hips down, straining the springs of the bed beneath them, he could feel Lilith’s pussy squeezing him. She was just as tight as you’d expect from a girl of her size.

He couldn’t help shifting his attention to the other side of the bed for a moment. Tracey Davis had certainly found her answer to whether he was any good in bed. She was propped against the headboard… just the wrong way round. Her neck was bent and the back of her head was on her mattress, her arse was pushed against the headboard’s wood, and her legs were spread. Cum was running down her stomach from where Harry pulled out, dripping onto her face and collecting in her hair. She was clearly smiling, although it seemed she’d fallen asleep. Or passed out, given the uncomfortable position she was contorted in.

A deafening wail drew his attention back to Lilith. The freckled girl was struggling to keep her eyes open. She puckered her lips, waiting, and Harry accepted the offer, kissing her. As soon as their lips touched, Lilith came, bathing his dick in her juices. Harry gave a few more piledriver-like thrusts before grunting and pulling out. He lifted his hips high enough that this dick slid free from her snatch, spraying his cum across her flat tummy. Lilith’s fingers dragged along his body, leaving a last set of red scratches before going limp.

Harry pulled himself off of her, sitting back, and sighed. He conjured a glass of chilled water for himself, drinking deeply before wiping his lips.

“Fun show?” he asked.

Daphne Greengrass was sitting in her bed in the exact same position as she had been when they started. Considering Harry, Tracey, and Lilith had gone at it for at least an hour, that was impressive. Millicent was asleep, and Pansy was buried in her blankets, but Daphne just watched . The entire time.

“It was certainly enlightening,” Daphne said.

“You could have touched yourself if you wanted. Nobody would’ve judged you.”

“Please.” Daphne wrinkled her button nose. “I’m not Pansy Parkinson.”

The bundle of blankets on the next bed over jolted. The black hair sticking out ducked lower and burrowed in, hiding a pair of burning cheeks.

“So, did you see what you were hoping for?” Harry asked.

Daphne was silent for a few seconds. Although she typically looked cold, Harry thought he could see something else in her now: apprehension. There was a very noticeable pause before she answered.

“I think that I just might have,” she said.

Harry smiled. “I’m glad.”

She stared at him a bit longer, then lay down and pulled a blanket over herself. The lights went out. When the Slytherin girls awoke in the morning, Harry and his bed were gone. Tracey and Lilith had been cleaned up and tucked snugly into their own beds. It was to the point that Pansy pretended he never visited, and Tracey and Lilith would’ve thought they imagined everything, had it not been for their pronounced limps all morning. Millicent didn’t remember anything at all. Only Daphne recalled what happened in perfect detail, and it gave her plenty to think on. More and more she was becoming certain.

Harry Potter was the one she needed.

O-O-O

Harry blinked. He considered rubbing his eyes, but held back out of principle. It seemed rude toward his best friend to disbelieve what he was seeing too strongly.

“How long has this been a thing?” he asked.

Ronald Weasley couldn’t answer himself because he was currently being fed grapes. Parvati was sitting on one side of him, Ron’s arm draped over her shoulder, while her twin sister Padma sat on the opposite side, cuddled up under Ron’s other arm. Both the girls were giggling softly. After feeding him cut up slices of pancake for the last fifteen minutes, they had moved on to giving him grapes by hand.

“Since last night.” Ginny didn’t even try to keep her disgust out of her voice. “Parvati and Padma apparently confessed to him… at the same time. Ron said yes to both, because he’s mental. And they accepted because they're just as mental.”

In a gap between the grapes, Ron sighed dreamily. “Being a hero is the best.”

A sudden spark entered Ginny’s eyes. She twisted toward Harry, who was sitting beside her. “You know, we’ve got some grapes over here too—”

The soft, curvy body of Fleur Delacour wedged in between them as the French witch arrived, squeezing up against Harry. 

“I could feed you grapes if you like, Harry,” she said. “Or, if they’re more to your liking, I’ve got melons as well.”

She pushed her chest toward him, propping up her breasts. Behind her, Ginny scowled and turned away, balling her hands into fists while sneaking a glance at her much flatter chest.

“Maybe later, Fleur,” Harry said, quickly pulling food onto his plate. As lovely as her boobs were, he was hungry for something he could actually eat— and he was starting to worry that if he didn’t hurry, he’d be interrupted before he could get any.

Surveying the rest of his friends, Harry discovered Hermione buried in a book. That was nothing unusual, but something seemed different this time. She was scribbling on a sheet of parchment in her lap, sketching formulas and shapes before hastily scribbling them out. Every few minutes she’d growl like a Nundu and flip a page. When Harry leaned over, he saw that it was an Arithmancy book.

“What’s this about, Hermione?” he asked.

She waved him off with a hand the way you might treat a common pest. Dean Thomas reached around Hermione, poking Harry’s shoulder and pointing toward something above the entrance.

Four large hourglasses hovered there, each one filled with a different color of gemstone. They represented house points, allowing students to keep track of the race for the House Cup. Yesterday, Gryffindor and Slytherin had been neck-and-neck, Ravenclaw just behind, and Hufflepuff a distance behind that. Now, an enormous stack of sapphires sat in the Ravenclaw hourglass, twice the height of Gryffindor and Slytherin’s piles.

“Did someone in Ravenclaw solve Lycanthropy?” Harry asked in disbelief. That had to be at least three-hundred points earned in one go, maybe more.

“Not Lycanthropy, just an equation,” Dean said. “A previously unsolvable one, according to Professor Vector. She couldn’t believe her eyes. It wasn’t even a person in her class, too, but someone who wandered by and stuck their head in. The Professor swears this is going to be in every textbook in a few years.”

Someone from Ravenclaw had wandered by and pulled something like that? It couldn’t be… But it had to be—

“Ahem!” A ringing sound called everyone’s attention to the staff table as Dumbledore tapped his fork into the side of his goblet. “Attention, all! There is a short announcement that I’m extremely proud to make.” Four owls fluttered down, carrying a package between them. Dumbledore untied it and pulled back the wrapping. Lifting out a gilded frame with a shiny medal inside of it, he beamed and said, “Would Luna Lovegood please come here?”

Luna stood up at the Ravenclaw table, approaching the staff table without hesitation. When she reached Dumbledore, he handed the plaque over, and she accepted it after tilting her glasses on the bridge of her nose.

“To honor a stunning contribution to the field of Arithmancy, offered at a startlingly young age, it is my pleasure to award you with an Order of Merlin Third Class!”

“Thank you, Professor.” Luna accepted the metal with a very small smile. “I only did what I thought was best.”

Slowly, applause filled the Great Hall, led by the Hufflepuffs who were happy to see someone other than a Gryffindor or Slytherin doing something impressive. Ravenclaw quickly followed, and even a lot of Gryffindors clapped. Hermione shut her book with a bam .

She growled and tore the paper she’d been working on in half. It was full of calculations— her fruitless attempts to solve other unsolvable Arithmancy equations like the one Luna did. Harry, who’d been one of the first Gryffindors to start clapping, found himself dragged from his seat as Hermione grabbed his wrist. She stomped out of the Great Hall, pulling Harry along.

He thought she’d gotten a bit better yesterday during the first task, seeing her put down her studying to watch Ron compete. But unfortunately, it seemed this achievement of Luna’s was too much for Hermione. She marched the two of them out of the Great Hall, up two flights of stairs, and only stopped in a corridor where no one was around to hear them.

“You did something to Luna!” she said. “It’s like she’s changed into a completely different person overnight, and it all started after the two of you snuck away by the lake!”

Harry rubbed the back of his head, not sure how to deny it. “Well, when you put it that way…”

Hermione was on a roll. So much so, in fact, that she seemed to take no notice of what she was doing. She used her grip on Harry’s wrist to push him against the wall beneath a portrait, shoving her face deep into his personal space.

“I’m the smart one!” she said. “That’s always been my thing! I can’t lose that… so do it to me too!”

Harry’s brain ground to a stop. “What?

“Whatever you did to Luna, do it to me too,” Hermione repeated slowly. “And I’m not letting this go until you do!”

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Chapter Text

Chapter 26

A Learning Experience

Hermione’s arms were crossed as her foot repeatedly tapped the floor, exuding a tangible aura of impatience. In front of her, Harry paced back and forth, shooting glances at the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy and his trusty trolls.

“What are you doing—?”

Hermione’s question ended early as the wall swung open, revealing a room inside. Harry pulled her through by the hand, shutting the door behind them.

This time, the Room of Requirement took on the appearance of a bedroom with sleet-gray walls and a king sized bed. For Hermione it would have looked like a comfy room and nothing more, but Harry found himself stopping to look around. The room had mimicked his and Hermione’s shared bedroom from his last life.

“What is this place?” Hermione asked.

Harry almost thought she was asking what room was being mimicked, before realizing that at this point Hermione had just never seen the Room of Requirement. 

“It’s an extremely useful one of the castle’s secrets,” he said. “It’s got a lot of names. The Come-and-Go room. The Room of Hidden Things. Usually, people just call it the Room of Requirement.”

“And it looks like a bedroom?”

Harry chuckled. “It looks like whatever you wish for. Right now, this is what we needed.”

Hermione frowned. She looked around again, searching for what she was missing.

“Why would we need a bed? What did you and Luna do?”

Harry leaned over, brushing aside some of Hermione's bushy hair to cup a hand around her ear. He whispered for a good thirty seconds, delivering a comprehensive description of everything he got up to with Luna before the girl’s sudden change. Hermione’s cheeks grew progressively redder.

“Wait!” When he finished, Hermione grabbed Harry’s chest, pushing him away and pointing her face toward the floor. “You’re joking, right? You made all of that up?”

Harry didn’t answer, and Hermione slowly forced herself to look at him. He saw comprehension dawning in her eyes.