Author's Note: This is the first brand new chapter that came about as a result of the edits. As I was going through the story, I realised that there were a couple missed opportunities that I wanted to capitalise on. And that's what this chapter is. Essentially, there is no other opportunity for me to do this sort of thing for the rest of the story and so, I figured I would write it for those who want to read it. Warning, it is a weird experimental chapter. Definitely not everyone's cup of tea… But given how I right about a world of women with cocks, I figured this will be at least someone's cup of tea…

As mentioned before, this story has gone through some changes and as such chapters may be different, missing or there may be brand new ones. For full details see the author's note in the first chapter. If a chapter you particularly loved has changed too much for your liking or has disappeared, you can read the original versions on my blog. Link is at the end of this chapter.

Without further ado, enjoy a more experimental and weirder chapter. You know how much I like to push the boat out!

Chapter 3: The Dementor's Fuck

Having reunited with his friends, Harry enjoyed the best meal of his summer. Not only did he get to enjoy the amazing cooking of Mrs Weasley, but he had the opportunity to talk and catch up with people he hadn't seen for years. He took a particular joy in speaking with his Godfather Sirius Black as well as Remus Lupin, both of them were exceptionally glad to see Harry safe. Not only that, but he had the pleasure of meeting with several new faces to him, enjoying stories from Kingsley Shacklebolt, Tonks, and the occasional low murmuring from Mad-Eye Moody. And all of which was done with his girlfriend at his side and his best-friends opposite him, with the familiar hum of magic filling the air around him. It never failed to amuse him watching plates stacked high with food sail past him and into the hand of an expectant wizard. This was the world he had missed so dearly. For the duration of dinner, he was able to simply relish the ambiance and excitement, but as things wound down and became a touch more serious, he was reminded of the dark times that faced the wizarding world. Whether it was the hushed discussion of Voldemort's movements and mustering of allies, or the open disgust expressed by many members of the order when a newspaper touting Harry as a liar was brought out, Harry couldn't help but feel things were moving against him. A fact that was reaffirmed in his mind by the hearing that would take place tomorrow.

A number of the members of the Order ushered the younger students out of the room, leaving only Harry and a select few individuals. They crowed around him, taking positions opposite him at the table and encouraging him to recount every last detail that he could regarding the dementor attack. Sirius calmed his nerves, explaining that it was to best prepare him for the hearing tomorrow. The room was filled with Aurors and members of the ministry meaning that they had a great deal of wisdom as to how these things played out. With that in mind, Harry cast himself back to that evening in Little Whinging, doing his best to recount the hazy memories and the supressed moments of chilling horror that had overwhelmed him that fateful evening. He began with the walk to the park, explaining the incredible heat and the fact that he thought that he had been being followed. Harry had thought that such a detail would be important to mention, yet it was quickly brushed aside Moody explained that members of the Order had been keeping an eye on him. That didn't explain how Harry saw a completely different person every day on the pathway to the park, yet the quiet murmurings and the deep blush on Tonks face indicated there was more to their monitoring than met the eye. With that aside, he ran through the events of the evening in his mind, playing them back in as vivid detail as he could, his delirious memories becoming clearer as he revisited them in a more stable environment.

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For the duration of the holidays, Harry had found the empty play-park near Privet Drive to be a proverbial haven for him to retreat to. Due to the immense heat and the completely unshaded nature of the park, very few people opted to visit, leaving to largely to himself. Occasionally a family would come for a while, but he was able to keep to himself on the benches, reading over a copy of the Daily Prophet, doing his best not to lose himself amidst fantasies of magic. The heat was unbearable, but in comparison to the stuffy confines of his bedroom and the torturous company of his aunt, uncle, and cousin, he found the scorching exposure of the park to be nothing short of a relief. That was until Dudley caught wind of where Harry snuck away to. Soon enough, Dudley and his gormless group of friends began to make visits to the park, goading and insulting Harry, trying to provoke him to anger. He managed to ignore it by and large. That was until Dudley mentioned Cedric. That name still brought back bitter and unnerving memories. Memories of that accursed graveyard. Of that twisted ritual and the macabre figure that immerged from the end of it. Of those streaks of violent green that had jetted through the air and seemingly struck Cedric, sending him flying backwards. But that wasn't the worst of it. When he watched the ghosts of his parents and a muggle stranger emerge from his wand during the priori incantatum, he vowed to himself that he would take Cedric's body back. It felt like the right thing to do. It felt like what Cedric would have wanted. But as he rushed towards the boy's body, he was knocked aside by a stray spell. His hand found the handle of the Triwizard Cup and before he could reach out and grab Cedric, he himself was pulled away, whisked back to the entrance of the maze. Alone. Through tears he explained what had happened, with horror sweeping across those in attendance. Over the coming days, questions would be raised about Cedric and the lack of body, but after sweeping the maze, it was concluded, at least by Dumbledore, that Harry's account was acutely true. Especially with the revelations of Barty Crouch Jr. Nevertheless, even as Cedric's father and ministry officials-maintained hope that the boy was alive, Harry knew better and was mortified that he couldn't have done better in that frightful graveyard.

The mentioning of Cedric prompted Harry to draw his wand, eliciting laughter from the unsuspecting boys, but terror from Dudley who knew better than to underestimate that length of wood. Suddenly, the skies began to darken, a cold chill claiming the air. It was unearthly. Unnatural. To go from such scorching heat to an immediate frosty chill was unnerving to say the least. Dudley's friends bolted leaving Harry and his cousin to stare aimlessly at the clouded sky, watching streaks of dark crash against the wispy white clouds. It didn't take long for the two to break into a sprint, bolting towards number four with hurried steps and heavy breathing. They swiftly reached a dark underpass that cut beneath the road, giving the two of them a brief moment of reprieve from the sudden change of weather. Catching their breath, they watched the orange lights flickering in the slick tunnel, puddles of water strewn across the concrete slabs. It was then that Harry saw it. A slow wave of cold was making its way along the tunnel, freezing the water as it inched closer and closer. His eyes widened as he watched the familiar freeze take root, turning every single droplet of water to ice and drawing their hot and heated breath into cold wisps of steam. The last time he had seen something like this was in his third year and the mere thought of reliving it sent chills down his spine. He reached for his wand and turned to Dudley, only to realise that he was two late. Muggles couldn't see them after all meaning that Dudley was completely oblivious to darkened shadowy figures that had swept up and ambushed them from behind.

Immediately, Harry and Dudley were set upon by two Dementors, the cloaked figures rushing down on them with their raspy hollow breaths. Flung to one side, Dudley was forced on the ground by the figure, its ghastly form descending on him with its rapturous breath. Long, spindly fingers reached forwards, grasping at Dudley's neck, the Dementor drawing in breath and stealing away the happiest memories that Harry's cousin had, all the while leaving the larger boy paralysed by fear as he faced down a non-existent threat. Harry tried to grasp his wand, but the Dementor had lunged at him before he could, grasping him by the throat and hoisting him into the air. Harry felt himself get thrust up against the concrete wall, his feet flailing as the Dementor loomed closer, its icy breath chilling him to the bone. His eyes were drawn straight ahead to the faceless shroud of black fabric, its mouth gaping and sucking his soul. It took only a few moments for a bleariness to fill Harry's eyes, the world around him begin to blend together as he was plunged into the vicious recounting of his worst memories. Images of Cedric filled his mind, his body laying motionless on the grey slabs of the graveyard, with Voldemort's pale sickly form looming over him, countless death-eaters swarming at his side. Just as Harry expected the Dementor to finish its job and steal away his soul, the creature pulled back, maintaining a distance as his refrained from performing the kiss. Harry still remained trapped amidst a maelstrom of spinning colours and cold rushing chills, but he was no longer plunged in his worst nightmares. He almost managed to reach for his wand in his back pocket, yet as his fingers danced against the handle, he felt it slowly slip from his reach.

It took Harry a moment to realise why, with his eyes widening in shaky horror as he did so. The reason his wand was now out of reach was because his back pocket had begun to inch downwards. Or rather, his jeans had begun to slip down. He felt the icy air of the Dementor's presence sweep along his bare thighs as his jeans were dropped down around his knees, the buttons having been undone sometime prior. Baffled, Harry struggled in vain with the grip of the skeletal hand around his neck proving to be too tight. As his jeans bunched around his knees, Harry felt a cold icy hand glide downwards, hovering in front of his cock. The Dementor's handheld a chilling aura, one that burnt through his boxers in its sheer iciness. Drawing its hand downwards, the Dementor magically removed Harry's boxers, bringing them down around his knees and unveiling Harry's cock. In that moment, Harry was confident that his cock had never been smaller. The chill pervading through the air caused his cock and balls to shrivel up in a manner similar to plunging into ice-cold water. If he had glanced down, he would have seen that he barely stood two inches tall, with his balls almost entirely disappearing into his body, robbing him of his otherwise ample manhood. And yet… strangely enough… the immense cold that was tingling across his cock brought with it an unearthly pleasure. It wasn't enough to register in his mind, but similarly to how intense warmth sent pleasure surging through his cock, the sheer cold did the same. Only, Harry could barely enjoy it as his body was rendered pale and numb, his limbs having to struggle to muster up any form of movement at all. And then he saw it.

It appeared all of a sudden as if it had been magically summoned, yet it had to have been disguised amongst the many folds of the dementor's cloak. Without warning, a long protruding cock appeared from beneath the dark wispy fabric, angling up in a perfect curve. Harry's eyes bulged at the inhuman sight. He could instinctively tell that it was a cock, yet it was so unlike anything he had seen before. It was articulated and rigid, sporting bony creases every couple inches giving it a pronounced tapered look. The blacked skin was pulled taut across the length, giving the shaft a starved and hollow look, a sight that was made all the more unnerving by the pointed head. Instead of rounding out into a plump, bulbed tip, the cock instead tapered to a rounded point, curling upwards as if it was hooked. Needless to say, the sight of a Dementor's cock was not only immensely startling, but also gave Harry shivers as he realised what was about to happen. Continuing to struggle, Harry found himself completely defenceless, his limp and shrivelled cock flailing helpless around in front of him as the hooked tip of the cock inched nearer to him. Suddenly, he gasped as he felt the icy flesh of the Dementor's cock brush against his thigh. It was strangely slick, yet as it rubbed against his thigh, the liquid crystalised and froze against his skin, leaving a frosty speckle against his thigh. Lifting its hand, the Dementor suddenly hoisted Harry legs upwards, spreading them apart in the air as best as his jeans would allow. With his ass angled forward, Harry knew that his asshole was completely defenceless, with the hooked cock inching closer and closer to his hole, its frozen aura paralysing him in the moment.

Harry's eyes widened as he felt the head of the Dementor's cock rest snugly against his asshole, prodding at his entrance with its long, gnarled length. The cold freezing chill was unbearable, yet it was only going to get worse. Slowly, but surely, the Dementor thrust itself into Harry, taking advantage of Harry's defencelessness in order to guide the tip of its cock inside. It was nothing like Harry had ever experience. The warm, throbbing bliss that came from having sex with someone else was replaced with rigid and unchanging cold. The pliable nature of a meaty cock was instead replaced with the firm unflinching friction of the cloaked creature's shaft. Harry couldn't even suggest that it was skin that covered the cock, with it feeling more leathery. To his relief, the Dementor's cock moved easily within him despite the lack of lubrication. That cold frosty substance trickled within him, sending his stomach twisting as the cock plunged deeper and deeper. Much to Harry's horror, the beast was larger than anything he had before. What it lacked in width, it made up for monstrous length, with the rigid shaft quickly plunging deep into him and beginning to explore depths of his guts that no one had ever managed to grace, all the while flooding his bones and flesh with that ungodly chill. Goosebumps ignited across Harry's skin as he shivered uncontrollably, his fists clenched tightly at his side, unable to move.

As the Dementor bottomed out within him, Harry's eyes widened, the misty haze that was flooding his vision becoming all the more intense. His eyes blurred and his vision darkened, his head slumping forwards listlessly. His limp, motionless body continued to be hoisted into the air, the Dementor carving its cock back and forth, pumping and pounding into Harry as it used its sickly powers to plunge Harry into a sexual nightmare of his minds own creation. Whilst Dementors were famous for their kiss, it was not the most feared of their powers. Ever since they had been put in place as the guards of Azkaban, their powers had been substantial limited as a means of cracking down on dark creatures following Voldemort's initial defeat. Their sexual nature as such was stifled, with Dementors no longer allowing to fuck their victims. As such, they were no longer able to condemn their victim to living their worst sexual fantasy whilst their body was passed around Dementor after Dementor like a perverse fuck-doll. Of course, with Voldemort's newfound return, they dark creatures of the world grew bolder, and as such, took the opportunity in front of them to torture the great Harry Potter with his sexual hell, all the while relieving years of pent-up sexual aggression on his tight and unwitting ass. Dementors didn't orgasm like humans. Instead, the drew prolonged satisfaction and gratification from the pleasurable sexual suffering of others. The Dementor didn't receive any physical pleasure from having its cock inside of Harry. Instead, the rhythmic thrusting in and out of Harry's hole allowed them to keep up their nightmarish spell. Each thrust ensured that the hold on Harry remained so that they could satiate themselves on his sexual hell. Leaning its lips closer in towards Harry, it drew husky inward breaths, peering in on Harry's personal sexual prison and growing pleasured by the sights within his restless mind.

In his mind, Harry was on his knees, his hands fastened behind his back, the cutting burn of tightening rope digging into his skin. He was stripped naked, his bare body criss-crossed with the lashing strokes of a whip. Looking up, he saw the owner of said whip lift it high into the air before bringing it cracking down against his chest. A shrill giggle erupted from the person as the kicked Harry to the floor, planting the sharpened point of their high heel against his cheek, squashing his face as she towered over him. Pansy Parkinson. Her sickening smile sent Harry's stomach turning, yet it only got worse. Forcing him back up onto his knees, she grabbed him by his hair and forced him to turn and look across the room. He recognised it as the Slytherin Common Room. It was packed with countless naked men and women, all of them sporting some form of lingering Slytherin paraphernalia to betray their allegiance despite their faceless anonymity. The only figures with distinct faces sat at the centre of the group, perfect frame for Harry's horrified eyes to see. Lounging on a high back leather chair was none other than Draco Malfoy, his insidious grin making him sick to the stomach. But that… that wasn't the worst part. No. He slowly watched in abject horror as another figure appeared from behind the chair, strutting with a slow methodical bounce, their captivating allure momentarily exciting Harry before plunging him into newfound depths of inflicted despair. Standing beside the chair, her hips cocked and hair lightly tussled, was none other than Ginny.

She giggled, drawing Harry's attention down towards her attire. She was clad in an intricate lacy ensemble of emerald, green lingerie, speckled with silver streaks and the unmistakable Slytherin insignia. Her panties framed and flossed her perfect ass cheeks, with Ginny spinning on the spot to unveil that an addition had been made above her ass. Nestled in her lower back were the snaking letters of a shifting tattoo, emblazoning his girlfriend with 'Property Of Draco Malfoy'. That sight drove him mad, prompting him to lunge forwards, only to have Pansy shove him to the ground, planting her knee on his back and forcing his head upright to watch as Ginny swayed back and forth in front of Draco, swinging her hips lovingly in a sensual dance. Draco's curled fingers rose up to her ass, playfully spanking her and fondling her as she lowered her shapely rear end to his bulging crotch, providing as sumptuous a lap-dance as she could. The worse part was her moaning. Her moaning and giggles whenever Draco would spank or grope her. That crushed Harry's heart as she watched, especially as Ginny grew more and more enthusiastic, grinding and rutting against Draco with a lustful intent, pressing her crotch against his and moaning like a common slut. Sliding off of Draco, she began to peel her lingerie away, sliding her panties down her thighs and teasingly wrapping them around Draco's cock. Jerking him a few times, she coated the fabric in Draco's pre-cum before strolling over to Harry and forcibly pushing her underwear into his mouth with a chirping smile. With her crotch exposed, she revealed her cock had been shrunken down to a more appeasing size to Draco, removing that bouncing girth that Harry adored about her. As she returned to her master's side, she dropped down onto her knees, positioning herself so that Harry could see her when she gorged herself on the only cock that mattered to her. Harry wanted it to end. He wanted her to snap to her senses, but she seemed so completely and utterly entranced by some mysterious allure, becoming one of his enemy's personal cock-sluts.

And then she began to slaver over his cock, drizzling saliva down along Draco's rigid length, her lips latching onto his bulbous head in a hungry, manic state. Driving her lips down to the base of his cock, she let out a series of uncontrollable muffled moans, her eyes rolling back into her head as she bobbed her lips back and forth. The way she sucked on Draco's shaft was unlike anything Harry had ever seen. She had never performed upon him like that. It was so ravenous and intense, driven passion and love that Harry found sickening. It wasn't affection, it was complete and utter subservience. Infatuation that drove her to newfound levels of pliable adoration. Pulling her lips back to the head of Draco's cock, Ginny gasped for air, breathing heavily as she moaned for Draco to claim her and take her as his own. She begged in between hearty plunges of her lips to be dominated and rendered nothing more than a filthy cock-rag for her one and only master. Her face became smeared with saliva, streaks of messy make-up running across her face as she smacked her own cheeks with his veiny length, marvelling with wide-eyed wonder at the complete magnificence of her master's cock. It was torture for Harry. In truth, it wasn't that it was Draco. It was that it was Ginny. You could replace Draco with anyone else and he would be utterly appalled at seeing his girlfriend perform like this. It twisted in his stomach, tightening in the most sickening way. Seeing Ginny's throat bulge and her lips stretch in third person like this wasn't something he was a stranger to, but to see that passionate lust that he thought only the two of them shared displayed like this in front of him was heart-breaking. Especially as Draco began to grab her by her head and throat fucking her head as if it was some perverse sex-toy, showing complete contempt for the beautiful woman in which he was sheathing his worthless cock. Harry wrestled against Pansy's grip, but her knee only dug tighter into his back, pinning him in place.

Suddenly, the ground peeled away slightly, revealing two more figures in the clearing beside Draco. His two cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. Their rotund bodies were unmistakable and unappealing in every right, with their gormless faces only serving to accentuate their complete unattractive nature. Which made it all the worse to see Hermione and Luna cradling themselves at each of their sides, running their slender fingers across their blubbery bodies as if they too had fallen in love. Luna sat astride Goyle's lap; his cock nestled in her ass as he roughly pounded her spasming asshole. The rough and rigorous pounding didn't seem to affect Luna all that much as she draped her body intimately across Goyle's, nestling her cheek in the crook of his neck, planting soft kisses against his skin whilst he completely and utterly bombarded her asshole with hard, hammering thrusts. At first, it was difficult to distinguish between Luna's normal dreamy state an the looks that were on her face, but it was evident that the same passionate infatuation plagued her as did Ginny. The way she ran her hands across Goyle's chest, her lips gliding softly against his skin, her complete loving submission of her asshole. And if that wasn't enough, a similarly derisive tattoo was sketched across her ass proclaiming that it belonged to Goyle. Lifting his hand, Goyle firmly spanked Luna's taut ass cheeks, eliciting a moan and a dutiful thank-you from the pleasure consumed girl, with Luna relishing the pain that bristled in her ass. A fact that was further emphasised when she leant back, revealing that her nipples had been pierced with silver serpents and a tight chain pulled tautly between them, tugging painfully at her nipples whenever she moved in the slightest. It was a pain that she seemingly endured for the love and majesty of her owner, relishing the feeling of her master's wonderful cock buried within her whorish hole. Luna almost seemed disappointed whenever Goyle pulled his cock out of her. As if she didn't feel complete without her ass being plugged with him.

Hermione was similarly entranced with Crabbe, with her oil slickened hands jerking his cock as she embraced the rounder boy in a heated and passionate kiss. It was the kind of kiss that Harry would have found to be disgusting regardless of who was doing it, with the two frequently extending their tongues out of their mouths to playfully bat them against one another in an open display. Yet it was when Hermione's lips lunged against Crabbe's that the true fire of her devotion was shown. Her tongue plunged into his mouth, readily exploring it as if it were a secret haven of wonderous delights, her intense mouths sounding even as she stretched tongue further into his mouth. Once again, her ass had a shimmering tattoo indicating her master as Vincent Crabbe, her body belonging to him in every way. Further demeaning writing had been scrawled across her body, with every limb and stretch of pale skin being besmirched by words like whore, cock-slut and mudblood fuck-pet. And it seemed that Hermione took a perverse pride in this, not washing them away and even touching up smudged ones whenever her master didn't have use of her worthless entrances. Breathlessly, she pulled her shiny lips away from Crabbe's and slowly trailed them down his body, flicking them teasingly against his nipples before sinking even lower down. As she arrived between Crabbe's legs, she continued to jerk his cock, dropping down below his balls and lovingly dragging her tongue across his puckered asshole. The sight was a twisted one that made Harry twist even harder against Pansy's grip, wanting this nightmarish delusion to end. Seeing Hermione lavishing Crabbe's asshole with more enthusiasm than she had ever shown for anything was amongst the most torturous sights he could have imagined. That was until, silence fell over the room.

Everything suddenly stopped, with the group of faceless Slytherin's all dropping down onto their knees. Silently and without missing a beat, Luna, Ginny and Hermione abandoned their master's turning towards Harry as a robed figure strode past the defenceless, prostrated boy. It was him. It was Voldemort. The Dark Lord turned to face Harry, sneering down on him as his three friends swept up beside the snake-eyed man. Immediately, their infatuated expressions returned, only this time, they were directed towards his mortal enemy. Peeling away his robes, the three girls ran their hands over his exposed skin, peeling away the garment until his monstrous cock was finally revealed. Hermione, Ginny, and Luna giggled as they all wrapped a hand around his length, showing just how long the shaft was to allow for three hands to comfortably grasp him.

"He's ready for you master… We've been taunting him all day. He'll practically beg you to fuck him," Ginny chirped, resting her cheek on Voldemort's pale chest, watching as Hermione dropped to her knees to suckle on one of his heavy, bulging balls, her moans combining with the sloppy sounds of intense slavering. Suddenly, Ginny strode forwards and spat on Harry, sneering down at him with a glaring grimace, "Worthless fuck-pig. I wouldn't dream of sullying my cock on you. Lucky our master is more generous."

"Now, now, Ginevra. No need to be rude. Everyone has a purpose in our world. It is just that dear Harry Potter's is to serve as a cock-worshipper for my followers and as such, needs to be broken in," Voldemort smiled, taking a step forward, with Hermione, Luna and Ginny shifting alongside him, continuing their rest their hands and lips against their master's wonderous body.

"Here that, Potter? You're going to be servicing cocks day and night like you're supposed to. The only asses you'll get to see will be smothering that ugly scar of yours," Hermione snapped, spanking her own as to taunt him further before returning to Voldemort's balls and stretching her lips to encompass them both.

"Might I suggest he is tasked with servicing your vast army of dark creatures, my lord? I think that he should have to earn the right to worship true wizard's cocks," Luna suggested with a sinister and eerie smile, her lips resting just above one of Voldemort's darkened nipples, her eyes staring into Harry's soul.

"Perhaps you are right. But first… He will seal his new role as a cock-worshipper by performing his first servicing. Upon me…" Voldemort smirked, stepping above Harry. All three of the girls worked in tandem, with Hermione and Luna using their hands to lift Voldemort's heavy cock upwards, whilst Ginny grabbed Harry by the scalp and firmly forced him onto his knees, a viciousness in her movements.

"Do it, Potter!" Ginny screamed at him, driving his head towards Voldemort's cock, forcing his lips against the head of the ashen length. Harry's body burned in that agonising way that only ever happened when Voldemort touched him. The twisting torturous burn was made all the more horrifying Ginny's continuously demeaning words, encouraging her own boyfriend to submit, "Do it you fucking pathetic whore!"

In the end, it was those words that snapped Harry out of it. Looking up into the fury in Ginny's eyes, he finally couldn't recognise her as the woman that he loved. As that realisation dawned on him, he became aware that his hands were not bound at all, but were rather limply draped at his side. Whilst he remained trapped in the nightmare, his body felt as it truly was. He could feel his jeans bunched around his knees, the icy grip of the Dementor's skeletal hand grasping at his throat, and the powerful thrusts of the beings cock into his ass. It took a great deal of will and perseverance, but he moved his frozen hand down to his loosened jeans, managing to grasp the very end of his wand. His fingers almost didn't want to bend. That was how intense the chill was. Forcing himself to peel his frosted lips apart, he uttered as firmly and intensely as he could, all the while remembering the true warmness of the Ginny Weasley he knew. The white light of his Patronus blinded him as he was dropped firmly to the ground, his body slumped limply against the concrete wall. The Dementor reeled back, being pushed away by the intensity of the light. Lifting his arm, he sent the shining stag prancing along the underpass, freeing Dudley from the Dementor that was hunched over him. To his surprise and strange relief, the Dementor that had restrained Dudley appeared to not care for the same sexual treatment that Harry received. As the Dementors were cast out into the night sky, Harry crumbled in place, his wand rolling out of his hand as he sat there, his body almost frozen to the core. Whilst the world was no longer spinning around him, he still couldn't fully register anything around. The coldness of the concrete beneath his bare ass cheeks was comparatively warm to the temperature of his skin and even had he tried, the effects of the Dementor frozen aura were often paralysing without the right treatment after.

"Dear? Harry? Can you hear me, Harry, dear?" a voice murmured in Harry's periphery, yet his eyes seemed almost frozen over as he breathed hoarse and heavy breaths, his breath still maintaining those frosty wisps even after the warm weather of the summer heat-wave began to set back in. The voice came from none other than Mrs Figg, a kindly old lady that lived across the street from the Dursleys. Prone to walks along the path to the park, Mrs Figg was one of the few people Harry recognised from around Little Whinging, but in that moment, he was oblivious to the fact that she had stumbled over the strange scene. Or rather, she didn't stumble upon, but actively observed, paralysed by her inability to do anything. Shuffling past Dudley, she arrived at Harry, covering her eyes momentarily as she saw his exposed lower half, before resolving that modesty was hardly a necessity in a situation like this.

"Can you hear me, Harry? Oh… Oh, this is not good at all… Frozen solid. Whatever do I do?" Mrs Figg murmured to herself, cupping a hand against Harry's cheek, and almost struggling to peel her hand away. Looking around, she stumbled on Harry's wand, plucking it from its place and thinking, "As if I'd even be able to work it, let alone guarantee that I wouldn't blow his head to bits. Let's… Let's warm you up a little, then…"

Reaching into her small pull-bag, she pulled out a blanket, draping it around Harry's shoulders in an attempt to warm him through. Unable to pull his trousers back into place with the fabric almost frozen completely. Muttering frustratedly to herself, she dug around in the bottom of her bag and pulled out a small flask of tea. Running the still steaming flash beneath Harry's chin, she tried to rouse him and free him from his chilled state. But none of it seemed to be working. Standing upright, she grimaced, struggling to use her muggle knowledge to deal with an inherently magic situation. She kept looking up and down the underpass as if hoping for a wizard to appear to help. It wasn't completely ludicrous an idea, but it wasn't one to rely upon.

"Well… come on Arabella… Dammit Mundungus. You had one job. One job," she muttered to herself, rising to her feet and sighing. Whilst she wasn't completely oblivious to what was going on, she certainly didn't have enough magical understanding to undo what had been done to Harry. Raising a hand to her forehead, she tried to think it through somewhat logically, "What do we know about magic. They were… Dementors. Had its way with him, they did. If it's about removing the chill from the boy… He's frozen… through… all the way through. Where the Dementor had… Oh, dear…"

Arabella wished that she hadn't thought it through. She had seen every moment of what had happened. From the Dementors initial attack to what it had done to Harry. She would have intervened, but it would have done nothing to save the two and would only have endangered them further. However, knowing that the Dementors had been sexual creatures, it gave her pause for thought. As a Squib, she had a passing knowledge when it came to the magical world. Namely, the more… unconventional aspects regarding witches. It was no secret that sexual magic was a deeply intwined part of the wizarding world, even if it wasn't openly discussed. So… it stood to reason that the way to undo the sexually inflicted chill of a Dementor would be to provide a sexual remedy... It wasn't the realisation or the plan that Arabella wanted, but with Harry Potter frozen solid, his breathing low and his body not warming up to normal muggle means, the only magical thing that Arabella had at her disposal was… sexual.

"I'm sorry, Harry dear, can't promise this'll be pleasant, but… I'm at a loss. The way I see it. If a Dementor's done this to you by… having its way with you and freezing you inside out, we'll have to warm you up. Inside and out. Besides, with witch's having all those special magical needs, I imagine that doing the tango has benefits in situations like this. Just be glad I found you and not Mundungus…" Arabella explained, not knowing if Harry could hear her. In truth, she was convincing herself more than anything as she leant down and rested a hand against Harry's cheek. Glancing over her shoulder, she added with a slight smile, "And that you're cousin is unconscious."

With that, she rose to her feet and began to unfasten the many buttons and straps of her water-proof coverall. Dropping it to the ground, she glanced up and down the underpass, not wanting anyone to stumble on this scene, especially as she unzipped the long zipper that ran down the length of her skirt. It quickly fell to the ground, the cold chill in the air rushing through her body. She was a somewhat frail older woman, with her thin bony frame being nothing of remarkable note. She wore a pair of tan tights that ran up to the height of her thigh, held in place by two beige straps that ran up to her waist where a decidedly unsexual garter belt sat loosely on her waist. It was made on the same thin, beige fabric as her tights, almost disappearing against the colour of her skin. She kept her pink cardigan on, deciding there was no need for her to unveil more intimate areas than were decidedly necessary. All that remained were her panties. Tugging them down and over her feet, she exposed her crotch and revealed the uniqueness of a squib. Squibs, being non-magical people born to magical parents, had their anatomy left to the roll of a dice. Sometimes they had traditional muggle pussies and sometimes they had the magical counterpart of a cock. Arabella Figg was the latter. She had a modest five-inch cock. Typical size by muggle standards, but small for a witch. Given that she lacked magical powers, her cock also lacked the typical magical enhancements that witches boasted. For most witches, their cocks grew in tandem with the capacity for magic, with more powerful witches boasting more sizable cocks. Of course, that wasn't always the case. As such, Arabella wasn't anything special in terms of size. To her benefit, her lack of magical powers meant that she didn't suffer the same needs as witches. She was quite capable of orgasming by her own hand, not that she found herself doing so very often at her age.

Taking her small shaft in her hand, she gave her softened length a few quick tugs, trying in vain to coax a little life into her length. Reaching into her pull-bag, she drew out a small, cushioned pad that she used to protect her knees whilst working the garden. Placing it on the ground, she knelt down In front of Harry, procuring a small dish of Vaseline that she used for dry lips. The cold air did no wonders for getting her aroused. She did her best, looking down at Harry and admiring his sizable manhood, even when soft, and his toned muscular physique. She had to try and fantasise that he was fully conscious and was in fact planning to sweep her up and into her bed, readying to ravage her. She may have been old, but the odd fantasy about a young, strapping man taking her to bed and fucking her as if she were some young and pliable teenage hussy still got her going occasionally. After a few moments, she murmured a curse to herself before, shuffling herself around beside Harry. This wouldn't work if she wasn't able to get herself erect. That or she could attempt to bring a little warmth to Harry's cock and instil a little rigidity in him. Either way, one of them had to get their blood pumping. She could feel a little throb coming to her own cock as she indulged in the idea of being thrown around as if she was young and able, letting a strong and commanding Harry have his way with her. He certainly wasn't the bony young boy she used to know. He was a man who could very much get her going, provided the air wasn't deathly cold as it was. Her balls remained tightly shrivelled, retreating up into her to hide from the cold.

"Forgive me, Harry… But…" Mrs Figg murmured as she looked down at Harry's gently parted lips, seeing his steamy breath rising from his mouth. If she could have done so herself, she would have. Sighing, she leant herself forwards and inched her cock towards Harry's mouth. Immediately, she let out a soft moan as his breath rushed along the length of his cock, a bead of pre-cum finally escaping the head of her cock. Pressing her soft tip against his lips, she almost melted in the moment, her cock shuddering and twitching. Her eyes rolled closed as she lost control for the briefest of moments. Maintaining her composure, she forced herself to open them and look down, only to find the sight almost overwhelming. To have her older, aging cock resting against the lips of someone young and handsome. It was a fantasy come to true. Burying those thoughts, she ran the length of her cock against his lips, keeping her softened shaft pressed snugly in place. The warmth of his mouth was doing wonders for her, with his cock rising to half-mast. It had been so long since she had been remotely sexually active, to the extent that she could already feel her small, shrivelled balls beginning to churn. She couldn't cum yet, she thought, forcing herself to quell such ideas, all the while hoping that she would get harder sooner rather than later. Rocking her hips back and forth, she continuing to lightly fuck Harry's lips, using her fingers to keep her cock in place as her wrinkled length grew slicker and slicker by the moment. Oh, she had missed pleasures like this. When she had been younger, she had enjoyed in equal measure the delights of the muggle and magical world. She found muggles to be less amenable to her anatomy, but wizards were decidedly… insatiable. It took a balance for Mrs Figg to find her enjoyment. But as she grew older and the necessities of muggle life took place, she found less and less time for such pursuits. In fact, this was the first time she had had her cock anywhere near someone's mouth for forty years. It was five years since she had last orgasmed. How she had missed this more… ravenous feeling. She had to fight to maintain her composure and focus on the fact that this was for Harry's benefit.

His lips had finally pried apart enough to allow her inside, prompting her to angle her tip so that it slipped inside of his mouth. Her cock sung with intense pleasure as his lips caused foreskin to peel back, the exposed sensitive bulb of flesh grazing against the warm slickness of Harry's mouth. Groaning softly, she pushed her cock forwards, her softened length squishing against itself as opposed to gliding effortlessly into Harry's mouth. Deciding to wriggle the entirety of her cock into Harry's lips, Arabella straddled Harry's chest, pressing his lips against the wiry hair of her crotch, her frozen balls resting against Harry's lips. His mouth parted that little bit further, allowing her to go one step further, by slipping her balls into his mouth, his lips tightening perfectly around her cock and balls, basking his sensitive organs in warm slickened pleasure. With no outside chill to plague her cock, she felt herself slowly beginning to harden, her cock steadily inflating and inching further into Harry's throat. Each inch that her cock sunk into her mouth, the warmer his lips became. There was a slight chill to the entrance of his throat, but as her cock pushed past it, his slick depths began to brim with the carnal heat that was expected. Finally, she stood completely hardened, her small, veiny cock just inching past his throat. He was used to much thicker and longer lengths, yet Mrs Figg was oblivious to this, instead thinking that his listless demeanour prevented his gullet from spasming unendingly. Harry Potter had his lips wrapped around her cock. Her cock. It was almost unbelievable. Whilst her fantasies of a young virile man had never extended to him, she couldn't help but feel a sense of childish giddiness at the toned musculature beneath her and the strapping jawline that she had her cock plunged into.

In a moment of weakness, arousal and bliss, Arabella's mind forgot what she was doing, her focus shifting. Easing her hips backwards, she let her balls flop from Harry's mouth, her sack no longer tight and shrivelled, but instead slapping gently against his chin, smearing saliva against his skin. The cold air bit at her exposed balls, but it was no longer as oppressive as before, rather it providing a soft and pleasurable chill. Breathing softly, Mrs Figg pulled her cock back as far as she could, gently rocking her creaking hips back and forth, guiding her aging shaft in and out of Harry's loosening mouth. Moans dripped from her lips as her cock sunk into her throat time and time again. It was at a snail's pace given her age, but it was a fast and riveting experience for her, nonetheless. Unbeknownst to her, each thrust, and push sent waves of unseen magical energy through Harry's body, steadily warming him as she had hypothesised. Only, in her mind, she thought something as self-gratifying as having him suck her cock would be useless. That didn't stop her lapse in judgement from causing her to carve her cock back and forth, gently fucking his throat for her own personal satisfaction. Each gentle smack of her balls against his chin was an added delight that made her cock shiver. Each thrust imbued her with a perverse, youthful drive. In her mind, she was lovingly, sexily pumping her cock back and forth into Harry's mouth with a sensual and titillating sway, but in reality, it was stunted and short, her thrusts clumsy and meek. However, it was enough to bring her shivering to the edge of her orgasm. It was only as she was about to cum that she realised her mistake, her folly. Hastily pulling her cock back to the entrance of Harry's mouth, she panicked, cum already surging through her shaft.

"No, no… no!" she grunted as she plucked her cock from his lips just in time for several splashes of cum to seep from the head of her cock. She hardly exploded as a younger woman would have, but she still drizzled ample streaks of cum across Harry's face. She may have lacked in magical acumen, but when it came to cum, she was still as plentiful as any witch or wizard. Unable to stop herself, she poured the rest of her cum across Harry's face, cursing her own lack of restraint. Unstraddling Harry, she felt her erection linger only a few seconds longer before she softened dramatically, bringing her right back to square one. Sighing, she grabbed tissues from her bag and began to wipe the cum from Harry's face, disappointed in herself. Yet, as she wiped away the dribbles of cum, she felt his skin becoming more and more pliable. His entire face had a slight warmth to it. The chill that had instilled itself in his skin was beginning to let up. In fact, the places where cum had landed were even less chilled than those without. Silently gladdened by the fact that her indiscretion had been to some benefit, she struggled to think how else she could continue. His body was still stiff and unresponsive, his cock cold and rigid… Rigid… Looking down at his manhood, she could see that it was now standing at attention, tall, thick, and hard. With a gentle squeeze, Arabella could feel the freezing chill in his flesh, yet there was the unmistakable throb of arousal. The path seemed clear enough, even if Arabella wasn't exactly excited about it. It had been over forty-years since she had last had someone's cock inside of her like that, but given she had lapsed in judgement enough to use Harry's mouth for her own pleasure, she felt somewhat obliged to offer up recompense, "It's been a while… but… I can only hope Harry, dear, that this isn't your first experience of the kind."

Reaching into her pull-bag, Arabella grabbed her purse. Peeling it open, she unzipped several small compartments that were all tucked inside one another and retrieved a singular condom. It had been there for years, but as a force of habit, Arabella took to replacing it. Ever since she was young, she was taught by her parents to keep a condom just in case. Even in her older life, she maintained the habit. Finally, it had paid off. Whilst there was no risk of getting her pregnant, both in the fact that she didn't have the anatomy and was too old, Mrs Figg didn't trust Harry to not have some magical STI that would ravage her. As such, she peeled open the condom and rolled it along Harry's length, snugly pressing it firmly against his base. Grasping the tub of Vaseline, she carefully rubbed a small amount across his condom-covered length, ensuring that he was sufficiently lubricated. After that, Arabella stood upright, unsure as to how best to approach this. Harry's body was still too frozen to move, even if she could muster the strength, meaning that she would have to straddle him as best as she could. In truth, there was no position that she was going to be placed in that would be particularly gentle on her old bones, but that didn't stop her from pondering tactically. Ultimately, she threw caution to the wind and swung her leg over Harry's waist. Using her gardening pad to cushion one knee at the bundled fabric of the blanket to cushion the other, she steadied herself with one hand on Harry's shoulder. Fortunately for her, Harry's cock was frozen upright, meaning little adjustment needed to be made as she angled him towards her asshole. Breathing deeply, she eased herself backwards, guiding the bulbous tip of his sizable cock towards her elderly hole. With a cold shiver running through her body, she felt it nestle up against her puckered, tightened hole.

"Let's hope I've still got this in me… It has been a long while…" she murmured to herself, before slowly lowering her hips even further. The tip of his cock pushed firmly against her ass, wrestling with her immense tightness. However, it didn't take long before her puckered entrance warmed to the intruder, gently peeling apart to allow the tip to steadily ease inside. Grimacing softly, Mrs Figg's eyes tightened shut as her hole rolled over the very tip, clamping tightly down around the thickened shaft. She had forgotten just how sizable magical folk could be. Even having seen his manhood failed to prepare her for how it would feel inside of her. Taking only a few moments to adjust, Arabella decided that she could linger for long as slowly eased her body downwards. The movements that she was making came to her somewhat naturally as she remembered her youth. The worst part was the overwhelming chill that came from Harry's length. It was freezing her insides as she slid herself downwards. Not to mention his cock was rock solid. It didn't have any fleshy pliability, feeling more like a frozen block of ice shaped like a cock thrusting into her asshole. As such, it was hard to enjoy the experience whatsoever, which was both good and bad for Arabella. On the bad side, it made it all the more uncomfortable, but on the other hand, it meant that she was less likely to get carried away as she had done previously. As such, she was able to rest her flat and bony ass against Harry's crotch, the entirety of his icy manhood lodged within her asshole. Holding there a moment, she grew more and more accustomed to the penetrating length, adjusting herself to the feeling of fullness. It wasn't wholly unpleasant, but it wasn't the unending peals of pleasure she remembered from her youth. She was very much a bottom as a younger lady, but she couldn't say that this was a pleasurable return to form for her. In fact, the icy chill only amplified the ache she was feeling. However, she needed to continue. For the boy's sake.

Steadying herself, Arabella began to lightly rock her body back and forth, easing an inch in and out of her ass. Her movements were slow, partially due to her lack of spryness, but also because Harry's cock seemed unflinching as it shifted into her ass. It was rock solid, carving into her at an incredibly uncomfortable angle. It took a little experimentation, but eventually Arabella had a decent pace, picking up and easing her hips downwards as best as she could. The frozen chill within her asshole was somewhat unbearable. Like plunging your hand into ice cold water for too long, only the sensation was driving right inside her, freezing her from the inside. But that couldn't stop the fact that having her prostate teased like this after so long was an exceptionally pleasurable experience. It was minimal, but when compared with the pain of her stretching hole and the fact that Harry's cock refused to cooperate with her, her prostate remained a haven of much needed pleasure. The cold had run through Arabella's body, bringing her nipples to firm and sensitive peaks, the two rounded nubs poking prominently through the fabric of both her bra and cardigan. A part of her instinctively wanted to caress her nipples, but she decided against it, not wanting to jeopardise the rhythm she was following. Arabella kept her eyes as open as she could as the pleasure began to build in her body. Harry's face remained motionless, his frosty breath lingering in the air. The effects of her cum splashing against his face had had a lasting effect, but it seemed that her slow riding of his cock was taking a lot longer to sink in. However, before long, she could see a change. Or rather, feel a change.

Deep within her ass, a bead of pre-cum finally escaped Harry's frozen cock, rolling along his shaft in a long trickle. Even when trapped within a condom, Arabella could feel the immense warmth that came from that single bead. It was intense and sent shivers down her spine. As she lifted her hips, she felt Harry's cock beginning to soften from its icy hardness to a regular erect firmness. With another downward push, the frozen chill within her began to dissipate, replaced with the familiar heat that she recognised from her youth. It took several plunges downwards before Harry's cock began to flex and shift within her, adjusting itself to fit the angle of Arabella's ass as opposed to remaining rigid, frozen and unmoving. Within moments, Arabella could feel her ass beginning to relax, her stretched hole able to glide further up the curve of Harry's cock. Soon, her shifting movements were no longer as short and stunted as before, with Mrs Figg impaling herself gently upon half of Harry's cock, his shaft emanating a warm and intense heat. Lowering her hands down to Harry's stomach and chest, she began to feel the heat beneath his skin, his body no longer icy to the touch. His skin was pliable and soft, his breathing regular. His eyes remained lulled shut as soft moans of pleasure began to escape his lips. Giddy that her efforts were working, Mrs Figg doubled down, pushing her weary and aching bones further, letting his cock carve hungrily into her ass. Soon enough, she could have sworn that Harry was thrusting his hips upwards to meet her downward pushes, her ass melting into Harry's crotch, with a gentle smack of Harry's balls. Despite her legs hurting, Arabella didn't let up, pushing her ass firmly downwards and relishing in the spasming heat of Harry's cock.

The pleasure was overwhelming and whilst Arabella's cock had yet to harden again, that didn't stop an orgasm from rushing over her. As she pushed down, a few last bits of cum erupted from the head of her cock, splashing against Harry's stomach. That served to be the final push as Harry lifted his head, his eyes bleary as he blinked them rapidly. Looking up, he saw Mrs Figg, a woman whom he had never really liked, astride his body, half naked and with his cock plunged up in her ass. Looking down at him, Arabella beamed, resting her hands on Harry's chest as she continued to fuck him, letting her ass slowly rouse him from his Dementor induced state. In that moment, Harry wasn't sure that he was awake. It must have been some kind of fever dream. His arms were still numb, but as he lifted them to Mrs Figg's hips, he felt the very real and tangible warmth of her body as she rocked back and forth, twisting and moaning in pleasure. The feeling was utterly bizarre, but before he could comment, he felt his cock shudder within Arabella. It was strange. It was as if he suddenly became aware of all the sensations his cock was feeling as the final chill thawed from his length, sending waves of pent-up pleasure surging through his body. It was enough to cause him to cum, letting a groan escape his lips as he poured a heavy amount of cum into the condom he was wearing, the warm feeling of his own seed rolling along his cock, eliminating any residual chill that remained in his body, returning him to his regular self. As his orgasm subsided, Harry waited for the moment that he would wake up in bed or slumped against the underpass where he collapsed. He waited for Mrs Figg to fade from view, but she didn't. She remained above him, heavily breathing as she collected herself. Slowly, she swung her leg over him, letting his cock slip out of her ass.

"Mrs Figg?" Harry wheezed, pushing himself back up the wall, wincing as his aching body shifted. As he did so, he swore he could taste something in his mouth. Something he couldn't quite place. It was so familiar, yet it felt as if he hadn't tasted it in so long.

"Are you alright, Harry? No more frozen bits?" Mrs Figg asked, grabbing her skirt and reattaching it, but not before Harry spied her softened cock bouncing between her legs. Suddenly, more questions arose in Harry's mind, with Harry further convinced that this was all some wild dream. Why else would the muggle old lady from his street have a cock?

"No… I… What were you…" he stammered, trying in vain to make sense of his thoughts as he sat against the wall. Glancing to his right, he saw Dudley's slumped body. Unconscious, but breathing. This was real, Harry thought. This was completely real.

"That Dementor had done something to you. Left you listless. I didn't know what to do other than to… dance the dance… with you. It worked. Some strange magic, no doubt," Mrs Figg smiled, hiding her excitement for having solved a magical puzzle. As she made sure she was presentable, she turned to Harry, softening her expression, "Sorry, Harry… I can't imagine it was a nice sight to wake up to. Me heaving over you. But it beats not waking up at all."

"No, I was just… surprised. You mentioned magic. How do you know about…" Harry asked, pushing himself up to his feet. Staggering back and forth, he felt his cock smack against his thigh, at which point he glanced down, bewildered at the thin latex covering that was wrapped around his shaft, "Is this a… condom?"

"Well, I didn't know what weird magical nonsense you get up to at Hogwarts! All I know is that they certainly don't treat it down at the GP," Mrs Figg protested, watching as Harry pulled the condom off and wiped up the remaining cum as best as he could, "Now cover yourself up. No need for us to dwell on the… details. I'm just glad that it worked. Don't think I could sleep at night if that had all been for nothing."

It was only then that Harry became acutely conscious of his nudity. Grabbing his jeans and boxers, he pulled them up, the fabric unnaturally stiff. It began to thaw as he wrestled with it, finally pulling it up over his legs and covering himself up. Grabbing his wand, he tucked it in his jeans before turning to Mrs Figg, still baffled, and confused, but thankful that she had stumbled upon him, "Thank you for… for saving me."

"No need to thank an old lady for traumatising you," she chuckled, fastening her waterproof overall and blushing gently. Unbeknownst to her, Harry wasn't quite as traumatised as she imagined. After all, his experiences at Hogwarts had been extensive and at times incredibly… strange. An older woman was hardly an abnormal bedfellow for Harry.

"It wasn't traumatising. I just wasn't expecting. If I had expected it, I doubt it would…" he stammered helplessly, feeling obliged to explain that it wasn't her appearance that had taken him back, but rather the suddenness with which she had appeared astride him.

"No need to lie to make an old lady blush," she smiled, tucking the remainder of her things back into her pull-bag, including her Vaseline and tea, all before turning to Harry and instructing him, "Now, grab your cousin and lets get you home. The Order will want you to be safe."

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

As he recounted the story to the Order, Harry saw fit to tactfully avoid saying that the Dementor had done what it did, and that Mrs Figg had rescued him how she had. Something about the firm glares of Mad-Eye and the expectant smirk on Tonks' face made him uneasy to go into details. However, as they retreated to the other side of the room to discuss it without Harry, he made the call to discuss it with Sirius. Sinking back into his chair at Harry's side, Sirius leant in close as Harry told him exactly what had happened, in as little detail as he thought he could get away with. Needless to say, the grim look on Sirius' face was disconcerting to say the least.

"This isn't good, Harry. Not in the slightest," Sirius breathed quietly, his face darkening as he contemplated what he had been told. He was of course worried about Harry, but given Harry seemed quite alright in the moment, his concern turned towards the implications of such an attack. Keeping his voice low, he leant over to Harry, "Back when You Know Who first rose to power, the Dementors were among the first dark creatures to join him. The Dark Lord preached of the old ways. Back when… a witch or wizard's magical powers were considered to be directly tied with their… potency. Of course, it was complete rubbish. There were plenty of exceptionally powerful witches and wizards that lacked in that department. However, the Dark Lord considered them to be magical leeches. Only those with considerable power and… sexual potency, were considered to be true wizards. Its how the Great Families were formed centuries ago. And its why You Know Who values purebloods over anything else. Pureblood witches and wizards from the Great Families are typically more magically powerful and… sexually potent."

"What's that got to do with the Dementors?" Harry asked, intrigued at what he was being told and mildly amused by Sirius' tactile attempts to avoid saying anything explicit. Once again, Sirius bowed his head and ensured they were out of earshot, knowing that the others would be hesitant about revealing such details.

"Well, the Dementors flocked to the Dark Lord's side explicitly because he allowed them to indulge in their more perverse sides. He allowed and encouraged them to do what they did to you. It was a form of torture. But when You Know Who was defeated and the Ministry reclaimed control of the Dementors, they banned the practice outright. What I'm saying is, that if a Dementor was willing to do what it did to you, despite the Ministry's power over them, then they would only do so if they had the assurance of the Dark lord. Meaning that You Know Who's army has grown even larger than we thought. Not only that, but a Ministry asset is now directly under the control of the Dark Lord. And Fudge won't do anything!" Sirius snapped, his words just loud enough to cause the others the glance briefly over. Quietening and collecting himself, Sirius rested a hand on Harry's shoulder, a warm smile on his bearded face, "But that is not for you to trouble yourself with, okay? I'd avoid mentioning it to the Wizengamot. Given Fudge's hesitancy to acknowledge the Dark Lord's return, they'll be likely to outright discount the idea that the Dementors have grown bold enough to do that."

"Good. I don't like the idea of recounting the experience to a bunch of strangers," Harry shivered, finding the idea of telling his friends about it to be just as unnerving. Sirius chuckled, rising to his feet and sliding out from around the table.

"But you're better now. Put it behind you. I'd best go and join them," Sirius smiled, moving to join the others at the end of the room, only to turn back and lean towards Harry, "I will have to explain to them what the Dementor did. Rather, I'll tell them that it tried to do it before you fended it off. They need to know, and I can only protect your modesty so much."

"Just as long as I don't have to tell Moody," Harry smirked, watching as Sirius let out a throaty laugh, once again capturing the attention of the other members of the Order, who looked at him bemused. Except Moody, who remained firm and grim in his composure.

"Believe me. I'm not keen to talk to him about it either. You'd best hurry of to bed," Sirius encouraged, ushering Harry to his feet. Before Harry could leave the room, he turned and stopped him, "Oh, and Harry. Mrs Weasley checks on all the bedrooms before doing the washing. Wait till you hear the running water in the washing room before sneaking out."

"Why would I sneak out?" Harry asked, a little confused as to what Sirius was implying. With a smile, Sirius closed the distance between them, once again lowering his voice out of earshot. Making sure the others weren't paying attention, he spoke softly.

"Spare me, Harry. This is your first night back. I know better than to expect you to sleep alone. Just don't alert Mrs Weasley. She prefers to imagine her children as immaculate little angels as opposed to… well, I'll leave it there," Sirius smiled, giving Harry an understanding clap on the shoulder before bidding him goodnight, "Sleep well."

With that, Harry made his way up to the bedrooms, slipping into the room he was to share with Ron. The two of them talked for a while, recounting their holidays and any memorable stories they had, of which Ron had significantly more than Harry. Eventually, they heard a knock at the door, with Mrs Weasley poking her head in and urging them to go to sleep. Exchanging goodnights, Harry and Ron laid down to go to sleep, with Harry a little too awake to even consider sleeping. After a few minutes, he got up and went to the door. Easing it open, he heard the sound of flowing water from a downstairs room. Quickly and quietly, he stepped out, clambering up the stairs, only to collide with Hermione as she made her way down.

"Oh, sorry…" she murmured, blushing as the two went past one another. Lingering in place, Harry watched as she pushed the door to his and Ron's room open, quietly stepping inside. A moment later, there was the sound of the lock turning before complete and utter silence. Unnatural silence. Magical silence. With a grin on his face, he headed upstairs, slipping into Ginny's room, and doing the same. Lock. Silencing spell. Sliding into Ginny's bed, he pulled her close, the girl moaning as she was roused from her half-slumber. The two didn't say a word and just lay there, Harry holding her tight, remembering the torturous vision that he had experienced at the hands of the Dementors. Keeping Ginny held tightly against him, he reminded him it was his worst nightmare. Not a reality. Reality… Reality was much, much warmer. And smelled of coconut…

Author's Note: I hope at least someone enjoyed that. I mean, if ever the word niche was to be used, it would describe this chapter. But I figured Dementors would be a good way to explore the worst nightmares of characters. After all, Harry's nightmare would hardly occur naturally. At least not without a lot of setup work. Also, Mrs Figg. Given that this is the only real place that she could be included, I figured I would use her for something. Just in case there are people out there who are Arabella Figg stans. There has to be one.

With that said, the next brand-new chapter for this update/re-write, will be a lot more conventional and will have more widespread appeal. But do let me know your thoughts on this chapter. More weird experimental stuff like this, or nah?

Either way, go enjoy the remaining reworked chapters and new content!

Author's Note: Hope you all enjoyed that. As I said, it was a little bit of a weird chapter, but I figured I should use the opportunity as it was there. After all, it's not like Mrs Figg is a main character. Or that popular… I guess that's why I thought it would be a good idea. Regardless, It was a little experiment that allowed for a little bit of set-up for some future chapters. Should be fun. With that said, feel free to continue on to other chapters and enjoy more smutty goodness.

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