Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Twenty-Five: Dim-witted Theories and Troubles Abound
Disclaimer: Not mine, I own nothing. I’m not making any money.
WARNING: Harsh Language, adult themes, sexual situations (i.e. smut), bad spelling and grammar.
Author’s Notes: This story is a broad farce with over the top humor (a good deal of it is crude and sexual) and OOC actions (that’s Out Of Character if you don’t know). Also, this is my first smut-ish fic. If you don’t like sex and sex-based humor, do NOT read this!
Chapter Twenty-Five: The Talk of the Castle.
The next night, Harry and Hermione were alone in their Head Students’ quarters, reading quietly. Harry was going over his notes for Transfiguration, while Hermione read from their ‘special book.’ Every once in a while, the brunette witch had to readjust the squashy pillow she was using as a seat cushion. Despite a heaping dosage of Bruise Be Gone ointment and ample massaging from Harry, her bottom was still quite red and sore from the previous night’s spankings. Harry would’ve felt bad over Hermione’s discomfort, if the witch didn’t have a persistent satisfied grin etched on her face. She definitely was one kinky woman.
A soft knocking drew the teens’ attention to the door. Harry set his notes aside and went to see who was calling. The wizard was surprised to see Ginny, who had obviously been crying quite a bit judging by her red and puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks, standing in the hallway.
“Am I… am I interrupting?” she asked meekly and sniffled.
Genuinely concerned over Ginny’s condition, Harry ushered her in.
“Ginny, are you alright?” Hermione asked from the couch.
“No,” the red head sniffled again.
Hermione patted a spot close to her on the couch, indicating that Ginny should sit next to her. But instead of sitting, Ginny dove and threw her arms around Hermione’s neck. The younger witch openly sobbed into Hermione’s shoulder.
“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” cooed Hermione and she began rubbing the red head’s back. Harry joined the witches on the couch and placed a comforting hand on Ginny’s shoulder.
After a few minutes, Ginny calmed. Hiccupping, the red head pulled away from Hermione and leaned against the back of the couch.
“I’m in so much trouble,” the young witch bemoaned.
“Why? What happened, Ginny?” asked Harry. The red head’s lip quivered pathetically and Harry reassured “You can tell us, we’re your friends.”
“And Harry’s practically a brother, to boot,” Hermione said while looking directly at Harry, her eyes sparkling mischievously. Harry rolled his eyes; he couldn’t believe that his lover was asking for another paddling.
“I’m pregnant,” Ginny cried as her tears splashed down her face.
“Oh, Ginny,” Hermione said mournfully, her mischievous sparkle disappearing instantly.
Harry just put his arm around Ginny’s shoulders. He wanted to say something comforting, but the only thing he could think of to say was “I’ll miss you after your mum murders you,” but that was tactless so he kept quiet.
“Didn’t you use protection?” asked Hermione.
“Yes, all the time. I’ve always used the Inaedifico Charm,” Ginny said between sobs.
“What’s the Inaedifico Charm?” Harry asked Hermione over Ginny’s head.
“It’s a semen repellant,” the brunette explained. “It’s a spell that creates a barrier. Basically a witch uses the charm to keep any semen from reaching the cervix and therefore the womb. It’s very effective and simple to do. And it lasts three weeks with each casting. That’s why I use it.
“Are you sure you didn’t forget to recast it?” Hermione asked the crying witch.
“No, to be safe I recast it every two weeks,” she answered. “It’s Neville, he’s too big.”
“Honey, the size of Neville’s penis doesn’t mean he’s extra fertile,” Hermione said. “Besides, it doesn’t matter how fertile the wizard is, the Inaedifico Charm would work. It’s a very reliable contraceptive.”
“I know that. I’m talking about Neville’s length,” Ginny said, wiping away the tears from her eyes. “He’s so big, he bypasses the charm. The head of his willy actually pushes through my cervix. When we have sex, he cums right in my womb.”
“Pushes through your cervix?” Hermione echoed; her face a mixture of surprise and anguish. “Ow.”
“Oh, you get used to it after four or five times,” dismissed Ginny.
“Ow,” repeated Hermione. She had her hands clutched on the lower part of her belly in phantom pain. “Ow.”
“I need help,” implored Ginny. “What am I supposed to do? I’m scared.”
“Does Neville know?” asked Harry.
“No,” the red head said.
“And your parents don’t know?” Hermione asked.
“Of course not,” Ginny replied. “Do you think I’m mad? What should I do?”
“Well, Neville needs to know,” stated Harry. He imagined that if he were in Neville’s shoes, he’d want to know.
“And your parents should be told as well” added Hermione.
“You’re mad!” Ginny said, staring with terror filled eyes at Hermione. “Sure, I’ll tell Nev. But my parents? You’re barmy to think I’m going to tell my folks.”
“Ginny, they’re going to find out sooner or later,” Hermione explained. “I think it’ll be for the best if it’s sooner rather than later.”
Ginny turned the wizard and with a pleading expression, she begged “Harry, you’ll tell them for me, won’t you?”
“You think I’m suicidal or something?” he asked. “Because the moment I say the words ‘Ginny’s pregnant’ they’ll kill me.”
“But you’re not the father, they won’t get mad at you,” the red head pointed out.
“Won’t matter,” argued Harry. “All they’ll see is a bloke saying something about their princess being knocked up and they’ll kill me. I imagine it’s like an automatic response for parents.”
“But they love you,” Ginny urged.
“No, I’m with Harry on this. Either you by yourself or with Neville should tell your parents,” Hermione stated. She then added under her breath, “Cervix – ow!’
“Oh, God,” Ginny cried into her hands. “I’m dead! I’m dead! I’m dead!”
“Don’t be so melodramatic, Gin-Gin,” Harry said in a calm and soothing voice. “Sure your folks’ll be mad, at first. But you’re their little girl and they love you. Hell, it’s obvious they love babies too, otherwise they wouldn’t have had so many.” With this point, Ginny’s head snapped up and she looked at Harry as if he was brilliant. Encouraged by Ginny’s expression, Harry forged ahead. “I’m sure that once the baby is born, your mum and dad will forget all about this. They’d probably love the idea about being grandparents once they hold the little tyke for the first time.”
“You’re right Harry,” Ginny cheered with a genuine smile. “I’ll hide my pregnancy! And after I give birth, I’ll surprise Mum and Dad with the baby!”
“That’s not what I said,” Harry shot back.
“It won’t work,” added Hermione.
“Yes it will!” Ginny said gleefully. “I’ll just use some glamour charms to hide any bumps or whatnot and my parents will be none the wiser.”
“Ginny, please stop and think about this,” prayed Hermione.
“It’s brilliant,” Ginny said with sparkling eyes and a dazzling smile. “And once the baby is born, I’ll show it to Mum and Dad and they’ll love it just like you said, Harry!”
The red head bounced up from the couch and twirled happily as Harry tried to defend himself. “But I didn’t…”
“Thanks Harry, you’re a lifesaver!” Ginny congratulated before prancing out of the Head Boy and Girl’s chamber.
“Oh, this will not end well,” Hermione breathed out.
“Somehow, I think this will come back and bite me on the arse,” Harry pondered.
*
The next day at lunch, Harry, Hermione, and Ron leaned in close to Luna, as she was telling the trio the latest odd happening in the castle:
“Dennis Creevey is with Padma Patil?” Harry asked disbelievingly. “I thought he was gay.”
“No, his brother is the one who’s gay,” corrected Luna. “Dennis was just helping Colin hook up with you, which is a very lovely thing to do for one’s own sibling.”
“How did a bloke like Dennis get together with Padma?” inquired Ron as he wolfed down another helping of shepherd’s pie. “I mean he’s three years younger than her. And she’s hot while he’s goofy looking.”
“I saw it with my own two eyes,” Luna said conversationally. “They were both getting dress as they stumbled out into the hallway. They saw me, giggled and kissed rather passionately before going their separate ways.”
“Maybe it was something else,” Hermione offered. She too had trouble wrapping her mind around the concept of Dennis and Padma together. “Maybe she was giving him a tutoring session and the kiss was innocent.”
“Possible, but I doubt it. It was a tongue kiss, after all. Pink organs fighting for dominance in one another’s mouth, and all that,” explained Luna. “And when I said that they were getting dressed, I meant that Padma’s left breast was exposed. She has lovely skin by the way; blemish-free and very soft looking. And as they parted, Padma gave Dennis’ groin a good squeeze. He still had an erection; I could see the outline of his crown and shaft pressing against the fabric of his trousers. Oh, he also smelled like sex when he passed me. But maybe you’re right and it was innocent.”
“Maybe it was a very good tutoring session,” Harry feebly defended Hermione’s speculation.
“Oh, and speaking about sex, Ronald and I finally broke our dry spell,” Luna said happily.
“You had a dry spell?” Harry asked… and instantly regretted it. The blonde witch had a tendency to be a little too open about such topics.
“Yes, ever since Snape’s admission of masturbating constantly,” Luna paused and shivered in disgust. “Please don’t misunderstand; I happen to think masturbation is a lovely act. Just last week, I watched Ronald pleasure himself for me.”
“Luna, they don’t need to know,” Ron said in embarrassment.
“It was a beautiful and loving moment,” Luna continued despite Ron’s objections. “But Snape is nothing more than a disgusting and foul man. The mere idea of him having sex, even a solo act, is just as disgusting as the greasy git himself. That excuse for a man defiled a beautiful deed for me with his hateful tale.”
Harry did his best to try and block any unwanted images of Snape out of his mind.
“So for the past few days I haven’t been able to even think about sex,” Luna said. “Every time I tried to be intimate with my husband, I could only see an image of that foul man with his penis in his hand. Drooling while abusing himself like some deranged madman.”
Harry eyed the fork in his hand and pondered over the notion of jabbing the utensil into his eye and shoving it into his brain. He was beginning to warm up to the idea that he could use the fork to lobotomize himself in order to remove the image that Luna had just created.
“But last night, I was finally able to overcome the horror that Snape had created, and my Ronald and I made love,” Luna beamed at her husband. “First he took me on the couch, then the bed, and a desk. And then I was able to fulfill Ronald’s heartfelt wishes.”
The blonde witch held up her fore and middle fingers and wriggled them proudly.
“Oh, look at the time, class is starting,” Hermione said and shot up, clearly disturbed by what Luna was describing. She grabbed Harry, who was beyond shocked at Luna’s gesture, by the hand and dragged him out of the seat.
“Lessons don’t start for another quarter hour, Hermione,” said Luna while still wriggling her fingers like two burrowing worms. At this moment, Ron had his face hidden behind his hands, deeply embarrassed. Harry meanwhile was still clutching the fork and seriously debating the lobotomy option.
“Well, then we… uh…it’s Head Boy and Girl stuff,” Hermione said nervously. “Harry and I have to do… things,” she finished lamely and dashed out of the Great Hall with Harry in tow.
*
By dinner that evening, the news of Dennis’ and Padma’s relationship had spread like wildfire. Not that Harry, Hermione, Ron, or Luna had talked about it, which they didn’t. It was the fact that Dennis had gone down on Padma after lessons were done for the day. Of course what made it widely known was that the two did this by the lake where they had attracted a good sized crowd that allegedly cheered the couple on.
Now that their relationship wasn’t a secret (nor had they apparently wanted it to remain a secret seeing the public sex and all), Padma and Dennis sat next to each other, feeding each other bits of food as they looked longingly into their partner’s eyes.
Then, something occurred to Harry, as he looked over the students gathered in the Great Hall. He noticed that a number of the student body were paired up, much more so than usual. Dean Thomas was with Mandy Brocklehurst. Tracy Davis was in Terry Boot’s lap. Megan Jones was kissing Theodore Nott. And dozens of other couples were scattered through the Hall.
Harry eyed his pumpkin juice. Had someone spiked it with a love potion or something? He was suddenly scared; Harry had stopped checking his own meals once the more aggressive House Elf sect had stopped punishing him with platefuls of steaming excrement for his sin of “deflowering the Great One.” However given the widespread impact, a love potion was the only feasible reason he could come up with to explain this current “love fest” that was gripping Hogwarts.
“Hey guys,” Ginny said as she walked into the Great Hall. She was supporting Neville who had just looked like he had thrown up several times. He was deathly pale and his eyes where wide and blank.
“What’s with Neville?” Ron asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Ginny said with a nervous dismissal. The red head witch looked at Harry and Hermione and slipped them a note. “C’mon sweetie, lets get you some food,” Ginny said to Neville and led him down to an empty spot.
Harry unfolded the note and held it so that only he and Hermione could read it. It read:
“I just told him. I think he’s taking it rather well.”
Harry looked down the table at Neville. The wizard looked close to fainting. If Ginny considered that “taking it rather well’ he wondered what Ginny considered taking it poorly.
“I still think Expelliarmus can defeat You Know Who,” Ron offered suddenly, pulling Harry away from his thoughts regarding love potions and accidental pregnancies (which, between Ginny and Tonks, had been happening quite a bit lately).
“Not again, Ron,” moaned Hermione.
“No, no, hear me out,” persisted Ron. “I’m not talking about a normal Expelliarmus, but one cast from a super wand.”
Harry looked to his girlfriend and asked, “Is there such a thing as a super wand?”
She shrugged and answered, “We just turned a bit of string into a pterodactyl in our last class, so I guess anything is possible.”
“Yes, they are true. I’ve heard that Dumbledore had one,” Ron stated. “How else do you think he was able to do such wonderful stuff? Because he had a super wand, that’s how!”
“Actually, I think he could do those things because he was talented and studied hard,” Hermione challenged.
Harry saw Ron lean forward with his face beginning to turn an angry red and Hermione was copying his actions. The two were evidently ready for yet another heated argument.
“Okay, let’s just say Dumbledore had a super wand,” Harry speculated, trying to stem the fight that was about to ensue between Ron and Hermione. “How did he get it?”
“Easy; when he beat Grindelwald,” Ron answered in a haughty tone, as if he was proud that he knew something Hermione didn’t. “Grindelwald’s wand was called the Senior Wand, or something like that, and when Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald back in ‘45, the wand was passed to Dumbledore.”
“Um that really doesn’t make sense, Ron,” Harry said in as kind of way as possible as to not anger his excitable friend. “Back in fifth year, when we took our OWLs, we met someone who tested Dumbledore in his NEWTs when the Headmaster was a student. He said that Dumbledore was able to do wondrous things that he had ever seen. And that would have been decades before he defeated Grindelwald. Which means that Hermione was right, Dumbledore didn’t have a super wand, he was just skilled and talented.”
“Yeah, he may have wowed that bloke, but I heard Dumbledore got a super wand off of Grindelwald and that’s why he was so powerful,” Ron insisted. Knowing that Ron would not stop until he was finished, even if his reasoning and logic were flawed, Harry let his friend continue.
“I also heard that when you defeat someone and disarm them that they can no longer use their own wand because it belongs to you now,” Ron continued with his wild theory. Harry could feel Hermione about to protest, but he squeezed her hand, urging her to let Ron say his peace. “And that’s what happened with the Senior Wand; Dumbledore was able to beat Grindelwald thereby rendering the super wand useless to Grindelwald and making it his own.”
“So what you’re saying is that I should dig up Dumbledore and snatch his wand, this Senior Wand?” Harry asked tentatively.
“Yes, but first you’d have to duel and defeat Draco,” Ron clarified… if one could call it clarification.
“Why Draco?” asked Harry. And trying his best to lower himself to Ron’s argument, the raven haired wizard countered, “Why not Snape? He was the one who killed Dumbledore.”
“You see, that’s where you misunderstand the logic of it all,” Ron said with a superior grin. Harry had to bite his tongue and not say something about howler monkeys and logic. “Snape killed Dumbledore in order to save Draco from becoming a murderer. Therefore, Draco was the one who defeated Dumbledore, not Snape.”
Harry felt the tinge of an approaching migraine forming in his frontal lobe. He heard Hermione begin to mutter a question, but the brunette was so confused by Ron’s train of thought that all she was able to enunciate was “Wha?”
“So, let’s just march over to Malfoy, whoop his arse, then fetch the Senior Wand and you’ll be unstoppable Harry,” Ron concluded, seeming as if he was congratulating himself for a splendid argument.
“Ron, your theory is flawed in one area,” began Hermione, recovering from her befuddlement.
“And what area is that?” the red head asked confident that he could challenge Hermione.
“It’s stupid,” she concluded.
“What do you mean it’s stupid?” Ron demanded with annoyance.
“If a person’s wand is rendered useless when he is defeated, how was Snape able to kill Dumbledore? You, Harry, and I beat Snape in our third year; we knocked him out and disarmed him. So by your logic, his wand has been useless to him since then,” explained Hermione. “Therefore Snape couldn’t have used his wand to kill Dumbledore because he wouldn’t have been able to use it seeing that it is ours by right of conquest.”
“Also, your theory about the secession of the Senior Wand doesn’t work either,” Harry added in a compassionate way.
“How is that?” Ron asked with a frown.
“Well, you say that Draco is the current possessor of the Senior Wand because Snape killed Dumbledore in order to save the wanker,” Harry summarized. “But Snape was acting on Dumbledore’s direct orders; not only to save Malfoy from becoming a murderer but to end his own suffering. And since Snape was acting on Dumbledore’s orders, the greasy git was, in effect, Dumbledore’s tool. The idea of succession through defeat can’t apply here. Dumbledore was basically committing suicide, using the situation to try to redeem Malfoy for some reason and end his own suffering. Therefore he basically defeated himself. Not Snape and definitely not Malfoy.”
Luna placed a comforting hand on Ron’s shoulder and said soothingly, “Ronald, my love, next time you have one of these ideas, run it by me first so that you don’t sound like a fool, okay?”
Just as Ron nodded his head in compliance, another group of people walked up to Harry. This time it was Seamus Finnegan and he had one arm draped over Lavender Brown and the other around Parvati Patil. All three looked extremely pleased and each had a glistening sheen to their skin.
“Tanks, Har-ee, ‘or tha bes’,” Seamus slurred. He sounded as if his tongue had gone numb and was having difficulty speaking clearly. Despite this handicap, Seamus was grinning wildly. “Ree-min’ ‘e ta by ‘ou ah pressen’.”
With that, Lavender and Parvati giggled like school-girls – which, technically, they were – and dragged Seamus out of the Great Hall. Before they got too far, Harry heard the two witches interact:
“I get the top, you get the bottom.”
“But you got the top first last time. I want to go first.”
Hermione picked up her goblet and eyed the liquid contents “Did someone spike the pumpkin juice?” she asked, mirroring Harry’s earlier thought.
*
That night, in the safety of their chamber, where none of the weird activity of their peers could interrupt them, Harry and Hermione were again reading. Harry read a book on Quidditch while Hermione continued to read the Tantric rituals book. The bespectacled wizard liked it when Hermione read the ‘special book,’ as it usually meant they were going to try something exciting.
“This is a very interesting ritual,” Hermione commented as she read over a small section in Harry’s ‘special book.’
“What does it do?” the raven haired wizards asked, not looking up from his homework. He was trying not to lose his cool over the idea that Hermione had just found an interesting segment. What he wanted to do was shout “Let’s perform the ritual!” not really caring what it did, but that would make him look desperate. And a touch sad.
“It’s called the ‘Morgy Ritual.’ It can cause pain through magical connections, such as the Dark Mark,” Hermione summarized. “All we have to do is draw this channeling symbol, and then either write down the name of the magical connection, or draw a symbol of that connection, and then have sex.”
“So basically we’d draw the Dark Mark, indicating our targets are Death Eaters, and then have sex,” Harry recapped.
“Yes,” Hermione agreed. She continued to explain the ritual; “If we perform the ritual with ‘mild intensity’ it will cause the targets to feel a slight pain, something like a bad itch. But a heightened intensity will cause the targets incredible pain; akin to the sensation of being on fire.”
“So a tussle in the sack will make everyone baring the Dark Mark feel pain?” asked Harry.
“Yes.”
“And the more intense the sex, the more pain the Death Eaters will feel?”
“Um,” she paused and quickly rechecked the text. “Yes.”
“Well then, Miss Granger, prepare for several screaming orgasms,” Harry said and tugged his robes off in a manly fashion. In the process, the wizard managed to tear the clasp off of his robes. He would have to use a Stitching Charm to reattach it later. But at least the action looked manly.
A rosy bloom graced the witch’s cheeks in anticipation. Deftly, Hermione flicked the clasp on her robes open. Unlike Harry, she didn’t tear anything, meaning she wouldn’t have to waste her time sewing things like he would.
“Just how many screaming orgasms?” she asked while slowly unbuttoning her blouse.
“As many as it takes,” he replied and lowered his trousers. “This is for justice after all. Dealing out punishment to the wicked and whatnot is my duty.”
“Did you say ‘punishment to the wicked’?” Hermione asked coyly while still undoing her top. “Because my bottom is still a little sore. And even though I am ‘wicked’ and I like ‘punishment’ I think we should wait a while for another spanking.”
“Gotcha, no spankings,” Harry said and he began rapidly unbuttoning his shirt. He had decided not to do the manly thing and tear it open; he really didn’t like sewing. “I’ll just stick to using my parsletongue abilities.”
Harry dropped his underwear and stepped out of them while Hermione slowly opened her blouse. ‘Harry, Jr.’ grumbled about fair-play; here was Harry, completely naked, and Hermione still had her skirt and bra on. And, added to the penis’ ire, the ‘special book,’ lovely and wonderful as it was, was still on her lap. That meant it was blocking one of ‘Harry, Jr.’’s favorite entrances, damn it! Ignoring his appendage’s impatience, Harry continued to toy with his girlfriend. “How many climaxes do you think it’ll take to deal out punishment to the Death Eaters?”
“Like you said, as many as it takes,” she said, running her fingers over the edges of her cotton bra.
“Well, then, I’ll just have to do my best,” Harry boasted, hopping in place in eagerness. “I reckon that I’ll pleasure you so much that my tongue will be numb by the time I’m finished.”
Hermione bit her lip. Her blush deepened as she said, “You’ll be talking like Seamus then.”
“Sacrifices have to be made for justice. What’s a little numb tongue compared to punishing evil Death Eaters?”
With a gleeful expression, Hermione went to move the tantric magic book off of her lap. When her eyes fell on the text, the witch’s eyes grew wide and her joyful demeanor disappeared in a flash.
Recognizing that look, Harry asked “What is it?”
“I misread it,” Hermione practically whimpered. “It states we need more than two.”
“And I plan on giving you more than two,” Harry said with naked pride. “In fact, I plan on giving you so many that you lose consciousness. And I’ll probably continue to give you more when you’re asleep because I’m feeling frisky right now. It’s for justice after all.”
“No, Harry, not multiple orgasms, multiple partners,” Hermione corrected.
Harry blinked once. “Oh.”
He blinked again and asked, “By multiple you mean more than you and me?”
“Yes. To achieve the itching sensation in our targets I told you about, we would need a m?ge ?rois.”
“Manage a what?” asked a perplexed Harry.
“A threesome, Harry,” Hermione pointed out. “For a burning sensation akin to a bad rash, we would need four people. And for the target to feel utter pain, we would need at least six participants.”
“Oh,” Harry repeated. Causing pain to every marked Death Eater was appealing. Perhaps there was a way around it. “Maybe we can get Ron and Luna to join in,” he offered.
“Excuse me?” Hermione asked, clearly offended.
“You know, Ron and Luna can use the spare room while we’re in ours,” explained Harry. “We’ll just put up some silencing charms so we don’t hear each other.”
“You misunderstand, Harry,” she replied. “By multiple partners, the book said we have to share in the ritual.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning once Ron and Luna, and then you and I had our go, we would need to swap partners,” Hermione said with thinly veiled annoyance. “Which means you’d have to have sex with Luna and…” she punctuated these next words as if they were the most important part of her argument; “…I would have to sleep with RON! EWW!”
“They’re our friends and I love them,” admitted Harry. “But I don’t ‘love them’ love them.”
“RON! EWW!”
“They may have seen us have sex through Pensieve memories,” Harry continued. “But this would be entirely different. And different in a bad way.”
“All that red hair.”
“I don’t mind sharing some things, but there is a point where sharing becomes too much.”
“It would be like shagging a circus clown.”
Harry looked at his lover. “He’s still our friend. We don’t need to be cruel.”
“Circus clown,” she stated factually. “He already has the orange-ish red hair and abnormally big feet. All he needs to finish the ensemble is a red-rubber nose.”
“You don’t seem all that upset over the notion of me sleeping with Luna in this little scenario,” Harry dared to point out, hoping that Hermione would take it for the joke that it was intended to be.
“Well she isn’t a clown like Ron, is she?” Hermione replied. “Besides, what would you do with those enormous tits of hers? Honestly? Each one is bigger than your head. You wouldn’t know what to do with them.”
“I’d use them as a pillow,” he said with a naughty smile. “A big, soft, warm pillow.”
“We could both use her breast as pillows,” Hermione snorted a laugh. “You sleep on the left one I’ll get the right.”
The couple shared a belly laugh at the thought. After a moment, Hermione became more serious. “It’s too bad though about the ritual. It would’ve been nice to make those lousy Death Eaters suffer.”
“Can’t we still do it?” asked Harry. “Just ourselves mind you. I mean with both of our power boost, we should be able to perform it.”
“No, in this case, the participants’ power level has no effect on the ritual,” Hermione said with a pout. “In fact, according to this, some of the people could even be squibs and the outcome would still be the same.”
“Shame that,” Harry said, trying to look like he was deeply disappointed. The curled up edges of his mouth ruined the affect. “Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to give you several screaming orgasms just for fun then, justice be damned.”
With that, Harry leapt on his lover and tore at her skirt. A few scant minutes later, the first of many “OH SWEET BABY MAEVE!” was heard.
*
Later that week, Harry had come up with a rather brilliant plan. He had decided to perform the Wit Enhancing ritual that Hermione had created and then, once he was recuperated, they would do the han – err – searching ritual. This was brilliant for two reasons; first, he believed that with the temporary boost in his intelligence, he’d be able to deduce where the missing Horcrux was hidden. And second, this plan was brilliant because it involved two different sex acts, which were always fun.
To prepare for the Wit Enhancing ritual, Hermione warmed up by stretching so that she could hold the awkward position needed for it. And Harry warmed up both himself and his lover for the ritual by kissing, licking, and suckling Hermione’s various bits. After shouting the proper incantation of “Maximus Intellegentia!” when his climax hit him, Harry felt the wave of magic pass through him. He knew that the ritual had increased his intelligence because as he waited for his stamina to return, he and Hermione speculated that the cooling weather this season would make the skins of Mandrakes particularly thick, making the plants overly bitter and angry.
An hour or two after performing the Wit Enhancing ritual, Harry and Hermione started the han – err – other ritual. A few seconds after Hermione began to massage Harry and while both teens chanted their separate incantations, they felt the now familiar sensations of their spirits leaving their bodies. Once again, astral-Harry and Hermione dove through the air and ended up in the darkness. Unfortunately, their increased intelligence shed little light on the darkness. In fact, while they hovered in the inky blackness, the two lovers discussed the esoteric ramifications of the color black and what it various meanings meant for mankind throughout the ages.
Despite the fact that they weren’t able to discern the location of the missing Horcrux, Harry suggested that they attempt the ritual again immediately upon returning to his body.
“You just want me to give you another hand-job,” Hermione said in a reproachable fashion.
“Yes,” he replied with all honestly. He then went on to lecture on the numerous health benefits of an active sex life.
*
A few days later, after the effects of the wit enhancing ritual wore off, Harry and Hermione made their way to their chambers after their lessons had ended for the day. Harry was pleasantly surprised to find Remus waiting for them in the Head Students’ common room.
“What’s up, Moony?” he asked as Hermione shut the door.
“I’m sorry to bother you two,” Remus said apologetically. “But something rather curious has come up.”
“What is it?” asked Hermione.
“Do you believe in reincarnation?” the older wizard asked sincerely.
“I’ve never really given it much thought,” Harry said.
“I’ve read some books on the subject,” offered Hermione.
“Well, prepare to be amazed,” Remus stated and he opened the door leading to Harry and Hermione’s room.
Slowly, little Sirius, Remus’ son, came out of the room. The infant didn’t crawl; in fact he walked upright, on two wobbly legs.
“He’s not supposed to do that,” Hermione said to Remus. “Sirius is too young to be able to even crawl, much less walk.”
“Then I guess I shouldn’t be able to talk either,” the infant said in a squeaky voice.
“What the hell is going on?” Harry asked in shock as he stared at the talking infant.
“Harry, Hermione, I’m Sirius,” the baby stated.
“Yes, we know that,” Hermione said.
“No, not ‘Sirius, Remus’ son,’ I’m Sirius, Remus’ old lover and Harry’s godfather,” the baby corrected.
“You can’t be able to talk,” Hermione balked.
“Wait… Sirius was gay?” Harry asked in disbelief. “I thought he was a ladies’ man?”
“No, we only referred to your father in that way,” Remus pointed out. “Never once did we mention our sexuality to you, Harry. Not because we weren’t proud, but because we were private.”
“Wait, you’re gay?” Harry asked Remus again.
“The proper term is bisexual, but yes, I’m gay,” the older wizard answered. “Having a Metamorphmagus as a wife really does have its benefits, especially in the sack.”
“Hey, remember me,” the baby waved his chubby little arm to get everyone’s attention. “I’m the issue here, not the fact that Remus liked to slob knobs.”
“Crude as always,” Remus criticized, rolling his eyes in disapproval.
“I could remind a certain someone in this room that he used to particularly enjoy my crude language, especially when that certain someone and I were locked up in dark and cramped broom cupboards, but I won’t,” little Sirius commented. “We need to find out how this happened.”
“The baby is talking!” Hermione said in shocked disbelief while pointing at Sirius.
“Well, that’s the point. But, I’m not a baby, not really,” little Sirius said. “I’m Sirius Black. I went to school with Remus, James, Lily, Wormtail, and Snape. I fought in the first war as a member of the Order of the Phoenix, was betrayed by Wormtail, chucked in Azkaban, escaped, met you, Harry, went on the run, then got locked up in Grimmauld Place, fell through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries. The next thing I know, I’m getting pushed out of my cousin’s womb. How’d this happen?”
“The baby is talking!” Hermione, still in shock, repeated.
“Hermione, I need your brains right now,” Remus said and it seemed to draw the brunette witch out of her stupor. “You’re one of the brightest people I know and I need you to figure out what happened.”
Clearly bolstered by Remus’ compliment, Hermione snapped to attention. “So, he’s Sirius?” she questioned.
“Yes, he has all of Sirius’ memories and experiences,” Remus summarized. “I don’t know if it was because of that ritual you and Harry tricked us into doing, or the fact that I’m a werewolf and Tonks’ is a Metamorphmagus. Or even a combination of different things that caused this.”
“Wait, wait,” Hermione demanded. “I read some cases of reincarnation. But I have never heard of one where the person has retained all of their memories from their past lives. It’s never happened.”
“Well, it happened to me, Hermione,” Sirius said.
“But it’s not possible,” she countered. “The cases I read stated that sometimes a few vague memories may remain, but nothing like what you’re describing. You must be mistaken. Surely you can’t be Sirius.”
A tiny, impish grin appeared on both Remus and the baby, as if they had been expecting Hermione’s comment. With his squeaky voice, little Sirius uttered “I am serious, and don’t call me Shirley.”
Harry paused a second before saying “Wait, I’ve heard that before. On the telly I think.”
Hermione turned and faced Harry. It was clear by her expression that she was about to ask him what he was talking about when realization suddenly dawned upon her. “Oh, you cheeky bastard!” Hermione cursed at Remus. She pointed an accusatory finger at the older wizard and loudly scolded again, “Cheeky bastard!”
“Shh, you’ll wake the baby,” Remus said between peals of laughter.
“Oh, yes, Hermione shouting will wake up the baby, not his father laughing like a baboon,” Tonks sarcastically commented as she walked out of Harry and Hermione’s room. Bundled in the pink haired witch’s arms was a smiling baby Sirius.
Harry’s eyes darted between the two copies of baby-Sirius. He asked, pointing to the baby in Tonks’ arms “If that’s Sirius, then who’s that?” and pointed at the one standing next to Remus.
“That’s Courtney, under polyjuice,” informed a still laughing Remus. “She begged to be part of a prank against the two of you. How could we refuse?”
“Can I sit down now?” Courtney said in the baby’s squeaky voice. “I haven’t any bloody kneecaps thanks to being an infant, and it hurts to stand.”
As the polyjuiced Auror plopped down on the ground, Harry shot a disbelieving look at Remus. “You brewed polyjuice, which takes a month to do, just to pull one of the oldest and most clich?jokes in the world?”
“Yes!” cheered Remus.
Obviously encouraged by his father’s laughter, the real Sirius began to chuckle. Well, actually, he made more of gurgling and spitting sounds, but you could tell that he was trying to laugh along with his dad. The cute sounds that the real baby-Sirius was making lightened Harry’s and Hermione’s moods.
“I can’t believe you went through all the trouble of brewing polyjuice just so you can prank us with the ‘Sirius-serious’ joke,” Hermione guffawed.
“If it isn’t broken, don’t fix it,” Remus said proudly.
“What I don’t get is the whole gay thing?” asked Harry.
“Adding elements of the truth in a prank always heightens the realism of it,” Remus responded.
“Wait, you really are gay?” Hermione asked, taken back slightly.
“As I told you before, I’m bisexual,” corrected Remus.
“Not before you met me, you weren’t,” Tonks interjected. “You only liked blokes until I came along.”
“So you and Sirius were a couple?” Harry asked, ashamed he hadn’t realized.
“Yes, we were,” Remus said with a pleasant smile. “We were lovers but we broke up over a tiff we had shortly before Wormtail betrayed us all. Then we reconnected after the year I taught at Hogwarts. And we reconnected several hundred times while he was locked up in Grimmauld Place.”
Harry experienced a moment of happiness. He realized that he was happy with the thought that at least his godfather had some comfort before he died.
“So that comment about Tonks’ metamorphmagus abilities being a benefit was true?” Hermione asked tentatively.
“Yes, Hermione. Not only can I change my appearance, I can change my plumbing too,” Tonks said with a smile. The pink haired witch walked up to Hermione and confided; “You gain a whole new appreciation for how much blokes love blow-jobs when you can grow a willy and have it sucked on.”
“Oh,” uttered Hermione as she blushed a deep ruby red.
“I don’t mean to be a pest, but the polyjuice is about to wear off,” Courtney said. “And seeing how I’m only wearing a nappy, I’ll be pretty much naked. Now, I know how kinky Hermione and Harry are, but I don’t want to give them a show.”
“Alright, we’d better leave then,” Remus said.
After saying their goodbyes, Harry and Hermione were left alone.
“So, what should we do now?” Harry asked. He was hoping Hermione would ask for suggestions to which he’d offer “How about you bend over the desk…” but unfortunately, Hermione stated;
“I have to head to the Library and study.” She scooped up some parchment and quills. “Professor McGonagall offered me some extra credit and I’m taking her up on it.”
“But, your grade is around one hundred and eighty percent already. Why do you need extra credit?” complained Harry.
“It never hurts to get on Professor McGonagall’s good side,” Hermione stated.
“Her good side? Merlin, Hermione, McGonagall loves you so much right now I’d bet she has you in her will.”
“Maybe you should learn from my example,” Hermione challenged. “You could always boost your marks up a bit. How about you join me and we both can get some extra credit?”
“No,” he said automatically. “I’ve been reading and studying all day long. It’s time for a break.”
“Fine, it’s your loss,” Hermione said and made her way out of the room.
Harry grumbled. He was looking forward to making love with Hermione. So much so that ‘Harry, Jr.’ was stirring from his slumber. The organ was slowly risingand asked where Hermione was. For a moment, Harry considered taking the issue in hand – literally – and alleviate himself. But he had a girlfriend now and therefore he shouldn’t have to do this solo anymore. Grumpily, Harry flopped down on the couch.
A loose piece of parchment sticking out of one of Harry’s books on Quidditch caught his eye. He remembered that he had written down something and placed in a book back when he was under the effects of the Wit Enhancing ritual, but like all things he learned or thought during that time, Harry had only fuzzy recollections. Curious as to what he had written, Harry reached over and pulled the paper out of the book. It was a note, in his hand, addressed to himself. It read;
“Dear Harry,
Since you cannot remember things that occurred clearly, I have written this note.
I had a wonderful idea for a charm, and thanks to the boosted intelligence I received, I created it. I have not told Hermione about this spell because I want it to be a surprise.
It is called Loninquitas Amorus. I won’t go into detail how I created or how it works because I know how feeble your mind is…”
Harry paused in his reading. Had he just insulted his own intelligence? As if he had somehow predicted this question back when he wrote the note, the next line stated;
“Yes, I just insulted your intelligence, get over it.
Now back to the charm; the name Loninquitas Amorus literally means ‘Distance Love.’ Basically, with this spell, you will be able to pleasure Hermione from a distance. There is no physical contact, penetration, or liquid exchange. Hermione will only experience sensations and feelings. Just purse your lips in a kiss and imagine that you are kissing her and Hermione will have the sensation of actually being kissed. The same applies for foreplay; if you move your fingers about while focusing on Hermione’s ‘flower’ she’ll get the sensation of being stimulated. Same tactics apply to oral sex; work your tongue while pretending to eat her out and she’ll get the sensation.
Sex is even simpler than anything else. The technique you’ll need to perform this part of the charm is something you’ve been practicing for years; masturbation. While you’re wanking yourself, imagine that Hermione is wrapped around your organ instead of your hand.
The incantation is Loninquitas Amorus if you haven’t figured that out already. The necessary wand movements and spell intents are fully detailed on the second sheet of parchment.
Yours… or rather ‘me’s,’
Harry.”
A nasty smile stretched across Harry’s face. He got up from the couch and fetched his Invisibility Cloak and made his way to the Library. He reckoned it was high-time to test out this new charm.
Once he was close to the Library, Harry slipped into a classroom. There, he cast a Silencing Charm around himself, jotted down a quick note, and tossed the Invisibility Cloak over his body. With the combination of Cloak and the Silencing Charm, no one would be able to see or hear Harry as he performed his new charm on Hermione. Well except for Moody’s Magical Eye, and he wasn’t anywhere near the library, so it’s the same thing.
Walking into the Library, Harry noted that it was rather crowded. A group of fifth year Slytherins was in the Divination section, while two sixth year Ravenclaws were browsing Ancient Runes. And located next to the table where Hermione was doing some light reading (only four books at the moment) was nearly a dozen second years from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, huddled around a large tome. Pince, the Librarian, was scuttling from group to group, making sure no one was up to any shenanigans.
Silently, Harry slinked up to Hermione and placed the note he had just written on the book she was reading. When he pulled his hand away, it must’ve looked like the note popped into existence to Hermione. Before reading the scrap of paper, Hermione looked around, trying to find Harry, obviously knowing that he was hiding under his Cloak. Giving up on trying to find her lover, Hermione read the note.
“I created a new charm and I’m going to test it out. Just try and remain quiet.
Love,
H.”
Hermione eyes narrowed in question as Harry took his place a few feet away from her. Whether she was going to ask what type of charm it was, why would she have to try to be quiet, or how on earth Harry was able to create a charm didn’t matter. Under his Cloak, Harry waved his wand in the proscribed manner and incanted “Loninquitas Amorus.”
Harry pursed his lips and imagined pressing them to Hermione’s. He pretended to take in her scent. He saw his girlfriends eyes widened in surprise. She reached up and touched her lips, clearly wondering why it felt like she was being kissed. Harry parted his lips and slid his tongue out, remembering what it felt like to have his tongue roll around Hermione’s mouth. A fetching blush grew on Hermione’s cheeks.
Satisfied that the charm was working so far, Harry decided to progress further. He imagined trailing kisses down Hermione chin, neck, and to her breasts. The brunette witch gave a startled little jump when Harry mimed tweaking her nipples. He magically worked on her breasts for some time, licking, suckling, tweaking, and caressing air. Hermione fidgeted slightly as the sensation of having Harry kiss and fondle her body overcame her.
Smiling, Harry moved onto the next part of his plan. He held his hand in front of his face, extended his fore and middle finger, spreading them out in a “v” and began to lick the space between his fingers. Hermione sat bolt straight in her chair as she felt Harry’s tongue on her nether lips. Eyes bulging and darting in every direction, the witch was clearly worried that someone would notice her predicament. And knowing how kinky his witch was, Harry was positive that the threat of discovery was turning Hermione on even more.
Tiny beads of sweat blossomed on Hermione’s brow. Harry assumed that she must’ve been practically flowing at that time. But, he wanted more out of her. Tapping into his love core, Harry activated his parseltongue ability.
“That’s cheating!” Hermione muttered under her breath. Almost instantaneously, she began to gyrate her hips, grinding her bum and other bits into her seat. “Cheating! Unfair! Cheating!” she chanted in a soft voice.
A short while later, Hermione began to tremble. Harry knew that she wanted to cry out in ecstasy but she was forcing it back. Her mouth opened and her lips formed a tight “o.” The witch’s eyelids were half closed. Harry realized that his lover was about to have one hell of a climax. He guessed that it must’ve been the combination of his parsletongue magic, the threat of being found out, and books – which were a turn on for Hermione – that was eliciting such a response from her.
Suddenly, Hermione gripped the edge of the table and stomped her feet down. Seemingly involuntarily, her bottom rose up off of the seat two or three inches. The witch let out a long, shuttering “o-o-oh!” before slowly lowering herself back onto the chair.
While she caught her breath, Hermione looked over at the group of second years just a few feet away. Thankfully, none of them had seemed to have noticed her actions. While Hermione was attempting to regain her composure, Harry pulled a very eager ‘Harry, Jr.’ out of his trousers. The raven haired wizard spat a large amount of saliva onto his palm and spread it over his organ. He spat once more and remembered the actual sensation of what it felt like to make love to Hermione. The wizard gripped his “wand” and slowly stroked himself.
Hermione’s eyes shot open, wider than they ever had before. It looked like her eyes were threatening to leap out of her skull and roll across the table.
“Oh, my,” she muttered softly.
Inch by inch, Harry slowly moved his hand down his shaft. Then, just as slowly, he slid his hand back up. He repeated this twice more and Hermione’s hands gripped the table, her feet stomped the ground, and her lips formed an “o” once again. Harry marveled at Hermione’s reaction, she was already approaching another orgasm. Apparently, his new spell was working wonderfully.
Harry continued to masturbate for several minutes. During this time Hermione had no less than three orgasms, each one threatening her resolve not to cry out passionately. She had sweated so much that her hair clung to her face, which was glowing red.
“Miss Granger, are you well?” Madame Pince asked.
Harry had been so intent on Hermione that he had not seen the Librarian walk up to her table.
“YES!” Hermione said a little too vehemently.
Harry wanted to stop, but he was so damn close that his hand wouldn’t listen. It continued to pump away involuntarily.
“I’m f-f-fine, ma…ma’am,” Hermione stuttered. With a touch of horror, Harry could tell that another orgasm was about to hit his lover any second. Thankfully though, Harry was in a similar state. He took comfort knowing that it would soon be over.
“You look ill, girl,” Pince pressed.
“O-oh, its n-n-nothing,” insisted Hermione rather breathily. “It’s j-just my ah-ah-allergies.”
“You should go see Madame Pomfrey,” suggested Pince. “She has a number of allergy remedies.”
“I’ll do-do-do that,” agreed Hermione. Then it was upon her. Harry saw her eyes grow wide in a combination of ecstasy and terror. A very large climax was about to claim her. And judging by the look of fear in her eyes, Harry knew that Hermione wouldn’t be able to stifle any cries that would ensue. Hermione took in a great, deep breath and Harry tensed, waiting for her scream of passion.
“AH-CHOO!” Hermione let out a very loud and very fake sneeze. “AH-CHOO!” she echoed and her feet kicked out. She threw her head back and “sneezed” several times in succession. “AH! AHHH! AH-AH-CHOO! AH-CHOOOOooo! AH-CHOO!” Harry was wincing at Hermione’s utter lack of acting ability. He was honestly surprised that the librarian was buying those clearly fake sneezes.
As his lover continued to hide her screaming orgasm with sneezes, Harry finally joined her in ecstasy. With a grunt, Harry ejaculated.
“My, that was a mighty large one,” Pince commented, surprised by the ferocity of Hermione’s sneeze.
“Damn right it was,” Hermione muttered in a husky voice. The edges of her lips spiked upwards and her eyes were sparkling in a truly satisfied way.
“Well, get yourself to the Hospital ward straight away,” Pince ordered. Harry could tell that the Librarian was less concerned about Hermione’s health than she was about the younger witch getting germs and boogies all over her precious books.
“Let me catch my breath, then I’ll go see Pomfrey,” Hermione sighed contentedly.
Now that his task was completed Harry magically cleansed his discharge (he had thought about leaving his mess on the floor but that was too unhygienic) and left.
Humming happily to himself, Harry walked toward the Head Boy and Girl’s room unseen and unheard by anyone. He was satisfied, not only for having created such a useful spell like Loninquitas Amorus but also for making Hermione climax like she had never before.
“Potter’s the best teacher, I tell you,” a sixth year Ravenclaw told his friends as Harry passed a small gathering. Curious as to why these kids were talking about him, Harry moved closer so that he could listen in.
“I’ve learned so much from him,” another boy added with a grin.
For a moment, Harry had thought they were talking about Dumbledore’s Army, but it didn’t make sense at all. None of these younger wizards were part of that group so they clearly couldn’t be talking about Harry’s lessons in Defense.
“My bird loves what I’ve learned,” a third boasted. “She was practically gushing.”
“But not as much as Granger gushes, I’d wager,” the second chuckled. “She’s an effing hosepipe… but in a good way.”
Harry’s blood turned to ice in his veins.
“I can’t wait for my turn to watch it,” a fourth said excitedly.
“Why? You don’t even have a girlfriend,” the first ridiculed.
“So? That doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy watching the Pensieves.”
“It was pretty cool to watch,” the second said in a distracted way, like he was reminiscing. “Granger is hot and so damned frisky.”
“And besides, look at Creevey,” the third pointed out. “He didn’t have a girlfriend, and now thanks to those Pensieves, he’s bagged Patil.”
“I really can’t wait until it’s my turn to watch,” the fourth repeated.
In total shock, Harry stumbled away from the group of Ravenclaws. As he blindly made his way back to his chambers, his mind was rocked by what he had just heard. The Pensieve Memory he and Hermione had made for Ron was making the rounds at school. People were watching Harry and Hermione being intimate. That was why everyone was acting strangely; Su Li kissing Hermione, that Ravenclaw giving him the thumbs up a few days before, Seamus with Pavarti and Lavender, and Colin with Padma.
Harry didn’t know how he made it into his chambers or when he had taken off his Invisibility Cloak which was draped over a nearby chair. He was looking around the room in a daze and had not noticed Hermione walk in.
“That was a very, very interesting charm,” she complimented. “Did you make it while under the effects of the Wit Enhancing ritual?”
“Sure,” he uttered, not listening to what she had said.
“It worked wonderfully, but you do have to work on your aim a bit,” the brunette witch added with a smile plastered on her face. “You see, when you entered me, you were just a few inches off course.”
“Okay,” he spoke, skill shocked over the revelation that Ron had passed the Pensieve Memory around and that a good number of his peers had watched him go down on Hermione.
“I’m not angry,” Hermione continued, not noticing Harry’s distracted mindset. “I found that I rather liked it. Actually, that’s an understatement. Well, don’t be cross because I know I said I’d never let you take me that way, but I say lets give it a shot right now. It is possible that it was the effects of your love based magic that gave me such a… positive response and the actual physical act of sodomy may be unbearable, but I’m willing to give it a try,” she finished with a nervous yet eager twinkle in her eyes.”
“Un-huh,” Harry said evenly.
“Harry, what is your problem?” she demanded. “I just asked you to bugger me and you’re acting like I killed Hedwig.”
Slowly, Harry turned and faced his lover. He tried to find a way to sugarcoat the news, but how does one say “Well, we’re accidental porn-stars, dear.” So Harry just blurted it out.
“Remember that Pensieve Memory we made for Ron and Luna?” Harry asked. Hermione nodded, and he continued in a rapid manner, “Well, Ron’s been lending it out.”
“To whom?” she asked with an angry expression on her face.
“Um, everyone,” he answered.
“Everyone?” she nearly screeched. The anger in her eyes grew in intensity.
“Yes, everyone,” he confirmed. “Apparently in turns.”
Anger could no longer describe Hermione’s expression and Harry had a difficult time finding a proper word to describe it. But one thing Harry did do was make a mental note to write a touching eulogy for Ron.

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Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Eight
Disclamer: Not mine, I own nothing. I’m not making any money
WARNING: Harsh Language, adult themes, sexual situations (i.e. smut), bad spelling and grammar.
Author’s Notes: This story is a broad farce with over the top humor (a good deal of it is crude and sexual) and OOC actions (that’s Out Of Character if you don’t know). Also, this is my first smut-ish fic. If you don’t like sex and sex-based humor, do NOT read this!
Chapter Eight Summary: Harry goes on the ride of his life!
Harry slowly turned to face Ron. The rage and anger Harry was feeling was about to be unloaded upon his taller friend. But before he could unleash his fury, one of the witches who had gotten off of the Knight Bus spoke up.
“Would you lot budge up or get out of the queue,” the witch demanded. “My kids have been waiting for this for months.”
Harry was quite surprised to find that he, Hermione, and Ron had somehow wandered into the line of customers waiting to enter Godric’s Hollow. He was even more surprised to see that Ron was already at the ticket window.
“Excuse me, my friend over there is Harry Potter,” Ron said to the wizard behind the counter. “So what kind of discount do we get?”
“Let me check with my supervisor, governor,” the old wizard replied in an obviously bored tone. He leaned back in his chair and without taking his bleary eyes off of Ron and shouted over his shoulder to someone behind him. “Oi, Brian, we’ve got another one claimin’ to be ‘The Boy Who Lived’ and wanting a discount.”
“What’s the count up to today, Curt?” a disembodied voice echoed from behind the wizard in the ticket window.
“Eighth one today,” Curt, the ticket salesman responded. “That’s four up from yesterday.”
“If this keeps up, we’ll break the record for most ‘Harry Potter Sightings’ in one day,” Brian commented.
“But this really is Harry Potter!” argued Ron. “Look at his scar!”
Harry felt the desire to physically harm Ron as Curt leaned out of his booth and examined Harry’s infamous scar.
“Bit small innit?” remarked Curt. “The last “Harry Potter” had a much bigger one. And it flashed a green light every now and then. That was impressive!”
“Would you just pay for the tickets so the rest of us can move along!” the witch with three children demanded. “We don’t have all day!”
“Fine then, how much for three?” Ron asked grumpily as he dug into his pockets.
“Nine knuts,” Curt replied mirthlessly.
“Excuse me, who runs this… this place,” Hermione demanded as she gestured to the warehouse.
“Mr. Joseph Middwood,” Curt answered. The name struck a cord with Harry, but he couldn’t place it. Harry hoped that Remus would know who this Middwood was and could tell him something about the man.
“I demand to speak with him this instant,” commanded Hermione.
“That’s fine miss,” Curt replied. “He’s up in the gift shop.”
“How do we get there?” asked Hermione.
“The only way to the gift shop is through the ride.”
“You must be joking!” Hermione stated shrilly.
“Nope,” Curt said with a smile. “You’ll still have to pay for the ride.”
“Here,” grumbled Ron as he gave Curt nine knuts, a sweet wrapper, a bit of string, and some pocket lint. Apparently, Ron was so upset over not getting a discount that he had just grabbed whatever happened to be in his pocket. Luckily it was the exact amount needed for three adult tickets – plus a sweet wrapper, a bit of string, and some pocket lint.
Ron grumbled some more as he sulked through the entranceway and Harry and Hermione silently followed.
“C’mon you two,” Ron hollered from down the hall, “the ride’s this way!”
The trio began to walk down a brightly lit hallway adorned with multiple magical posters.
“I don’t see why you’re so excited about this ride, Ron,” said Hermione.
The first poster that caught Harry’s eye was that of a young baby, maybe a year or so old. It took him a moment to realize that it was actually a photo of himself. He was slightly embarrassed at the fact that baby Harry was blowing spit bubbles at the person who had taken the picture. A title scrolled across the bottom of the poster that stated “The Boy Who Lived!”
A poster to his left showed the handsome visage of his father, James. James was smiling and winking in the poster while words scrolled at the bottom of the picture announced, “James Potter; father of The Boy Who Lived”.
“Why not?” replied Ron to Hermione’s question. “I know it’s a little lame, but it’s still fun!”
Another poster showed Lily, Harry’s mother, smiling sweetly with the scrolling words: “Lily Potter, mother of The Boy Who Lived”. Harry felt his eyes begin to well up.
“FUN!” barked Hermione. “These people are making a mockery of Harry’s pain and you think its ‘fun’?”
“What d’you mean a mockery -?” Ron asked and stopped as he finally noticed the tears in Harry’s eyes. Ron looked nervously between Harry and a nearby poster that show a jubilant James and Lily looking at a black-haired baby attempting to walk on his own. “Oh, crap Harry,” Ron mumbled in a guilty way. “I didn’t realize…”
“Let’s just get this over with,” Harry said softly with a mixture of sadness and anger in his voice.
The next poster that caught Harry’s eye was that of a menacing figure completely shrouded within a black robe as the phrase “The most feared Dark Lord in our time!” scrolled across the bottom.
Harry shook his head in disbelief and passed through a doorway and entered a large room with a number of wooden carts on several tracks. The tracks all led out of the room through a large set of double doors. A wizard wearing a pointy hat with the words “Ride the Hollow!” embroidered on it ushered Harry, Hermione, and Ron into the front of one of the carts. A family of three took up the row behind them.
A disembodied booming male voice emanated from somewhere above the cart.
“/Join us as we use the magical Time Turner to travel back to that fateful day…/”
An obviously phony Time Turner attached to the front of the cart started spinning before their eyes.
“That’s not a real Time Turner, ya know,” informed Ron like it wasn’t obvious and he needed to point it out.
The cart lurched forward as the double doors slowly opened and the cart moved into the blackness. After a moment in the darkness, the cart and its passengers emerged into a bright and sunny field.
“/Watch as the Potter family goes about their daily routine,/” the booming male voice stated as the cart approached a group of people outside the house.
Harry could see two adult figures, a man and a woman, standing in the garden in front of that house. One could tell that these people were magical representations by the way they moved. They way they moved their legs and arms were too jerky and unnatural. They were clearly poorly animated mannequins. As the cart got closer, the woman stiltedly bent down and picked up a small child.
“Let me have him, love,” the man said and the woman carefully handed him the child. “Does Harry want to play with his daddy?”
“Do be careful James,” the woman chastised.
Harry felt as if he was hit hard in the stomach and all the wind was knocked out of him.
It was his mother and father.
The fake James tossed the fake Harry up into the air and the baby giggled uproariously.
Even though he could tell that the way the mannequins’ were fakes by their stuttering movement, whoever had created this charade had gotten his parents’ voices and likenesses down perfectly. Seeing and hearing these reproductions cut through Harry like a knife.
The fake baby reached its chubby little arms out to its fake mother and Harry’s eyes blurred. He failed in his attempt to swallow the large lump that had grown in his throat as the tears spilled form his eyes.
Hermione let out a soft sob as the fake Lilly took her fake baby into her arms and playfully placed tiny kisses over its face. Harry cradled Hermione to his chest as tears ran down his own face. He could tell without looking that Ron was hanging his head in regret at the thought of ever enjoying such a travesty of his friend’s life.
The fake Potter family strolled into the house and the announcer’s voice sounded again.
“/But the Potters’ did not know of the terrible fate that awaited them…/” the disembodied voice warned.
The sunny sky over Harry’s head quickly darkened. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed as the cart entered the garden.
“/You too shall share their fates this night!/” The booming voice cackled.
The little girl sitting behind Harry turned to her father and said something that must have been terribly important to her.
“I love you, Daddy,” the girl whispered in fear, as if she was positive she was doomed and she wanted to make sure her father knew how much she cared for him before she died.
With a flash of lightning, an ominous figure appeared in front of the cart. The family behind Harry let out a terrified scream as the figure revealed his deeply tanned face to them. Harry could tell from their screams that the girl and her brother were truly terrified, but the father was just playing along.
“IT’S HIM!” the girl screeched.
Harry was surprised when a scoffing noise escaped his lips upon the sight of “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named”. Harry bitterly realized that while whoever had created this atrocity had numerous photos of James, Lily, and baby Harry to base their mannequins off of, but they hadn’t even a vague notion of what Voldemort looked like. The effect was comical to Harry; this Voldemort was just a standard male mannequin that would have normally adorn a shop window. The only modification that Harry could see was that the mannequin had red eyes.
“Do you mind?” the father stated, taking offence at Harry’s scoff.
The fake Voldemort made his way to the front door of the house and the cart followed him. The mannequin pointed his wand at the door.
“They’ve got the wand wrong,” Harry bitterly muttered. “Along with how he looks as well.”
“And how would you know?” the father asked.
Harry turned in his seat and looked at the man while holding up his fringe to expose his famous scar.
“Oooo,” the father said with insincere awe. “It’s the bloke who wanted a free ticket because he’s /’Harry Potter’/. Just because you had to pay like the rest of us ‘cuz your scam didn’t work doesn’t mean you have to ruin it for everybody.”
Harry was about to put the wizard in his place when the Voldemort-mannequin shouted “REDUCTO!”
Red sparks erupted from his wand just as that door and a portion of the wall surrounding it were “blown” to bits. Of course the hole in the wall had just happened to be wide enough for the cart to pass through.
The cart followed the Voldemort-mannequin into the house.
“Lilly, get Harry out of here!” the fake James shouted and he fired off a number of brightly colored sparks out of his wand. The family behind Harry let out a surprised yelp as one of the sparks soared over their heads and exploded against the wall.
The Lily-mannequin dashed up the stairs with the fake child in her arms. James continued to fire off sparks as he too made his way to the stairs.
“This is futile, Potter,” the mannequin Voldemort hissed. Harry noted another mistake that the ride makers had made, this Voldemort’s voice was low and rumbling instead of high and cold. “Accept your fate and surrender.”
The fake James slowly walked backwards up the stairs with his wand held in front of him defensively. Voldemort-mannequin cackled while walking up the stairs after his prey and the cart followed him.
Sparks continued to shoot out of the fake-James’ wand and continued to completely missing the Voldemort-mannequin. Blue, red, yellow, and purple sparks rocked overhead and the family behind the trio let out another scream.
“Boy, that James bloke couldn’t aim worth a darn could he, kids?” the father asked rhetorically as another barrage of sparks flew past Voldemort and over the cart.
“This ends now, Blood-Traitor!” Voldemort said mirthlessly and then shouted “AVADA KEDAVRA!”
The magical copy of James slumped to the floor and the fake-Voldemort stepped over his body. As the cart passed “the body,” the wizard sitting behind Harry said jokingly to his children “I guess he should’ve ducked, huh?”
Harry was suddenly enraged. Not only did this ride make a mockery of his parents, it led other people to openly treat them with contempt as well.
“REDUCTO!” the fake-Voldemort shout again once he had reached the top of the stairs. Another cart sized hole was blown into the wall and the fake-Voldemort walked over the rubble to enter the nursery.
“I’ll make you pay for that, you fiend!” the mannequin Lilly screamed and shot off a series of Stunners at the fake-Voldemort who nonchalantly blocked them.
“This is pointless, woman,” the fake-Voldemort said in a bored tone.
“I won’t let you hurt my baby!” Lily said defiantly as she stood in front of the crib.
‘This isn’t how it happened!’ Harry thought piercingly. Then again, the only two people alive who were there, he and Voldemort, didn’t have much say in how the ride was made.
“And how will you stop me?” chuckled Voldemort. “AVADA KEDAVRA!”
With a flash of green light, the mannequin of Lily crumpled to the floor. Silently, Voldemort stalked over to the crib and pointed his wand at the baby inside. Once more, Voldemort shouted “AVADA KEDAVRA!”
The fake Voldemort recoiled from the crib as a bright white light emanated from it.
“What is this?” he demanded as the fake baby Harry began to levitate out of the crib. The toddler was throwing off the bright light that had made Voldemort flinch. Then suddenly, an even brighter light – almost blinding light – flashed out of the baby’s head like a lightning bolt and struck Voldemort. The villain screamed in pain and vanished in a puff of smoke.
The family behind Harry cheered triumphantly as the cart move toward the wall next to the crib and the hovering baby Harry (who was still glowing). A large double door suddenly appeared and opened in the wall and the cart passed through.
The cart and its passengers entered a crowded gift shop. Harry’s eyes were drawn to the back wall which was covered with various pullovers with different slogans printed on them, including “James couldn’t hit the broadside of an Acromantula”, “I rode shotgun with You Know Who”/, and /”I think glowing Harry is adorable”/. Another wall housed numerous books with titles like, “/The Riddle of Harry and the Dark Lord/, by Jim Lillian”, “/Lily and Her Acceptance of Fate/, by A. R. YaLing” and “/Aiming Tips or How not to miss like James Potter by Gregory Youdle.”
But the thing that shocked Harry the most was a large barrel located next to the checkout. The barrel was overflowing with small figurines of glowing babies. Glowing baby Harry’s that is.
“Daddydaddydadddy” the older child behind Harry squealed. “Can I have another glowing baby Harry?”
“You already have dozens love,” the father said as he stood up and began to walk out of the cart. Harry and his friends however, were still sitting in the cart in various stages of shock and embarrassment.
“Please daddy,” the boy whined, “just one more.”
“All right, just one more,” the father said while making his way toward the books.
“Sorry folks,” a pimply faced wizard said breaking Harry out of his stupor. “But you’ll need to exit the magical transport now.” He stressed the phrase “magical transport” as if he was trained to do so and that if he didn’t refer to the cart as such, he would face disciplinary action.
Gloomily, the trio exited the cart.
“Excuse me, where may I find Mr. Middwood?” Hermione asked the pimply wizard.
“Oh, he’s over there by the books,” informed the wizard.
Harry saw the wizard who had been seated behind them on the cart approach the identified manager, a grey haired wizard in expensive looking silk robes.
“Mr. Middwood, smashing to see you again,” greeted the father.
“Ah, Mr. Cummings, my favorite customer,” heralded Middwood as he took the other man’s hand in greeting. “What’s this, your fourth time on the ride this year?”
“Fifth, actually, but it’s the first for my youngest here” corrected Mr. Cummings. “She’d been dreaming of the day she was finally tall enough for the ride. Personally, I can’t wait ’til you add the graveyard scene for You Know Who’s resurrection.”
“Oh, yes,” Middwood replied proudly. “I have to tell you that the Death Eaters look quite frightening.”
Unconsciously, Harry stomped over to the two men. Harry was going to vent all of his anger upon Middwood. Behind him he could hear an explosion coming from the ride. Apparently, the ride had restarted and the next cart was making its way through the house. Judging by his ride, Harry believed that the fake Voldemort must’ve just blown up the front door of the house.
“I can’t wait to see that!” exclaimed Mr. Cummings.
“It will be quite exciting,” Middwood declared.
“Are you Joseph Middwood?” Harry asked after he reached the two men.
Without turning around, Muddwood replied “Yes, I am.”
“What have you done to my parents’ house?” demanded Harry.
“Not another one,” Middwood muttered. Mr. Cummings rolled his eyes in annoyance as Middwood turned to face Harry. “Listen here, I’m not gonna share my profits with some bloke who claims to be Harry Po-” Middwood froze as he locked eyes with Harry. “Oh bloody hell…”
“What have you done with my parents’ house?” repeated Harry.
“I… um…err…” Middwood stammered opening and closing his mouth like a fish. “H-hel-h-hello Harry, l-long time no see,” he finished nervously.
“What have you done with my parents’ house?” repeated Harry, anger apparent on his face. Another explosion erupted from somewhere in the ride, apparently, Voldemort had just entered the nursery.
“Well, it blew up… and I decided to rebuild it…” explained Middwood desperately hoping to calm the young wizard.
“Wait. Are you saying that this is actually Harry Potter?” asked Mr. Cummings in disbelief.
“Stuff it, ponce,” Ron stated, joining the group.
“When I was in the process of rebuilding Godric’s Hollow… some people started to stop by… they wanted a tour… they offered me money… I couldn’t pass it up,” Middwood continued.
Another blast emanated from the ride as Harry clenched his fists in rage.
“And you decided to make the death of Harry’s parents a tourist attraction?” demanded Hermione.
“Well, not originally. But one thing led to another…” replied Middwood meekly.
With a boom, Harry heard the double doors leading into the gift shop open and smoke billowed into the room.
“That’s odd, I don’t remember any smoke,” Hermione said to herself.
“Wow, you’re right; those Death Eaters you made for the addition are scary,” Mr. Cummings murmured while looking past Harry.
“Wha…? They’re not completed yet,” Middwood stated. As a group, Harry, Hermione and Ron turned toward the double doors leading from the nursery and saw a number of Death Eaters standing there. Harry was impressed, whereas there had been a large number of mistakes with Middwood’s rendition of Voldemort, he was spot on with these Death Eaters.
Middwood pushed past Harry and walked up the group of mannequin Death Eaters. He quickly inspected the group before his eyes where drawn to the nursery, which was now in flames.
“What the hell happened to my ride?” Middwood exclaimed.
The Death Eater in the front turned its attention to upset wizard and asked in a cold and feminine voice: “So this atrocity is your doing?” She then raised her wand and pointed it at Middwood and shouted “CRUCIO!”
Middwood collapsed to the floor screaming. Before Harry could react, four more Death Eaters shouted “CRUCIO!” and four people in the shop, including Ron, fell to the floor screaming in agony. Harry froze temporarily as he saw his best friend writhe on the ground.
“Does wee-baby Potter not like seeing people get hurt?” the Death Eater in the front asked in an all too familiar sickly childish voice.
“Bellatrix,” muttered Harry. He tried to quickly count how many Death Eaters – because these Death Eaters appeared to be real and not mannequins -he was up against but lost count after he had gotten to twenty.
However, Hermione – being the studious witch she was – hadn’t lost count and announced to Harry: “There are thirty-eight of them.”
The screaming stopped suddenly when Bellatrix signaled to her brethren.
“I felt complied to destroy that thing you had made!” Bellatrix said to the convulsing Middwood at her feet. “You should consider yourself lucky that the Dark Lord didn’t know this was here. If he did know of this place… well… you would be begging for a quick death.”
Bellatrix raised her attention to Harry and Hermione. “I heard something truly fascinating a few hours ago…” she began and paused as she noticed Ron who was trying to stand back up. “Ah… I recognize this one. He’s one of your little friends who stopped us from retrieving the prophesy for our master.”
The evil witch whipped her wand at Ron and shouted “CRUCIO!” once more. Ron screamed and crashed back to the floor.
“Stop it you bitch!” Harry shouted.
Lifting the curse, Bellatrix said “Such sweet words, flattery will get you nothing though.”
Kneeling next to Ron, Hermione checked on his still form. “He’s unconscious,” she informed.
“Back to what I was saying,” Bellatrix continued. “My master heard that wee-baby Potter’s power has gone all /’wonky’/. And he decided to end this once and for all.”
Slowly, all thirty-eight Death Eaters pointed their wands at Harry. (Some of the Death Eaters in the back had on to stand on their toes and did their best to aim in Harry’s general direction, while some of the shorter ones where complaining that they couldn’t see where he was. But you get the point.)
From her kneeling position, Hermione reached up and held Harry’s left hand. Harry locked eyes with his girlfriend and Hermione mouthed the words “I love you” to him. With a sense of love and affection filling Harry’s heart, he whipped out his wand and shouted “STUPEFY!”
Harry could see Bellatrix’s eyes bulge as a huge red crescent-shaped arch erupted from Harry’s wand and flew in her direction. Unfortunately for Harry, Bellatrix, along with seven of her fellow Death Eaters, had the common sense to duck as the super-charged Stunner came flying at them. A few of the others actually had quick enough reflexes to cast a Shield Charm, though it didn’t do them any good.
The glowing red arch sliced through the remaining Death Eaters like a hot knife through butter. The few Death Eaters who had cast a Shield Charm seemed quite surprised when their Shields were shattered; that is they seemed to be quite surprised right before they were knocked unconscious.
It was at this point that the innocent – and not so innocent concerning Joseph Middwood – bystanders decided to leave the gift shop. Of course they weren’t leaving in a calm and orderly fashion. No, they were running in every direction which caused some problems. Some of them thought it would be best to head straight to the exit while others thought it would be speedier to actually run through a solid wall. Still others believed that it was in everyone’s best interest to run directly into another person attempting to flee while screaming “My God, my God, we’re all going to die!”
“I thought he was supposed to be powerless,” one of the Death Eaters complained as he dodged a pack of panicky bystanders.
“I’m going to kill that filthy elf!” Bellatrix shouted right before Mr. Cummings crashed into her, sending both of them to the floor.
There were too many people around for Harry to launch another Stunner; he was afraid his super-charged charm may actually harm an innocent. Either by causing them to fall, thereby injuring themselves, or by Stunning them with so much power that they could possibly suffer dire consequences, much like how McGonagall nearly died during his fifth year.
The Death Eaters had no such limitation. Six of the conscious Death Eaters began firing off various hexes and curses in Harry’s general direction. Fortunately for Harry, none of the spells hit him; instead, many of the witches and wizards who were running around in a panic were struck. A dull grey bolt hit a witch who was running to the door causing her hair to catch fire. One wizard was struck with an orange flame and was flung painfully into a nearby wall.
Harry realized that even if he didn’t try to stop the Death Eaters for fear of harming innocents, those same innocents were being harmed. He focused on his loving memories of Hermione and quickly knelt down and waved his wand a few inches over the floor before shouting the incantation for the Trip Jinx: “Lapso Accido!”
It was if everyone in the room – save for Harry and his friends – were tenpins and had been hit by some giant invisible bowling ball. They were all, Death Eaters and bystanders alike, flipped up into the air; the flipping action causing all of the various robes to fall around their shoulders and thereby exposing their undergarments. Harry’s vision was assaulted by the sight of brightly colored bloomers and dull grey boxers as the airborne victims of his super-Tripping Jinx crashed back to the floor. Unfortunately, one Death Eater had apparently decided to go “commando” so to speak and not wear any unmentionables. And to Harry’s horror, that Death Eater was Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry normally wouldn’t be horrified at seeing a woman’s naked groin, but besides going “commando”/, Bellatrix also apparently favored an extreme look as well. /”Au natural” didn’t begin to cover it. The evil witch was unusually, nay ridiculously hairy and the sight made the bespectacled wizard gag.
The frightening scene reminded Harry of Sirius’ disheveled and unkempt appearance the first time he saw godfather. Sirius’ stay in Azkaban had left him in a state unfit for civilized society. But even a long (and extremely justified) internment in the hellish wizading prison could not explain Bellatrix’s excessively hairy state. There was just so much hair, it couldn’t be natural! It hung in long, matted tangles from her groin and it crept down her legs as if it was consuming her flesh.
Harry’s terror filled mind scrambled trying to find an explanation for Bellatrix’s shaggy muff. One potential explanation was that she was the victim of a very powerful Hair Growing Hex of some kind. Another, more terrifying reason that came to Harry’s mind was that it was actually an overly furry creature that had attached itself to Bellatrix’s bits in some sort of sickening symbiotic relationship.
This second possibility was given more credence in Harry’s eyes when he saw one of the tangled locks that hung from her crotch begin to move. The hairy appendage seemed to undulate in a different and unique way; totally alien when compared to its fuzzy counterparts. The unique tangled… thing was moving as if it had a will of its own and was acting accordingly.
“I’m going to be ill,” Hermione muttered as she too saw Bellatrix’s overly shaggy bits. “A pack of flobberworms could nest in there it’s so matted.”
It was at this unfortunate time that Ron regained consciousness. “That’s just not right,” the red head groaned upon seeing Bellaxtrix’s nakedness. “You could braid that mess, couldn’t you?”
“My god,” Hermione continued, the raw fear in her voice evident to everyone. “Are… are those bits of hay and straw sticking out?”
“More than likely,” explained Harry, desperately trying not to acknowledge the image being forced into his nightmares. “I think… I think its hungry…”
Forcing the terrifying image of Bellatrix’s “//Forbidden/ //Forest//”/ out of his mind, Harry knew he could now take care of the disorganized Death Eaters, but he had to make sure that no innocents got back up and into the line of fire again. So, in his best booming voice, Harry commanded: “EVERYBODY STAY DOWN!”
“Does that mean us, too?” Harry heard a Death Eater ask.
“NO, IT DOESN’T!” screamed Bellatrix while she stood and – thankfully – covered herself. “Kill Potter!”
Ron rolled onto his side and launched a Stunner at the Death Eater to Bellatrix’s right and the masked fiend fell to the floor. With a swish of her wand, Hermione conjured a thick robe that wound itself around another villain. Taking his girlfriend’s lead, Harry tapped into his love based magic again and attempted to conjure a thick rope that would bind another Death Eater. But Harry didn’t conjure a rope that wrapped itself abound a bad guy; instead he conjured a chain and it wrapped itself around three Death Eaters. It wasn’t a simple chain by any means either; it appeared to be the type of chain that is attached to an anchor for a cruise ship. Each link looked like it weighed as much as two men.
“Ooff,” one of the bound Death Eaters moaned pitifully under Harry’s chain. “This is really heavy…”
“Reducto!” screamed Bellatrix and the ground in front of Ron exploded. The blast sent Ron, Harry and Hermione into the air. Ron crashed into the wall and fell to the floor in a heap, Hermione landed behind the counter supporting the cash till, and Harry hit the wall of tasteless and tacky pullovers. When his body hit the wall, a majority of the novelty shirts were knocked off of their pegs and ended up burying him.
As Harry tried to dig himself out of the mountain of pullovers, he heard Bellatrix command her fellow Death Eaters to revive their fallen comrades. “Wake them up!” she barked.
The two Death Eaters quickly performed several Re-enervate Charms. As Harry poked his head out of the mountain of novelty shirts, he saw the Death Eater that Ron had Stunned stand up. He also saw Ron was unconscious, slumped against the far wall with blood seeping out of a gash on his forehead. Harry then saw that Hermione was using the check-out counter as a shield.
“Bellatrix, we can’t Re-enervate the ones Potter Stunned,” one of the Death Eaters informed their leader as another busied himself by banishing the ropes Hermione had conjured. Harry noted that they couldn’t banish the chains that he had created.
“Damn that house-elf!” cursed Bellatrix. “He told us Potter was powerless!”
Harry wondered what she was talking about for a moment before the realization hit him. She had to be referring to Kreacher. Harry had told both Doby and Kreacher that his power had gone “all wonky” and that he couldn’t conjure anything properly. ‘But how would the little shite have been able to communicate to…’ Harry thought, only to have his memory supply the answer. ‘I told them to leave. Kreacher must’ve decided that the order meant for him to leave the castle. And of course the bastard would’ve immediately scurried off to his more favored masters and promptly told them that I was powerless.’
“I was going to give him his wish and chop off his head and mount it,” Bellatrix continued to complain. “But for now, I’ll make his life a living hell until I get what’s rightfully mine; the Most Noble House of Black’s ancestral home.”
“Didn’t you know that’s my house now?” Harry shouted still half hidden under the pile of pullovers. He saw Bellatrix look around frantically trying to find him; apparently she hadn’t seen where he landed. “Does it bother you that number twelve is now owned by a half-blood?” Harry continued to taunt. He could see the rage build up in Bellatrix’s face. “Maybe I should live there.”
“Yes, and does it bother you that the halfblood will be shagging his mudblood girlfriend there as well!” added Hermione. A well of hope and a touch of lust sprung up in Harry’s heart at Hermione’s statement. Even though she was taunting Bellatrix, Hermione had mentioned having sex with Harry! She had used rather crude language but as Harry had discovered earlier, he found “Dirty – Talking Hermione” a bit of a turn on.
“His girlfriend?” Harry heard of the masked Death Eater asked. “But I thought he was a poof and that he fancied Draco?”
Resolving to deal with the aftereffects of both that damned /Daily Prophet/ article and the traitorous house-elf later, Harry jumped out of the pile of pullovers and launched a super-Stunner at the five remaining Death Eaters. Regrettably for Harry, Bellatrix and the same two Death Eaters who had ducked his Stunner before ducked again. The recently revived and the recently unbound Death Eaters both muttered “oh, bugger,” an instant before the red arch struck them in the chest, sending them both off to slumber-land.
“Disarm him now!” barked Bellatrix before Harry could launch another Stunner.
“Expelliarmus!” shouted Bellatrix and the two remaining Death Eaters in unison. Harry felt as if a bludger had hit his hand. Not only did his wand go flying out of his grasp, he also felt one of his fingers break as he was struck with three powerful Disarming Spells.
“Stupefy!” Hermione shouted and one of the Death Eaters collapsed to the floor. She dodged back behind the counter before Bellatrix and her remaining thug could counterattack.
“Don’t bother with Walker,” commanded Bellatrix, indicating the fallen Death Eater. “Kill the girl; I’ll take care of Potter!”
While cradling his injured hand, Harry looked around desperately for his wand. He was of no help to anyone without it.
As the unknown Death Eater stalked toward the counter, Bellatrix pointed her wand at Harry and shouted: “Locomotor Mortis!”
Harry’s legs locked together and he started to fall. He tried to lessen the fall by bracing his hands in front of him, but this only led to further injuring his broken finger. Harry suppressed a groan as saw his twisted digit which was already turning a nasty blue color.
“I’m going to enjoy watching wee baby Potter cry for his mama,” Bellatrix taunted in her sickly baby voice. Harry looked past his tormentor and saw that the Death Eater was very close to where Hermione was hiding.
Hermione whipped herself from behind the counter and pushed the large barrel that contained hundreds of “/glowing/ baby Harry” figurines over, spilling its contents on the ground. Before the Death Eater could react, Hermione rapidly cast a series of Banishing Charms on the figurines, sending them at her attacker. The Death Eater cried out as dozens of “glowing baby Harry” figurines pelted his face and body.
“OW! OW! OW!” he cried as his white mask was shattered.
“Stop your whining and kill her!” Bellatrix ordered in an annoyed tone.
“But it hurts!” the Death Eater complained. He turned his head away from the onslaught of flying figurines and Harry saw that one of his eyes was already black and blood was dripping from his nose. The Death Eater cried out in agony and whipped his body around. Harry was quite taken back to see a figurine had been thoroughly shoved into the villain’s ear. He desperately tried to pull the little plastic toy out of his ear canal as Hermione continued to send the figurines pelting into his back. Suddenly, the Death Eater screamed in utter pain, and began to hop around while clutching his backside. “OW! OW! OW!”
“What is the matter now?” demanded Bellatrix.
“It’s in the ouchy area!” the Death Eater cried out while pointing frantically toward his bum. “GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!”
Thankfully for the Death Eater, the pain of having a small plastic toy forcibly shoved up his bum was replaced with the sweet oblivion that came to one when a large wooden barrel was smashed into his head. Apparently, Hermione had run out of “glowing baby Harry”‘s so she decided to use the barrel that housed them as a projectile and Banished it at her attacker’s head. As the Death Eater crumpled to the ground, Harry noticed that a good deal of his robes seemed to be wedged firmly in his arse.
Hermione quickly leveled her wand at Bellatrix but it was too late. “Expelliarmus!” shouted Bellatrix and Hermione’s wand flew from her grasp. Hermione gasped as Bellatrix began to walk toward her. “I think I will play with you while wee baby Potter watches.”
Harry frantically dragged himself across the floor. The villainess stood in front of Hermione and raised her wand so that it was pointing at the younger witch’s heart. Harry tore at the ground, causing his broken finger to twist more, as he propelled himself at Bellatrix. He realized that without his wand he was powerless because he didn’t know any wandless magic. And because of his injured hand and the fact that his legs were rendered useless due to the Leg Locker Hex all that he could do was paw at Bellatrix’s back.
“You’re going to suffer, mudblood,” sneered Bellatrix, pointing her wand at Hermione. Harry had finally caught up with Bellatrix and with his one good hand, tried to pull the witch away from Hermione. “And your worthless half-blood boyfriend can do nothing to stop me besides fondling my back…”
Then a sudden thought hit Harry: he did know wandless magic!
“… Why are you doing that? It’s really annoying!” commented Bellatrix off-handedly to Harry, as he continued to paw at her back. Harry was oblivious to her comments; he was lost in his own thoughts as he tried to force himself to tap into his core. It was extremely hard to access anything love based when dealing with Bellatrix. He had to fight to prevent his memory from calling up the image of Bellatrix without her robe. It’s hard to do wandless magic when one is on the verge of vomiting.
Harry decided to focus his memory on the techniques described in the section from his ‘special book’ concerning /’Pleasure Pressure Points’/.
“… You do realize that I’m a married woman, don’t you?”
Harry remembered that one of the more potent points was located on the small of the back. It would actually produce an orgasm in the witch if performed properly.
“… Even if I wasn’t, you’re far too young a boy for my taste…”
But Harry realized that just a simple orgasm wouldn’t be enough to stop Bellatrix from harming Hermione. He had to give her such an orgasm that it would knock her out.
“… Is this how he treats you?” Bellatrix asked Hermione. “Because if it is, I truly pity you… he couldn’t pleasure a three-Sickle whore…”
Pushing aside his fear, Harry focused on Hermione and how much he loved her. It help when the memory of a naked, moist, and very satisfied Hermione spread out in front of him entered his mind.
“Oh, well, back to the task at hand,” stated Bellatrix nonchalantly. “This will hurt you more than it does me… /CRUCI/-”
Bellatrix froze in mid-incantation as Harry forced his powerful love-based magic into her body through one of the more powerful pleasure points.
“Oh!” Bellatrix muttered as she dropped her wand. Harry could feel the muscles in her back tense up before she said once more “Oh!”
She arched her back almost painfully and shouted “OH!” at the top of her lungs before falling backwards – onto Harry mind you. Once she crashed onto Harry’s back, she began to thrash and buck on top of him. Her arms and legs flayed this way and that. Needless to say, all the thrashing and limb flaying, Harry got thoroughly pummeled.
“OH! OH! OH! OH! OH!” Bellatrix continued to scream as she unknowingly beat the hell out of Harry. The young wizard attempted to move her off of him, but somehow, all he managed to do was to roll himself over while Bellatrix stayed on top of him. This made matters worse for Harry, instead of getting his back beaten up, now his front was getting smacked, elbowed, head butted, and kneed.
“Harry, are you okay?” a concerned Hermione asked as she witnessed the spectacle in front of her.
“OW – Her – OW -mi – OW -o – OW – nee -OW!” cried Harry as the evil witch continued to unintentionally beat him up as she rode her mind melting orgasm on top of him. “OW – get – OW – her – OW – off – OW – of – OW – me!”
Hermione scurried to where her wand had landed and quickly performed a levitation spell on Bellatrix. The evil witch’s body rose gently into the air as she was still being rocked by the orgasm.
“HARRY!” shouted Hermione as she dashed at him. “Oh, goodness, are you alright?”
“OH!” Bellatrix shouted again.
“I’ve been better,” acknowledged Harry. He could actually feel the bruises developing all over his body. In particular, ‘Harry, Jr.”s baggage had taken a particularly nasty blow.
“OH!” Bellatrix shouted again, this time somewhat softer.
“Oh god, your hand!” cried out Hermione as she saw his broken and twisted finger. She gently scooped up his injured hand and cradled it. “You poor baby!”
Bellatrix moaned out a soft, barely audible “Oh!” and bucked her hips again.
“I’ve broken worse,” Harry admitted. Although his digit did hurt like hell, his bits were his main concern. All he wanted to do was to curl up in a corner in the fetal position and cry like a little boy.
Bellatrix thrashed again and began to foam at the mouth.
“Oh, Merlin… it was horrible…” Ron groaned out as he regained consciousness.
A disgusting gurgling noise came from Bellatrix as she bucked again.
“Oh, sweetie, I wish I could make it better,” Hermione cooed to Harry as tears filled her eyes. She gently kissed his broken finger while Bellatrix jerked again and spat out some of the foam from her mouth.
“I thought I was a goner for a minute back there…” Ron muttered as he forced himself to speak. Even though he wasn’t a healer, Harry could tell by the look in Ron’s eyes and the way he was speaking that he must have a bad concussion. “There was so… so much… so much hair! I’ve seen Seamus in the shower and he’s hairier than a Yeti… but he doesn’t have anything on Bellatrix!”
Bellatrix’s eyes rolled up into her head and she let out one final groan before losing consciousness. Harry noted that she had a ridiculously satisfied grin plastered on her face.
“We need to get you two back to the Castle so Madam Pomphrey can heal both of you,” stated Hermione. She helped Harry stand and they hobbled for a bit toward Ron when Harry remembered his wand.
“Hermione, I need my wand,” he moaned, hunched over while cupping his bits with his left hand and holding his injured right in the air.
“Accio Harry’s wand!” commanded Hermione and his wand soared through the air and into her hand. Hermione fumbled for a bit trying to stash Harry’s wand in her robes when Ron groaned:
“Look out, one of them is moving.” Ron weakly pointed at the Death Eater who was slowly rising to his feet. Harry recognized the Death Eater as the one who still had a “glowing baby Harry” wedged firmly in his ear and up his bottom. The pitiful wretch winced in pain as he tried to step toward the exit.
“Stop him,” Harry requested. Hermione attempted to aim her wand at the slowly retreating villain, but couldn’t do it properly seeing how she was holding Harry up. As gently as she could, she lowered Harry to the floor so that he was lying next to Ron.
Apparently, the Death Eater with the impromptu bum-plug realized that he couldn’t run away and had decided to attempt to Apparate away. With a loud pop, the Death Eater disappeared… well mostly disappeared that is to say. It seemed to Harry that having two foreign objects forcibly shoved in several orifices would cause some distraction. And apparently, this distraction led to a major case of splinching. The tormented fellow had accidentally left one of his legs behind as he Apparated away.
“Ow,” Ron murmured as the disembodied limb fell to the floor. “That must hurt.”
“Well, no reason to go after him,” concluded Hermione and she tapped her wand on a pullover that had fallen in front of Ron and muttered “Portus.”
Before the trio left the remnants of the gift shop Harry could hear Ron murmur “the horror… all that hair… the horror…”

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Chapter Thirty Four: And the Walls Come Crumbling Down
Standard Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters are property of J K Rowling, Warner Brothers, Bloomsbury Books, Arthur A. Levine Books, Raincoast Books, Scholastic publishing (et al.) and are used without permission. This work was written purely for noncommercial entertainment; no money is being made.
WARNING: Harsh Language, adult themes, sexual situations (i.e. smut), bad spelling and grammar.
Author’s Notes: This story is a broad farce with over the top humor (a good deal of it is crude and sexual) and OOC actions (that’s Out Of Character if you don’t know). Also, this is my first smut-ish fic. If you don’t like sex and sex-based humor, do NOT read this!
Chapter Thirty Four: It’s time for Harry to face his destiny!
With an ache in both his lower back and ‘/Harry, Jr.’/, Harry blinked his eyes. Stiff and sore, he slowly sat up.
“It’s about time you woke up,” Hermione greeted him.
“What time is it?”
“Nearly supper.”
“Damn. I must’ve been knackered.”
“Ejaculating fourteen times will have that effect.”
“I guess that would explain why I’m so sore down there,” he commented and then asked, “Did you really keep count?”
“Of course I did,” she said, sitting on the bed next to him. A warm smile graced her lips. “You’re my virile wizard. Even with the aid of potions, you were amazing.”
“Amazing was I?”
“It was definitely one for the history books.”
The pride Harry had felt before falling into unconsciousness returned with gusto. He felt his face heat up and a wide grin stretched across his face.
“Where are your two counterparts?” he asked, vainly trying to quell his smile.
“One’s already used the Time Turner to go back to last night, the other one is in the library waiting for her turn to go back,” she said. The brunette leaned forward and placed a quick peck on his lips. “I’ll fetch you some food.”
She leapt up and walked across the room. As she walked, Harry eyed her wonderful bum as it swayed back and forth. Cocking an eyebrow, Harry looked down to ‘/Harry, Jr.’/, silently asking of it was up for another go. After all, Hermione’s bottom just begged for a repeat performance. The organ replied “/Sod off. I’m bloody tired!”/ Normally, ‘/Harry, Jr.’/ would be ready and willing to play with Hermione, but cumming fourteen times in one night had earned the penis some rest.
Hermione returned with a plate full of fruits. She took her place next to her lover and brought a strawberry up to his lips. After he ate that piece, Hermione presented him a slice of pineapple. As his girlfriend continued to feed him, the door banged open and Courtney came barging into the room.
“Blow – Jobs – Are – The – BEST!” she announced in no uncertain terms. She then crinkled her nose, smelling the air, and stated “Cor, it smells like sex in here. Did I miss another show?”
“Harry came fourteen times,” Hermione said, beaming with pride over her boyfriend’s achievement.
“Blimey, that’s a lot of spunk,” Courtney said, nodding her head in approval. “I don’t think even the House-Elves could clean that much cum out of the sheets. You’ll probably have to burn them.
“Of course Draco was no slouch either.” She held up her hand and extended all five fingers. “Twice for me and three times for you, Harry.”
A sudden urge to run far, far away popped up in Harry’s mind. Courtney was encroaching upon a subject that made the young wizard nervous and nauseous, to say the least.
“That’s… all we want to hear about that,” Hermione said, hoping to end Courtney’s recollection.
“Aw, you’re no fun,” the Auror pouted. “But I have to tell you, Hermione: you MUST grow a penis and have someone give you a blow-job. Abso-/bloody/-lutely fantastic!”
“I’m not sucking dick,” Harry announced.
“Not even if it was mine?” Hermione asked, playfully. Or at least Harry hoped it was playful. He prayed that his lover wasn’t that kinky.
“Hell no,” he said with finality.
“You two are so weird,” Courtney said with a chuckle. “It’s funny how that even though you’re so kinky and wild that some things still make you queasy.”
“Without going into any details, /please/, I take it Draco was into the act and therefore the glass ball I gave you is fully charged?” asked Hermione.
“Oh Merlin yes! I though he was going to burst when I began—”
“I’m sorry Courtney but I can’t bear any details about your… /adventure/,” Hermione spoke up. “I know you’re into him, but Draco just gives me the creeps. It’s difficult for me to even understand why anyone would be into someone like Draco.”
“Oh, bother,” lamented Courtney. She pulled the glass ball that Hermione had given her the night before, and offered it to the other witch. “If I can’t share my bi-wonder experience with you two, then I guess I’ll just have to share with Tonks. She’d appreciate it.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, really I am,” said Hermione, taking the ball from Courtney and carefully setting it down on the tabletop. The magical construct was now filled with burning red and orange lights, swirling around in the glass. “I just don’t want to hear any sentence that contains the word‘/Draco’/ and ‘/penis’/. It’s a standard that I must hold to.”
“I completely agree,” said Harry.
“Well, then you’ll be pleased to know that Draco discovered that it was actually me and not Harry, after the fact. And by ‘/fact’/ I mean plentiful amounts of wet, dirty sex. I reckoned you two didn’t want him thinking that Harry just popped over for hummers and buggering,” she said.
“Thank you,” Harry said. A great weight had lifted– a part of him feared that Draco would approach him in the halls and ask for another tumble.
“But you really have to experience a blow-job, Hermione,” repeated Courtney. “It’s imperative!”
“I’m not sucking a dick,” Harry reiterated.
“Me, I’ll do anything at least once as long as it won’t leave a mark. Well, not a lasting mark, anyway,” Courtney bragged. “Or scat; I won’t do that.”
“Maybe we should introduce you to a ghost we know,” offered Harry.
“Yes, I think he’d love you,” Hermione said. “Except for the lack of scat bit.”
“Really? I’ve heard some strange rumors about a perverted ghost lurking around the castle.” Courtney was clearly curious and intrigued by this unnamed mystery ghost.
“Pardon me, but my ears are burning,” the ghost in question said, as he made himself visible. “Is someone talking about me behind my back?”
Harry was fairly certain that Gryffindor had been hiding, unseen, in the room for some time. The young wizard even speculated that there was a slight chance the ghost was there when he and Hermione had their Time Turner/Polyjuice foursome. The only issue that cast doubt on this speculation was that Gryffindor would’ve given tips and pointers, if not offering outright to join in by saying something as uncouth as “Is there room for another willy in that jumbled mass of limbs and orifices?” while Harry and the three versions of Hermione went at it.
“Godric Gryffindor, this is Courtney,” Hermione said, introducing the pair.
“Hello there, my pretty,” Gryffindor said with his ever-present deviant grin. “Did I hear you right when you said you’d try anything?”
“Except scat,” the Auror said without shame. “Or anything that involves urine and/or vomit, as well.”
“Have you ever heard of something called a ‘/Train/,’” the ghost said, draping his arm over Courtney’s shoulders, leading her out of the Head Boy and Girl’s chambers.
Courtney cheered “I get to be the caboose.”
With that, the ghost and the Auror left the Head Boy and Girl, discussing various positions, acts and household cleaners that doubled as good lubrication.
“Did you introduce Courtney to Gryffindor so that you’d get him off of our backs?” asked Harry.
“Of course,” Hermione replied. “I figured that Courtney and Draco could entertain Gryffindor for a while. Hopefully longer than Mrs. Black’s portrait did anyway.”
“Good, because if you hadn’t introduced them, I was going to for the very same reason.”
Hermione held up the glass ball containing the sexual energy collected from Courtney and Draco’s romp. “All we need to do now is tap into this with our ritual to help Snape in convincing Voldemort. Once the ritual is done and the effect is primed, we’ll have to send Snape a coded post telling both the plan and the activation of the delayed ritual.”
Harry felt an icy lump drop in the pit of his stomach as Hermione began drawing runes in chalk on the floor. He gulped in dread at the thought of his looming task. The three-Hermiones from the night before had done a wonderful job of distracting him from his destiny (and just as importantly from the mental images of what Courtney was doing to Draco with a polyjuiced copy of ‘Harry, Jr.’ at that time). But now Hermione was getting ready to use the container of sexual energy to perform the special ritual – the one designed to induce Voldemort to be more viable and accepting of a suggestion, thereby entering their trap – the terrifying knowledge of the dire predicament Harry faced returned in full force. In a scant few days, Harry would have to face off against Voldemort, the most feared wizard of the age.
SoG SoG SoG
The following Wednesday, shortly after supper, Harry, Hermione, Ron and Luna were enjoying each other’s company in the Head Boy and Girl’s Chambers. The young wizards were playing a less than quiet game of Exploding Snap, while the witches were discussing potential rituals for future volumes of /Books of Love Magic/.
“I thought up a delicious new one last night. It’s not a ritual per se, but I think it will be very well received regardless,” Luna announced. “I call it ‘Dramamine for Magical Folk.’ You know how some people absolutely loathe traveling by Floo, Portkey or Apparation? Well, I thought of something that will help ease their minds: oral sex. They get fellatio or cunnilingus right before they travel!”
Harry pondered over Luna’s idea. He counted himself as one of the people who did not like traveling through magical means: the spinning of Floo, the hook and tug of Portkey, and the squeezing through a rubber hose of Apparation always made him queasy… and fall down. He reckoned receiving a blow-job right before he used any of these methods would in fact ease his mind. He realized that it wouldn’t prevent him from falling down; he just wouldn’t care if he did. Blow-jobs had that effect on a bloke.
“Sounds like a good idea,” he said while Ron nodded his head in approval.
“The only reason you it is like because you’d agree to anything if it meant you got more blow-jobs,” Hermione said with a snort.
After a moment of contemplation, the raven-haired wizard replied;“Yeah, I would.” Ron nodded his head in agreement, again.
The brunette mused for a moment before saying, “Perhaps we could have a section in the next book on various non-magical acts.” She chewed her lip, clearly deep in thought, before adding, “Thinking along the lines of Luna’s suggestion, maybe for long distance Floo travel, a couple could perform oral sex during their extended trip.”
“And we could call it ‘/Floo Head,’”/suggested Harry.
“That’s the spirit!” cheered Luna as Harry’s mind wandered to the glorious image of Hermione on her knees before him as the two spun from one fireplace to another just as his lover had described.
Returning to the subject of actual rituals, Hermione said “I came up with a new ritual last night. It’s an Anti-Fire Ward.”
“Didn’t we make one for the last book?” asked Ron.
“Yes, but you can never be too safe when it comes to fire danger,” Hermione replied. “Like the previous Anti-Fire Ward, this one will protect the home from fire, whether caused by nature, accident or attack. But, unlike the first ward, this one needs to be performed by two couples.”
“/A foursome!/ Oh, Hermione, I thought you’d never agree!” Luna said exuberantly. She clapped her hands rhythmically, chanting, “Partner swap! We finally get to partner swap! Harry, get over here right now and give me some of that Parsletongue love!”
Hermione blanched. Harry suppressed a chuckle over his girlfriend’s reaction – she wasn’t upset over the notion that Luna had just made overt sexual advances on her boyfriend, but rather if they were to partner swap, then she would have to be with Ron. And the mere thought of being intimate with the orangutan-like wizard made the brunette queasy.
“No, no, no, no, /Good Heavens, no/,” Hermione said rapidly, keeping her line of sight as far away from Ron as possible. “The ritual I created requires that Harry paddle me while I’m gagged with a red-rubber ball and tied up with red scarves, while you sit on a chair nearby and Ron masturbates into your hair.”
“Oh, poo,” moaned Luna. “I really want a foursome.”
“That’s not going to happen. /Ever/,” Hermione said, evenly. “The red of the ball-gag and scarves represent fire. Harry’s paddle represents a punishment of that fire. And Ron’s semen will represent a liquid based fire-retardant,” explained Hermione. “Once I orgasm, the ward will activate and the home will be protected from fire.”
“What would I do during this ritual?” asked Luna.
“You don’t have to do a thing. You just sit there while Ron wanks himself in your hair,” replied Hermione.
“That’s rather dull isn’t it? Can’t Igive him head or lend a hand in his wanking?”
“No, I’m sorry. According to my calculations, Ron must be the only one to touch himself for this ritual to work properly.”
“Curses,” Luna pouted.
“Maybe we can change it so Ron doesn’t have to wank in your hair?” offered Harry.
“No, that’s not the problem. I don’t mind my Ronald masturbating on me – he does it all the time and I’ve grown quite fond of it. But if I am just to sit there, I wouldn’t feel that I’m participating in the ritual. No different than a Brooding Craft Snark so to speak. And as everyone knows; a Brooding Craft Snark does absolutely nothing.”
“Can she read something?” Harry asked Hermione. “Would that affect the ritual?”
“Oh, that’s brilliant Harry! I can read German poetry aloud while Ronald masturbates into my hair!” cheered Luna.
“You know German?” he asked.
“Not a lick,” Luna said, still jubilant over the notion. “I just like how the guttural sound of the language makes my throat and tongue tickle.”
Just then, a large owl with shinny, gleaming silver wings flew in through the open window.
“What a beautiful owl,” Hermione said, eyeing the now-perched bird.
“It’s called a Segue Owl,” informed Luna.
“/Segue/? Why is it called that?”
“I don’t know,” the blonde replied dreamily. “But it’s got a post attached to its leg.”
“It must be Snape’s reply!” Harry said, quickly picking up on the new subject. Dashing up to the exotic bird, Harry untied the post attached to its leg. After delivering the message, the silver owl flapped its wings and flew back out the window.
“Let me decode it,” Hermione said. Several minutes later, the brunette read the decrypted post aloud.
“‘Even though I believe your plan to be flawed and recklessly dangerous, it remains, unfortunately, the best chance at defeating the Dark Lord. I have used my superior logic and cunning to convince the Dark Lord to attack Hogwarts by entering through the Chamber of Secrets as you suggested. My skilful approach was able to persuade the Dark Lord that this was his opportune means to devastate the wizarding population and to get rid of Potter, whom for some reason He views as a threat.
“‘The Dark Lord was uncharacteristically keen – I might even argue that he was exuberant – over my persuasive urgings of the notion of attacking the castle. Personally, I think that the Dark Lord’s excessive reaction to my subtle skill is that He is still despondent over his loss of Bellatrix to her current insensate state. However, I did follow your inane instructions in that prior to approaching the Dark Lord, I did the proscribed insipid wand waving and intonation. But the truth of the matter is that my methods are what worked here. Not some schoolgirl’s imaginary ritual.’
“My ritual worked! It helped Snape convince Voldemort,” cheered Hermione before she read the conclusion of Snape’s post. “‘Unfortunately, the Dark Lord is so excited over the plan that He has decided to launch the attack against the castle as soon as possible. He, along with myself and his remaining handful of minions, will Portkey into the Chamber of Secrets Thursday night shortly after Ten PM.’”
“Thursday!” exclaimed Ron. “But that’s tomorrow! He can’t attack tomorrow! That’s too bloody soon!”
“Doesn’t matter, we’ll have to deal with it,” Harry said, dismissing the dread that gnawed at his belly like a pack of rats on a piece of moldy cheese.
“I’ll talk to the House-Elves so that they can start evacuating people right away,” said Hermione.
“No, we should wait as long as possible – perhaps after supper tomorrow,” he said. “If we start emptying the castle too soon, Voldemort will definitely hear about it and will scrub his plans to attack. We’ll have to do it late tomorrow evening, no earlier than eight, maybe even after nine or so. That way there’ll be less of a chance of Voldemort discovering that it’s a trap.”
“What do we do until then?” asked Ron, nervously.
“I dunno, try and relax,” Harry said, doubting that such a thing was possible. The gravity of his impending destiny lay on his mind like a heavy lead weight. Even the thought of relaxing in light of this seemed like an alien concept.
“Let’s go back to our room, Ronald,” Luna said, taking her husband’s hand in hers. They left the Head Boy and Girl’s chambers without another word.
“I think I’m going to get sick,” Harry announced.
“It’s a good plan,” Hermione said, wrapping her arms around him. “It will work.”
He could hear the warble in her voice and her fear was a palpable thing. It was clear that even though Hermione was confident, she was terrified of the pending showdown.
Harry returned the embrace, silently telling his lover that he, too, was afraid. The two held onto each other, sharing in their fear in silence for a good long time. Needing to feel alive and loved, Harry took Hermione’s face into his hands and kissed her. A few moments later, the young lovers were in their bed.
There was no kinkiness this night; no spankings, nor dirty talk, just love. They looked into each other’s eyes, deep down into their souls as they made love. All of their fear and doubt had washed away, at least for the time being, in the light of their feelings for one another. There was, of course, oral sex. Harry and Hermione had become masters at cunnilingus and fellatio, respectively, and to not use these skills would have been a crying shame.
SoG SoG SoG
Harry thought he was doing quite well. By the time supper had arrived the next night, he had vomited only three times. This was a point of pride for the young wizard; in a few short hours he was going to face-off against the most fear dark wizard of his time and to be physically ill three times showed just how truly brave the young wizard was. Of course his hands trembled like a leaf in a storm, but that was excusable.
Oddly, even though Harry was the one destined to face-off against Voldemort, he was fairing better than his lover and friends. Hermione, Ron and Luna were complete wrecks. Hermione attempted to put up a brave face, but every half hour or so the thought of Harry confronting Voldemort would shattered her resolve and send the brunette witch into hysterical tears. Luna’s eyes were red from crying all day long whereas Ron was as white as a sheet. The red-head was so nervous that he had not eaten a bite all day long. And seeing how his stomach was a bottomless pit, this was very telling.
After supper that night, Harry, Hermione, Luna and Ron waited in the Head Boy and Girl’s Chamber for the clock to reach nine, when they would start evacuating the castle.
Harry went over the plan in his head and suddenly found a slight flaw. “Oh, /bugger/.”
“What is it?” Hermione, who was as nervous as a long-tail kneazle in a room full of rocking chairs, asked.
“We’re luring Voldemort into a trap in the Chamber,” Harry began as a chill descended upon his body. “What’s to stop him from escaping by Apparation or Portkey out of the Chamber before the trap is sprung?”
“If Snape destroys You Know Who’s Portkey as planned and you destroy the Horcrux quickly, he won’t have time to create another Portkey,” offered Luna with a noticeable warble trying to take a small bit of confidence from the rock-solid plan.
“And the school’s Anti-Apparation wards will stop them from Apparating,” Ron added just as nervously.
“Oh, /bugger/,” cursed Hermione and her face fell. “The Anti-Apparation Ward was created in the mid-1800’s. When they set up these wards around the school, they didn’t know the location of the Chamber – they probably didn’t even believe it truly existed. The Ward doesn’t extend past the dungeons – it says so in /Hogwarts: a History/. That means they don’t cover the Chamber!”
“That’s what I was worried about,” said Harry. “And knowing Voldemort, there’s a very good chance that he’ll probably have an extra Portkey hidden on his person just in case something goes wrong.”
“Why didn’t I think of this before?” wailed Hermione.
“Oh, I think I just peed myself,” mumbled Luna. The small bit of confidence she had shattered.
“This isn’t good,” Ron said with a squeak.
“Maybe… maybe we can erect Anti-Portkey and Anti-Apparation Wards before they get here?” Luna’s tone implied that she knew her logic was flawed but she was desperately attempting to salvage the plan.
“If we do that, then they won’t be able to Portkey into the Chamber and the trap won’t work,” Hermione pointed out.
“Maybe we could create the Anti-Portkey Ward after they show up,” suggested Ron, hoping to be helpful.
“Then I won’t be able to escape!” Harry’s record of vomiting only three times was about to increase by one.
Harry saw the tiny figure of Dobby shuffle out of the shadows. “Pardon Dobby, Harry Potter, sir, but’s perhaps Dobby can’s be helping.”
“How much have you heard, Dobby?” asked Harry.
“Enough’s to know you’s be wanting He Who Must Not Be Named to be coming into the Chamber of Secrets and you’s wants to be escaping from’s it buts you’s wants to keep He Who Must Not Be Named to be coming out’s.”
“That’s pretty much the gist of it,” Harry said.
“Dobby be knowing of a spells that the Ministree be using in Azkaban calling the Prison Ward. It’s be allowing people’s to enter by Apparation or’s Portkeys but they can’t be leaving if’s the ward doesn’t want’s them to. It only let’s one wizard or witch to be creating Portkeys that can leave’s through the Prison Ward. No one’s else’s Portkey will be working and they’s can’t be Apparating out either’s,” the House-Elf explained.
“There’s a spell that can allow people to enter an area magically but won’t let them leave if they don’t have aPortkey that isn’t made by the one person the ward recognizes,” Hermione clarified excitedly. “That’s wonderful! Do you know how to cast it, Dobby?”
“Normally’s, House-Elves not be knowing of such spelles, for House-Elves travel different from wizards and witches – we’s don’t be needing to know such things like the Prison Ward because wes House-Elves cans move through it likes other Anti-Apparation and Anti-Portkey wards,” Dobby explained. The House-Elf’s ears lowered and he wrung his hands guiltily before continuing. “But’s Dobby’s former bad Master, Lucy, made Dobby learns how to be casting the Prison Ward to keep Master Lucy’ special lady friend’s of the evening from escaping’s. Once Dobby be done casting the ward, Master Lucy be’s the only one’s making Portkeys so’s that Master Lucy’s special lady friend’s of the evening did’s their duty’s.” Dobby then added in an undertone, much like a child repeating a curse; “Mistress Narcy called Master Lucy’s special lady friend’s of the evening‘/nothing but dirty wars.’”/
“Dobby, can you cast this Prison Ward around the Chamber of Secrets and make it so that I’m the only one able to create a working Portkey?” asked Harry.
Dobby ears perked up and he nodded his head vigorously. The thought of aiding the Great Harry Potter sent the House-Elf to the heights of ecstasy. With tears of joy bubbling up in his eyes, he choked out; “Dobby thinks Dobby just peed himself.”
“It does have a nice warming effect, don’t you think?” Luna asked in her usual detached fashion.
”Dobby will cast the Prison Ward on the Chamber once Dobby changes Dobby’s trousers!” The House-Elf vanished with a pop.
Harry announced, “All right then, lets get this over with. You three go talk with the other House-Elves so they can get everyone out of the castle. I’ll go talk to McGonagall; as Headmistress, she deserves to know what’s going to happen.”
Harry marched out of his chambers and toward the Headmistress’ office. Being Head Boy, Harry knew the password, allowing him entrance passed the stone gargoyle. He knocked on McGonagall’s door and asked; “Professor, can I have a word with you?”
“Certainly, Mr. Potter. Come in,” she replied. When he entered, the witch inquired, “What is it that you’d like to discuss?’
Eyeing the portraits of the former Headmasters and Mistresses suspiciously, Harry said, “Could you order the portraits not to tell anyone – anyone at all – what I’m about to tell you?”
Clearly sensing his serious tone, McGonagall said to the paintings;“As current Headmistress of Hogwarts, I order that none of you shall, for any reason, speak a word of what will be said between me and Harry Potter until I release you from this command. Is that understood?”
All but Phineas Nigellus immediately voiced their vehement agreement. Sirius’ ancestor did agree not to repeat anything he heard, however his tone clearly told Harry that he was annoyed and put out by this order.
Pacing back and forth before McGonagall’s desk, Harry told her everything. He started out by telling her of the prophesy made before he was born that linked his and Voldemort’s destinies, and how that he was their only hope of defeating the evil wizard. He informed the Headmistress of Voldemort’s Horcruxes and the search and destruction of them. Harry finished by telling her that he had a plan that would not only destroy the last Horcrux but also defeat Voldemort without even dueling the most feared wizard of his time.
The Headmistress sat in stunned silence for nearly a full minute until she finally asked, “Couldn’t you create a magical brace, or even another column to replace the one you have to destroy in order to save the school?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I really, /really/don’t want to duel Voldemort,” admitted Harry. “Even though I’m strong because of power rituals, Voldemort’s still has decades more experience over me. He knows, and can do, things I can’t even imagine. If I duel him, I’m a dead man. And since, according to the prophesy, I’m the only person who has any chance of defeating him – if I die, no one can stop him.
“I love this school, it’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a home,” he explained. “But Voldemort is too much of a threat. Who knows how many people he will hurt and kill if he lives? If I can end Voldemort, I can save lives. But there’s no way I can beat him in a one-on-one fight – I’d be killed in seconds. If I destroy the Chamber of Secrets with him in it, then I’ll have ended his threat and saved countless lives. The only chance I have against him, the only chance anyone has, is if I destroy the school.”
McGonagall worried her lip, clearly weighing the school against saving lives. Obviously, the castle lost this debate. “Once Voldemort is gone, we’ll have to rebuild the castle.”
“Of course, ma’am.”
A soft pop announced Winky’s, the House-Elf, arrival in the Headmistress’ office. “It be time for Winky to be taking Heady Mack-gone-all to secret hiding place.”
“What? Now?” she asked stunned. “It’s happening tonight?”
“Sorry, I forgot to mention that,” muttered Harry guiltily.
“Can I at least walk the halls one last time before everything is destroyed?” requested the Headmistress.
“No’s, the Chosen One be wanting everybodies not One of the Mark outs of the castle right now,” Winky said, bolstered by her duty to Hermione. Before McGonagall could utter another word of protest, the House-Elf took her hand and the two disappeared with a pop.
Ignoring the trembling in his knees, Harry made his way to Moaning Myrtle’s loo. Besides his shaking knees, Harry paid no attention to the little nagging voice in his head that informed him that the only person to fight Voldemort and survive in a real duel was Dumbledore. The voice continued by pointing out that the times Harry had faced Voldemort, he had escaped by sheer luck or chance.
‘/It’s a good plan,’/ he told himself, hoping to drown out the nagging voice in his head. ‘If I stick to the plan, then I won’t have to fight an incredibly skilled and sadistic dueler who can kill me with two words.’
“What are you doing here?” he asked when he found Hermione, Ron, Luna and Dobby waiting for him outside the second story bathroom.
“I told the House-Elves to keep everyone in the cave and not to let anyone leave or send a message until after the castle falls, just in case any of them try and warn Voldemort or his followers,” Hermione, who had given up all pretense of hiding her fear, said. Tears were flowing freely down her sickly pale cheeks. The terrified warble in her voice reminded Harry of a sound that some kind of exotic bird living in the Rainforest might make.
“That’s all well and good, but it doesn’t explain why you’re here,” he repeated. “All of you should be in that cave along with everybody else.”
“We’re here to help you out,” Ron said. Like Hermione, Ron’s voice trembled and wavered, making him sound like an adolescent.
“No, you /are not/,” he said firmly.
“Harry, you need all the hel—” Hermione began to protest.
“No, I need you as far away from this as possible,” he interrupted. “I cannot do this if I’m worried that you, any of you, might get caught in the crossfire.”
“But Har—” began Ron.
“/But/ nothing. I have to get Snape out of there and I can’t worry about you at the same time!” The tone of Harry’s voice told everyone that his decision was final.
“Fine then, we’ll wait for you outside Hagrid’s hut,” Hermione said. Like Harry, the tone of her voice told everyone this was not a point to contest.
“All right then, let’s get this over with,” Harry said. He marched up to Hermione and crushed his lips to hers. He took as much comfort and courage from that kiss as he could.
“Come back to me,” she said when the kiss ended. Her eyes were shimmering with tears, fear, and hope.
“I will,” he said, hoping that fate would not make a liar out of him.
“Good luck,” said Ron, giving Harry a pat on the back.
“I’ll see you soon, Harry,” Luna said and kissed him on the cheek.
“Is the Prison Ward up?” he asked Dobby.
“Yes, Harry Potter, sir.” Dobby, who, like Hermione, was crying openly, wailed “Please, lets Dobby stay by yours side, Harry Potter, sir. Please. Dobby cans help Harry Potter.”
“No Dobby, I need you to keep an eye on my friends,” Harry said. “Make sure they stay safe for me.”
With his lip quivering, the House-Elf replied “Yes, Harry Potter, sir. Dobby wills make sure.”
Before stepping into the loo, Harry gave Hermione one last look and a lopsided smile, hoping to show her that he was brave and confident so she wouldn’t have to worry so much. The moment the door closed and he was out of sight of his lover and friends, Harry let the facade drop. His face and shoulders fell and he leaned against the door.
This was it: in a few moments’ time, Harry would open the entrance to the Chamber, slide down the tube, and face his destiny.
‘/Stick to the plan,’/ he repeated to himself. As he slowly walked to the faucet, those four words became a mantra. ‘/Stick to the plan.’/ The scenario played out in his head – Harry would make a Portkey, Voldemort and his minions would show up, Snape would run to Harry while Harry swung the Sword of Gryffindor at the pillar Horcrux, and then, as the roof collapsed, Harry and Snape would be whisked to safety via the Portkey. Simple and easy and difficult to muck up, the way all plans should be. ‘/Stick to the Plan.’/
He bent over the basin and spoke the word “/open/” in Parsletongue. The sink shrank away and a large hole appeared in the wall. Just before he stepped into the tube, Harry screwed up his courage.
After sliding down the tube, Harry made his way to the main chamber. He was so afraid that his hands were like ice. He began to worry if this impediment would hamper his ability to hold onto the Sword much less swing it at the column properly.
Upon entering the main, cavernous chamber, Harry eyed the Horcrux column and gulped down the burning bile that had been creeping up his throat. ‘/Stick to the plan.’/
He glanced at his watch. Nine forty-three. He had at least fifteen minutes before Voldemort and his minions were scheduled to arrive.
Taking another deep breath, Harry conjured a long branch – slightly over four feet – leaned it against the Horcrux column, tapped it with his wand and incanted “/Portus./” He wanted the Portkey as close as possible – he didn’t want to have to dive for it while the roof fell on top of his head. Now, he waited. Soon, he’d face Voldemort for the last time. One way or the other, it would be over tonight. If everything went according to plan, Harry and Snape would be safe and away while the so-called Dark Lord was crushed beneath tons of falling rock.
He paced back and forth, rubbing his hands together, hoping to chase away the chill that had settled in them. His mind wandered to Hermione and his friends. Surely they had gotten out of the castle and to Hagrid’s hut by now. The very first thing he planned on doing after this was all over was to run up to Hermione, take her in his arms and lavish her with kisses. That is, if every thing went according to planned and he got out of the Chamber alive.
Taking a calming breath, Harry repeated his mantra – this time aloud. “Stick to the plan.” Despite his confidence in the plan, his hands were still cold, bile still marched up his throat and his belly had clenched up into a tight little ball.
Checking the time again, Harry’s stomach tightened even more. It was nine forty-six. Only three minutes had passed. “This is going to be the longest quarter hour of my life,” he mumbled to himself. He just hoped it wouldn’t be the last.
Harry pulled out the Sword out of his robes. The heavy weight in his hands helped calm his nerves somewhat. The plan was sound. One swing of the Sword and it would be finished.
The minutes ticked by at an agonizingly slow rate. At one point Harry had wondered if his watch had stopped working. But it was just his anxiety that made time seem to slow down.
Then, with a series of loud whooshing sounds, over a dozen people appeared in the Chamber before Harry. At the front of this group was none other than Voldemort himself, flanked by Wormtail to his right and Snape to his left. Each of the new comers had a hold of a long length of rope, obviously the Portkey that had brought them here.
“Potter, what are you doing here?” demanded Voldemort. He was by no means stupid – Harry’s presence was not a coincidence. And he was smart enough to spot a trap when he saw one.
The villain quickly reached into his robes to draw his wand. Harry looked at Snape and shouted “/NOW!”/
Not knowing of the new Prison Ward prohibiting any Portkey besides Harry’s from working, Snape stuck to his part of the plan. The Potions Master tapped his wand to the rope-Portkey and it flashed in flames, destroying it, before lunging forward while Harry swung the Sword with all of his might. Harry felt the blade slice through the stone of the column like a knife through butter, destroying the final Horcrux. Now that the main support column had been demolished, the whole chamber began to tremble instantly. As planned, Snape wrapped his hand around Harry’s arm as the young wizard pivoted to face the Portkey. Harry reached out…
“/CONFRINGO!”/ a cold, high voice shouted.
One word and one phrase made up of a contraction and another word sprang up in Harry’s head. They were “/Bollocks/” and “/I’m screwed/.” The reason for this was that Voldemort had cast a Blasting Curse with the special Portkey as its target – that or he had aimed directly at either Snape or Harry and the trembling, shaking ground had thrown off his aim. Either way, the curse had turned Harry’s only means of escape into a shower of splinters. There was no time to create another Portkey – the whole castle would collapse and crush him in the time it would take to conjure a new item, enchant it into a Portkey, and then activate it. Harry and Snape were stuck.
Massive chunks of the walls and ceiling started to break free and fall. Many Death Eaters scrambled, vainly trying to find cover. One Death Eater’s scream had been cut short when one bolder crushed him, turning him into a sticky jam.
As the chamber collapsed around him, Harry took a small bit of solace in the knowledge that at least he had succeeded in ridding the world of Voldemort.
A tugging sensation on the hem of his robes drew Harry’s attention. He looked down into the bright green, tennis ball sized eyes of Dobby. A triumphant smile stretched across Harry’s face. The Prison Ward did not affect House-Elf transportation. Dobby must’ve transported into the Chamber when Harry and Snape did not show up outside Hagrid’s hut once the castle began to fall. After taking Dobby’s hand in his, Harry glanced back at Voldemort. The fiend was reaching out to grab Wormtail’s silver hand.
The next thing Harry knew, he, Snape and Dobby were standing just outside Hagrid’s hut. There was no unpleasant squeezing as in Apparation, no mad spinning as there was in Floo travel, and there was no uncomfortable hook behind the navel and tugging as there was in Portkey travel. One moment, he was in the crumbling Chamber, and the next, he was standing in a grassy field.
“Wow, elf transport is a whole lot more enjoyable than any other magical transportation,” he said to himself.
Remembering his vow to take Hermione in his arms, Harry spun around in order to find the witch he loved. As he turned, his eyes quickly surveyed the devastation caused by the falling of the castle. Centuries of dust had been thrown up into the air due to the ancient building’s collapse; this created a dense cloud that covered the ground and reach upwards, hundreds of feet. Even though he couldn’t see a thing, Harry assumed that the Astronomy Tower would have fallen by this time, and that the walls of the castle had begun their inevitable structural failure.
Ignoring the castle and its fate, Harry continued to turn until he found the woman he loved. Tears of joy cascaded down her cheeks and he couldn’t wait to kiss them away. He had barely taken two steps when the joy in Hermione’s eyes drained in an instant, replaced by panic. Ron and Luna, who were standing on either side of the brunette witch, pointed over Harry’s shoulder with trembling hands.
Harry turned to face where his friends were pointing and his stomach fell.
There, standing with his black robes billowing in the wind, with the cloud of the collapsing castle behind him, holding Wormtail’s disembodied silver hand was Lord Voldemort.
“I always have an escape plan, Potter,” Lord Voldemort said, with hate bubbling up in his cold voice. “Did you honestly think I’d give one of my lowly followers such a precious gift without ulterior motives?” He held up the metallic limb, clearly taking pride over his cunning. “It’s an emergency-transporter of my own design – it can mimic and follow the last form of any magical travel used within a twenty foot radius – and unlike most wizards, I am powerful enough to mimic even House-Elf magic. When I created my wondrous device in this specific form to quiet that sniveling pillock, Wormtail, I knew that it might come in ‘/handy’/ one day.” The fiend giggled at his own poor pun.
“Now it’s time to deal with the traitor.” This was the only warning anyone got before Voldemort began firing curses. Snape grunted in pain as a massive gash was cut into him. The greasy haired wizard began to pitch forward, a fountain of blood and gore spraying from his side, just below his ribs.
Harry dove at Snape. A yellow bolt of magic rocketed by Harry, missing him by fractions of an inch, as he grabbed Snape by the shoulders.
“RUN!” shouted Harry to his friends. “GET BEHIND THE TREES!”
While dragging Snape behind him, Harry bolted to the tree line a few feet away, bobbing and weaving as best as he could in order to dodge Voldemort’s attacks. Unburdened, Harry’s friends reached the trees a few seconds before he did. Hermione and Luna jumped behind the trunk of a massive oak while Ron and Dobby took shelter behind another. Grunting, Harry jumped and landed with a thud just as a curse blew a chunk out of a tree next to him.
As Voldemort continued to fire off a rapid series of deadly hexes, he mocked; “You’ve only delayed the inevitable, Harry. After I kill you and your friends, I’ll rebuild my army and I will destroy everything you care about, boy.”
Snape coughed. Dark red blood spewed from his mouth, spattering his lips and chin. One look told Harry that his former professor did not have much time life. The older wizard let out a shuttering breath and his eyes closed.
Harry held the dying Potions Master in his arms. This was a difficult, messy task – not because of the wizard’s lifeblood flowing from his gaping wound that soiled Harry robes, rather the young wizard didn’t want Snape’s greasy hair to touch him. Harry knew that blood could come out of his clothing, but he doubted that whatever the substance in Snape’s hair could ever be completely cleaned.
As he awkwardly cradled Snape, Harry wondered what he should say to the wizard. Should he forgive the man for all of his misdeeds, for all the wrongs he had committed against Harry?
An explosion shook the tree behind Harry. He could see Hermione and Luna a few feet away, holding onto one another in fear and support.
Suddenly, Snape’s eyes snapped opened. Looking up at the boy he had persecuted for so long, Snape muttered; “I regret joining the Death Eaters.” A shuttering, rattling breath escaped his lungs. “I regret all the harm I caused through my deeds and actions. But most of all Potter, I regret not getting the chance to-” another spasming breath, “…wank to your mother’s memory just one last time.”
As his mother’s stalker’s eye fluttered closed, Harry resisted the urge to drop the dying prick to the ground. Harry was, after all, the hero and heroes do not do such things – even to hated ponces who wanked over the memory of said hero’s mum.
Then Snape’s eyes shot open one last time. He looked deeply into Harry’s brilliant green eyes and spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Potter, grant me this, my dying wish: pretend to be Lily, you have her eyes after all… and you can use my blood to dye your hair red like hers… and then… touch…m—”
Thankfully, the fates interceded and took Snape to the Next Great Adventure before he could give voice to complete his final request. Of course, Harry had wished that they had taken the arsehole a few moments before, that way the young wizard would not have been scarred by what he had been asked to do.
“I know this is wrong of me to say, but God I hated that prick,” Harry said, letting the still warm corpse slide to the ground with less dignity than a hero of his stature should have.
“Well, at least he was in so much denial that he couldn’t see that he was truly attracted to your father and not your mother, as proof of his Patronus,” Hermione said from her nearby cover, having the misfortune to have overheard Snape’s dying words. “Otherwise, his last request could have been significantly more awkward.”
Another blast from Voldemort shattered a tree trunk no more than five feet away from Harry. It was obvious that the villain was toying with his prey.
“Yeah, that greasy bastard’s death was tragic and all, but what the bloody hell are we going to do now?” Ron demanded frantically.
“Let’s make another Portkey and escape!” offered Luna, her eyes even wider than normal.
“No, we don’t know if Voldemort could use Wormtail’s hand to follow us again,” Hermione said.
“Besides, it has to end now,” Harry said. He stood and squared his shoulders, ready to face his destiny. He took one step from behind the tree with his wand already raised and prepared to fire a curse when the ground a foot in front of his feet exploded. The concussion of the blast threw Harry back, slamming him against another tree.
With his head still spinning from the blow, he overheard Ron exclaim;“What about Harry’s power boosts? He could just lean around the tree and blast You Know Who to kingdom come.”
“Dear, you’re forgetting that You Know Who’s has gone through his own power boosting rituals. And he’s got decades worth of fighting experience over Harry!” explained Luna. “Even if Harry had more power than him, You Know Who would still have enough skill to easily block and counter anything Harry threw at him!”
Voldemort, still launching Blasting Hexes at Harry and his friends in a sadistically playful manner, called out “I don’t know how you found out about my Horcrux, but you’ve lost, Harry. You have only destroyed one of my Horcruxes! I have four more hidden where you’ll never find them!” He added bitterly, “I’d have five if Lucius wasn’t an idiot and lost my diary.”
Harry quickly gestured to his friends to remain silent. He feared that if one of them let slip that they had in fact destroyed all of Voldemort’s Horcruxes, the dark wizard, who was terrified of his own mortality, would retreat and this opportunity to end Voldemort’s reign of death and terror would be lost.
Suddenly, Harry saw something spark in Hermione’s eyes. She locked eyes with him and said, “Harry, I’m pregnant.”
The young wizard looked at the witch he loved. Her eyes were full of dread, worry, doubt and something that made Harry believe she had done something terribly, terribly wrong. He assumed that she had forgotten to recast her Anti-Conception Charm and this was the cause for this odd expression.
“I’m pregnant, Harry,” she repeated with the same look of worry, dread and odd guilt.
“What? Do you expect some sort of congratulations from us?” Ron asked, piercingly.
“Congratulations, Hermione,” Luna said earnestly. “I hope we live through this so I can throw you a baby shower.”
The world faded away for Harry. His mind left Voldemort and the destruction around him and entered a world where Hermione was expecting. In his mind’s eye, Harry saw Hermione a few months from now, her belly large and round. He had his hands on her stomach, feeling the baby kick and move inside her womb. His mind flashed forward and he imagined holding his and Hermione’s baby a few moments after he or she was born. His mind raced, coming up with possible names for his child.
Another explosion rocked the ground and violently drew Harry out of his daydream. He looked at Hermione. He had to stop Voldemort. Harry had to do it, for his family – for his and Hermione’s unborn child.
As Harry stood, he focused on his love for Hermione and their child. A powerful golden light once again emanated from his body. Shimmering rays floated from his body and coiled and undulated like tendrils.
“Not this again. Not the pure love thing,” moaned Ron. “It makes me feel funny! And I really don’t think now is a time to feel funny!”
“Now’s the perfect time,” Harry said, stepping out from behind the trees. With the thought of his future family warming his heart and soul, Harry drew up his wand.
“What’s this?” asked Voldemort, confused by the strange golden glow surrounding Harry.
The knowledge that his child was growing in Hermione’s womb had allowed Harry to tap fully into his love core – more so than ever before. This incredible power coursed through him, making his body burn. He could feel his feet hovering an inch above the ground as he slowly walked toward his target.
Overcoming his confusion, Voldemort launched a lethal cutting curse directly at Harry’s throat. The silver crescent of magic soared through the air and struck the glow encapsulating Harry with a reverberating clang. The curse shattered like crystal, leaving the young wizard unscathed.
Voldemort’s red eyes burned with hatred. He raised his wand and his mouth opened, ready to spit out another incantation. Before any sound could leave his lips, one of the golden tendrils that extended from the glow surrounding Harry lashed out, slashing Voldemort across the hand. The villain cried out and recoiled. A dark burn mark smoldered where the tendril had touched his skin.
Clutching his burnt hand to his chest, Voldemort hissed “I took your blood! The cursed blood protection shouldn’t harm me anymore!”
“That’s not the blood protection, that’s the power of love,” Harry said.
Harry heard his best mate gripe, “If I wasn’t scared shiteless right now, I’d think that was the lamest thing I’ve ever heard one bloke say to another.”
Harry eyed the damage to Voldemort’s hand. The pure power that emanated from his body hurt Voldemort. It was feasible that he could actually kill Voldemort with it. He just needed to focus the power somehow. A spell, perhaps, that would concentrate the pure love Harry felt and launched it at Voldemort.
Harry smiled. He already knew a spell that concentrated pure emotions: the Patronus Charm. The Patronus was powered by pure happiness. If he could focus the love he felt into the charm, he could direct it at Voldemort. Hermione had actually theorized that he could use a Patronus as a weapon against Voldemort a few weeks previously. Of course, Ron had also theorized at the same time that Harry could defeat Voldemort with an Expelliarmus Charm, but Harry thought that Hermione’s theory had the support of logic and intelligence behind it.
With the image of him sitting on a bed next to Hermione as he held their newborn baby, Harry pointed his wand at Voldemort and shouted,“/EXPECTO PATRONUM!”/
His wand jerked in recoil as a giant, glimmering stag leapt from the tip of the weapon. It was larger and more brilliant than any Patronus Harry had ever conjured before. He could feel the pure love super-charge the energy in the stag. The magical animal’s hooves pounded silently on the ground as it charged, full-bore, at Voldemort. It lowered its head, pointing its sharp antlers at the fiend’s chest, and crashed into the snake-like wizard.
The moment the stag struck Voldemort, the Patronus exploded and engulfed the dark wizard in flames. Voldemort reared his head back and screamed in utter agony. The flames swallowed him – the power of love literally burned the man who knew nothing but hate.
Through the flames, Harry saw Voldemort’s flesh blacken and large chunks fall to the earth where they burned to ash. He also saw pure hate and anger in his foe’s red-eyes.
Knowing this may be his final act, Voldemort focused all of his rage and hate on Harry. He leveled his wand at the black-haired wizard and screamed “/AVADA KEDAVRA!”/
Just as the Patronus was the embodiment of pure joy, the Killing Curse was pure hate – to cast it properly, someone had to hate their target enough to kill them. And, just as Harry’s power sprang forth from his love, Voldemort’s came from hatred, giving the fiend a true knack for the Unforgivable.
The green bolt blazed through the air, rocketing at Harry. It moved so rapidly, the young wizard did not have time to react. The dreaded curse hit its target.
But, just as his mother’s pure love had shielded him from the Killing Curse when he was a toddler, the pure love that surrounded Harry right now had the same effect. Whereas Lily had sacrificed herself out of love and thereby shielded her son, Harry’s shield was powered by the thought of his family – Hermione and their child – and had the same power as Lily’s sacrifice. The green beam of magic struck the golden shield and rebounded upon its caster, just as it had over fifteen years before. The power of the rebounded Killing Curse combined with the magical fire which had engulfed him turned Voldemort into a pile of soot in an instant.
Harry stared at the smoldering pile of ashes that used to be the monster who murdered his family and hunted him his whole life. As he watched the smoke rise up into the air, Harry realized that this pile that used to be Voldemort had done far more than kill his family – he had terrorized an entire society for a generation. He had murdered, tortured and maimed countless people. And now he was gone. He wouldn’t be coming back like he had done previously. Voldemort was truly and completely dead this time, thanks to Harry’s success in finding and destroying all of Voldemort’s Horcruxes. Harry continued to stare at the ashes for a full minute, letting the awe of his victory wash over him, before shouting “I WON! I BLOODY EFFING WON!”
Hermione was the first to rush out from her protective cover. She leapt at Harry and threw her arms around his neck, sobbing in joy that he lover was alive. Ron, Luna and Dobby quickly joined the embrace with the red-head shouting “You did it! You bloody did it!” over and over.
Suddenly, every single member of the Order of the Phoenix appeared around Harry and his friends, each one holding onto various objects that had obviously been turned into Portkeys. McGonagall rushed forward and said “The moment Hogwarts fell, the House-Elves let us go and I Apparated to Grimmauld Place and activated the emergency beacon!”
“We all popped over and Minerva told us what was going on. We got here as quickly as we could,” added Tonks.
“Where are they?” demanded Mad-Eye Moody, ready – and eager – to hex someone. “Where are the Death Eaters and You Know Who?”
Hermione, Ron, Luna and Dobby looked to Harry. Each one assumed that since Harry was the hero of the hour, it was his right to tell everyone of the defeat of the most feared wizard of their time.
With a joyous smile splitting his face cleanly in two, Harry cried out “I’M GOING TO BE A DADDY!”
Hermione let go of Harry and instantly began wringing her hands. Harry was too delirious over the joy he felt to notice this small, but guilty action.
“Really? That’s fantastic!” Arthur Weasley said with naked excitement.
“Oh, what wonderful news!” added Molly Weasley, looking at Hermione questioningly.
“Yeah, yeah, congratulations,” Moody said dismissively. “Now where’s the Death Eater Scum?” The old Auror was clearly aching to hex someone.
“They’re all dead!” announced Ron.
“What about Voldemort?” asked Remus Lupin.
“Erm, you’re stepping in him, Professor Lupin,” Luna replied, pointing at the pile of soot and ash around Remus’ feet.
“It’s over?” Tonks asked. “He’s finally dead?”
“Yeah, and he’s not coming back this time!” cheered Ron.
“This calls for a celebration!” cried Kingsley Shacklebolt.
“I’m going to be a dad!” repeated Harry. This news was obviously far more important to him than Voldemort’s defeat.
“I think this calls for a double celebration!” Arthur said, bristling with pride. “For the defeat of You Know Who, and to celebrate Harry and Hermione’s joyous news!”
Harry felt a tear roll down his cheek while Hermione began to chew on her lower lip almost frantically.
“Let’s go to the Three Broomsticks and break open a case of Fire-Whiskey!” announced Remus as he gave Harry a congratulatory pat on the back. “So Harry, who’s going to be the godfather of your baby?” he asked, hoping to be the one the young wizard had in mind.
“Not gonna happen, Remus, that job’s going to his best mate, yours truly,” Ron said, thumbing himself in the chest as nearly everyone standing outside Hagrid’s hut began making their way to the School’s gates.
“I can’ wait till I get to take yer kid on his firs’ year boat ride ta the castle,” Hagrid said to Harry with happy tears flowing freely. “’Course we’ll have ta rebuild tha’ castle.”
Harry let his friends congratulate him and offer name suggestions for his baby as they walked out of the gates and down into the streets of Hogsmede.
Meanwhile…
Just outside Hagrid’s hut, Hermione stood, wringing her hands and worrying her lip madly. She stared, wide-eyed, at some unknown point far off in the distance.
The only other people with her, Molly Weasley and Tonks, stood a few feet away from the distraught witch, conferring beneath their breath to one another. After a moment of discussion, Molly jotted anote down on a piece of parchment. Then the two walked up to the brunette witch.
“Hermione dear, do you have something to tell us?” asked Molly.
“I’m a horrible, horrible person,” Hermione wailed.
“You’re not horrible,” Tonks consoled her.
“But I lied to Harry. I lied to him in the most horrific way!” Even though Hermione had lied to Harry in order for him to fully access his power to defeat Voldemort, she felt as if she was lower than the lowest animal.
“It doesn’t have to be a lie,” offered Molly.
“Just a delay in the truth,” added Tonks.
“What do you mean?”
“Here,” Molly said, handing Hermione the note. “The first is a spell that cancels out all anti-conception charms. The other is a charm that will help you ovulate.”
“Mind you it’s not as good as the Prewitt Ritual you and Harry accidentally tricked me and Remus into performing,” Tonks commented, “but I think Harry might get a little suspicious if you pop the baby out in a couple of weeks like I did.”
“Now, you perform these two charms and ride Harry like a pony,” Molly said with a smile. Both Tonks and Hermione looked at the Weasley matron in surprise. “Oh please, you don’t get to have seven children by being chaste.
“As I was saying, you have your way with Harry – which I’m sure he won’t mind in the slightest – every day and night until you change that lie into a ‘/delayed truth,’/as Tonks called it,” concluded Molly
“Basically, shag him until you really do get knocked up,” clarified Tonks.
“Nymphadora Tonks,” Molly said, scathingly.
“What? You used the term ‘ride Harry like apony’ and you’re mad at me?” defended Tonks.
“I’m upset that you used such a foul word,” the red-head said. She smiled at Hermione and added with a happy lilt, “Didn’t you know it’s improper to curse in front of a mother-to-be?’
Hermione looked at the charms Molly and Tonks had given her before saying, “Or at least a mother-to-be-/shortly/.”
To Be Concluded…

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Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Nine: Meow!
Disclamer: Not mine, I own nothing. I’m not making any money
WARNING: Harsh Language, adult themes, sexual situations (i.e. smut), bad spelling and grammar.
Author’s Notes: This story is a broad farce with over the top humor (a good deal of it is crude and sexual) and OOC actions (that’s Out Of Character if you don’t know). Also, this is my first smut-ish fic. If you don’t like sex and sex-based humor, do NOT read this!
Chapter Nine Summary: Hermione proves that Crookshanks isn’t the only one with claws!
The trio landed in the Hospital Ward of Hogwarts, and Hermione instantly called for Madam Pomfrey. The matron came bolting out of her office, and upon seeing Ron and Harry’s condition, demanded to know what happened.
“We were attacked by Death Eaters,” Hermione practically shouted out in panic. “Ron was blown into a wall after being hit with two Cruciatus Curses. I think he may have a concussion.”
Pomfrey waved her wand at Harry and Ron, using a Mobilicorpus Charm to float the two toward a pair of hospital beds. Harry groaned pitifully; even though Pomfrey’s charm was very gentle, it still jostled him a bit which just seemed to aggravate his numerous bruises, especially the battered ‘Harry, Jr.’ and his baggage and his mangled finger.
After her two patients came to rest on their respective beds, Pomfrey waved her wand over Ron’s body. “You’re right, Miss Granger. He has suffered a concussion,” the nurse announced.
Ron’s eyes fluttered open and he muttered softly “All that hair… she could have knitted some sweaters of something…”
Harry cringed at the mental image of Bellatrix in her nakedness. Hermione looked as if she was going to be physically ill.
“Don’t worry dear,” Pomfrey said to Hermione after she noticed the younger witch’s discomfort from Ron’s statement. “It’s just the concussion talking. I’m sure it means nothing.”
Pomfrey continued to flourish her wand over Ron’s body while performing a number of spells as she continued to try and comfort Hermione. “You should’ve heard the unbelievable things Mr. Potter mumbled in his sleep the last time he was here: a giant black dog that was actually an escaped murderer, a diary that would talk to him, an adventure where he used Polyjuice to sneak into the Slytherin Common Room…”
“I didn’t know I talked in my sleep,” Harry admitted in a hushed tone to Hermione as Pomfrey continued to list his deeds, adventures, and misdeeds.
“I guess it’s a good thing that I find that out now,” Hermione breathed into his ear. “Better now than to find out later, when we’re sleeping together.”
Harry coughed and jerked about slightly on the bed at Hermione’s declaration. She clearly announced that she and Harry were going to sleep together! This, added to the taunt she used earlier against Bellatrix, told Harry that their relationship was going to advance, very soon. Of course, Harry hadn’t attempted to cough and jerk in celebration; he had tried to jump up and shout, “I’m getting lucky!” but due to his various injuries, all Harry could manage was to cough and jerk about. Though in his defense, it was a rather jubilant cough. Pomfrey turned around and began to perform several diagnostic charms on Harry after she was finished with Ron.
“Hmm….a number of bruises,” the healer stated aloud and froze for a moment over ‘Harry, Jr.’ and his luggage. “Ooooh. Ouch; I bet that smarts.”
Harry nodded his head silently and Hermione let out a pitiful whimper in sympathy. Pomfrey patted Harry on the shoulder and said in a comforting tone, “Don’t worry, son, it will be up in no time. Err… slip of the tongue, sorry about that.”
After informing a grateful Harry that no lasting damage was done to the “Great House of Potter’s Family Jewels,” she added, “But you can’t go playing with it for a while. You had some considerable damage done.”
Before Harry could inquire as to how long ‘Harry, Jr.’ was out of commission, Hermione did it for him. “How long until I can… um…” the poor girl turned such a vibrant shade of red that anyone could tell that she was completely embarrassed. She hemmed and hawed a bit while Pomfrey eyed Hermione suspiciously before concluding weakly “Err… that is, how long until Harry can uh, use it?”
“He’ll have to take a dose of ‘Bruise-Be-Gone’ first,” Pomfrey informed as she stared at Hermione’s still red eye. “Mr. Potter will be … ready in a few hours.”
The healer leaned toward Hermione and placed her wand in front of the younger witch’s puffy eye. “Now, why don’t you let me fix your eye?”
“Um… it’s not a Conjunctivitis Curse, ma’am,” admitted Hermione. “I don’t think the counter spell will work properly.”
“Miss. Granger, this school is filled with teenagers, all with overactive hormones, who like to experiment…I know exactly what this is,” Pomfrey stated. “And many young men have bad aim like Mr. Potter, here. Amatorius/ Abdo!”/
With a pop, the redness and puffiness in and around Hermione’s eye disappeared. Pomfrey concluded “I’ve had to use that spell more times than I care to count. I just wish you girls would learn to turn your face away in time.” The healer then refocused her attention on Harry and his damaged digit. “Well, the bones will have to come out of that I’m afraid.”
“No, not Skele-Grow again,” complained Harry.
“Oh, hush,” Pomfrey ordered. “You had your whole arm re-grown a few years back. One finger will be nothing compared to that.” Pomfrey cast the spell and Harry’s finger deflated like a balloon as the bones disappeared. Hermione let out a pathetic whimper when she saw Harry’s finger dangle like a strip of flesh-colored rubber hanging from his hand.
“Ms Granger, I need you to fetch some of my potions for me,” ordered the matron. “First, Mr. Potter will need Bruise-be-Gone; it’s a black and blue bottle, and of course the Skele-Grow; I believe you’ll remember what that looks like. I will also need Caruthers’s Concussion Concoction for Mr. Weasley.” Biting her lip, Hermione nodded and dashed off to the Hospital Ward office.
The moment that Hermione disappeared into the office, the doors leading from the hallway into the Hospital Ward flew open and a very nervous looking Tonks barged in, followed by an angry looking Professor McGonagall. “Nymphadora, I demand to know what’s going on! You come barreling out of the Floo in my office and without a word come running down-”
The Headmistress stopped her tirade of Tonks when she saw two of her students in bed. Harry waved at the two witches. Of course he did this with his bad hand which just caused his bone-less finger to flap this way and that.
“WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?” screeched McGonagall.
“We were attacked,” Hermione answered simply as she stepped out of the office with her arms full of potion bottles and walked past McGonagall and Tonks.
“I got a fire-call from one of my supervisors. He told me that a number of Death Eaters attacked Godric’s Hollow,” explained Tonks. “I apparated there as fast as I could, but it was all over when I got there. There were about three dozen unconscious Death Eaters plus my evil bitch of an aunt. She was unconscious as well, but she was foaming at the mouth. Oddly enough, she had the happiest smile I’ve ever seen on a person.”
“I’ll give this one to Mr. Weasley,” Pomfrey said to Hermione and she took one of the three bottles. “Give a dose of each of those two to Mr. Potter.”
“But what made you come here and why are those two hurt…?” McGonagall stopped herself while indicating Ron and Harry.
“I knew that these three were going to Godric’s Hollow,” Tonks continued. “When I got there, I feared the worst when I couldn’t find them. But one of the witnesses said that they saw three teenagers Portkey away. So I figured they’d head here.”
“One of the Death Eaters escaped as well,” Hermione announced as she poured some of the foul tasting potion down Harry’s throat. “Well, mostly escaped; he splinched himself trying to get away.”
“That would explain the spare leg we found,” concluded Tonks. “But what it doesn’t explain is how we can’t seem to revive the Death Eaters. Except for my vicious Aunt, they all show the symptoms of being stunned. But when we tried a rennervate, nothing happened.”
“Oh that,” stated Hermione who was doing her best to ignore the gagging sounds coming from Harry who was fighting desperately not to throw up the god-awful potions. “You’ll have to hit them with a few dozen Rennervate Charms. Harry… um… well we discovered that Harry can be fairly powerful when he puts his mind to it.”
“Poppy, what’s your diagnosis?” asked McGonagall.
“Potter is fairly beaten up, including a severely broken finger and some deep bruising, but it’s nothing a good night’s rest and a potion or two won’t fix. Weasley, however, has one hell of a concussion. I want to keep him here overnight for observation.”
“Does that mean Harry can leave?” asked Hermione.
“I don’t see why not,” replied Pomfrey. “It’s just a couple of bruises and a finger that needs the bones re-grown. He’s suffered worse.”
“I’ll go back and tell our healers how to awaken the thugs,” Tonks said as she started to walk out of the ward. “I mean we can’t just chuck them into Azkaban if they’re permanently stunned.”
As gently as she could, Hermione helped her bruised and battered boyfriend to his feet.
“Don’t worry about Mr. Weasley, I’ll take good care of him,” Pomfrey informed the couple as they made their way slowly out of the Ward. “And remember, no funny business for the next few hours.”
“That means no experimentation with Cheering Charms,” added McGonagall. Harry groaned as the Headmistress gave him another one of her disturbing saucy smiles.
After what seemed like an eternity of jostling ‘Harry, Jr.’s baggage by walking up various stairs, the couple finally made it back to the Gryffindor Common Room. Harry groaned once more as he noticed that Hermione was steering him toward the stairs that led to his dorm room. At that point, those stairs weren’t just another set of stairs that Harry had to climb. To him it was an evil torture device that was designed solely for the purpose to cause even more pain to his battered bits.
“Can’t I just stay here and sleep on the couch?” whined Harry.
“No,” Hermione stated firmly. “You’ll rest better in your own bed.”
“Bu-bu-bu but the stairs…. They hurt,” complained Harry.
“Just a few more and I promise you can lie down.”
Hermione led Harry up the thirteen steps with each one causing Harry to wince. When the couple walked into Harry’s dorm room, he was nearly doubled over in pain due to his bruised bits. That and the fact that the Skele-Grow had just started to kick in. It felt as if dozens of needles were being shoved through his damaged hand.
“Just lay down,” Hermione said as she helped Harry lower himself on his bed. “I’ll get some food. We haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
The brunette witch stood up and called out “Dobby!” An instant later, the neurotic house-elf appeared with a crack.
“Yes, Miss Harry Potter’s Hermy, you called for Dobby?” he asked nervously.
“Yes, I did Dobby. Harry and I need food. Would you please go get something for us to eat?” Hermione asked politely.
“Dobby would love to!” the little creature squealed.
“But, Harry’s going on a special diet,” added Hermione.
“I am?” asked Harry. This was a new revelation for him, leaving him more than a little surprised. He was curious as to why Hermione would make him go on a “special diet” without even talking to him about it.
“Yes, you are,” Hermione replied to Harry. But before he could ask why, she turned back to Dobby. “We’ll need some protein. Perhaps a simple steak, but he’s going to need vegetables. This is the most important part though, no eggs or dairy.”
“But I like dairy,” complained Harry. He didn’t know what was on the diet she had concocted for him, but he was hurting from the beating and grumpy from the ride that made a mockery of his parents. The last thing he wanted to do was not eat the things he liked. He thought of a way to convince Hermione into allowing him some cheese. Indicating his limp digit, Harry argued “And I probably need calcium to help my bones grow. So I should get some cheese.”
“No dairy. It’s very important to your diet.” she said firmly.
“What diet?”
“But I do see the point of calcium,” she continued, ignoring his question. “Even though the Skele-Grow will do all the work, calcium is very important. Some dark green vegetables have loads of calcium.”
“Miss Harry Potter’s Hermy mean like asparagus?” offered Dobby.
Before Harry could protest, Hermione shouted, “Good God no! All my research states that would be very bad! Very bad indeed! Very foul.”
“What research?” demanded Harry, which Hermione once again ignored.
“Some vegetables like broccoli, chicory greens, and cabbage will do,” Hermione counted off. “And definitely celery. But make the majority of the meal out of fruits like kiwi, watermelon, and pineapple”
“Dobby will be back shortly!” the house elf announced and disappeared with a crack.
“What diet?” implored Harry.
“It’s a surprise,” Hermione answered and she walked over to the side of the bed. “I’ll have to get you into your pajamas,” she added, effectively changing the subject. With a flick of her wand, all of Harry’s clothes disappeared from his body leaving him stretched out on his bed completely naked. He found it odd that he wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest as Hermione examined his naked form. “Oh, my poor baby,” Hermione pouted as she saw all the purple bruises on his flesh. “Oh no!” she moaned as her eyes took in ‘Harry, Jr.’
“Is it bad?” asked Harry, fearful to check for himself. In his panicked mind, he imagined ‘Harry, Jr.’ all sorts of funny colors and twisted this way and that.
“It looks bad,” admitted Hermione, which didn’t help calm Harry’s worries about ‘Harry, Jr.’ being all twisted. “But Madam Pomfrey said that it should be back to normal in a few hours, thanks to the potion. Now I’ll conjure some bottoms for you.”
Another swish of her wand and Harry felt a pair of silk pajamas cover himself.
“Thanks,” Harry said.
Then Hermione waved her wand again and this time, much to Harry’s enjoyment, her clothes disappeared with a soft pop. She stood unabashedly in front of Harry in nothing more than her white cotton knickers.
“B-b-bu-but Pomfrey said we couldn’t fool around,” Harry stammered while looking in her eyes (As everybody knows, when a man is faced with a topless beauty and he says that he is looking in the aforementioned beauty’s eyes what he actually means is that he is staring directly into the beauty’s nipples).
“Harry, my eyes are up here,” Hermione said while gesturing with her hands to look up. “Harry. Baby. My eyes… they’re up here…”
Harry really did try to take his eyes off of ‘Carmella’ and ‘Natasha’ but he failed. It was like his eyes were hit with a Permanent Sticking Charm and they were magically attached to her nipples. He did notice that Hermione’s flesh turn a little red and he also saw that her lovely nipples started to get erect.
“Do you really like looking at my breasts?” Hermione asked nervously.
“Oh, yes,” Harry nodded while keeping his eyes on her pertness. “I can do this all day and not get bored.”
Hermione’s flesh blushed even more (Harry couldn’t tell if any other part of her body had blushed because of the whole “Permanent Sticking Charm” thing).
“I do appreciate it,” admitted Hermione as she unconsciously thrust her breasts up. Harry took this opportunity to examine them even more. Doing her breast – I mean best to ignore the cooing noises that Harry was making while looking at her, Hermione forged on. “But I believe we need to discuss something.”
“Discuss away,” replied Harry who had now taken on the appearance of a deer caught in headlights; Hermione’s headlights that is.
“Harry why did…” began Hermione but then paused and attempted to start again. “Earlier today, Bellatrix…” she huffed and began to lecture her boyfriend who was only half-listing because he had most of his attention on her wonderful boobs. “Harry, I really do like the fact that you find me attractive, but I can’t talk to you when you aren’t looking at me!”
“I am looking at you,” said Harry, which he technically was.
Hermione cursed under her breath and walked over to Harry’s trunk. Harry was a tad disappointed when Hermione turned her back on him thereby removing ‘Carmella’ and ‘Natasha’ from his sight. His disappointment was soon replaced by joy when the brunette witch bent over at the hips as she began rooting around looking for something in his trunk. This action gave Harry a very clear view of Hermione’s wonderful bum, which he enjoyed looking at as much as he enjoyed viewing her boobs. Harry rationalized that her bum was very similar to her boobs: both were made up of two wondrous mounds, both were often hidden cruelly from his eyes by thin pieces of fabric, both had cleavage in one way or another, and he thoroughly enjoyed fondling both sets.
Harry was pulled out of his musing about the similarities of Hermione’s boobs and arse when the witch stood up after finding whatever she had been searching for. The item turned out to be a ratty old pullover that Harry wore whenever he would practice Quidditch. He grunted a sound of objection as Hermione pulled the worn and tattered shirt on; obscuring his view of ‘Carmella’ and /’Natasha’/. The shirt used to be Dudley’s when the fat arse was in primary, and even though Harry had grown considerably, it was still very large on him. But on Hermione, it was a nightgown. It did a very effective job of covering all of Hermione’s nakedness… and her bum… and her knees. It almost covered her ankles for pity’s sake! ‘/Damn that pullover, damn it all to hell!/’ Harry grumbled in his mind.
“We need to talk about something very important and I don’t need you distracted,” announced Hermione as she tied up her hair in a loose bun.
“If you didn’t want me distracted, why did you get all naked?” argued Harry.
“You don’t expect me to sleep with you with all my clothes on do you?” countered Hermione.
“Well, no but…” Harry began to debate when his brain caught up. She had said “sleep with you.” The bespectacled wizard became very, one might even say incredibly, light-headed. “S-s-s-sleep with me?” he squeaked.
“Yes, you’ve had a very traumatic day,” she explained. “I’m not letting you spend the night alone after that bloody ride and that beating you received.”
Harry glanced apprehensively between ‘Harry, Jr.’ and Hermione a grand total of six times before saying “But… but… but Pomfrey said I couldn’t fool around for a few hours….”
“Harry, I said sleep with you; as in your bed!” scolded Hermione which just made Harry more confused. They obviously weren’t talking about the same thing. “Just because I said I wanted to sleep with you doesn’t mean I want to have sex tonight!”
“Yes it does!” exclaimed Harry. “It’s against the law to tell a bloke that you’ll sleep with him but it doesn’t include sex!”
“What law Harry?” Hermione asked incredulously.
“My law!”
“Budge over,” Hermione requested of a pouting Harry. The wizard complied and crossed his arms over his chest. Hermione sat on the bed and spoke softly. “One of the side effects of the ‘Bruise-be-Gone’ potion is temporary impotence.” Harry let out a panicked groan as Hermione continued to explain. “Temporary impotence Harry; a few hours at the most. I read the side effects on the bottle before I gave it to you.”
“Oh,” Harry said as relief washed over him.
“And as to sex,” Hermione continued and a smile reappeared on her face, “I do want you to be my first. But I want it to be special.”
Harry’s relief was quickly replaced by guilt. The entire time he had been thinking of only himself, not what Hermione had wanted or deserved. Hermione obviously noticed his discomfort because she leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips.
“I’m sorry, Hermione,” Harry apologized. “I wasn’t thinking…”
“It’s alright, Harry,” cooed Hermione. “After the day you had, I expect that you feel pretty rotten.”
“I’m okay,” replied Harry.
“And that’s what I wanted to discuss with you about,” stated Hermione. “Today, Bellatrix said that she was told your powers weren’t working right. How did she know that?”
“Kreacher must have told her.”
“What? Are you certain?” Hermione asked.
“Pretty much. Bellatrix said something about a House-Elf and granting his wish of chopping his head off.”
“That does seem to indicate Kreacher,” Hermione allowed. “But how, I mean when could he have told her? Didn’t you order him to stay at Hogwarts?”
“Remember last night, after Gryffindor caught us-” Harry began.
“Yes!” Hermione interrupted. It was obvious from the way she had said “Yes” that she didn’t want to discuss the “I’m sorry I got cum in your eye while a perverted ghost watched us” incident.
“Well, I was in the Common Room all naked and I, well I kind of called for Dobby and Kreacher,” Harry continued.
“How did you accidentally call for a house elf?”
“I think I asked for some help out loud,” explained Harry. “Anyway, those two showed up…”
“While you were naked?”
“Yes,” replied Harry irritably before continuing. “I asked them if they could conjure some pajamas…”
“Because you were naked?” interrupted Hermione.
“Yes!” he shouted. Hermione got an embarrassed look on her face and became silent. After a moment, Harry continued. “After Dobby made me pajamas…”
“Because you were nude,” Hermione interrupted once more. “Did they say anything? I mean House-Elves help some of the older pure-blood families dress, did Dobby or Kreacher make any comparisons? Length or girth perhaps?”
In response, Harry glared at his girlfriend. He was hoping that his glare would be enough to end Hermione’s line of questions.
“Oh, they did!” squealed Hermione. It was obvious that Harry’s glare only encouraged his girlfriend. “How do you rank!”
“Hermione, please! Do you want me to explain or not?” Harry chastised.
“Fine, go ahead,” Hermione pouted.
“I told them I couldn’t do magic because mine had gone all wonky,” explained Harry. “After that I told them they could leave-”
“Oh!” exclaimed Hermione. “And Kreacher must’ve interpreted your order to mean that he could leave the castle-”
“-and tell Voldemort’s boot-lickers that I can’t use magic,” Harry added.
“Which, as we know, isn’t the case,” Hermione completed. “Now what’ll we do with the traitorous elf?”
“I thought you were for House Elf rights?”
“I am,” replied Hermione. “But we can’t have that evil little bugger running around. He’s too dangerous.”
“Agreed.”
“So, two house-elves saw you naked,” chuckled Hermione, bringing up the embarrassing moment again.
“Would you let it drop?” implored Harry. “It could’ve happened to anyone.”
“But it didn’t happen to anyone,” countered Hermione. “It happened to you. Personally, I’d never be able to live it down if a house elf saw me starkers,” Hermione concluded her ribbing with a peck on Harry’s cheek. “Now, if I can talk about something more serious?”
“Please do,” responded Harry.
“… and not House Elves seeing a particular wizard’s bits…”
“Hermione!”
“… all dangly…”
“Hermione!”
“… and wrinkly…”
“I AM NOT WRINKLY!”
“I would like to talk about the attack today,” stated Hermione, her tone becoming serious.
“Oh, yeah, that,” Harry stammered.
“You were fantastic,” complimented Hermione.
“Thanks,” Harry said awkwardly. “You were pretty good too.”
“No, I wasn’t. That’s what I want to talk to you about,” added Hermione. “I had difficulty fighting one Death Eater at a time. And when I did subdue one, one of his compatriots would revive or free him, sending him back into the fight. You, on the other hand, took out dozens with one blow! And they were out for the count!”
“But that isn’t a fair comparison,” Harry stated. “I’ve had a power boosting ritual, whereas you haven’t.”
“That’s why I’d like to perform a power boosting ritual for myself. That way, if we run into any other Death Eaters in our search for the Horcruxes, I can be of help to you,” Hermione continued. “I found a permanent boosting ritual in the book.”
“Really?” This piqued Harry’s interest. Actually, anything found in the book piqued his interest. He wondered what type of activity the ritual needed. For his ritual, he performed oral sex on Hermione. Did the ritual require a sex act? ‘Duh!’ he mentally chastised himself. ‘Of course it requires a sex act! It’s a book on sex magic.’
“Yes, it requires a sex act,” Hermione said as if she could read his mind. “A very substantial sex act,” she added apprehensively.
“What do you mean by ‘substantial’?” Harry asked with concern. Hermione was obviously nervous about the ritual and he didn’t want to pressure her into doing anything that she wasn’t ready to do.
“Remember what we were talking about before?”
“Um,” Harry began to recall the various subjects they had talked about previously. The only thing that came to mind was the recent ribbing he received about having Dobby and Kreacher see him naked. That and his internal musings about her bum and boobs.
“Sex, Harry,” Hermione explained.
“Oh!”
“Yes. I would have to take a special potion, say an incantation, and then our magics, combined with the blood from my hymen, creates a permanent boost for me.”
“Oh,” repeated Harry.
With a loud crack, Dobby reappeared carrying two platters of food. Hermione conjured a small table for Dobby to place the food on and bid the house-elf good-night.
“Getting back to the ritual,” Hermione began as she ate some fruit. “I really do want you to be my first. And I do want to do it soon – not just for the power boost, but because I love you.”
Harry had some difficulty eating his fruit; it wasn’t every day where he would talk casually about losing his virginity with the woman he loved. Every time he attempted to pick up a piece of fruit, he discovered his hands were trembling so much that he couldn’t hold it properly and just dropped it. Upon noticing his predicament, Hermione held a slice of pumpkin to his lips.
“One of the reasons that I am hesitant is Ron,” Hermione said as Harry ate the pumpkin.
“What about him?” asked Harry.
“I feel guilty about him being alone,” explained Hermione as she held a piece of cantaloupe for Harry to eat as she finished her own slice. “We were a couple and I left him for you.”
“Oh yeah,” agreed Harry.
“I think I’ll feel less guilty if we get him a girlfriend,” concluded Hermione. “But it will NOT be Lav-Lav or anyone like her.”
“So Parvati is a no-no, seeing how she and Lavender share the same half of a half-brain.”
“That would make a quarter, love,” corrected Hermione. Before Harry could take offence, she added, “And Ron’s quick temper would cause a great deal of strife between him and most of the remaining witches from Gryffindor.”
“Besides Ginny… but that’s just sick and wrong.”
“Yeah, that’d be worse than you and Ginny, Mr. Freud.”
“Will I ever live that down?”
“No, not really,” said Hermione after a moment of consideration.
“Fine. So nobody from Gryffindor and definitely no one from Slytherin,” Harry stated. “Ron hates everybody and everything to do with that house.”
“So that leaves Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.”
“Wait, why not a Muggle girl?” offered Harry.
“Please! Could you imagine if Ron and the poor Muggle girl actually became a couple?” asked Hermione. “She would bring him home to meet her folks and he would make an arse out of himself because of the scene he would make when he saw all the pictures that didn’t move or a toaster that is actually plugged into the wall. And imagine what will happen when Ron sees a telly for the first time?”
“He would probably hit it with a Blasting Hex out of sheer panic.”
“Yes, he would,” Hermione continued. “Ron cannot function in the Muggle world for one moment. And to ask a Muggle to live strictly in the magical world would be equally as cruel.”
“So, that leaves us someone from either Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, then.”
“As I said. Let’s see… Hufflepuff House is known to have loyal, hardworking, and patient people…”
“Which is good seeing that to be with Ron, the witch would have to be loyal, hardworking, and patient because of his quick and foul temper and his stubbornness,” Harry completed.
“And Ravenclaw has intelligent and insightful people in that house…” Hermione began.
“Another good thing because the witch would often have to look past the unintentionally mean and crude things Ron can sometimes blurt out.”
“This’ll be harder than I first expected,” mused Hermione. Harry nodded his head in agreement. The couple finished their meal in silence.
After Hermione banished the platters away, she crawled into bed with Harry. He kissed her gently and they said their good-nights. Hermione muttered “Nox” and the dorm room became pitch black. Harry held Hermione close to him in the darkness. His crotch was pressed firmly up against her bum; a position that would normally have ‘Harry, Jr.’ jumping for joy. But because of that damned potion, ‘Harry, Jr.’ was off in slumber land and couldn’t enjoy another romp with Hermione. Then fear hit Harry, what if it wasn’t temporary? What if the Skele-Grow had altered the Bruise-be-Gone potion’s side effect in some unforeseeable way? Yes, he knew that ‘Harry, Jr.’ didn’t have any bones in him, but when most men are dealing with impotency (temporary or not) they tend to panic.
Forcing himself not to think about his flaccid state, Harry turned his thoughts to Ron and the challenge of finding him a girl. ‘Who could the ideal witch for Ron be? I got lucky with Hermione, she understands me so well. But Ron can be such a difficult bloke at times.’
They needed a witch who was patient and insightful; one that could put up with Ron’s temper and his crass behavior. He suddenly recalled a conversation he had with a certain blonde witch at the end of his fifth year. The witch had dealt with her housemates’ cruel actions throughout the entire year and she simply told Harry that they didn’t mean it. She understood that they were kind people who sometimes did bad things.
Could she be the one? She was blonde and as recently as the wedding reception, Ron had stated that he fancied that particular hair color after all.
“Hermione, I think I know who the witch is,” Harry said in the darkness.
“Really, who?”
“Luna.”
“WHAT?” Hermione screeched. “Luna! You can’t be serious?”
“Yes, she’s perfect! She very patient and insightful,” explained Harry.
After a moment of silence where Harry could actually feel her thinking about the situation, Hermione allowed, “And she does fancy him. Remember that silly ‘Weasley is our King’ song she kept humming?”
“Or the fact that she apparently refuses to call him ‘Ron’?”
“Yes, it’s always ‘Ronald.’ And remember how she would laugh at all of his so-called jokes?”
“See, she’s perfect,” Harry said triumphantly.
“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘perfect’; she is a bit out there.”
“And Ron isn’t?”
“Point taken. Let’s plan on heading over to Luna’s and see if we can set up a date for the two of them.”
“Ron may need some convincing though.”
“Don’t worry, I have a plan…” she finished menacingly.
With that, the two lovers drifted off to sleep.
*
Harry was once again having a very peculiar dream. In it, he was on some distant planet that was completely covered in sand. Harry was some sort of religious icon to the people that lived on this planet. And on this desert planet, giant worms existed, each of which was hundreds of feet long. For some reason, the people depended upon them. But something terrible had happened to the worms. For some reason, none of the giant worms were moving. It was as if they were in a coma.
The people turned to Harry to bring these creatures back to life, because apparently that’s what religious icons did. He tried several things to revive the worms. First he talked to a giant clam that was nearby. But the clam couldn’t offer anything; it kept gibbering on about commitment and respect. He tried again by casting a Rennervate Charm to no avail. He then got the oddest notion to pet the monster.
Tentatively, he patted the worm’s side and much to his surprise, the creature moved slightly. He called to a group of women to give him a hand petting the worm. Oddly enough, all the women looked vaguely like Hermione. With the help of the women, Harry was able to pet the worm back to life. The giant creature rose victoriously into the air and the people cheered, “THE SLEEPER HAS AWAKENED!”
*
Harry slowly awoke from his odd dream. It was still pitch black in the room and he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face (that he didn’t have his glasses on didn’t help the situation, either). But what he could tell was that Hermione’s bum was still firmly pressed against his crotch and more, it appeared that ‘Harry, Jr.’ woke up before Harry himself did. Thankfully, the temporary side effect of impotency had worn off. And it seemed to have worn off with a vengeance. It was so hard that it hurt!
Harry’s fifth appendage was roughly poking Hermione’s left cheek. The witch purred and she ground her bum into his erection. Even though he was still half-asleep, Harry was not one to turn down an early morning frolic.
He nuzzled the nape of her neck while his hand trailed down her taut and naked tummy. He knew it was naughty, and a bit fast, but he wanted to show Hermione that his finger had completely healed. With his now- repaired finger, Harry pressed the witch’s love button through her knickers. In apparent appreciation, the witch rubbed her bum up against his aroused state even more.
Harry nibbled on her ear and he took in her distinctive flowery smell. Harry paused both in his nibbling and his rubbing of the witch’s ear and knickers (both of which were very damp at the time). Even with his sleep addled brain, Harry began to realize something was amiss. Hermione didn’t have a flowery scent; her scent reminded him of parchment and old books. Before he could ponder this revelation further, the witch ground her hips into the still erect form of ‘Harry, Jr.’
“C’mon Harry, don’t stop now,” the witch purred. Harry immediately recognized that the voice he was hearing didn’t belong to Hermione. But due to his not-quite-awake state, it took Harry a half second to place it.
“GINNY!” he screamed and jumped out of the bed as if it was engulfed in flames. He frantically ran to the door but found it locked. The fact that the door was locked didn’t stop Harry from trying to claw his way through the barricade like a wild animal. “W-w-w-where did you come from?”
“Mum got a call from Professor McGonagall about Ron being injured. Knowing that you’d be here, I… volunteered to check up on Ron for Mum,” Ginny replied.
“S-s-stay back!” Harry cried in fear as he continued to try to claw through the door.
“What’s your problem, Harry?” whined Ginny. Harry could hear her mutter a charm and all the torches in the room lit up, illuminating the room. “I could tell you wanted me; you were as hard as a rock.”
In truth he had been very erect; but that was when he thought his bedmate was Hermione. The moment he discovered that he was rubbing (in more ways than one) Ginny, the girl who looked like his mum, ‘Harry, Jr.’ deflated like a popped balloon. He turned to face his molester and tell her just that when he saw that she was sitting up in his bed and was very flushed. And very topless!
The half-naked Ginny rose from the bed, and with a sultry saunter to her walk, made her way to Harry, who at the time was trying his damnedest to push his body through the solid wooden door to get as far away from Ginny as possible.
“You know you want me,” she said huskily as she reached forward and cupped his crotch. Judging by the look on her face, Ginny was very surprised that Harry was no longer aroused. “Hey, what happened here?”
“What did you do with Hermione?” Harry choked out.
“Oh, I saw her leave to go use the loo,” she said nonchalantly, while twirling her wand in her hand. “So I decided to make my move. But I couldn’t have her pop in and spoil our fun now could I?”
“What did you do?” repeated Harry.
“I just tied her up,” she muttered as she eyed his trousers lustfully. “These won’t do.” With a flick of her wand, Harry’s trousers disappeared, leaving him completely nude.
Before he could cover himself, Ginny dove at his naked groin and began to devour his flaccid state with her lips and tongue.
“For the love of all that’s holy, what are you doing?” Harry shouted as he tried to push her away.
“C’mon Harry,” she pleaded in-between sucking, “you’re just being shy.”
Both Harry and Ginny were thrown to the floor when the door that Harry was leaning against blew up.
A very angry looking Hermione stood in the ruined doorway. She pointed her wand menacingly at Ginny. “Get – off – of – my – boyfriend!” she commanded.
“/Expelliarmus/!” Ginny shouted from beneath Harry forcing Hermione’s wand to go flying from her grasp. “I should’ve disarmed you when I tied you up,” Ginny stated as she pulled herself away from Harry. “Maybe I should tie you up again and make you watch as I turn my boyfriend into a man!”
But before Ginny could conjure robes to bind Hermione, the brunette witch slapped the wand out of her hand, sending it clattering under the bed. A very stunned Ginny turned back to Hermione and was about to verbally assault Harry’s girlfriend when Hermione slapped the younger witch across the face, hard.
“Ow!” cried out Ginny. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m going to beat some sense into you, bitch!” declared Hermione and she slapped Ginny again. “He doesn’t want you, you crazy stalker!”
Ginny slapped Hermione back and shouted “Yes he does! We were meant to be together!”
“Why? Because your mummy read you bedtime stories about the Boy Who Lived?” Hermione retorted as she tugged on a tuff of Ginny’s red hair.
“OW! Unlike you, I’ve been in love with him since I was a little girl!” screamed Ginny as she frantically tore off the pullover that Hermione had been using as a night gown.
Harry watch in both disgust and arousal as the two witches slapped and tugged at each other. The disgust came from the fact that the girl who looked like his mum was wearing nothing but her knickers while fighting his girlfriend. The arousal came from the fact that his girlfriend was wearing nothing but her knickers while fighting the girl who looked like his mum.
“You didn’t fall in love with Harry. You fell in love with the Boy Who Lived!” Hermione shouted before grabbing at and ripping off Ginny’s knickers. She threw the ruined garment in Ginny’s face, declaring, “That’s not who he is!”
“He saved me from the Basilisk! That proves he loves me!” defended Ginny as she roughly pinched Hermione’s tit as if to prove her point.
As Hermione rubbed her assaulted nipple, Harry suddenly recalled the events from the previous day. Specifically, after he had hit Hermione with his super-charged Cheering Charm, how Hermione seemed to enjoy all the spankings she both gave and received. Harry was reminded because he saw that ‘Carmella’ and ‘Natasha’ were fairly erect, even before the one had been pinched. Harry wondered if Hermione was actually enjoying the slaps she was receiving from Ginny (He figured she was enjoying slapping Ginny, regardless of any sexual reasons – the damned stalker deserved it). For just one second, Harry considered intervening in the fight just to ask Hermione if she was becoming aroused. Purely for reference. But he realized that it would be a bad idea to get involved in the catfight, if only due to the high potential of getting hit; Harry had received enough painful beatings from women to last a long while, thanks to Bellatrix.
“Sweetie, let me point something out to you,” Hermione began after she recovered from the pinch. “Harry stopped Voldemort from getting the Philosopher’s Stone thereby saving everyone.” Hermione punctuated her statement by slapping Ginny directly on her boob. “And technically, he saved everyone in the castle from the Basilisk.” Hermione viciously slapped the witch’s other tit. “So by your flawed reasoning, he should be in love with everyone in the school!” Hermione ended this part of her discussion by painfully striking Ginny dead center on her vulva.
Harry cringed as Ginny slumped to the floor painfully.
“You bitch!” screamed Ginny and dove at Hermione. She savagely tore Hermione’s knickers to shreds and was about to return the painful slap she had received when she suddenly paused looking at Hermione’s now naked groin.
“You’re shaved?” Ginny questioned.
“My hair isn’t the only thing kinky about me!” Hermione answered before slapping Ginny once more.
Hermione’s statement about being kinky would seem to suggest that she indeed did enjoy the slap fight. That and the fact that Harry could see both ‘/Carmella/’ and ‘/Natasha/’ were extremely erect and rigid. And that her flower seemed to be a touch puffy and dewy.
Ginny was awaken from her stupor upon seeing Hermione’s ‘hygienic state’ and let out a blood-curdling cry as she tackled Hermione to the floor.
It was at this point that Ron had the misfortune to enter the room. Apparently, Pomfrey had decided that he was healed enough to spend the rest of the night in his own bed. Harry saw the look in his friend’s eyes and could tell what he was thinking, simply because he would be thinking the same things if he were in Ron’s shoes. You see for a bloke, it’s more than a little uncomfortable if you see your male friend lying on the floor naked such as Harry was. Harry could tell that Ron was doing his best to block that particular vision from his eyes and memory. But it is considered quite entertaining if that same bloke sees his female friend naked early in the morning. And if that female friend – if you don’t remember; the nude one – happens to be rolling around on the ground while wrestling another equally naked, yet unknown, female at the time, well that’s just damn entertaining for the bloke. It was obvious to Harry that Ron’s first thought was to pull up a chair and enjoy the show. But then, Harry saw the horror dawn in his friend’s eyes. You see if the bloke who is enjoying watching his nude female friend wrestling with an equally nude, yet unknown, female finds out that the unknown nude female is actually his baby sister… well that’s generally considered a bad thing, especially if the bloke had been enjoying it. Harry could tell exactly when Ron figured out the identity of the second naked girl; Ron turned a most interesting shade of green.
Hermione shot up and spat a tuff of Ginny’s red hair out of her mouth (where that tuff had come from, Harry didn’t want to know). Hermione stood over Ginny and shouted, “Harry is in love with me and I’m in love with him and there is nothing you can do to change that!”
“We’ll see,” Ginny said defiantly.
“Oh, are you going to try to seduce him again?” Hermione mocked. “Let me tell you something, little girl; not only can he lick a mean pussy,” she paused and pointed to her bare groin to emphasize her point, “but he’s also came in my eye. And I’ve swallowed his load!”
“All at the same time?” Harry heard Ron muttered.
“Another thing,” Hermione continued, either oblivious to Ron’s presence or ignoring him. She stomped over to Harry and with an unusual show of strength, hoisted him off the floor and to his feet. “Harry and I are going to take a shower… together! And while I’m wanking him off, I’m going to take a huge amount of pleasure in the fact that I’ll be playing with something you can never have!” She concluded her statement by making a show of cupping Harry’s naked groin so that Ginny could see. “This is mine!” she growled.
Hermione gave Ginny the two fingered salute and led Harry out of the room and toward the bathroom, leaving Ron alone in the room with his naked sister.
*
It didn’t take much time for Harry to forget about his traumatic situation with Ginny. Not when a sudsy Hermione was nibbling on his ear while she was giving ‘Harry, Jr.’ a thorough cleaning. Mind you, Harry was a gentleman and couldn’t let Hermione have all the fun, so he finally was able to demonstrate to Hermione just how well his finger had healed.
At first, it was a bit awkward, but the two lovers eventually positioned themselves; Hermione had her back pressed up against Harry’s chest and was wanking him off by reaching behind her. Harry had reached around Hermione’s body with both of his hands; one was massaging ‘/Natasha/’ while the other was caressing the folds of her flower.
After a few minutes, with a muttered grunt, Harry came on her hip. Hermione giggled as she watched his seed mix with the water and soap suds as it trickled down her leg.
“It’s like a race,” she said with mirth as Harry tried to catch his breath. “Who do you think reach my foot and will win?”
“My cum,” panted Harry.
“No, I think the big soap bubble will beat the rest,” stated Hermione.
“That’s not a soap bubble,” concluded Harry with a slight grin.
Now that he had been satisfied, Harry was able to focus all of his attention on his lover. He used both of his hands to stimulate Hermione; his now healed finger continued tracing her folds while the fingers on his other hand busied themselves by playing with her bud. Hermione wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck for support because her knees became weak. Shortly thereafter, Hermione shouted out Harry’s name as she orgasmed.
After both lovers had climaxed, Hermione leaned her back against Harry’s chest under the shower’s spray. “This is wonderful Harry,” she purred. “I can’t see how this could get better.”
Harry voiced his agreement by nuzzling the nape of neck her and massaging her boobs.
“Do you think she’ll try something like this again?” she asked.
“Let her; she can never take me away from you,” he whispered into her ear. “You are my everything.”
As they leaned against the wet wall, Hermione busied herself by running her fingers through Harry’s hair. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help but wonder if Dobby or Kreacher had compared you to anyone,” Hermione said in an amused fashion. Harry groaned as Hermione continued her earlier ribbing of his embarrassment. “I don’t know what I’d do if a House Elf saw me naked…”
“Well there’s one way to find out,” offered Harry. Before Hermione could ask what he had meant, Harry held her arms behind her back playfully and called out “Oh, Dobby!”
With a loud crack, Dobby appeared in front of the two wet and naked teens.
“You called for Dobby Harry Potter… err… sir” the elf squeaked and his eyes almost bulged out of his head as he saw Hermione’s naked body. Hermione froze for a split second while Dobby looked at her bare flesh. Then she began to struggle to get out of Harry’s grasp. This led to a very fascinating show for Dobby, Harry assumed. Her boobs must have been swaying back and forth because Dobby’s eyes started to swing from left to right as if he was watching a tennis match.
“Harry, let me go!” Hermione commanded though Harry could tell there was no malice in her voice. It almost sounded like she was trying not to laugh. “Let me go or I’ll swear-!”
Hermione’s playful threat was cut short when Dobby disappeared with another crack. “You’re a dead man Potter!” she scolded him. “You’re going to have to work pretty hard to make this up to me.”
“Really what would you suggest?” asked Harry.
“Well, you could use your magical tongue and tap into your love core again,” she offered and wiggled her bum against ‘Harry, Jr.’
“I was actually thinking about doing that anyway,” admitted Harry. He guided Hermione to lie on the floor and lowered himself so that he was in-between her legs. His mouth was near her flower when he heard a series of cracks.
When Harry looked up, all he could see were hundreds of eyes looking at him and Hermione. Each set of eyes were bulbous and brightly colored; they obviously belonged to House-Elves. In fact Harry could argue that a wall of House-Elves had been erected in front of him. House-Elves filled every space in the bathroom. They were even actually standing on top of each other so that they could get a better look. Harry believed that it was quite possible that every single House-Elf in Hogwarts was currently jammed in the bathroom at that particular moment.
“Oh bugger,” groaned Harry as he heard a number of squeaky voices plead “Let me see!”
To Be Continued

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Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter Two
Disclamer: Not mine, I own nothing. I’m not making any money either.
WARNING: Harsh Language, adult themes, sexual situations (i.e.: smut), bad spelling and grammar. Also, the smut is going to be a bit more graphic than last time.
Author’s Notes: This story is a broad farce with over the top humor (a good deal of it is crude and sexual) and OOC actions (that’s Out Of Character if you don’t know). Also, this is my first smut-ish fic. If you don’t like sex and sex-based humor, do NOT read this!
Chapter Two Summary: Harry and Hermione try to make their way to Hogwarts.
“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?” Hermione screamed as she dove off of Harry. He absently noticed that her hand was still covered with her own spittle and his pre-cum.
“Please, don’t stop on my account,” Gryffindor’s ghost implored. “Continue. Pretend I’m not here.”
“Is that…” began Hermione as she crouched in the corner while clutching her half-opened blouse in front of her. “Is that Godric Gryffindor?”
“See that?” Gryffindor said to Harry. “She didn’t take a kip during History of Magic, now did she?”
‘How can you kill someone that’s already dead?’ Harry wondered internally. He had been so close to cumming… so very close… now he had to suffer. And suffer he would, because ‘Harry, Jr.’ didn’t get to finish playing. And ‘Harry, Jr.’ had quite a temper. Harry knew that when his little friend started to play, but was forced to stop before he got “sleepy”, there would be hell to pay! ‘Harry, Jr.’ sulked off to bed like a petulant child. Harry groaned as ‘Harry, Jr.’ took out his frustrations on his luggage.
“Got a bad case of blue balls, don’t ya boy?” Gryffindor said with a chuckle upon noticing Harry’s discomfort. The ghost turned toward Hermione and asked, “Why don’t you give Harry some assistance and rub one out for him?”
A fluttering of wings announced the return of Hedwig. The owl looked between the three people arguing and sagely decided not to get involved. Hedwig hopped into her cage and watched the verbal battle unfold.
“You disgusting old pervert!” Hermione shouted in shock.
“Guilty as charged,” the ghost answered with obvious pride.
“Is this why you needed my help?” demanded Hermione, turning to Harry. “Some perverted ghost was pestering you, and you thought that I should get involved.”
“Um yeah… no… kinda,” replied Harry sheepishly. “I mean sorta… well he told me that his sword will help destroy the Horcruxes and that I need to get my hands on the sword by tomorrow or it’ll be too late.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me about it before… before…” Hermione stammered obviously embarrassed. “Before I… we…”
“Started to play a gauntly little tune on his skin flute?” Gryffindor helpfully offered. Both Harry and Hermione did their best to ignore the ghost.
“I was worried about you,” replied Harry truthfully. “When you came in, you were awfully upset. I wanted to make sure you were okay, to see if there was anything I could do to help you, before I asked you to help me. And then well, I kinda forgot about it when we um… were…”
Hermione’s eyes shined as she looked at her friend.
“You were worried about me? That’s so sweet!” Hermione said. “I’m sorry for getting angry at you.”
“Now that you two have made up,” Gryffindor interrupted, “why don’t you go on and shake glands?”
“Harry, do you know any method to kill a ghost?” Hermione asked as she looked at Gryffindor, scathingly.
“I was going to ask you about that, actually,” answered Harry.
“Fine, spoil my fun. It’s not like there’s a lot to do when one’s a ghost,” Gryffindor pouted.
“Oh, sod off, you old coot!” both Hermione and Harry shouted in unison.
“Why do you need to get the sword by tomorrow?” Hermione asked Harry.
“He told me that the charms on the sword that would help me destroy the Horcruxes will fail if I don’t get it by then,” Harry answered. “But I can’t leave this house until my birthday, which isn’t for two days. And I have the Order standing guard making sure I don’t leave.”
“So you need a distraction in order to escape,” clarified Hermione to which Harry nodded. The brunette witch thought for a moment before snapping her fingers and calling out triumphantly, “We’ll get Fred and George to help!”
“That’s what I said,” stated Harry, “but the degenerate over there said I should get you…”
“Well, the twins wouldn’t have given you a hand job, would they?” Gryffindor defended himself. “I had your best interests in mind.”
“You mean start to give him a hand job,” Hermione argued bitterly. “Before you barged in for a cheap show and said ‘brainy girls are naughty’!”
“Let’s not point fingers and play the ‘blame game’ now,” Gryffindor brushed the witch off. “You have a quest ahead of you! Get cracking!”
And with a pop, the ghost of Gryffindor disappeared.
“Can ghosts Apparate?” Harry asked.
“No, the old pervert is probably just invisible,” answered Hermione. “He’s just hoping we go at it again.”
“Fine, I’ll leave then.” Gryffindor’s disembodied voice called out and his footsteps were heard walking out of Harry’s room.
“So, are we going to go at it again now that he’s gone?” Harry asked hopefully; ‘Harry, Jr.’ and his luggage were already starting to ache. Hermione gave the young man a look that clearly said “No.” As a matter of fact, one could discern from that particular look that if Harry had wished to pursue this inquiry, it could be quite easily stated that the look also insinuated that he would get his willy cut off.
Hermione walked over to Harry’s desk and wrote a lengthy letter to the twins. She handed Harry the letter which he attached to Hedwig’s leg.
“Could you take this to the twins, girl?” Harry asked. The owl nipped at Harry’s finger affectionately and flew out the window. Harry was quite a bit surprised when his snowy owl dove toward the ground after only flapping her wings twice instead of soaring off into the horizon. “She doesn’t do that normally,” he said aloud.
Both Harry and Hermione went to the window to check on Hedwig’s progress. They were both astonished to see the owl perched on nothing, in mid-air, across the street from # 4. “She doesn’t do that normally, either,” announced Harry.
The two teens rushed out of the house and across the street to where Hedwig had landed and seemed to be hovering six feet above the ground; hovering without using her wings at all, that is. The owl hooted to her master from her invisible perch as if she wanted to be congratulated for doing a good job. Harry moved toward his bird when he heard a noise coming from the empty space below Hedwig.
“What’s he doing here?” a familiar voice asked in a hushed tone.
“Shut up you prat, or they’ll hear us!” another familiar voice hissed.
“Hi, Fred,” Harry greeted the air.
“Hi, George,” Hermione added.
“I think they know we’re here,” one of the twins stated.
“Really? I couldn’t tell,” retorted the other.
A slit opened in thin air revealing the interior of an invisible magical tent. Fred and George stuck their heads out and greeted Harry and Hermione.
“Do you like our new invention?” Fred asked innocently.
“Yes, it’s called the Peeping-Tom-Tent!” George added. “Quite ingenious really, the amount of charms used on it and whatnot.”
“Yes, you see a Disillusionment Charm is used on the outside…”
“While a Transparency Charm is used on the inside.”
“So the people on the inside can see out…”
“But no one on the outside can see the tent…”
“So sexual deviants can peep to their hearts content,” both the twins laughed weakly.
“So, you just happened to decide to test your new product right across the street where Harry is staying?” asked Hermione.
“Well… we wanted to test it in a Muggle neighborhood….” George stammered.
“… And it was just coincidence that we ended up here…” Fred completed his brother’s poorly fabricated lie.
“When did you two join the Order, then?” Harry asked, effectively ending the charade.
The twins slumped their shoulders in defeat.
“Right after the Death Eater attack on Hogwarts,” said George.
“Yeah, because our Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder was essential in the attack…” Fred continued.
“We didn’t know Draco was gonna use it like that when we sold it to him,” concluded George.
“How did you think he was going to use it then?” Hermione inquired.
“Well… he said he was going to use it to seduce Ginny…”
“WHAT!?!” Harry and Hermione shouted.
“What makes you think she would have been seduced by Draco if he used the Darkness Powder?” Hermione asked.
“Our little sister gets turned on by the dark…” George answered.
“Bit of a strange turn on really,” Fred offered. “And Malfoy told us he had an elaborate plan to win Ginny’s heart.”
“You wanted your sister to be with that slimy git?” Harry asked, completely shocked.
“Well it’s better than you and her getting together,” argued Fred. “You and Ginny are just disturbing.”
“What do you mean?” demanded Harry.
“Come on mate, she looks like your mother!” George stated, while Fred shuddered.
“WHY THE HELL DIDN’T ANYONE TELL ME?” Harry cried to the heavens.
“We thought you knew,” said George.
“We just assumed you were bent in the head,” offered Fred.
“I hate you both a great deal,” pronounced Harry. “Really, I do.”
“Let’s get back to the matter at hand,” Hermione implored, “and drop how sick Harry and Ginny’s relationship was.”
“Hey!” Harry cried, taking offence.
“Harry and I need to leave this house immediately,” Hermione continued, ignoring Harry’s protest.
“No,” Fred stated at once.
“We’re under strict orders from the Order,” George continued.
“You don’t have to tell anyone,” Hermione implored compassionately. “Do it for Harry, please?”
“Nope,” the twins pronounced in unison.
“We’ll give you money to turn your back for just a few hours.” Hermione offered.
“Nope!”
Hermione threw her arms up in disgust; she had tried to get the twins to do it out of compassion and then bribery but to no avail. That only left blackmail.
“Fine, have your way. But just to let you know, if you don’t let us leave, when we go to Bill and Fluer’s wedding, I’ll slip Harry and Ginny a Lust Potion,” threatened Hermione as she fought back the bile creeping up her throat caused by the images running through her head.
“So what?” George asked as Harry’s gag reflex kicked in.
“Yeah, Harry would like it,” Fred continued, neither twin noticed that Harry had doubled over.
“I’ll give them a Lust Potion and I’ll make sure that they sit at your table,” Hermione stated as she broke out in a cold sweat. “I can imagine it now; you’ll see Harry’s hand slip under the table, but what you won’t see is Harry’s hand slip into Ginny’s skirt and then… slip a finger or two into Ginny herself….”
George lurched a bit at Hermione’s description, whereas Fred put up a brave face, even though he wanted to run as far away as possible. Harry had dropped all pretences and had started to dry heave once more.
“After that, Harry and Ginny will snog while still finger-banging her, right there at the table in front of you,” Hermione continued, not quite suppressing the quiver of disgust in her voice. “Harry might just pull her robe down so he can…” Hermione paused and swallowed, as she steeled herself for the forthcoming image, “… s-s-s-suckle her tit in public.”
Fred balked and George clutched his stomach. Harry weakly pawed at Hermione’s leg, silently begging her not to continue. He didn’t care about the stupid Horcruxes anymore; Voldemort could take over the world as far as he was concerned. He just wanted Hermione to stop talking about him fondling a girl that looked like his mum.
“Do you think Ginny will wank him off under the table? Or perhaps she’ll go down on him?” Hermione questioned as the disturbing images made her start to go light-headed. “Oh, no; I don’t think you’ll get off that easily. Harry’ll bend her over the table and make her a woman. Right there, in front of you and the rest of your family.
“I figure she’ll squeal a bit when he breaks her hymen,” Hermione’s face had turned a nice shade of green due to the mental image she gave herself, when Fred suddenly interrupted.
“Hold one, wait a minute,” Fred interjected, hoping to derail Hermione’s conversation. “Do you honestly think our little sister still has her hymen intact?”
“Yeah, how else do you think she got so popular so quickly?” added George.
“Fine then,” Hermione countered. She decided to go full bore and take the fight out of the twins. “She’ll just start grinding her hips into his, driving his manhood deeper and deeper into her pulsing box. Do you think he’ll smack her arse? Can you imagine the red, hand-shaped welt forming on her milky white flesh? The same milky white flesh that Harry’s mother had!”
Hermione’s vivid description became too much. Tears of fear and displeasure rolled down Fred’s face as George fell to his knees, begging in a sad, muted tone for Hermione to stop.
“They’ll call out each other’s name in ecstasy,” Hermione added as Harry crumpled to the ground, sobbing. “She’ll scream, ‘HARRY, I’M CUMMING!’ and he’ll grunt as he cums inside her. Then he’ll lean in close to her ear and say: ‘You’re the best… mum!'”
The twins fell to the grassy ground with a thud and Harry mercifully began to black out. Hermione stood over Fred and George and concluded her threat.
“If you don’t let us leave, and without alerting the rest of the Order, I’ll make sure you get to witness first-hand how much Harry loves his mother!”
Some time later, a throbbing pressure in his jeans woke Harry up. Apparently, ‘Harry, Jr.’ was still mad that he wasn’t allowed to finish playing earlier, and he was still taking his anger and frustration out on his luggage, which Harry assumed, had turned from the earlier blue into a nice puce color by now. The young man groaned as he sat up in his chair. To his surprise, Harry was on the Knight Bus, but he had no recollection as to how he got there. He just remembered blacking out while Hermione was spinning a disturbing tale of blackmail and sex, disgusting sex at that. Obviously, Hermione had convinced the twins that it was in their best interest to let her and Harry leave # 4. He figured she had convinced them to help her to get him on the Bus as well.
Harry looked to his right and saw Hermione sitting next to him. The young woman had no color to her face except for a touch of sickly green around her eyes.
“I hope you appreciate what I did for you, Harry,” she said. “All those horrible images have burrowed into my brain. I’m going to have nightmares for weeks now!”
The witch threw herself into Harry’s arms and wept into his chest.
“It was so horrible, Harry” she cried in-between tears. “I kept seeing you… and Ginny… doing… bad… terrible things!”
“Shh; it’s okay, shh,” Harry cooed while gently rubbing her back. “It’s never going to happen.” Harry felt a tinge of guilt as his hands run across Hermione’s back because he kept remembering how nice and warm her bare skin felt a few hours previously.
With a “BANG”, the Knight Bus screeched to a halt directly in front of the gates to Hogwarts. Hermione leaned on Harry heavily, since her knees where still weak from her earlier ordeal, as they exited the Bus and walked up to the gates.
“The gates will be locked,” stated Hermione as the Knight Bus rocketed into the distance. “We’ll have to go through the Shrieking Shack.”
As the two teens marched to the Shack in a roundabout way in order to avoid the villagers of Hogsmeade, Harry was taken back at how low the sun had gotten in the sky. When he had lost consciousness, it had still been late morning to early afternoon. By the position of the sun in the sky, Harry guessed that it was now nearly time for supper.
“How long was I out?” Harry asked.
“A while,” replied Hermione. “I had the twins help me put you on the Knight Bus right after you blacked out. But the driver is new, and he got lost for a few hours. I swear to God I think we somehow ended up in Dijon, France for about an hour. I think we ran over a baguette seller’s cart.”
They remained silent as they ventured through the tunnel that led from the Shrieking Shack to the grounds of Hogwarts. Each step for Harry was nearly excruciating, /’Harry Jr.’/s’ luggage cried out in pain at every footfall. When the teens finally emerged from the tunnel, the sun was about to say ‘good-night’ and leave them in the dark. By the time they had entered the castle, the only remains of the sun was an orange hue on the horizon.
Harry led the way to the Headmaster’s office. The castle was eerily empty and quiet; Peeves didn’t even seem to be around. After a few minutes, they reached the stone gargoyle that guarded the door to the Headmaster’s office.
“Oh, bugger,” cursed Harry. “I don’t know the password!”
Hermione chewed her lip for a moment before saying: “McGonagall is the new Headmistress, but what password would she have used?”
“Dumbledore liked to use sweets,” added Harry. “They were always along the lines of ‘lemon drops,’ ‘acid pops,’ ‘cockroach clusters’…”
“So we just have to figure out what she likes…?” Hermione said to herself.
“‘Ice mice’…” continued Harry, because he honestly didn’t know what the Head of Gryffindor liked. But, he felt compelled to say something.
“What does McGonagall like?”
“‘Fizzing Whizbees’…” again, Harry continued to list the code-words Dumbledore might have used.
“I don’t think she likes sweets, Harry,” stated Hermione.
“‘Blood pops’…”
“Blast it Harry!” Hermione ordered. “Please either be quiet or….”
Hermione was about to continue her philippic toward Harry, but was interrupted when the gargoyle sprung to life and stepped to the side.
“The password is ‘Blast’?” Hermione asked incredulously.
“That isn’t very smart,” stated Harry. “What if someone wanted to break in? They could just walk up and say ‘Let’s use a Blast-ing Hex to blow the gargoyle up.’ And the silly thing would just open up for them like that,” he continued, snapping his fingers to highlight his point.
“Actually,” the stone gargoyle grumbled, his voice sounded like two stones grinding together, “the Headmistress hasn’t made up a password yet. I’m allowed to open up for anyone. I just wanted to play with you for a bit.”
“You cheeky little bugger!” Harry chastised the stone figure.
“Let’s just go, Harry,” groaned Hermione as she stomped up the stairs. Harry followed, shooting a dirty look at the gargoyle.
As they entered the office, they were greeted with a hundred different snoring sounds. But one voice did greet them.
“Hello Harry, Hermione, I was wondering when would you show up,” Dumbledore’s painting said with a genuine smile.
“Hello, Professor,” Harry returned the greeting.
Hermione, however, was too amazed at the sights and sounds of hundreds of former Headmasters and mistresses sleeping in their frames. “Is that Armando Dippet?” she questioned to no one in particular. “And that’s Dilys Derwent!”
“Harry, there are two occasions on which you can stop calling me ‘Professor’ and use my given name,” Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. “One of which is if you graduate. The other is if one of us dies. And seeing that I am ‘living impaired,’ you may call me Albus.”
“Okay, hello, Albus,” Harry felt odd referring to his mentor in such an informal way. “How are you, sir?”
“Is that Roderic Hillsworth?” Hermione asked aloud once more as she continued to study the different paintings. “And that’s Hamilton the III!”
“I’m dead,” replied the magical painting, “and you?”
“I’m… ah… alive,” was the best response that Harry could come up with.
“Wonderful, I take you’re here because of the visitor you’ve received?”
“You know about him?”
“And that’s… that’s…” Hermione stammered somewhere in the back of the office. “That’s James Doohan!?!”
“Of course I know about Godric visiting you,” Dumbledore said with a wink. “I was the one who sent him.
“Why the hell is there a magical painting of James Doohan here?” Hermione asked from the dark corner where she was standing.
“So you sent him to tell me about the sword?” Harry asked.
“Yes, it is over there on the shelf behind you,” stated Dumbledore.
“Did you know he’s a perverted old coot?” Harry asked as he walked over to the shelf.
“Yes, I am terribly sorry about that, however he was the only ghost I could find,” replied Dumbledore solemnly. “I discovered how perverted he was, first hand, during my sixth year as a student. The future Mrs. Dumbledore and I stole away to a broom-closet when he suddenly appeared over my shoulder making inappropriate suggestions to me. I still don’t believe brooms should be used in such a way.”
Harry looked at the gleaming sword that lay before him. It had been over four years since he had last held it. His hand hovered over the bejeweled handle momentarily. He felt power coming from the sword; power that he had not detected when he first wielded the sword in his second year.
“Excuse me, Professor,” Hermione asked as she walked up to Dumbledore’s painting. “Why is there a painting of James Doohan in here?”
“I’ll only answer if you call me Albus,” the painting demanded in a cheery tone.
As Harry’s hand wrapped around the hilt, a wave of power ran through his body. Harry hoisted the sword up and held it triumphantly over his head.
“Fine. Albus, why is there a painting of James Doohan in here?” repeated Hermione.
“I was playing a little joke on my predecessors,” Albus chuckled. “You see, Hogwarts is in Scotland, and Mr. Doohan played a character called ‘Scotty.’ Do you understand my sense of humor?
“No,” Hermione said honestly.
The sword felt completely natural to Harry, as if it was an extension of his body. He was about the share this revelation with Hermione, when the office door swung open and a very perturbed Minerva McGonagall stomped in followed by an equally agitated Remus Lupin. Both Harry and Hermione froze like statues in their respective places.
“Damn those Weasley twins,” McGonagall said rapidly through clenched teeth. She obviously had not yet seen Harry or Hermione as she continued her stomping and ranting. “How they could possibly have let Potter slip by is beyond me.”
“I’ve already checked #12 and he isn’t there,” said Remus as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Tonks is checking the parks and shops around Little Whinging.”
“And Molly told me he isn’t at the Burrow!” supplied McGonagall.
It was at this point that Remus finally stopped rubbing the bridge of his nose and took notice of the office and its occupants. He saw Hermione standing in front of Dumbledore’s painting sheepishly and saw Harry off to the side standing like some sort of action hero with a sword held high. Harry waved weakly at the old werewolf.
“Where can he be?” McGonagall cried out in frustration.
“He could be standing over there,” stated Remus as he pointed at the raven-haired youth.
McGonagall spent the next better part of an hour yelling at Harry and Hermione. She was considering ‘tar and feather’-ing them when Albus finally spoke up.
“Don’t be too harsh on them, Minerva,” the painting pleaded.
“Why not?” Minerva cleverly retorted.
“It is my fault that Harry and Hermione are here,” said Albus.
“What?” Minerva screeched. “You left us explicit orders that Potter wasn’t to leave that house until he turned seventeen!”
“It is quite funny, actually,” chuckled Albus. “You see, I forgot about the sword.”
The deceased Headmaster explained to the new Headmistress about the Sword of Gryffindor, but left out any reference to the Horcruxes.
“Well, how did Harry know to come and get the sword?” Minerva asked. “You certainly couldn’t have written to him.”
“I sent a ghost to him.”
“Oh? Which one?”
“Godric Gryffindor.”
“Oh, Albus, you didn’t. Not Gryffindor,” stated Minerva sternly.
“I couldn’t convince any of the others to do it for me.” Albus defended.
“Professor, you know about Gryffindor’s… er tendencies?” Hermione asked.
“Yes, I’ve had the pleasure…” Minerva said the word like it was some contemptuous thing, “… to meet him whilst I was showering four years ago. The scoundrel had offered to towel me off, but his offer specifically excluded using a towel!
“Did he say something to trouble you, my dear?” Minerva asked Hermione upon noticing the young witch’s embarrassment.
“No ma’am!” Hermione replied a little too vehemently.
“I suppose you want me to return to my Aunt’s house now,” Harry said in a defeated tone.
“It is now an impossibility, Potter. Your relatives have kicked you out,” McGonagall informed him. “We found out you weren’t in the house when your uncle started to chuck your things out your now-former bedroom window.”
Remus walked up to Harry and handed him his school trunk which had been shrunk to the size of a matchbox. “Don’t worry, I picked up your things,” the former Marauder said.
“And seeing the late hour, you two can spend the night in your old dormitories,” McGonagall said, dismissing the two teens.
Harry and Hermione stopped by the kitchen for some supper. Harry was famished; he ate almost as fast as the House-Elves were able to put food in front of him. He was stuffing his face with meat pies, kippers, white beans and toast, and other disgusting examples of English cuisine.
“Harry, something’s been bothering me,” said Hermione after she finished her meal. Harry turned his attention to his pretty friend while sampling some Plowman’s Lunch. “Even if we do destroy the Horcruxes, you’ll still have to face Voldemort.”
Harry suddenly no longer felt hungry.
“I mean he is the most powerful wizard alive,” Hermione continued. “We’re just kids! We have to find a way to learn useful skills quickly.”
“What do you suggest?” asked Harry.
“It’s time for a good old fashion Library visit,” Hermione finished with a happy smile.
After spending four hours reading various books on various subjects, Harry groaned as he threw another book down.
“I can’t read another word,” Harry declared irritably. “I think my eyes are going to melt out of my head!”
Not only were his eyes sore, but his ‘bits’ were still sore as well. He had tried several times to find an excuse to go off to the loo and relieve himself, but couldn’t come up with a reasonable excuse to be absent for several minutes, leaving Hermione alone researching a way to keep him alive.
“Alright, let’s take a break from reading,” Hermione said and closed the overly large tome in front of her. “Did you find anything useful?”
“I did come across something,” said Harry as he sat down and tried to inconspicuously rearrange ‘Harry, Jr.’ and his luggage. “What about using a Time Turner to arrange some extra training time?”
“Actually, I read up on some case studies of that when I used the Time Turner in our third year,” Hermione explained. “It seems a number of wizards have tried this, but for some reason, after they have used the Time Turner for a period of time, they simply cease to exist!”
“They cease to exist?” That little nugget caught Harry’s attention.
“Yes, it’s as if the ‘powers that be’ lose interest and move on to different things,” Hermione added, “completely abandoning the wizard who used the Time Turner.”
“Well, I don’t want to cease to exist!” Harry exclaimed. “How about you? Did you come up with any ideas?
“I did come across something interesting in this book,” Hermione stated as she reopened the large book in front of her. “There is a way for us to travel to another dimension. Time moves differently there so for every day that passes here, a year will have occurred in the other dimension, so we could literally study seven years while only a week has passed here.”
“Great! How do we get there?” Harry asked as he tried to surreptitiously adjust himself once more in vain attempt for comfort.
“Let me see…” Hermione paused as she skimmed over the pages in the book. “Oh, wait, they’re a few complications.”
“Like what?”
“It seems that the people in the other dimension have a bizarre quirk regarding names; we’d have to call you ‘Paul’ for some outlandish reason. We also have to dye you hair blonde as well as getting rid of your glasses,” Hermione paused again and her face fell. “And the other MAJOR complication is that when the people return to their normal dimension, they tend to have some kind of nervous breakdown.”
“What d’you mean?”
“It appears that they wake up one day and believe their experiences in the other dimension are just a dream and they forget every thing they had learned!” Hermione declared in disgust, and pushed the heavy tome off the table which landed on the floor with a thud. “I have just wasted the past four hours!”
“Damnit!” Harry shouted and stood up. He began pacing back and forth while unconsciously trying to readjust himself. Luckily, Harry had had his back toward Hermione when this happened.
“Well, we’ll just have to cram, study as much as humanly possible,” Hermione stated and Harry coughed. Her definition of ‘humanly possible’ was completely different than Harry’s. Or any other human Harry had ever met. “But we’re probably going to have to stay here at the castle; it does have the most extensive library in Europe, after all. I’ll ask McGonagall in the morning if we can stay.”
Harry continued to pace and adjust; this time right in front of Hermione.
“Harry, how close were you?” Hermione asked, noticing her friend’s discomfort.
“To what?” asked Harry.
“How close were you to… um… climaxing?” Hermione added with a slight blush.
“Wha… wha… what?” Harry stuttered in shock at the directness of Hermione’s question. “How what to what-what-ing?”
“Earlier today, how close were you to… well, cumming?” Hermione smiled as she felt her face heat up.
“Well… I… ah… um…” Harry sighed and forced himself to drop his embarrassment. “Let’s just say one more stroke and I would’ve been a happy man.”
“One stroke! You were that close?” Hermione asked, a bit shocked herself. “Oh, you poor thing, it must be terribly uncomfortable for you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Harry waving her concern off. “I just need some ‘alone-time’ to take care of it.”
Biting her lip, Hermione stood up and walked over to Harry. She took his hands in hers, and without saying a word, led him to the empty spot on the table when the discarded heavy tome once was.
“Sit,” Hermione commanded.
“Hermione, you don’t have to,” Harry said as he felt the blood leave his upper brain. He then added under his breath; “That is, if you don’t want to.”
“Ever the gentleman, Mr. Potter,” Hermione said. “Now, sit!”
Harry sat on the hard desk and felt ‘Harry, Jr.’ begin to stir. Hermione cupped Harry’s face and kissed his lips. It wasn’t as frantic or desperate as their kisses were earlier in the day, but it was far more stimulating and more passionate. His lips burned as their mouths played with each other. He could taste her on his tongue, and it was intoxicating. His hand traveled up from her hip and caressed her breast through the fabric of her blouse and bra. Damn blouse! God-Damn Bra!
Hermione’s hands also traveled, but they traveled south whereas Harry’s had gone north. Her hands stopped to playfully tweak his nipples. Harry felt aroused, and a pang of jealousy brought on by the pinch of Hermione’s fingers: ‘If she can play with my nipples, why can’t I play with hers? Lousy Damn blouse! Lousy God‑Damn Bra!’
It was at this moment that ‘Harry, Jr.’ completely woke up. He started shouting, “Hey, hey, what about me? Don’t forget about me! I’m right down here!”
It was as if Hermione had heard the organ’s pleas. Her hands left Harry’s chest, and in a few deft moves, freed /’Harry, Jr.’/. Suddenly, as she gripped his member, Hermione stopped kissing Harry. He was about to ask her why she had stopped kissing him, when his upper brain shut down due to Hermione’s next action. She knelt in front of him. The only cognitive thought in Harry’s mind was, ‘Eep!’
The frizzy-haired witch leaned forward and tentatively licked ‘Harry, Jr.’/. He gripped the edge of the table and let out a low moan. Once again, /’Harry, Jr.’ shed a tear of joy.
“I’ve heard Lavender and Parvati talk about this, but I’ve never done it,” Hermione said as she gently stroked ‘Harry, Jr.’. “So tell me if I’m not doing it properly.”
Harry had never had this happen to him, so he had no experience in it either. But with the little experience he just received, he felt fairly confident when he asked Hermione, “There’s an improper way to do it?”
“Yes, there is. I could use my teeth,” she replied while smiling up at him.
“Point taken.”
Hermione started to orally stimulate ‘Harry, Jr.’, her head bobbed up and down while her tongue twirled this way and that over his sensitive flesh. Hermione’s deliciously warm mouth was beyond description. Her saliva coated his manhood as her tongue and lips traced every bump and vein on Harry’s shaft. Harry’s vision became blurred and his breathing labored in a short matter of time. His hands found their way into Hermione’s hair as she bobbed her head up and down rhythmically on /’Harry, Jr.’/. Just when Harry couldn’t conceive how the sensation could get any better, Hermione started humming a jaunty little tune. It was quite possible that Harry had started to gurgle out of pleasure.
Normally, when a man was in the situation that Harry was in, he wouldn’t have cared to notice what tune the woman was humming. But it was a familiar tune that had burned into Harry’s mind at an early age. It was from a film that his aunt had made him watch over and over when he was a child because the insipid Dudley liked it so. A little girl with very curly hair was the star, and the song that Hermione was humming while performing fellatio on Harry was sung by that little girl in the film. Harry couldn’t remember the entire song or the title (right now he was having trouble remembering to breathe), but he did remember one bit in particular. This bit of the song played over and over in his head as Hermione continued at her task.
“On the (something)-(something) lollipop, it’s a sweet trip to a candy shop. Where the bon-bons play, on the sunny beach…”
Harry tried desperately to get the asinine, childish song out of his head and concentrate on more important things. Things like Hermione going down on him! Damn Aunt Petunia for making him watch a movie with such a stupid song…
Then Harry felt the build up and shortly thereafter, the release. With a grunt and groan, Harry became a happy man, a very happy man as he shot his seed into Hermione’s mouth. However, Hermione wasn’t a happy woman. On the contrary, she was very unhappy. She spent the next several minutes coughing, gagging, and spitting into a waste bin. In-between various gags, coughs, and spits, she would hiss at Harry menacingly; “Next time… warn me!”
The two teens left the library and headed to the Gryffindor Common Room, only speaking once in a while. And then only talking politely about trivial and inconsequential things. After they said their ‘good-nights,’ Harry felt a bit guilty about Hermione’s discomfort; next time he would warn her so it wouldn’t happen again. Harry immediately felt hope spring up in his chest, ‘Next time!’ Hermione had clearly used the phrase “next time!”
To be continued!

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