Illithid

by Hpreaderboiii

Original author is The Evil Guy

1. Hermione

First:

Harry had disappeared after his seventeenth birthday. Nobody knew what had happened, nobody could explain it. He'd woken up the same old Harry, ecstatic he could now use magic without consequence, they'd had a party and everything, even Percy and the Minister showed up to celebrate, so to speak. Professor Dumbledore had popped by and left a few gifts, a couple even for Hermione and Ron and one in particular for Harry; the first Snitch he'd ever caught.

Then they'd all gone to bed, not suspecting a thing. The next morning, Harry wasn't in his bed. His trunk and clothes and all his gifts were gone. Every trace of him had been removed from the Burrow.

The Order searched high and low for him, but no one, not even Dumbledore had anything they could track him with. It wasn't long before it became clear to the rest of the Wizarding World that the Boy Who Lived had gone missing. The Death Eaters and their minions also searched for Harry, but in the end they had as little luck as the Order.

Speaking of whom, the Order was forced to change their HQ, and instead had started meeting at different safe houses around the country. Nobody was quite clear as to why they no longer had an HQ, only that they could no longer access it. Or find it. Or remember where it was.

As for the Death Eaters, they put so much effort into finding Harry Potter that they, that their leader Lord Voldemort, had to delay several major plans until it was certain that he could not be found. Therefore, come September 1st, Ron and Hermione boarded the Hogwarts Express alongside the other Seventh Year students. The only student missing from the train in fact was Harry Potter. There was no attack by the Death Eaters on the Ministry that summer, there was no coupe. That was put off for a very specific and special anniversary.

October 31st, All Hallows Eve, the anniversary of the night the Boy Who Lived defeated the Dark Lord, soon became better known as the night of the Dark Lord's triumph. The students at Hogwarts had no clue anything had changed until the next morning and the announcement in the Daily Prophet. Over night, quite literally, the Death Eaters had overthrown the Ministry and taken over, wiping out or subverting any and all resistance from within it. The D.A., or the remnants of it anyway, immediately rallied and sought to begin the Resistance from within Hogwarts. Unfortunately, despite Dumbledore having 'found positions' and side-stepped previous legislation, said legislation was still in full effect regarding the Ministry's ability to interfere at Hogwarts.

The new High Inquisitor and other Ministry appointed posts at the school soon had any chance of a Resistance nipped in the bud before anything could have begun. The Order, however, soon struck back and enforced something that hadn't been truly enforced since the Ministry was first formed. The Oaths of the Office. In short, instead of doing what they wanted, even those Imperiused or otherwise controlled, if a wizard or witch held a position in the Ministry, no matter that position, their magic forced them to now fulfill the spirit of that position towards the people of Magical Britain. All people, no discrimination allowed.

Almost instantly, every new law the new regime had passed, they immediately had to revoke and outlaw, having literally no choice. Thus, the Order had maintained the status quo and found themselves at a stalemate with the Death Eaters, as while Lord Voldemort had taken no oath, he was a Lord and every key member of the Ministry was magically indentured to him, tying him to their oaths just the same as they could not disobey any order he gave them, and they could not follow the orders he wanted to give. To do so would put the Oaths to Office and Oaths to him into conflict, and given that those of the Office had been in existence across multiple generations for hundreds of years, there was no chance the Oaths to him would last. To give any order that opposed the Oaths of Office would be to cost him every single one of those servants, and regardless of how truly loyal to him they were, the magical backlash of broken Oaths was well documented, and the source of the broken Oath was destroyed utterly by those once bound by the Oath.

Stalemate indeed.

The only benefit the Death Eaters found from their occupation was that they no longer had to bribe to get out of the punishments the law required. The Order saw no such benefit and continued to work as they always had. The D.A. created their Resistance upon graduating and most of that years graduates joined the Order, while those in privileged families or Slytherin joined the Ministry/Death Eaters.

As the year passed, with no sign of Harry Potter, and clear evidence the Dark Lord had returned and was the one in power, despite how little had truly changed, people began to lose hope. Thus, with the opportunity this provided, the Death Eaters began to look for loopholes in their Oaths and make the changes they truly wanted to their world. Though outright persecution was not an option, they could create new punishments for the 'crimes' that existed and decide who got taxed at what rate.

The Order/Resistance were declared outlaws, and sent straight to Azkaban if caught. As were any muggleborn offenders, whether it be for being late on a tax payment to outright murder. For Purebloods, on the other hand, murder was served with community service, usually doing their day jobs for the Ministry that they get paid for. In other words, no actual punishment.

Amidst this time of ordered chaos, Hermione Granger sent her parents away and moved in with the Weasleys. Ginny, Luna, and a number of other younger students that had completed their OWLs, dropped out of Hogwarts. One only needed NEWTs if they wanted a job in the Ministry anyway, it was argued. The new regime could do nothing about this, though the 'freelance' Death Eaters did their best to... discourage such choices.

In that, the Resistance found its true calling, as the Order could do little more than work against the Death Eaters through acquiring information and sowing disinformation. They were not the Aurors and they couldn't respond quickly to any threat that came to their attention. The Resistance, however, they were young, brash, and more than willing to fight the Death Eaters no matter what it took.

Of course that was just to fill their days with something to do, as the former DA had a primary objective, a goal they held above all others. Finding Harry, and figuring out what had happened to him.

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Hermione was out shopping. At a grocery store to be generally specific. Diagon Alley was no longer safe for her. In all honesty, it probably wasn't safe for anyone anymore, but especially not a well-known member of the Resistance. She was gathering basic supplies for their current hideout, food, soap, clothes, etc. A bit of gold went a long way at the local exchange, especially when it was raw unprocessed gold, which was the only thing a galleon was worth these days, given how the goblins had closed down Gringotts until the strife was over.

It was a different situation than Hermione had expected upon graduating from Hogwarts. For one, she'd expected to be Head Girl and graduating top of her class, and had often daydreamed of going into the Ministry of Magic and becoming the Minister for Magic within a year. Obviously, none of that had happened.

She had not been Head Girl. She had gotten EE's in her classes, despite achieving O's on every one of her NEWTs. And she was Undesirable#3, right after Neville, and somehow Harry, despite having been missing for over a year ago, who was still #1. She missed Harry.

That was what they were doing actually. She, Ginny, Luna, Neville and Ron were all out on their own looking for Harry. They were staying in Harry's old house on Privet Drive, despite it no longer having functioning wards, the Death Eaters still avoided it like they were there. Hermione, being the only muggleborn, was responsible for filling the cabinets and whatnot with food and other supplies. Ginny and Ron were responsible for cooking the meals, not surprising that they'd both learned a few things from their mother over the years, Ron especially. Neville was responsible for maintaining their line of communication to the Wizarding World open, as the member of an Ancient and Noble Family, he had certain entitlements and protections they could employ that otherwise they could not. Luna was the one in charge of finding that which did not want to be found, that could not be found. She was the one leading their search for Harry.

Hermione got off the bus and started walking toward the grocery store she'd been going to since she was a young child. It galled her to find out that she and Harry hadn't truly lived far apart at all. That a bus ride could take her to the same store she used to ride her bicycle to and from for some candy.

She never saw the spell that stunned her, she was too focused on the internal list of what she needed to get and how much it would cost and how much they could afford. She had merely been walking down the alley between the bus stop and the street the store was on, an alley she'd ridden down on her bicycle hundreds if not thousands of times before, and before she was halfway down, a cloaked figure with a familiar face walked past her, and then before she could turn all the way around to see who it was, she blacked out, hit with a stunner.

The cloaked figure caught her in the same motion in which she had been stunned and spun them around, vanishing with a soft pop of Apparition.

Back at the hideout, the others didn't even begin to suspect something was wrong until two days later when Ron noticed they were out of food. Each were too involved in their own matters to pay much attention to the coming and going of the others.

Nevertheless, though they suspected, they didn't begin to truly worry until they confirmed Hermione had not been seen for more than a week. They suspected she'd somehow been captured by either the Death Eaters or the Ministry, and never once thought to check the local neighborhood for Apparition signatures, not that it would have done any good by then.

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When she came to, all she saw was darkness. At first she suspected she was blindfolded, but reaching up with her hands, she felt that was not the case. Reaching around, she felt cold concrete beneath her, and against her back was a very solid wall of what felt like iron. She patted herself down, and realized with a frown after a moment that whoever had taken her had removed her wand and the emergency portkey she'd created as well as her DA coin. Strangely though, her wallet and all the money she'd put in it for shopping was still there. That forced her to consider the possibility she was being held by the Ministry, as they were the only ones that kidnapped people off the street, took the wand and all magic items, but left a considerable sum of money, and the Death Eaters, well they would want her to know who took her, to enhance the fear.

Slowly, blindly, she reached out and began to trace the confines of her prison. When she reached the first corner, she back-traced it to where she started from until she reached the next corner and went on from there. When she'd finished the complete circuit, she frowned, not that any could see it. She was in a square room, and there was no door. Or window, or slot, or even alcove, just the same straight ninety degree right angle between cement floor and iron walls.

Recalling an old story about a similar situation as this, she was very cautious when reaching out into the middle of the box she was in. Thankfully there was no bottomless pit filled with spikes at the center. Instead, she confirmed that she was indeed in a cube-like cell that was absolutely pitch black. How she knew there were no windows or doors was that in the time that she'd been awake, her eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness that she could see quite clearly there was no light in her cell here. No crack under the door, no outline of a window, no beam of light fitting through a crack in the wall to the outside.

The cube was exactly three meters by three meters by three meters, putting the ceiling well beyond her reach. For a prison cell, it was rather spacious but that was mostly because she was the only occupant and there was absolutely nothing in here but herself.

Pacing around a bit, she tested the walls, the floor, and all the corners that she could reach, seeking some weakness or way out. She found none. Well, the floor did slope down lightly toward the center, where there was what she felt was a drain, but a small slitted grill was welded over top of it, so only fluids would be leaving that way. Furthermore, when she knocked on them, the walls did not echo, in fact the sound pretty much stopped at the point of where she knocked. That scared her as much as the darkness did. It meant there were no hollow spaces behind or around the other side of the walls. That could only be achieved with no less than a solid foot of additional material. Solid material. Like more cement, or worse... earth.

So either she was in a very solid prison... that wizards had no comprehension nor reason to build... or she was buried underground...

"Hello?" she called out. "Can anybody hear me? Hello? HELLO!"

She kept screaming for several minutes. In the dark, she had no way of keeping track of the passing time, so she couldn't say for how long exactly. When her throat got sore she stopped, only shouting again when the fear overrode whatever amount of pain and discomfort her body felt.

An infinity later, which in fact was really just one hour following her return to consciousness, she began begging for help, cursing the ones who had taken her, and crying intermittently. She kept that up until the fear and depression overcame what anger she was feeling, and then she just sobbed in the corner until her tears dried up. After that, she just sat, staring into the dark, trying to think of something to do, her emotions having run their course, her brain took over.

Unfortunately, she came to the same conclusion every time. Without more data, without something to work with, there was nothing she could do. She didn't even know who had taken her! She had gone over the last memory she had, the memory of the attack over and over and over again until she could identify everything about the alley, the street, and everything she had encountered down to the smallest noticeable detail. All she knew was the cloaked figure was exactly that, wearing a full-body length black cloak with the hood pulled up, and some kind of ski mask or scarf covering his face.

Well, she had at least some hope, she concluded, making plans. They had to feed her and so far she had found no source of water, so they should be providing her with something for that basic human need as well. Once she had at least a glimpse of how they delivered those basic necessities, then she could see about getting more information. And information was key. The more she knew about who had her, the better she could make plans for escaping. So, for right now, those plans were to wait for the opportunity to learn more.

Boredom eventually set in and she started to pace again, but mostly just to have something to do. Before too long (AN: half an hour), she had moved about her cell enough that she had memorized every inch of it by touch alone. Sitting in the exact center above the drain, she closed her eyes, if only to pretend to escape the pervasive darkness of her situation, and recalled some of her favorite books, reading through them anew. Eventually that too became tedious, but she had nothing else to do. The only sound in the black room was the sounds she made, and being so confined there wasn't exactly an echo to play games with.

Eventually, (AN: 6 hours after awakening) she began to feel hungry. She wondered when they would deliver the food. Not long after that, she noticed she was getting really thirsty, her mouth getting dry and her lips cracking a bit. Soon exhaustion crept up on her and she fell asleep on the cement floor.

When she awoke next, her stomach was a gnawing sensation of emptiness and her throat was sore from how dry her mouth and lips had become. She also had a headache that had nothing to do with tension. Seeing that she was still in the pitch black room, Hermione felt around for a food tray or water bucket, something to indicate that she hadn't been forgotten. She panicked when she found nothing but the same four walls and floor, and no trace of anyone or anything having come or gone.

She screamed and begged until her voice actually gave out and even to whisper hurt. After that, she passed out again. The next time she came to, she was in worse shape than ever. Everything hurt, and her hunger was so all-consuming she couldn't think of anything else but getting something into her stomach. Her voice was still shot, so she tried banging on the walls, not that it made much, if any difference. The room was sound-proofed as effectively as a silencing spell. But it was something to do, to drive her will to survive, to keep her mind occupied.

She had long since lost track of how long she'd been in the darkness. Eventually she began to suspect that she'd been born in the darkness and the real world - the world of light and color that she remembered - that was all a dream she'd had. She was getting confused, dehydration and hunger making her see and hear and think things that were not her. She thought she heard whispers. She had a hallucination that Harry had found her and rescued her and then carried her off to be his bride. Finding herself still in the black cell when she woke up, she cried anew.

She fell asleep, exhausted, hungry, thirsty, certain that it would be for the last time. She was wasting away. Cast into the earth and forgotten. She hoped the others forgave her... for giving... up...

SLAM!*

Hermione startled awake, barely able to jump she was so weak. There had been a noise. A loud noise. It had woken her up. She couldn't even raise her head, but there was light. The light was so bright it hurt, she squeezed her eyes shut and wouldn't open them, even when she heard/felt/sensed a thud up above her.

Another sound, a whisper that she couldn't understand, and suddenly she was moving, only she wasn't doing the moving! Somebody had hit her with a levitation spell and was lifting her up out of her cell!

"Who... who... are... you...?" she tried to ask, her voice broken and her throat and mouth dry, her lips cracked and bleeding.

Either the person levitating her didn't hear or ignored her. She was left in the light, and after a few moments she realized the light probably wasn't even that bright, but it still hurt and she left her eyes shut.

Somebody touched her.

Screaming with strength she didn't know she had, she tried to back away. Nothing had touched her in three days and to be surprised like that was as painful as the light after the darkness. Whoever it was didn't relent, grabbing her and not allowing her to squirm out of their grip. She was too weak to do anything about it anyway.

The hand, covered in a warm leather glove as it was, clearly was a man's hand. He grabbed the front of her blouse and didn't bother with the buttons, probably unable to work them anyway with the gloves on, and tore it. She screamed again, but couldn't stop it. Her four day old blouse was methodically torn open at each button and then cut at the seams and taken off her. Her pants were also taken apart, cut along the seams and torn from her body, leaving her in just her underwear and shoes.

Rather than continue to strip and humiliate her, the man stood up and dragged her by her hair across the cement floor, she couldn't see where. After a relatively short distance, he dropped her again, but she was still to weak to do anything other than lay there while he worked at something above her. Once he had finished doing whatever he was doing, he reached down and cut the straps and between the cups of her bra, and then just outright tore her panties from her body with his gloved hand, not bothering with cutting the straps first. She cried out in pain.

Then, bending down, shielding her from the light slightly with his body enough for her to see that he was wearing black robes... no, not robes. A smock, a black oiled leather smock like butchers sometimes wore. Just before the light blinded her again, she caught the barest glimpse of his face, but all she could remember after was that he was white skinned, and had green eyes.

He picked her up and put her down onto something. Whatever it was, it was the most comfortable thing she could ever remember being put on, but her mind was still very confused. In going over her memories later on, she would come to realize she'd been placed on a soft leather padded gynecologist chair. She was distinctly aware when her wrists and arms were strapped in binding cuffs, leather with sheepskin lining.

Her bum was then pulled forward so she was completely exposed and sitting in open air it felt like, while her legs were put into sheepskin lined braces and strapped as tight as her arms before being spread as wide as her weakened body could allow. Then he moved over behind the chair and pulled the headrest back until her head was as far back as it could go, before likewise being strapped in place.

Once she was secured and couldn't have moved even if she were at full strength, he forced open her mouth. She didn't bother fighting him, she didn't know what he was going to do but she didn't have the energy to waste as it was. He stuck a mouth prop into her jaw, wedging it open so she couldn't close it even if she tried. He then used a wooden tongue depressor to hold her tongue in place while he methodically shoved a tube down her throat, working the muscles and organ in her throat to make sure it went down her esophagus and not to her lungs. She gagged involuntarily a couple times, but her body had long since consumed all the food she might have used to regurgitate. It was... an odd sensation, feeling the tub go down into her body until she felt it come to rest somewhere in her abdominal area, she assumed her stomach.

By now her eyes had adjusted enough that she could at least squint them open, getting vague, shadowy, blurry images. She saw the end of the tube hanging out of her open mouth and a stone ceiling and from her current position that was all she could see. Then he moved a dentist lamp and focused it on her eyes. She moaned and shut her eyes in pain.

He'd moved down to her exposed nether regions again. She would have blushed in embarrassment if she wasn't so furious with this person that was violating her so thoroughly. Then he went even further by putting something cold and waxy on her asshole. It wasn't until he began working some of the strange and cold substance into her sphincter that she realized what it was; lubrication. She moaned around her gag yet again, tears pooling at her eyes but lacking enough hydration to properly fall.

He continued to work the lube into her bum, stretching her out bit by bit until it felt like he was fitting two whole gloved fingers up inside her. She whimpered and moaned throughout the whole experience. Finally he removed himself and stepped away. There was the sound of something on small wheels being rolled closer, but the light kept her blinded. He returned to her nether region and this time began to work something smaller than a finger into her, but just as foreign and invasive. It wasn't until it kept going far past where his fingers could reach that she recognized the invasion. Though it had been years since, you never forget the sensation of an enema.

The hard plastic tube was pushed in until it would go no further, quite painfully too. Then there was the sound of something being turned and a gush of water, and she felt the warm water begin to flood her insides, making her feel like she really had to go.

Moving quickly now, he brought over another stand on wheels and attached something to the feeding tube coming out of her mouth. The light was still too bright for her to make out what it was. He stepped away for a time, leaving her there under the blinding light, her insides being filled from both ends. At least what was going into her stomach was making her feel better, she noticed that immediately. Without the taste she couldn't be sure, but the results were the same as what some health potions can do, based on her observations and care under the Hogwarts School Nurse. Her head began to clear, no longer confused or hurting from dehydration and hunger, but it didn't change her circumstances.

He returned and brought over a couple more lights around her head, only instead of just being bright, these flashed. Strobe lights she recognized after a few moments. It made concentrating or trying to see anything beyond the light above her all but impossible. While she was being filled like a water balloon, and blinded flashing lights, he kept busy.

She felt it on her feet at first, but there was nothing she could do to see or find out what he was doing to her. A few moments later, he put it on her legs. It was some kind of liquid, and he was slathering it all over her. He moved up her legs, rubbing it in and making sure every inch of her was covered before moving on. He was careful not to dislodge the enema when he came to that part of her anatomy, but still made sure that her backside and that hidden by the seat and straps he'd placed her into was as covered as the rest of her. He finished by taking a bucket or some other container of the liquid and pouring it in a never ending stream, soaking her face and hair with it. She couldn't even turn her head to avoid it going up her nostrils, nearly drowning on the stuff. When he finally stopped tormenting her, she was flooded with the scent of whatever it was he covered her with. She couldn't recognize it, but for some reason it reminded her of the beach, in particular the beaches she'd visited in France with her family after her First Year at Hogwarts.

From his point of view, she was sure, she probably looked quite fetching. Naked, skin aglow with whatever this was, the potion restoring at least the appearance of health to her skin and muscles, and the enema making her belly fill out and bulge slightly. She had never wanted to kill someone so badly before in her life.

When the enema bag had finally emptied, he replaced it with another. By the time he had covered her from head to toe with the oil or whatever it was, he had also replaced the bag twice and she was only now finishing up her third. She moaned in pain when he prodded her stomach, moving the warm fluid around inside her. Seemingly satisfied, he did not bother replacing the bag a third time. Instead he cut off what had been feeding into her mouth and began the slow, exacting process of removing the feeding tube. He left the mouth prop in though, taking apart the enema and removing the tube from inside her, only then did he take it out and began unstrapping her.

Working her jaw, she did not immediately speak. He hadn't spoken to her, and in all honesty, despite the potion, her throat was still sore from screaming days earlier. Besides, she really had to go, and it was all she could do just to keep it from spewing out all over this monster, not that he didn't deserve it. She just couldn't allow herself to do something so shameful.

He picked her up from the chair, but not the same way he'd put her there. Now that she was out of the lights, she saw that she was in a basement like structure, orbs of artificial light that could be equally magical or electrical, she couldn't say without a more thorough examination, and he wasn't allowing her that. He was pointing a wand... her wand!... and she was floating up out of the chair and across the open space. She saw her destination, even as her body rotated and moved on its own, keeping her arms and legs tight together. It was a steel shunted trap door, and it was a foot lower than the rest of the floor, and next to it was a square slab of cement that was apparently made to fit into the square where the trap door was.

"Please..." she gasped as she was floated around so she would be going in feet first through the trap door, "...no...oh please no, not again!"

He ignored her and lowered her with no preamble. The moment her head was past the trap door, it slammed shut in her face and she fell the remaining three feet to the floor of her pitch black cell. She heard the same slamming noise that had awoken her, and she knew that she had been sealed in. Without magic, there was no way to get out. She had no way of escaping on her own and she still had no clue who her captor even was!

"Oh goddess!" she cried, bending over, holding her stomach. She couldn't hold it in anymore. He knew this would happen, that is why he rushed. Bastard!

Making sure she was centered over the drain, Hermione finally let it go, allowing the contents of her guts to come roaring out as she squatted over a hole in the floor of her cell. The smell was awful and overpowered the lingering scent of that stuff he'd smeared on her. It seemed, in the end, to be too much for the little drain and soon it was pooling at her feet. But still it came out, and it hurt more to hold it in than it disgusted her to be sitting in her own waste.

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Three days later, because that was the pattern wasn't it - leaving her to rot until she had almost died of thirst and starvation and bring her out just to keep her alive with the bare minimum, the hatch was slammed open and she was taken out of the stench that her universe had become into the sweet smelling hell as he pulled her out of the hole, before dragging her back to the chair for the same treatment as before.

He hadn't bothered redressing her, but she was filthy. Sitting in a shit-filled room with no ventilation will do that to a person. So while he still dragged her by her hair, he took her over to another drain in the floor and cast silent magic at her that scraped with the first casting, scratched with the second, and burned with the third, fourth and fifth ones. She recognized the signs of Scourgify, even though it had been silently cast.

She was dragged back to the chair, still blinded by the light, but this time instead of letting her recover, he started the strobe and dentist lights before inserting the mouth prop and enema. He put another three bags in her, visibly distending her stomach, while simultaneously pumping some magic potion into her that was reversing and even negating the damage of starvation and dehydration upon her without actually feeding her anything or giving her enough water to properly survive. She should have lost three quarters of her weight by now, but with the potion being pumped down her throat, she looked well-fed, well-rested, and not dehydrated at all! In fact, her breasts were fuller than she could remember them ever being, though she only knew that by feel rather than sight.

Then she was dropped back in the hole for another three days. She pleaded with him the same as before, saying "Please" and "No" over and over again, begging him, but he ignored her and put her back in. At least he'd cast Scourgify on her cell as well, came the passing thought as she shat the place up again.

Three days later, dying of thirst, she was pulled from the hole again, dragged, cleaned, dragged, put in the chair, force fed a potion, given enemas - four this time, and covered in some kind of slime or lotion that somehow kept her from getting sick by lying in her own shit. It was the only explanation that made sense to her addled mind. After the enemas were complete, she was disconnected, levitated and dropped back into the hole despite her begging.

The cycle repeated another five times, by the end of which, Hermione could barely remember her own last name. Her primary existence was in the hole, in the darkness, where nothing but she and her thoughts existed, interspersed by moments of pain and humiliation that had long since overwritten her more pleasant memories to keep her going through it all. She may not have been broken, but she was well and truly on her way.

The seventh time she was dragged from her darkness, resuscitated, and about to be put back, she didn't bother begging or saying anything. Except, just as he was about to put her back in the hole, she asked him one question, one word.

"Why?" she croaked as her feet started down into the hole.

She stopped. He was hesitating. But he said nothing, did nothing else. She continued her descent after his hesitation was over and she spent the next hour shitting out the contents of the five bags he'd put inside her. At least by this point it was all fluid and didn't smell nearly so bad as the first time. Having been put on a liquid died of enema water and potions, Hermione doubted there was anything solid left inside her to come out.

In the darkness, after she was finally able to sit without cramping, she felt around to see what had changed about her this time. Aside from the slime lotion he put on her, the potion seemed to be doing something to her. It wasn't until after the third treatment that she'd definitely noticed her breasts were fuller. Now, after number seven, she hefted them in her hands and they actually filled her palms and fingers. She was no expert, but from what she remembered of doing her own clothes shopping, she must have grown a full cup size!

Further examination revealed that other changes had occurred to other parts of her anatomy. Ever since she was thirteen, she'd had to cast the shaving charm on her legs each morning as part of getting ready for the day. When she and Ron started... dating in Sixth Year, she'd applied the same to other parts, just in case, though he still hadn't gotten to see. And probably never would now, she thought sullenly.

Regardless, both her legs and pubic hair were devoid of stubble or the hair that should be growing there. That wasn't all, she discovered almost by accident. Humans have hair everywhere, it is a fact of biology. With the exception of her scalp, which was silky smooth as opposed to rough and bushy and dry like it usually was, she could not feel so much as a whisker or bit of stubble anywhere that the slime lotion had been put on her. Her arms, her underarms, her eyebrows! All completely bare, like a newborn.

Strangely, as it was usually hair that made sensations more acute, her skin was more... sensitive than she could ever recall it being. Perhaps it was the sensory deprivation, her addled mind conjured up, but everything felt... more. So when, in her feeling the changes to her anatomy, her fingertips brushed against her crinkled and very hard nipples, she could be excused for the gasp that escaped her as the rush of pleasure gushed through her.

She resolved not to do that again, but that only lasted until her examinations reached her hairless vagina and labia. She kept the pretense of lying to herself up until her thumb 'accidentally' flicked over her clitoris, and after that she could no longer deny the fact that she was masturbating there in the dark in a hole in the ground that smelled like a sewer. The smell was hardly even noticeable after the second week.

Rubbing her vagina and labia until she was wet enough to make sloshing noises with each rub, and massaging her breasts while pinching and pulling at her nipples soon has the young witch gasping and moaning in the dark. The few times she has done this before, it was usually sparked and enhanced via a fantasy of some sort. Harry on his broom catching the Snitch, Ron when he was kissing her, and a few celebrities she'd seen scantily clad over the years, things like that.

This was the first time that she could recall that she began masturbating just because of how good it felt!

After everything she's been through recently, she decided that she needed some good feelings, despite the circumstances. So she continued to play with her pussy and tits, enjoying the feelings while she could.

Soon, she put a finger up inside herself, tightly pinching her left nipple at the same time. "Aaahhhh!" she cried out, unable to restrain herself to moans and gasps any longer. It felt so good!

Facing the corner, she got up on her knees into her favorite position to masturbate in, although it was usually a great deal more comfortable with the bed mattress to cushion her knees. That didn't matter anymore as she reached around behind her and poked two fingers into her dripping pussy with one hand, and reached from beneath to keep pressure and rubbing on her clit. Her face stayed in the corner, but despite the potion her muscles were not strong enough to keep her upright for long, so she allowed her weight to fall to her shoulders, sticking her bum higher up into the air and arching her back enticingly. For the first time since this whole thing began, Hermione was grateful her cell was pitch black with no light whatsoever. It meant nobody could spy on her or see her in such a position.

She couldn't keep track of time as it passed, the only thing she could keep track of was how her body felt. She gave herself a quick, fast orgasm to take off the edge, but it had the opposite effect, making her skin and everything more sensitive! She kept rubbing at her upraised pussy and plunging her depths from behind with her fingers, occasionally teasing herself by rubbing against her rosebud. She even slipped her thumb up her bum to push herself over the edge, a scream pulled from her throat as the full body orgasm left her tingling and exhausted after it was finally through with her, feeling like several eternities, but was actually somewhere around two to three minutes.

Totally drained and tired from both her ordeal and self pleasure, she allowed herself to fall the rest of the way to the floor and fell asleep.

111lll111

Hermione regained consciousness slowly, like waking up from a long nightmarish dream. She was no longer in the dark, she realized squinting even from the low level light, which was more than bright enough to her light starved eyes. She was not, however, free.

Still naked, and in the same basement/dungeon where her enema treatments were done, she slowly examined her situation primarily by touch and took in the rest with her eyes and ears, though she did it squinting. She was laying on a wooden surface, but it was being held at an angle, with her hands and feet secured with chained manacles. Looking up, and grateful that she was able to do so as her head wasn't fully restrained like when he gave her the enema treatments, she saw that the chains went up and over the top of the wooden table she lay upon, but through grooves that appeared to be designed for said chains. Looking down at her feet, as much as she could, she saw that there was at least a full foot between her stretched toes and the edge of the table where the chains keeping her feet taut disappeared beneath and behind it.

A rack, her mind provided the name and definition of what she could identify. Looking to the side, she confirmed the crank where both chains were connected and could either be drawn and constricted, or loosened. Sadly, the chains on the rack were not the only things holding her down.

Another set of enema bags had been hung on the side opposite the crank, and apparently had already been inserted, but thankfully not turned on. Strangely, there were two tubes going down to her privates, one the standard enema that she could feel already inserted into her rectum, but the other was... larger, and unique. She felt it inside her pussy, and despite her muscles contracting to drive the invader out, it wasn't moving. She felt no straps or anything allowing it to remain inside her, so she deduced that it must be magic, a sticking spell or something basic like that. That still wasn't all.

On her chest, her breasts to be specific, were two suction cups, moderately sized, more than big enough to cover her enhanced bust. One for each breast, and they both were connected to a long tube that was in turn connected to machinery that was just in front of her and to the side of the enema bag stand. She was also gagged. But not with cloth or leather or rubber or even fruit. She couldn't be certain, never having had one anywhere close to her mouth before, but it felt like a male penis, or the head of one anyway with an inch or so below the 'head'. Just as bad, it tasted and felt like human flesh. And worse than even that, she could also tell that she had been recently 'slimed' as she thought of it, her skin glistening with the lotion he typically only put on her during her enemas.

He walked up to her then. He had a box in his hands, about the size of a small chest or half-sized trunk. Despite being able to see better than she had in weeks, she still could not make out his face, just his green eyes, and the contempt they held her in.

He adjusted his grip on the chest so that he could reach out with one hand and twist the knob to release the enema into her. She moaned pitifully as the warm water started to gush into her guts. She saw that he already had an extra bag lined up on the stand, one more than she had taken last time. Then he reached over and flicked a switch on the machine and it hummed to life, quickly filling the space with loud noises.

At her breasts, the suction cups came to life, vacuuming her tits up into the cups, pulling at them, and then at the height of the reach when they almost came free, the mashed back down into her chest, but not painfully so. After the third such pass, she decided it felt more like a vigorous chest massage than anything else. Also, the tube in her vagina, she realized she'd been mistaken. The tube wasn't going to the stand of enema bags, it was going to the machine, and apparently was vibrating the dildo stuck up her pussy in time with the cups motions.

Once all of this had begun, he brought forth the chest, and slowly, carefully, opened it, making sure the contents were visible only to her. She only had a moment to see it, but in that moment, while she still had them, her memory and knowledge informed her that she was looking at an Illithid, a mind flayer. A small, tentacled creature that looked like a cross between an octopus, a squid, and a brain, with twice as many tentacles, and a red glowing eye.

And then it launched itself out of the chest and wrapped its many tentacles around her head and began burrowing into her thoughts.

For those that have never experienced an Illithid attack before, there is no true understanding of what it is like. It is invasive. It is painful. It is humiliating. It is rape, pure and simple. So while the machines he had hooked her up to fucked her body, the Illithid fucked her mind at the same time.

Unlike the Illithid of stories, or her school books, which she'd nearly forgotten about already, this attack was not done by a sentient creature, a being of malevolence and evil and self-interest. Nor was it the attack of a savage beast, a dark creature that was supposed to have been hunted to near-extinction. It was as mechanical and uncaring as the machines, and the man who was doing this to her.

It squirmed and wiggled and poked and thrust its way into her thoughts, her memories, and hermind! Over and over and over and if it found something it didn't like, something that it had been fashioned to get rid of, it destroyed it.

Her second day of school, when the teacher had given her a compliment about reading ahead - gone! Spending the afternoon with Ron, snogging in a broom closet while they were supposed to be studying - gone! Obliviating her parents so they would be safe, where they went and how to restore their memories (oh no! no! no!) - gone!

She tried to fight it, but when she did, it just attacked her senses, making her feel the vibrator, the cup massagers, and her bowels being filled by warm liquid a hundred fold. The sensations were too much all at once and she came. It... they... he was raping her, and she came!

Then it would move onto a new precious memory and she tried to fight again, and it would make her come again even as the memory was destroyed.

He watched her as his creation did its work, having stepped back so it would not sense his mind. She screamed through the magical dildo-gag that pumped the same body-modification potion that had been keeping her alive through dehydration and starvation down her throat every time she came. Seeing her convulsively gulp after her scream, he could guess what it was about. Then she screamed again and again, barely able to keep swallowing. Her body was stretched out to its limit, she didn't have any leverage to arch her body or fold in on herself like he was sure she wanted to.

He turned and left the room, making sure to turn the lights out and leaving her in absolute darkness once again before shutting the sealed door. He started the clock and set the wards that would let him know if her life were ever in danger. She would remain that way for the next day.

111lll111

When he returned, the mind flayer had fallen off of her, dead, its sole purpose in life completed the husk had turned over and died like a dried up squid. Still, he was very careful when he put it back in its chest. These things had a knack for coming back to life when least expected or desired.

Hermione didn't respond to his presence, not even when he slapped her across the face a couple times. Her eyes were rolled up in her head and she was swallowing near constantly. She also experienced a full body shiver every few seconds.

"Well, well, well," he said, speaking to her for the first time, "I believe this is where I say that you have well and truly been mind-fucked, Miss Granger. Don't worry Hermione. We'll fill that big brain of yours back up, but with more... useful things. Like absolute obedience to me, your new lord and master," he pulled back the hood of his cloak and lowered the face mask, "Harry Potter!"

111lll111

Her existence began kneeling. Part of her knew that wasn't entirely true. Logic dictated that in order for her to be what she now was, she had to have come from something, not just popped into being. But that was trivial existential nonsense. For her, she began kneeling. It was her first memory. Before that, there was nothing, there was structure but no substance.

She didn't understand what was happening, where she was, who she was, but she recognized one thing.

Him.

He was the one thing that she recognized, that she knew, that grounded her and kept her from fighting because if he was there, it was going to be all right. He smiled and she tried to smile back, but the penis in her mouth kept her from properly mimicking the motion. He caressed her cheek and she felt better. He whispered words to her, but she didn't understand. They were just sounds, they had no meaning.

"Don't be afraid, Hermione. Soon you'll understand your new role in life, your new purpose. Pay attention and learn," he whispered to her.

Then he stepped back out of the small side room that had been squared away with the most advanced multimedia equipment on the market. Then he flipped the switch and walked away. Inside the room Hermione was strapped to a modified sawhorse, modified as in it now had a sybian in the middle of it and hooks that chained Hermione's feet, legs and arms in place so she was 'kneeling' in mid-air, unable to get any leverage to push herself off the sybian or even tip the thing over.

Besides the bondage and the sexual stimulation, instead of further 'cleansing', which he could admit he may have gone overboard on, every major muscle group on her body was now fitted with specially designed electrodes. Their purpose was to assist in reversing muscular atrophy, but they were the less invasive black sticky pads instead of sharp penetrating needles. Well, most of them were on major muscle groups. He really couldn't help himself putting a pair of nipple clamps on her breasts and linking them up to their own separate battery.

The moment he flipped the switch, the whole room came to life, the white walls flashing with subliminal messaging, hypnotic spirals, fractal patterns, and strobe lights keyed toward relaxation and to enhance the subliminals. There was also a strong voice, his voice, echoing throughout the room, nearly loud enough to penetrate the soundproofing, repeating instructions and educating the nearly brainless girl. At the same time, the electrodes came to life and began stimulating her muscles while the nipple clamps and sybian provided 'anesthesia'.

He left her there for over 50 hours, just about two days. He checked on her twice, and was pleased to note that the dick-gag was still providing her with the enhancement potion every time she came, reinforcing the behavior that anytime a cock came in her mouth she would have an orgasm. It also kept him from having to interrupt her 'training' to perform basic functions such as feeding and watering her.

Inside the room, the girl, who only knew she was female and other basic structured information but not who she was or even what her name was, screamed out loud when the electrodes came to life at the same moment the walls lit up and the sybian started pulsing and noise started bombarding her. From the sensory deprivation her mind and body had been subjected to for the past month, this much sensory overload was beyond painful and a torture as bad as if he'd used the Cruciatus on her.

Soon enough, at least where the sybian came into play, the pain had shifted to pleasure of a deep, undeniable, instinctual kind. The electrodes kept going off at predetermined intervals, making her muscles jump and twitch uncontrollably, contracting and releasing them, forcing her body through the most unusual workout it had ever experienced. It wouldn't make her a body sculptor or even on par with an athlete, but after the two days of constant burn, with the potion from the gag countering the negative effects by healing her almost instantly, it should put her muscles back to where they were when she was first captured.

The lights and the noise though, that was what really did her in. Just looking at it made her feel relaxed and allowed her to ignored the pain and raw sensation of the electrodes going off at regular intervals, which still caused her to scream out loud. The lights relaxed her and gave her pretty pictures to look at, pictures that filled her with all sorts of emotions. Counterpoint to the lights and pictures and the emotions they evoked was the voice. The voice wasn't always clear, sometimes there were other noises and different voices there, but it was always there, underneath everything else, whispering, instructing, telling her things. In time with the pictures, it filled in the substance and told her who and what she was.

She was - is Hermione Granger, no middle name.

Hermione is docile, compliant, and obedient.

She is docile.

She is compliant.

She is obedient.

Hermione is a horny bisexual nymphomaniac.

She is always horny.

She loves women and men.

She craves sex at all times.

Hermione is a slut.

She is a slut.

Hermione is a whore.

She is a whore.

Hermione is a sex slave.

She is a sex slave.

Hermione is a fucktoy.

She is a fucktoy.

Hermione is a lovedoll.

She is a lovedoll.

Hermione is mindless and has no will.

She is mindless and has no will.

Hermione will obey Master.

She will obey Master.

Hermione must obey Master.

She must obey Master.

Hermione obeys Master.

She obeys Master.

Obedience is pleasure.

Service is pleasure.

Hermione serves Master.

She serves Master.

Obedience is life.

Obedience and service.

To serve and obey is her only purpose in life.

Obedience and service.

Docile. Compliant. Obedient. Service.

Always horny.

Obey.

Serve.

Docile.

Compliant.

Obedient.

Horny, bisexual, nympho, slut, whore, sex slave, fucktoy, lovedoll.

Mindless.

Obedient.

No Will.

Obedient.

...

And so on and so forth for the entire time she was left in the room. All during this she was stimulated nonstop by the vibrators and electrical pads, which in conjunction with the potion pouring down her throat every time she had an orgasm, was molding her body at the same time her mind was being molded by the lights. She spent most of her time screaming, either from the pain of the pads, or the raw pleasure of the orgasms.

When she was finally removed, she collapsed in place the moment the lights, pads, and sybian were turned off, utterly exhausted. She dreamed of the words, of the lights, of the patterns, her brain processing all the information in the form of dreams. Wet dreams.

He tossed her back in her cell to sleep it off, and then pulled her back out and gave her a simple test. He put her on her feet, made sure she was awake, and then stood before her and proclaimed, "I am your master."

She just stood there and shook for a bit, her eyes refusing to focus on anything. He waited only another minute, and then nodded to himself and stunned her without a word. She woke up back in the same room, in the same setup as before. She whimpered moments before the onslaught began anew.

This time he left her in there for 100 hours. Just under a week.

When she came out, she looked different. The potion and the electric pads had been doing their job. Her muscles were toned, like a woman that went to the gym twice a day and tried every diet on the market on top of it. Her skin was practically flawless, her hair wavy and curly rather than bushy as in her younger years, and her breasts were at least C cups, while her waist had actually shrunk, giving her a slim profile without making her look skinny. She was also pale, not noticeably so but it gave her a unique appearance if one were to compare her to how she used to look.

More than just the physical, her face showed the greatest changes. It was absolutely devoid of any free-thinking thought. Her eyes were wide, dilated still, even after allowing her to sleep it off in her cell again, and he could tell it was from the brainwashing and orgasms more than that she'd been locked in darkness again for six hours. Her mouth now naturally hung open in an 'O', though sometimes he would catch her mouthing certain words. The greatest change was in her eyes though. Not just their condition, but how they reacted and tracked the details in the room, which they used to always do... but now they did not. He couldn't even be certain that she was actually seeing anything that was in front of her.

Once again, he gave her the test, to see if he had well and truly broken her, his old friend. If a week couldn't do it, he would try a month.

Standing her straight, he walked around and stood before her and proclaimed, "I am your master."

Instantly, her eyes focused on him, going from almost black-dilated, to narrow pinpoints of brown. They focused on him and glanced up and down him in a split-second, the latter half of that split-second she fell to her knees, her arms moving behind her back, thrusting her chest forward rather than catch her fall, and she looked up at him with pure reverence in her expression.

"Obey," she mouthed, not even a whisper.

"Good girl," he praised her, and smirked beneath his hood as she closed her eyes and shivered all over, cumming. "Good girl," he said again for good measure, pleased that she had another orgasm right away, no buildup or let down from the previous.

"Time to finish your training," he said, and grabbed her by the hair, dragging her along to the final preparation room. She did nothing to fight back or resist, allowing her body to be dragged along the cement floor, though she did struggle to remain on her knees throughout.

111lll111

Hermione came back to herself as the Slave collar snapped into place around her neck. Well, mostly. The magic of the gold ring forced the newly claimed slave to confront her past with her future, not that her past could do much to change it. Also, by breaking her the way he did before even putting the collar on her, she was mostly already enslaved to him, but the collar also undid most of the damage done by the Illithid and its eating of her mind and memories. She was after all the first.

"Wh-what? What is going on?" she asked, trying to clear her thoughts. She couldn't think clearly enough to stop him as he grabbed both her wrists and bound the Slave Bands to each. As they practically melded with her skin, they glowed a soft golden color, matching the collar perfectly. He put identical Slave Bands around her ankles before she could say or do anything else.

"Who? Where? I, what is, who are you?" she muttered, still out of it while he manhandled her body, which wasn't exactly helping with her concentration much.

"I'm your master," he replied, brandishing a wand and levitating her up into a somewhat familiar contraption behind her. At least it would be familiar at muggle fairgrounds or an Air Force training base.

It was a human gyroscope, where a person was strapped in to the center of three or four concentric rings and each spun in their own direction, thereby spinning the person in three or four directions at once. This, in addition to his actually answering her question, seemed to clear up the rest of Hermione's confusion.

"What are you doing to me, Master? If-if I may ask, that is?" she humbly questioned, her eyes downcast.

"I am finishing your training," he answered, magically attaching her new accessories, the Slave Bands to the inner-most ring of the gyroscope.

"... Where am I?" she asked in a small voice, clearly intimidated, but just as clear that her old curiosity couldn't be stopped, even now.

"The basement of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London, England," he answered honestly. And suddenly her mind exploded as a Secret was revealed to her.

"The... the old headquarters of the Order of the Pheonix!" she exclaimed. "How could I have forgotten about that? Why can't the rest of the Order remember where their own headquarters are?"

"I re-purposed the Fidelius covering this place. By changing the secret. The new secret overwrites and makes the first secret impossible to tell because it is no longer true. This place is now the headquarters for," he pulled back his hood and smiled at her, "the new Dark Lord Potter's regime to begin."

"H-Harry?" she stuttered. "You're... you are my master. Harry Potter is Master. How may I serve you, Master?"

"Good girl," he smiled as she cried out, her whole body tensing and releasing all at once. "I see the conditioning is still holding strong. But the magic of the Slave Bands have reversed most of that. So a few final tests, and then we can truly begin. I've learned from our time together Hermione. It was why I was so extreme with you, I had to find out how much was too much, but more importantly, what wasn't enough. Thanks to you, I now have a more... refined method for transforming witches into my slaves. Still a few rough edges, but you'll help me out with that, won't you slave?" While he spoke, he fitted her with one additional accessory. It was a piece of technology that he'd acquired in the last few days. It would help polish off her training with a preselected program.

It was a large silver helmet with straps and wires coming out of the top and sides, but also with headphones fitted on the inside and a visor that covered the face entirely. Once that was in place, he synced it to a light indicator that would help him know when he had to place his part.

"I will obey Master," she replied, breathless from her orgasm.

"Good," he said, starting the machine up and using magic to get the rings spinning in their various directions.

Inside the helmet, words flashed in front of her eyes while the same subliminal voice from the conditioning room echoed in her ears. [First Commandment, always tell the truth! Repeat!]

"F-fir-first com-comm-man-mand-ment!" she screamed as she was thrown in practically every direction, at least that is what it felt like to her. "Al-ways t-t-tell th-the-the t-truth!"

"Just so we're clear, you will repeat all of the Commandments when I tell you to repeat, understood?" he said to her, his voice barely reaching her over the subliminal messages blaring in her ears, but she did hear him.

"Ye-es M-Mas-ter-err!" she screamed.

[Confirm First Commandment!] the helmet demanded.

"First! Commandment! Always! Tell! The! Truth!" she screamed, the gyroscope forcing her to shout each word, otherwise she lost her train of thought.

"Delectatio!" Harry cast a spell at her spinning body as the light indicated she gave the 'correct' response.

"Ooohhh!" Hermione hummed in pleasure. It wasn't an orgasm, but more like raw pleasure of a more general sense. It was nice.

[Second Commandment, Never Lie! Repeat!]

"Second! Commandment! Never!

Lie!"

"Crucio!" he cast the torture curse at her, when the light flashed that it was the incorrect response.

"AAAHHHH!" she screamed out in pain.

[Repeat!] the helmet underlined the words

She was silent for a couple seconds before shouting out, "F-First Commandment! Always! Tell! The! Truth! Second!

Commandment! Never! Lie!"

Harry smiled and cast the same pleasure spell he had the first time. He particularly enjoyed the way her body looked as it spun on multiple access. Her larger breasts especially, they were flopping and flying all over the place, and the way her muscles tensed when her head was inverted or made it seem like she was falling, it made her arms, legs and abdomen look amazing.

[Third Commandment, Master controls you! Repeat!]

"First Commandment! Always tell the truth!" she screamed, having gained better control over her breathing as she got used to the sensation of complete and total disorientation. "Second Commandment! Never lie! Third Commandment! Master! Controls! Me!" The pleasure helped too.

[Fourth Commandment, Master will control everyone. Repeat!]

"First Commandment! Always tell the truth! Second Commandment! Never lie! Third Commandment! Master controls me! Fourth Commandment! Master will control... everyone!" What really helped though was having something to focus on, and Harry... Master was giving her exactly that. Her eyes had glazed over, not focusing on anything but the words in front of her eyes, as her attention focused inward, absorbing these new truths her Master was filling her with.

[Fifth Commandment, Master should control everyone. Repeat!]

"First Commandment! Always tell the truth! Second Commandment! Never lie! Third Commandment! Master controls me! Fourth Commandment! Master will control everyone! Fifth Commandment! Master should control everyone!"

[Sixth Commandment, you will help Master take control. Repeat!]

"First Commandment! Always tell the truth! Second Commandment! Never lie! Third Commandment! Master controls me! Fourth Commandment! Master will control everyone! Fifth Commandment! Master should control everyone! Sixth Commandment! I will help Master take control!"

[Seventh Commandment, obedience is pleasure. Repeat!]

"First Commandment! Always tell the truth! Second Commandment! Never lie! Third Commandment! Master controls me! Fourth Commandment! Master will control everyone! Fifth Commandment! Master should control everyone! Sixth Commandment! I will help Master take control! Seventh Commandment! Obedience is...mmMMMmm!... Pleasure!" she moaned as he hit her with the pleasure spell just as she said the word.

[Eighth Commandment, disobedience or failure is pain. Repeat!]

"P-pain?" she stuttered, then screamed, "AAAAAHHHHHHHH!

He hit her with the torture curse and held it for as long as the indicator light stayed lit, which was far longer than it had for any of the 'correct' answers.

[Repeat!]

"F-First Commandment! Always tell the truth! Second Commandment! Never lie! Third Commandment! Master controls me! Fourth Commandment! Master will control everyone! Fifth Commandment! Master should control everyone! Sixth Commandment! I will help Master take control! Seventh Commandment! Obedience is pleasure! Eighth Commandment! Disobedience or-or f-failure is p-pain!"

He gave her only a second of the pleasure spell as the light only stayed lit for that long.

[Ninth Commandment, disobedience or failure is death. Repeat!]

"First Commandment! Always tell the truth! Second Commandment! Never lie! Third Commandment! Master controls me! Fourth Commandment! Master will control everyone! Fifth Commandment! Master should control everyone! Sixth Commandment! I will help Master take control! Seventh Commandment! Obedience is pleasure! Eighth Commandment! Disobedience or failure is pain! Ninth Commandment! Disobedience or failure is death!"

He gave her a full ten seconds of pleasure for that. Though she was spinning and panting from the exertion her disorientation was putting on her, he could see that if she were able she would be sighing in relief almost.

[Final Commandment. You will never allow harm to come to Master. Repeat.]

"First Commandment! Always tell the truth! Second Commandment! Never lie! Third Commandment! Master controls me! Fourth Commandment! Master will control everyone! Fifth Commandment! Master should control everyone! Sixth Commandment! I will help Master take control! Seventh Commandment! Obedience is pleasure! Eighth Commandment! Disobedience or failure is pain! Ninth Commandment! Disobedience or failure is death! T-tenth Commandment! I will never allow harm to come to Master!"

He gave her pleasure, though she had changed one word, he didn't know that and was merely applying pain or pleasure according to the indicator lights.

[Repeat.] the helmet ordered again.

"First Commandment! Always tell the truth! Second Commandment! Never lie! Third Commandment! Master controls me! Fourth Commandment! Master will control everyone! Fifth Commandment! Master should control everyone! Sixth Commandment! I will help Master take control! Seventh Commandment! Obedience is pleasure! Eighth Commandment! Disobedience or failure is pain! Ninth Commandment! Disobedience or failure is death! Tenth Commandment! I will never allow harm to come to Master!"

"Delectatio!"

[Repeat.]

"First Commandment! Always tell the truth! Second Commandment! Never lie! Third Commandment! Master controls me! Fourth Commandment! Master will control everyone! Fifth Commandment! Master should control everyone! Sixth Commandment! I will help Master take control! Seventh Commandment! Obedience is pleasure! Eighth Commandment! Disobedience or failure is pain! Ninth Commandment! Disobedience or failure is death! Tenth Commandment! I will never allow harm to come to Master!"

"Good girl," he smiled and hit her with the pleasure spell again.

111lll111

After a few hours, he finally took her down from the gyroscope and put her into... something else instead. A set of stocks to be specific. Ones that connected to her Slave Bands to be specific. They even attached to the ones on her ankles to keep her kneeling.

In addition to restraining her body, in a sinfully delightful position at that, he brought forth yet another machine. This one was similar, but different, to the one he'd used when she was on the rack with the Illithid minus the mind flayer of course. Two cups were attached to her breasts and instantly started sucking and pulling and pleasuring her now massive orbs. Dildos connected to rods that moved back and forth were inserted into both her vagina and ass. Her mouth was left free, however, as he needed her to be able to speak for this next part.

Starting up the machines, he stood before Hermione, close enough she could feel his presence, but far enough that it would not be too much of a strain on her neck for her to look him in the face from her current position. He asked her, "Comfortable?"

"Yes Master," she dutifully replied, grunting slightly as the dildo in her slave cunt hit a particularly distracting spot.

"Then lets begin," he stated. "Repeat the Commandments."

She recited them just as she had on the gyroscope. And just as when she was on the gyroscope he shot her with the pleasure spell with each successful repetition, and he made her repeat it until he caught her starting to recite them without him telling her to repeat. He then changed things up and started asking her questions. He'd spent most of the past month coming up with these questions and his responses to whatever answers she gave. Some were meant to trip her up, most were designed to get her thinking as an obedient slave as opposed to an independent young witch.

The machines made it more difficult for her to think, especially when he changed their settings and got them to vary in their mechanical pleasuring of her, but she had to answer him, had to tell the truth, had to obey. So no matter how difficult, she would give him an answer. 'Wrong' answers gave her pain, while 'Right' answers gave her pleasure.

Soon enough, before he'd even gotten tired from just standing in front of her asking questions, she was giving more 'Right' answers than 'Wrong' ones. But he couldn't let her forget about the pain, so every tenth question or so was one that tripped her up, where there was no 'right' answer at all. Just to remind her of the punishment.

After four hours, he stopped to take a break, even stopping the machines and leaving her in the stock with the dildos up her holes and cups on her breasts while he got a glass of water. He waited fifteen minutes, perpetuating the silence between them, pleased to note that she did not try and start any conversation or ask any questions. Then he started the machines back up and once they were up to speed, he told her to repeat the Commandments again. She only messed up twice before getting it right every time after, but he still left her under the Cruciatus Curse for two full minutes for the failures, which he timed.

He asked her the rest of the prepared questions he had, though randomly ordering her to repeat the rules just to keep her on her toes, so to speak. Another four hours later, he took another break, but this one he extended to a half hour as he went and got himself something to eat. He also left the machines off but with the dildos fully extended inside of her and the cups painfully pulling on her breasts without letting up, to see what she would do or say about the obvious mistreatment and discomfort she felt.

She never said a word to him where he didn't first ask a question or issue an order first.

Good. Exactly the way it was supposed to be.

For the full twenty-four hours after placing the Slave Bands on her, with a short break every four hours, he continued this treatment. Though on the third and fifth breaks he gave her water, real water not potion, and some food. Albeit the food was a prepared gruel that was the same as bread and water nutritionally speaking. Once he had exhausted his list of prepared questions, he started... well, interrogating was the only word for it.

He would outline a scenario, and then ask her what she would do, getting more and more elaborate with the details with each scenario. Some were obvious, where the correct response was to fall back on her training and just obey what her Master told her to do, say, think and act. But others were more insidious and got her to think and even went against the training she'd received so far where the 'Right' answer wasn't as obvious. Or even where her 'orders' from Master were more subtle and yet still needed to be obeyed just the same.

Exactly twenty-four hours after he'd put the Slave Bands on her, they stopped glowing and became rather plain looking dull gold jewelry that was nevertheless still melded to her skin, save the Slave collar, which allowed for at least some give. The minute before they stopped glowing, he released her from the stocks and machines and had her kneeling before him.

The magic of the Slave Bands were some of the most unique of the Wizarding World. For starters, they were as rare as the Philosopher's Stone, which really told Harry exactly what he needed to know. That only one man could make them. It had taken him years to find that person and once he had, he disappeared from the Wizarding World until he succeeded in learning the secrets of how to make them for himself. Beyond that though, they were even more unique because they always turned whoever they were placed on, permanently, into the slave of the person that put them on in the first place.

Except for the first twenty-four hours. It was why he spent over a month and a half breaking the poor girl's will. He couldn't take any chances. If, for the majority of that twenty-four hour period, the slave fought and resisted and tried to escape, then the Bands would actually empower the slave to attain freedom. And here was the real catch. If the slave was anywhere but kneeling before the one that put the Bands on them at the moment the twenty-four hours were up, the Bands would come off and could never be put on her again. But if she had spent the majority fighting, and was still on her knees at the end, well then she would be an unhappy slave, but a slave nevertheless.

Harry wanted Hermione to be happy. Or at least as happy as a sex-crazed warrior witch sex slave can be. As the magic faded and she became his for all eternity, he smiled down at her and put a hand on her head, petting her.

"Good girl, Hermione," he whispered down at her, "Good girl."

She gazed up at him, adoration in her eyes and on her face. She worshiped this man, her Master, she would do absolutely anything for him, no questions asked. When she was younger, she looked up to adults and other authority figures the way most look up to their leaders and heads of state. Harry Potter was now the Ultimate Authority in her eyes, none came before him.

"Mm, how may I serve you, Master?" she asked.

111lll111

"Rise, my slave," Harry commanded, actually helping the naked young woman to her feet. "We shall rest for now. But soon enough, I plan to enjoy you and what you have to offer. For now though, we are both tired and need to rest. Come."

"Yes... MaaAAHHHssst-terrr," she trembled and shook where she stood, her eyes rolling up in her head briefly. After she was done, she resumed her perfect posture and practically glowed with pleasure as she said to him, "Thank you Master."

"... I'm going to have to watch my wording from now on," he said to himself with a sigh. "Follow."

"Yes Master," the slave acknowledged and padded along behind.

He stopped her just before they reached the stairs and shot her a pointed glare, gesturing to his side. Instantly she fell to her knees and crawled rather than walked after him. They went upstairs and came out in the kitchen, where Hermione saw that they indeed were in Grimmauld Place. The kitchen was the same as when the Order had last left it just before Harry disappeared. The questions she had for her master burned on the edge of her tongue, but she had not been given permission to speak, so she would not ask.

Leaving the kitchen for the main stairs, Hermione began to see the rest of the renovations Harry had been making to the former Black household. The walls were now painted, (or transfigured it was impossible to say without closer examination), a deep red burgundy instead of the dreary black and green colors they once were. The fixtures were now all brass or gold plated, rather that the cold black iron pieces of before. And starting from the main foyer and spreading to the rest of the home on every scrap of floor there was, a toe-hugging padded carpet was installed, allowing Hermione to comfortably and near-silently follow her master up the now spiraling staircase.

That was the biggest change yet, she'd noticed. Originally the staircase was the same as what you would find in any downtown London flat. Now, with the space – the whole building in fact – magically expanded, it had been shifted to being more of a central pillar that curved tightly around and around. On the area between the steps and the curves, there was in fact a single pillar. Upon closer examination, allowed to her as they climbed, she realized it was a ward stone. A very, very large and expensive ward stone. Which explained the many changes to the building, she mused subconsciously. There was also a pattern painted, with just paint not runes, on it that reminded Hermione of her time in the Room, the one that programmed her, taught her after her mind had been wiped by the mind-flayer.

Harry kept his eye on his hand, which he kept on the outside hand rail, which was just a typical gold-plated hand rail for a spiral staircase. Hermione, kept her eyes on the central pillar, putting herself into a trance and reinforcing her programming and training with every crawling step. There were other ways to travel the house, but Harry wanted to make sure that Hermione would only ever use the spiral staircase, thus just by going up and down from the kitchen to his room, or even between the other levels of the house in his service, performing various chores, she would continuously be reinforcing her training, making it so she truly could never break free.

They stopped on the tenth floor. Harry explained during their climb that there were twelve floors to the building, and then the basement below, totalling in thirteen, not counting the dozen cells below the basement. He lived on the tenth floor, which is to say his study, office, and bedroom were there. The attic was the twelfth floor, and Hermione's room, as well as any future slaves he would collect, were on the eleventh. Actually, the eleventh floor was just two rooms, a barracks and a shower/bath/toilet room, each nigh-infinitely large, depending upon the number of occupants.

The slave barracks, with just Hermione for the moment, had a single steel-frame quadruple bunk bed and was about the same size as the Gryffindor Dorm Room. The bathroom was an equal floor size and had a single toilet against the wall with attached bidet as part of it, and a sprinkler-style shower coming out of the ceiling in the middle of the room. There were no dividers or curtains or barriers in the room, nor would there ever be. Be design, with each added slave, registered with the wards via the Slave Bands, one toilet would be added, and if the number ever went past four, then another bed would also automatically be added, though the room would add half a foot per slave in any case.

Harry's 'apartment' on the tenth floor, however, were more opulent, and also three times as large in floor space alone, not to mention five times as many rooms. One of which he was leading his slave to right now. The play room, as he privately called it.

Connected to his bedroom as well as his private bathroom and the main hallway, the insides of the playroom were straight from the Arabian Nights. Whatever color the walls had been painted were hidden by layer upon layer of colored silk drapes and hangings, giving the room a soft and cloud-like feel. Also, the floor wasn't carpeted, so much as it was just one giant circular mattress that lined up with the walls of the room seamlessly. Said mattress was also covered, waist-high in some areas, with pillows of all sorts.

The moment Harry passed the threshold, his clothes vanished, returning to their closet or the hamper as needed. Hermione, already naked, was unaffected, save that her eyes instantly latched onto the erect manhood now revealed to her in all its glory. Hermione's had not been the only body Harry had been modifying with magic, the magnificent man tool was now an impossible (without magic) thirteen and a half inches in length, and two and a quarter inches in girth, though it was curved like a banana at the moment.

"May I suck your cock, Master?" she begged, actually begged him.

Harry smiled, satisfied with the training. He went over to his favorite spot, a sort of 'couch' made of pillows and plopped down, keeping his legs apart. He nodded and said, "You may."

The brunette may as well have Apparated, she had her mouth around his dick less than a full second after given permission.

Before this moment, no man's penis had ever been anywhere close to Hermione's mouth, but after the month of training, she felt like she was born to suck cocks! And despite the lack of actual practical experience, as with everything, the young slave knew the theory in every capacity and applied that knowledge instinctively. Her lips formed a vacuum seal around the head of his cock as her tongue flicked and teased all around the bulbous protuberance, drooling all over it in order to provide further lubrication. She relaxed the muscles of her jaw and throat and began to inch her way down the rest of Harry's flesh, sucking it into her with no sign or regards of a gag reflex.

Harry, quite honestly was amazed as he sat there and watched his longest female friend deep-throat him within seconds. Literally, five-ten seconds at the very most after giving her permission to pleasure him, she had his dick so far down her throat that her nose was buried in his pubic hair and her chin was nestled in between his balls. She held herself there, probably even trying to suck more of him in, for just under thirty seconds, before drawing herself off to gasp for breath and swallowing it anew, her tongue massaging him both coming and going. He allowed her to repeat this another three or four times, merely because it amused him, before ordering a change.

"Enough with the deep-throating, slave. Give me a proper blow job," he ordered.

She pulled off of him enough to say, "Yes Master!" but was back at her job before the last syllable had fully parted her lips. Instead of sucking him all the way in, now she mostly kept the head in her mouth and drawing her head back and forth in rapid strokes over the length of his cock. Her tongue went back to teasing and flicking all over, and she also brought up both hands to rub and strong the inches that she could not fit inside her as she mouth fucked her master.

Harry sighed in contentment as a warm pleasant buzz from the attentions of his slave coursed through him. He just drifted for some minutes, before deciding he'd lazed enough. He had plans and they wouldn't be accomplished if he stopped at phase one. Still, she'd managed to work him up a bit, and that deep throat of hers was impressive he had to admit.

"Faster slave. Make me come. Swallow every drop of it," he ordered.

"Yymmphff Maahhphfferrr!" she mumbled around his cock and tripled her pace, adding some suction to her lips as well as licking the piss hole of his cock with the tip of her tongue. Her hands also increased their pace.

"Ahhh!" Harry half cried, half sighed as he finally let go and his orgasm took the edge off of the stress he'd been under for he didn't even know how long now. "That's good slave," he complimented her as she audibly swallowed his gift. In addition to the cosmetic changes, he'd also made it so that he literally shot a gallon of cum with every orgasm. He was impressed Hermione could keep up with that. A consequence of that, of course, was that it made it so much easier for him to get his slaves pregnant now. Another reason for the Slave Bands was that until he allowed it, they may as well be barren.

"Now, just a soft job, slave," he said with a sigh as he picked up his wand and used it to summon a mirror, the other one of which was in his office and allowed him to remotely manipulate or review things without having to get up or leave the play room.

"Yes Master," Hermione acknowledged, still licking her lips from the wonderful treat she'd just been given. She wondered if she hadn't been starved for the past month if she would even have been able to handle that much fluid. Then again, she'd had plenty of practice with the ball gag that release multiple gallons of the potion as ejaculate...

She continued to blow him for the rest of the evening, sucking and licking lightly all along his magical girth, keeping him hard, but not actually trying to make him cum again, any force she used was kept light, soft and teasing at the most. Staying on her knees before him, she felt complete and right and for the first time in her life she could honestly say–and believe–that she was doing exactly what she was meant to be doing. Occasionally he would reach down with his free hand and pat her on the head or caress her cheek, which filled her with such joy that she beamed with happiness.

Meanwhile, Harry, her Master, plotted and planned. From the data she could see out of the corner of her eye, he was tracking the movements and patterns of the rest of the witches in the Resistance. Specifically Ginny, Luna, Tonks and Cho. Hermione closed her eyes in bliss at the thought of helping her Master capture her friends and transform them into slaves like her.

END First