August '97
"Would you, umm, like to dance? Uh, with me?"
It took Harry about five minutes to decide that he hated weddings. He was just about to ditch the event when Rolanda – Ron's female counterpart – found the courage to ask him to dance. He knew it was coming – after all, it was the reason he was invited in the first place – but still couldn't think of any tactful response.
"Umm, actually I don't feel very… steady at the moment. A bit too much elf mead, y'know," he said, looking down at Rolanda's hopeful eyes and trying to appear apologetic. "I think I better visit the bathroom, if you don't mind…"
He turned around and strode away quickly before Rolanda even got a chance to respond, heading for the welcomed quiet inside the house.
It was a surreal experience – despite being in this world for more than a month, Harry still hadn't completely grown used to the inverse genders. Pretty much everything at the Burrow looked the same, except that all the Weasley boys were now girls. Quite beautiful, redheaded girls, for that matter, all dressed in white and letting their wild long hair hang loose, with garlands of flowers on top. It was a sight out of a fairytale, definitely a much more sensual experience than Harry had gotten used to at the homey place, and he couldn't deny that it somewhat turned him on – though not enough to make him get intimate with the counterpart of his dead best friend.
Locking himself in the bathroom (he did, after all, drink quite a lot of the elf mead, in an attempt to make the event more pleasant) he finally managed to breathe deeply and clear his mind of the confusion brought about by trying to figure out who every guest was, or rather, who's opposite-sex counterpart they were. Harry had always found bathrooms a great place to think.
His mind went back to another frustration, instead. He had spent the afternoon at the Black family library, his greatest resource for powerful and obscure magic, hunched over a large table of ancient wood, and holding a tome that was one of a kind. There was no name on the cover, which was made of thin, pale, human skin, and no hint about its author or publisher. Indeed, this wasn't a book, but rather a journal, which once belonged to Ekrizdis, the mad sorcerer infamous for his strange experiments at the island of Azkaban.
Inside these fraying pages, Harry had finally found what he was looking for during the past two weeks.
Ravenna Lestrange, with her blemished body, presented a problem, but, as a wise man once said, every problem is also an opportunity. Harry's failure in permanently transfiguring his new fucktoy's body into something more alluring had opened his mind to a branch of magic that he had barely even reflected on until then; bodily augmentation.
It wasn't much of a surprise; the subject was famously perilous to practice on oneself, as Eloise Midgen has sadly found out, and very few people were willing to volounteer their body as a guinea pig. Beauty enhancement was in itself somewhat of a taboo in traditional magical society, and the matter was therefore confined to deep dark chambers in old family manors, to Unspkeabables sworn to secrecy, and to the occasional mad wizard.
Harry remembered that Ginny Weasley had performed some kind of ritual to transfer a part of her youthful vitality to her lover, Bellatrix Lestrange, in order to restore the woman's lost great looks. He didn't think much of it at the time, but now that he shared a similar problem, he realized that the ritual could prove very useful when it came to another Lestrange. It was in the diary of the mad wizard that he had finally found a ritual that worked to a similar, rejuvenating effect.
The principle was simple; an exchange of a youthful body's plasma through blood transfusion to the aged recipient. Apparently not only life force could be exchanged, but also entire limbs and appendages, even brains. It was, he read, used by several dark wizards in the past, as a substitute to the Philosopher's Stone, or in order to replace limbs. However, it worked best between those who shared similar DNA, and could only succeed if the donor and recipient were of the same sex. This was the part that frustrated Harry – what point would there be to rejuvenating Ravenna, if he had a female victim who was naturally young, and could serve just as well as a blank canvas for creating the ultimate fuckdoll?
Now, hours later, he was ready to deem the project a waste of time.
As the last drip left his red tip, he sighed in contentment, flushed, and covered himself back. An old woman gave him a nasty glare when he left the sanctuary of the bathroom; he did take his time in there, and the Burrow wasn't abundant with toilets.
He went outside and prepared to disapparate, when he suddenly saw the flaring form of a Patronus making its way to the middle of the wedding tent, causing everyone to stop dancing and stare at it. The lynx Patronus opened its mouth and a deep, female voice rang out. "The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."
Without missing a beat, loud gunshot noises erupted, heralding the arrival of masked figures in black robes among the crowd.
It took less than a second for complete pandemonium to break out. While the Death Eaters began casting Stunners in every direction, half the guests ran for cover or disapparated, while the Order members fought back. Harry realized that the Weasleys will not flee their home. He had to help.
But he didn't know where to even start. It was a scene of complete chaos, and Harry found himself frustrated that he could not use any lethal curse, since among the flurry of movement and rushing bodies, it could easily hit one of the guests instead of the Death Eaters. After gathering his thoughts for a second, he decided to Disillusion himself and attempt to get closer. Darkness and mayhem made him practically invisible.
He grabbed Ravenna's wand – which was better suited for curses – out of his left pocket, and headed forward slowly. Two masked figures were blocking the tent's entrance, with their backs to him, and Harry knocked them out with two Sectumsempras without them even noticing him. His way now clear, he cast a protective bubble around himself and advanced into the crowd, curious as to what exactly was going on at the center, which from afar looked like a complete whirlwind of lights, flying object and thrashing bodies.
The answer came soon enough. The only redhead boy, Jonas Weasley – Ginny's counterpart – was duelling the twins while apparently attempting to dispose of his entire family with dark curses. The usually jovial couple had horrified looks on their pretty faces while levitating anything around to block the curses, and blood was pouring from a head wound on one of them. The sight made Harry quite peeved.
He had hated that traitorous whore Ginny, who at one point even got into a close relationship with him only to relay his secrets to the Dark Lord, and Jonas seemed just as irritatingly fanatic. He was a good duellist, Harry had to admit, but even he could do nothing but keel over in shock when Harry crept closer invisibly, and hit him with a Piercing curse to the back of his head, point blank.
The twins looked around in astonishment, but Harry had already moved on to the next target. At the tent's outskirts he spied Rolanda defending herself from two short, burly figures in black robes. Harry summoned their masks, revealing two faces that he had already encountered in Hogwarts.
"Crabbe, Goyle, I should have known," Rolanda sneered as the two bulky girls paused for a second in confusion, looking around for the invisible attacker. "You couldn't even cast the Killing curse! Huh! Stupefy! Stupefy!"
One of the two – Harry wasn't sure whether it was Crabbe or Goyle – managed to evade the Stunner, but the other was hit straight in the chest and fell down. The remaining junior Death Eater wasted no time in hitting Rolanda with a Crucio, making her fall over and squeal.
"Fulmine!" came a high-pitched shout, and Harry turned around, ready to deflect the blinding, white lightning bolt, only to behold the fair-haired, pretty face of Abigail Vance, the Girl-Who-Lived, rushing over in the direction of the Death Eater, who was just blasted by her curse and lay unconscious with her hair entangled and scorched.
"Rolanda! Come on, we have to go!" Abigail shouted, while a curly haired boy – Hermes Granger - came running to her side with a panic-stricken face. Rolanda looked around for a second, likely trying to find her invisible helper, before giving up, taking Abigail's hand, and disappearing from the spot.
Harry's intervention seemed to have turned the tide of the battle. The Order members were quickly getting the upper hand on the remaining Death Eaters and subduing them. He considered hitting Voldemort's fallen servants with a few lethal curses, knowing the Order's foolish tendency to keep their enemies alive, but decided it would get him too much attention. He wasn't needed anymore.
Instead, he grabbed the Death Eater that Rolanda stunned, and disapparated.
Stella was livid and covered with several bandages when Harry returned ten minutes later, his sister helping her with applying a gauze. He was glad that he decided only to imprison the Death Eater in the lighthouse for now, because his godmother had already began worrying about him.
They exchanged accounts of the night's events, though Harry had dropped his participation in the battle out of the tale. Stella, being an Auror, was right there when Voldemort attacked the Ministry, and was forced to flee along with Shacklebolt as the Death Eaters overwhelmed the DMLE. She ranted about traitorous Aurors and lax security, while Harry was coming to terms with the fact that Lady Voldemort was now in charge of wizarding Britain.
"So, you were snogging Weasley in the tool shed while the Death Eaters attacked her family, I take it?" Ella asked, lounging on the couch beside him, once Stella left for a floo call. Walt, their old ginger cat jumped into her lap to be idly petted.
"You wound me, dear sister," Harry said in mock indignation. "But thanks for asking. I didn't realize you were that interested in my love life."
"I'm not!" she protested. "I just know my brother well enough."
"If you say so," Harry grinned. It was nice having a sister to banter with. "But remember, it can go both ways. You don't want me to pry into your love life, do you?"
She rolled her eyes. "I doubt you care about me enough to."
"Of course I do," he patted her head condescendingly, making her frown. "It's just not very manly of me to show it."
They stayed awake, waiting for news, for the rest of the night, and Harry was glad to hear that Rolanda and her two friends were safe at a secure location. With Voldemort in charge, Abigail will likely be hunted at every corner of the isles. However, Mad-Eye Moody was dead, Arthur Weasley was arrested, the twins had to close their shop, and several Order members sustained fatal wounds. They appeared completely lost without Dumbledore.
From then on, it became slightly more difficult to avoid suspicion, as Stella left her job and stayed most of the time inside the now Fideliused house. Harry had to make the excuse that he was exploring the muggle world, to stop her from worrying too much about him running across Voldemort's servants outside. She was quite wary when he left the house the day after the wedding, but Harry couldn't bother to care too much. He had just achieved a breakthrough in his project.
Vivian Crabbe was ugly, burly and stupid, with a body like a fridge, and didn't even have the perk of having big boobs like Millicent Bulstrode. She did, however, supplied him with one vital ingredient; youthful life force.
The topmost room in the lighthouse was converted into somewhat of a lab, with crystal vials, test tubes and pipes decorating the countertop of what used to be a kitchen. Harry had to test the blood of his test subjects, lest both of them would die during the experiment. Luck shined on him once more; not only did the two share the same blood type, but were also close relatives – thank Salazar for pureblood marriage practices – and therefore shared similar DNA.
Vivian's face was a mask of pure fear, and she kept emitting groaning noises through her mouth, which was sealed shut, as Harry floated her upside-down and fastened her to the wall in tight chains. Ravenna, chained upright next to her, merely glared at Harry with venomous hatred.
"Don't look so cross, ladies," Harry said, bouncing in excitement with a wide grin. "I'm sure your Mistress would be very appreciative of my experiment. She was always about pushing the limits of magic, wasn't she?"
Neither could answer, with their sealed mouths, but Harry thought that Crabbe's next groan sounded suspiciously like "No!".
"Never mind. I'm sure that Ravenna will at least appreciate the effort. I'm going to completely transform her sad physique into something truly magnificent," he said, while tapping a sharp syringe and sticking it into Crabbe's heart, which made her go very still all of a sudden. Harry gave her the mercy of applying a Numbing charm beforehand, though he mostly did it so that she wouldn't pass out from the pain. "You, Vivian, you hambeast, are fit to serve only as an energy source, that shall restore Ravenna's youth and looks. But who knows what might come next? There are so many Death Eaters infesting this country right now. Some of them are bound to have nice tits, asses, and legs. I could pick and choose any feature I want, and graft it to Ravenna's body, in order to create the perfect fuckdoll."
He attached a transparent plastic tube to the syringe stuck in Crabbe's heart and extended it to Ravenna's left temple, where another syringe was already connected to her blood stream. This would serve to funnel Crabbe's young blood into the older Death Eater. Harry smiled brightly at Ravenna's face, where the expression of animosity was quickly turning to dismay.
"Would you like to be my Frankenstein?"
He didn't wait for an answer before pricking another syringe straight into her heart (the Numbing charm meant that he didn't even have to be gentle), which he then attached to another tube, one that lead down to Crabbe's temple. With the two-way connection, the blood flowing from Crabbe will push Ravenna's blood into the burly girl in exchange.
Taking another look at Ekrizdis' notes to make sure he didn't forget anything, Harry began chanting in Sumerian.
His eyes took the transformation on Ravenna's naked body in fascination while he repeated the lengthy incantation six times. It was like the accelerated aging curse that Voldemort used on Snape, in his home world, but in reverse; the older witch's wrinkles slowly began to fade away and her skin smoothened, gaining a lush, healthy look and a light olive tone, while the wisps of grey in her dull, dark hair turned a deep brown and lustrous. The angles of her face softened, giving her a much more pleasant appearance, her lips filled, and her waist curved, while narrowing down near her ribs. Finally, her thin, saggy little tits filled up, returning to a nice round shape, while also perking upwards.
Harry couldn't help but crack a shining, proud grin as he beheld his creation. "Success," he mumbled.
Despite Lady Voldemort tightening her hold on Britain, allowing her Dementors to feed on the population's despair, Harry's mood soared for the next days, so much that he had to visibly suppress his smiles and assume a more typical frown when he returned home to the agitated Stella. Now that he had a truly attractive fuckdoll at his disposal, he didn't have to content himself with masturbation anymore, and between exploring every crevice of the body he had helped rejuvenate, he was also studying Ekrizdis' accounts of human experimentation, and brewing batches of Draught of Living Death as well as Polyjuice Potion – the former to keep Ravenna's good shape in stasis while he was away, and the latter to turn Vivian into the form of other, more attractive muggle women, which he made full use of. His libido was finally sated, and he awoke every morning with an enthusiastic grin, ready to have fun with a different looking, gorgeous girl.
"Check this out," Stella passed him the Prophet at breakfast several days later, her face scowling more than usual. "Seraphina Snape appointed Headmistress of Hogwarts."
"Oh no," Ella moaned, leaning beside Harry to get a look of the article, and he couldn't help but let his eyes wonder to the cleavage of her tank top. "And I thought she was insufferable as a teacher…"
Harry nodded solemnly. "Maybe it's time to search for a new school." As much as he loved Hogwarts, he didn't want to think of all the shite that Snape would let the Slytherins get away with now.
"Not a possibility anymore," Stella curled her lips down in anger. "Read down below. They made attendance mandatory to any magical child below eighteen. To 'protect them.'"
Harry shook his head, examining the picture of Snape sneering down at him from the newspaper. She was just as ugly as her male counterpart, with the only differences being a widow's peak replacing Severus' receding hairline, and a slightly rounder face. The rest remained the same: greasy curtains of hair, vulture-like nose, and meaty lips.
He would have to plan something special for her. Aside from getting rid of one of Voldemort's more capable servants, it would be a delight to torture and use the person that was responsible for so much pain in his life. She'll soon find that not everyone at Hogwarts will bow down to her.
"I'm going to get my apparation permit today," Harry said while folding the newspaper.
"Are you sure? The Ministry is crawling with Death Eaters," Stella said, raising an eyebrow.
Harry shrugged. "I need to be able to apparate, and it's better not to give them an excuse to legally get me in trouble."
"Be careful, Harry…"
"Don't worry. Dad's cloak would help me get out of trouble," he offered her a smile.
He noticed Ella frowning down at this, while Stella nodded in approval, and decided to keep a close eye on his little sister when they got back to school. He knew she probably wanted the cloak, but it, like the rest of the Deathly Hallows, was partially a trap, tempting its owner to get into trouble, which would not be good for someone unexperienced, unlike Harry.
In truth, he was quite interested in getting a look at the new Ministry. With the Death Eaters hanging right in the open, it would be easier than ever to snatch them, either for interrogation or for pleasure. They were likely planning some big changes, and he preferred to know about them in advance. He grabbed his invisibility cloak and Ravenna's wand before leaving the house, and went over the Ministry security details that he got from Umbridge and Runcorn.
But it seemed the new regime was already increasing security, judging by the new entrance, disguised as toilet booths; while other guests grumbled beside him, Harry chuckled at the idea of flushing Ministry employees down the toilet like turds. At least the planners had a sense of humour.
As he passed the new monument which replaced the Fountain of Magical Brethren – one that had a wizard and witch stepping over muggles - he couldn't help but imagine transfiguring it into one where naked witches are bowing to him. It was a nice idea, if he ever decided to become dictator of Britain – a concept that he had entertained frequently in the past, and seemed more necessary each day.
He also marvelled at the stupidity of the new regime to bring forth such sharp changes overnight, but it was better that way, as at least it would make the sheep of the wizarding world slightly less dumb as to who really was in charge.
With that thought he arrived at the Transportation Office, where he had to pay an exuberant amount of galleons and wait almost an hour for his apparation test. It was all the more annoying since he completed it in about five minutes, and was told the results would only arrive in three days, even though he performed perfectly (having been doing it for more than a year by now), therefore still couldn't apparate legally. He was properly pissed off when he left the department, thinking of pleasing ways to unwind, which meant nothing good for his newest fuckdoll.
"Have you gotten that list of mudbloods, Umbridge?" Harry heard a commanding, slightly gruff female voice, and stopped in his tracks.
There were two figures walking towards him in the corridor he had just entered. One was a squat, balding, fat man that must have been Umbridge's counterpart. Besides him, more than a head taller, walked a blonde woman with a heavy face, mature physique, and – Harry couldn't help but notice – a great rack.
"Just as you asked, Madame Yaxley," Umbridge said in a sniveling tone, looking up at what Harry realized was the new head of the DMLE. "Mister Hopkirk was quite helpful, but I still had to go over all the records and pick up only the ones that were registered at eleven-years-old. Well, my aide did," he chuckled.
"Your aide better have done his work thoroughly. It wouldn't do if any trueblood got mixed in with the filth during the operation," Yaxley said, a clear threat in his voice.
"Certainly," Umbridge gulped as they passed Harry, who was hiding in a shadowy corner. "Madame Snape would, of course, inform us of any mudblood detected by the Hogwarts quill…"
Now this is interesting, Harry thought, and quickly covered himself with the invisibility cloak, following closely behind Yaxley and Umbridge, who were talking about some kind of registry that would allow them to disarm any muggleborn in Great Britain and imprison them in work camps. It was completely mad. He couldn't allow that to happen.
The pair travelled to Yaxley's office, which she had already decorated lavishly, and Harry slinked in behind just before the door closed. It looked more like a gentleman's club than a chief's office, with plush leather couches, dim lightning, and decanters of various shapes and sizes. While Yaxley poured herself a glass of cognac (noticeably not offering any to Umbridge), Harry scouted every corner, noting with glee that the place had no portraits, and used his enchanted glasses to detect security charms. He could see an alarm toggle just underneath the grand desk, far enough from Yaxley that she would never be able to reach it in time.
Petrificus Totalus.
Yaxley's glass of cognac fell to the floor and smashed to pieces, staining the carpet, just as the petrified woman slumped down, and Umbridge jolted so far back in his chair that it crashed back along with the little man. Harry took off his cloak.
"Wha—" Umbridge blurted out, before Harry flipped him upside-down in the air, their eyes at the same level, and hit him with a Silencing charm.
Legilimens.
Harry really didn't wish to see all of Umbridge's depraved memories – the first time had been traumatizing enough – and simply blitzed through his mind, taking inventory of anything relevant. It was disappointing to see that the man had only recently gained his job in the Ministry back, and therefore didn't possess detailed knowledge of the new regime's plans, but it did give him enough information on the new security measures, and how to get into the archive of population records.
After five intense minutes, he pulled his eyes away and allowed Umbridge's body to hit the floor, while summoning both wands to him. He tapped the lock on the door with Yaxley's wand, turning on all locking and privacy charms, and then kicked Umbridge's arm while he was trying to crawl back to Harry and snatch his wand.
"Isn't life interesting, Mister Umbridge?" Harry smiled down at the pathetic man who stared up at him in horror. "You can spend years studying magic, building a career, making connections, scheming your way up the ranks – only for all of it to come crashing down in the blink of an eye, undone by a single curse."
Harry breathed heavily as the intoxicating sensation of power was almost depriving him of air. His heart pulsed with fervor. "It doesn't matter how hard you work or how high you rise. Death is the great equalizer. Doesn't it make everything seem so... futile?"
With that, he waved his wand, transfiguring Umbridge into a toad. He grinned cruelly at the bulging eyes on the little amphibian, before he raised his foot and stomped down on it.
"Disgusting," he murmured, casting an overpowered Scourgify, vanishing any remains of Dominic Umbridge from this world.
Another set of eyes bulged at him from the floor, this one steel blue. Kyra Yaxley looked to be in her forties, and her face wasn't very pleasant, but Harry found her quite attractive.
"I'm afraid you won't be getting off so quickly," Harry said, advancing towards her prone form, and leaned down. With a sweeping motion, he cast a Flaying curse at her right hand, where the Dark Mark stood out. Unable to move or let out any sound, her bulging eyes turned bloodshot, and he swore he could virtually hear her mental scream.
Accio magic-suppressing handcuffs. As Harry waved his wand, a drawer in Yaxley's desk banged open and the silvery handcuffs shot out. He grinned at Yaxley's expression as he bound her hands, and released his curse. He levitated her over on to the desk, which her back hit with a groan, and vanished her robes to examine her body. She had a nice, mature, curvy and soft shape, and a great pair of breasts wrapped in a silky, black, pinstriped bra, which completely made up for her somewhat unpleasant face.
"So, Madame Yaxley, are you ready to perform your duty as a Dick Eater?" he asked, using one hand to pin her down while grabbing a handful of her soft tits through her bra.
"No – please – I'll tell you anything you want—"
"I'm sure you will," Harry smiled. "But can't we have some fun first, before I rummage your mind for information?"
His hand trailed down to her large matching panties, and stroked her pussy lips through the thin, translucent fabric at the bottom. The blonde woman gasped and shuddered.
"HELP! HELP! THERE'S A—"
With a quick, well-practiced spell, Harry stripped her of her remaining clothes, took her panties, and staffed them inside her mouth. Her shouts turned into indistinct muffled noises.
"Don't worry, Kyra, your privacy wards will keep us from being disturbed," he said as her face grew flushed. His eyes and hand returned to the task of examining her groin area, something that varied greatly over women, and which he had never gotten tired of exploring. A thin layer of wispy, dark blonde hair covered her soft crotch, and her lower lips were deep red and puffy, which suited the buxom woman quite well. He sent two fingers to pry them open, taking the sight of her folds with interest, and then slid them deeper, making her body go still. His cock was growing rapidly in his pants, and he wasted no time unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning them.
Leaning closer and aligning her opening to him, he rubbed his excited organ over her soft, veiny thighs, and grabbed her by her tits.
"Did you hear what I said to the little toad, chief? Nod for yes," he said. She didn't respond, but he could see in her frightened eyes that she understood. "Head of the DMLE or Minister for Magic, it makes no difference to me how important you think you are. I am the one in charge, and for me, you're just another flesh puppet. A warm hole."
His pelvis shot forward and his cock entered her pussy forcefully, making her cry out sharply, her face contorting in pain. Harry smiled blissfully as he was enveloped by her loose, heated tunnel, and began poking her in various spots, to see what reaction it would get. She was twitching, moaning and trying to twist, her large boobs – now quite loose without her bra – flopping wildly. He grabbed her legs with both arms and spread them wider so he could get all the way in her, his balls slapping against her lips as he picked up the pace.
"This is truly how the government should serve its citizens," Harry muttered, his eyes half-closed, as he poked her inner walls again and again, stretching her legs apart in the air and knocking various expensive stationary from her desk, until her groaning grew completely strained from pain.
"Oh, it hurts?" he asked, feigning surprise. "I'm sorry, you must be so unused to that. It's usually you who's at the other end of the wand, isn't it? Allow me to make it better."
He pulled her closer to him and raised her legs up to rest on his shoulders, as he continued knocking her cervix with force, enjoying her stifled moans of pain. It felt absolutely wonderful to fuck this voluptuous, mature woman right in the center of her authority, taking away every bit of power she held.
"I think you'll make a great fucktoy for my collection," he laughed at the widening of her eyes. "Very complimentary to lithesome Ravenna, useful for warming myself in cold winter nights, like a thick human blanket. Mmm yeah…" he moaned, feeling his pleasure growing higher and coming closer to the edge.
With a sharp motion, he flipped her on her side, locking her thighs close together to make her opening feel tighter, forcing it to completely choke the root of his cock. She finally managed to spit the panties out of her mouth and began letting out loud cries while he pummeled her deeply, until he finally slowed down, stretched his mouth wide open for air, and released a lavish load of cum into her dark, wet gorge.
Voldemort wasn't the only one who could infiltrate the Ministry, ravage it, and claim its authority for herself.
Harry let the pleasure of the orgasm flood his mind and exhaled slowly while stretching his body back and releasing all tension. He felt Yaxley trying to struggle away, but the cuffs binding her hands together didn't let her do much, and she simply fell down to the carpet with a thud. Harry didn't care. After riding that post orgasmic high and relaxing for a few minutes, his thoughts returned to the problems at hand.
"Now, Kyra," he turned to look down at her lazily, and lowered himself above her, pinning her down by her chest. "I need to know your dastardly plans for the future of this miserable country."
She fought his mental attack with surprising fortitude, but after taking complete control of her body, he overwhelmed her resistance and stripped her shields just like he did her clothes. Casting the Imperius on the Minister. Preparing a trap for Scrimgeour. Setting up the Taboo. Arranging the Muggleborn Registry. Reporting to the Dark Lady, with her horrifying visage. Sending all good Aurors for Azkaban duty, keeping only the ones loyal to the Dark Order around. The images flashed through his mind and he focused hard to take in every relevant detail.
"How surprising – huh, not," he muttered, getting up and leaning on the desk. "This Ministry is really just a heap of rubbish, isn't it? I should probably just burn it all with Fiendfyre, but I suppose there's some innocents left… some useful artefacts…" he looked down at his newest toy. "It's time to do some damage control. Imperio."
He couldn't stay for long, lest Stella start worrying, but he'd make sure Yaxley destroyed as much of her resources as possible, including the ever-bothersome Hopkirk, before coming to collect her again.
13/08/1997
Grafted left toe from Crabbe on Ravenna as a test. Results positive. Removed Ravenna's right toe with a Sectumsempra and grafted right toe from Crabbe. Results positive.
Note: pick cutoff point on both subjects more carefully, for smoother end result
14/08/1997
Grafted eyes from eagle on Crabbe. Results negative. Couldn't switch them back. Eagle laid to rest. Crabbe now blind.
15/08/1997
Another attempt to grant Ravenna permanent large tits failed. Polyjuiced Crabbe as a big-tittied muggle and transferred said tits to Ravenna. Transfer worked, but tits returned to prior size after an hour, just as the effect of the Polyjuice on Crabbe faded.
Note: Crabbe could see again when Polyjuiced.
While the couped Ministry was in chaos, and the Death Eaters were struggling to assert themselves on the population without the Taboo, the population records, and the other resources that Yaxley destroyed, Harry lost himself in the world of magical parabiosis. The subject was fascinating, in a way, and could even be useful for his own body, if he ever lost a limb to dark magic, or if he'd manage to graft himself with non-defective eyes – something he wasn't going to attempt any time soon, but made for quite a motivational goal.
If the rest of the experiments detailed in Ekrizdis' journal worked as well, it was only the tip of the iceberg regarding the potential he could derive from the morbid little book.
Sadly, as ridiculous as he found the notion, he still had homework to do and academic material to absorb in preparation for his seventh year, so towards the end of summer, he took some days off to concentrate on that. It wasn't nearly as fun as his own research, and being cooped inside his bedroom so long made him restless. Images of all the different bodies he could be having fun with kept appearing in his mind, which only added to his impatience and horniness. Finally, he decided to take a break and go for a good fuck session to let off some steam.
But his lewd thoughts weren't confined to the realm of captured Death Eaters and muggle Polyjuicing. One objects of his desires was very close to home, and made him stop as he went to the kitchen to pack some food for later.
"Going somewhere?" Ella asked, polishing off a spoon of ice-cream. Just like most days, she wore skimpy clothes, currently consisting only of tight, black athletic shorts, that showed off her cute, round little bum and shapely legs, as well as a plaid spaghetti top, which betrayed her perky breasts and gentle curves.
There was no denying it; he found his little sister absolutely delicious.
"How'd you guess?" he asked rhetorically, trying not to let his eyes linger on her ripe body for too long. He was finding it harder and harder to do these days, and couldn't help picturing her sometimes when he fucked his puppets.
She shrugged, taking another spoonful of ice-cream, while he continued rummaging the fridge. "Where are you really going all those days? Don't tell me you got yourself a girlfriend."
Harry held off from smiling, thinking of the object of his experimentation. "Maybe I did."
"Yeah, right," she rolled her eyes. "And I don't believe you're spending all that time in the muggle world, either. You're up to something," she smiled at him sweetly, which gave him thoughts he didn't like to have. True, he was depraved, but not in the Gaunt way. He shouldn't think of snogging his sister. Even if she wasn't, truly.
"And why is that?" he asked casually.
"You've never cared about muggles before," she said. "And what can be so interesting about them, anyway?"
"People change, you know. Adopt new interests," he said with deliberate condescension. "Muggles create lots of culture that isn't available in the magical world – books, music, films – you should expand your horizons, sweet sister."
She pouted. Adorably. "Fine. I will."
"Really?" Harry smiled. "Where are you going to start?"
"Why, I'm gonna join my brother on his forays, of course," she gave him a mischievous smile, and he struggled not to show his sudden dismay.
"No way. You're just gonna slow me down with your short midget feet. I don't feel like playing Muggle Studies Professor today."
"Hey, you're the one who sold me on the idea!" Ella scowled. "Don't back out now."
"You might not fit in my plans today, that's all," Harry said apologetically. Plans that involved rape and possible human experimentation. He really needed to get off, and entertaining her will only add to his growing sexual frustration.
"Pleeeeaaaase!" Ella made puppy eyes at him. "I'm sick of staying inside all day, I even completed all my homework, and I virtually can't go anywhere in the magical world!"
Harry sighed. How could he say no to such a cute face?
"Alright," he said, shrugging, and smiled a little at her victorious expression. Then he looked down on her body again. "But you'll have to change into something more… appropriate."
"These are muggles clothes," she raised an eyebrow, as if implying that he wasn't aware of it.
"And I have wizard pajamas, but that doesn't mean I wear them to Diagon Alley," Harry said, mentally adding I'm not Dumbledore.
"Fine," Ella said, heading for the stairs. "Just give me ten minutes."
Her idea of an appropriate outfit turned out to be merely a short, navy blue summer dress with white polka dots and thin straps. In truth, it definitely fit the only area in Muggle London that he had visited lately, but he just wished that she didn't wear something that made her look so goddamn attractive. She also tied her hair in a braid, which hung by the side of her chest, and pulled her bangs back with hair pins.
Warmth spread down his neck as she held him tightly, and he apparated them both to an alleyway in Soho.
"Oh, yeah, this looks very cultural," she said, wrinkling her nose at the dirty alley strewn with trash.
"It's just a deserted alleyway, dummy. We can't apparate straight into a crowd of muggles," he said.
Indeed, it was the height of tourist season, and the streets were completely crowded, which made both Harry and Ella somewhat nervous, for different reasons. As they passed through a dense group of tourists who had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to take pictures, she held his hand tightly, making him smile at how normal and innocent it all felt. This could have been his life, without Voldemort. He wouldn't let the Death Eaters take it away from him this time.
After she dragged him to several clothing shops and bought half a wardrobe – which made him quite appreciative of Shrinking charms – Harry got tired of the constant noise and dense crowds, and led her to the nearest cinema, where they had a long, sarcasm-filled argument on which movie to watch. They ended up going to I Know What You Did Last Summer, and while Harry was mostly thinking that he just had to get a hair from Jennifer Love Hewitt, he also quite enjoyed having Ella lean into him during the scarier moments. He wrapped his hand around her shoulder, and once again felt a warm smile on his lips. Until now, he didn't think he would get to experience that kind of careless, mundane fun ever again.
Feeling quite hungry after the movie, they sat outside a bustling café and got some sandwiches. He enjoyed a cold beer while she ordered a milkshake – Harry noticed she had a weakness for dairy sweets and decided to keep that in mind.
As she was staring aside at a street artist, he saw a sheen of sweat trailing down her smooth neck, gleaming under the august sun, which made her look all the more delectable, giving him the urge to lick it off. He had to constantly remind himself that she was off-limits. While in the past month he merely found her attractive, lately he was starting to really like her beyond that. Besides being cute and quite a looker, she shared the same sense of humour as him, and a careless attitude to life that reminded him of more innocent times. It almost felt like he could regain that beautiful innocence just by being with her. If she weren't his biological sister, he would've definitely enjoyed dating her, he thought to himself. As it was, he would have to content himself with restrained, brotherly affection.
"Do you think about Aunt Petra sometimes?" she asked quietly after a long stretch of silence, draining her milkshake with her head held down.
"I… no, not really. I try not to." Petra Pettigrew, even in this strange world, was a traitor who led to James and Lily Potter's death. Even with Voldemort in charge, she hadn't got out of hiding. Ella was apparently fond of her, before she showed her true colours.
"So do I! But I just get those nightmares about her sometimes, and then I end up thinking about where she is now, and if she regrets her choices," Ella confessed bashfully.
Harry took a sip from his now lukewarm beer, and casually applied a Cooling charm to the glass, his wand hidden in his sleeve. "What happens in those nightmares?"
"I don't know… it's always a bit different, and I forget the details…" she bit her lip. "But usually it's just seeing her inside our home and getting panicked."
Harry put his hand on hers. "Don't worry. She can't get past the Fidelius, and even if she could, I'm sure Walt would do his duty and hunt down the rat immediately."
He was swelling with pride for getting a big smile from her in return. She was fond of the old cat.
"You've changed, brother," she said.
"Have I?"
"Yeah. You're much nicer recently. I dunno, maybe the Dementor attack actually gave you a soul," she grinned.
"Or… maybe it just made me realize I shouldn't take what I have for granted?"
"Yeah, nah, it was definitely the Dementors."
Harry sprinkled some water at her from his wand, making her shut her eyes and let out a cute squeak. "What was that for?!" she pouted.
"You were sweaty, I just tried cooling you down a bit," he smiled mischievously. "And I don't even get a 'thank you' for my efforts."
She rolled her eyes. "Don't be so sore, dinosaur. I like the new you."
"So glad of your approval."
A truck driving by gave a loud honk, and his sister pressed her hands against her ears, shutting her eyes in visible discomfort. "Ugh, I hate cars," she grunted after a few seconds. "Muggles are so noisy."
"Yeah, the change from village to city is always a bit disorientating," he said, finishing his beer. "Let's go, there's a nice park nearby."
They spent some time just walking quietly, peacefully, through Kensington gardens, hand in hand, something that made Harry happier than everything that happened in the last year, before returning home.
It was already long past noon and the weather cooled down. Harry let himself fall unto the couch with a tired, yet satisfied hum, and Ella fell beside him. To his surprise, she lied down, with her feet hanging past the couch's edge, and her head in his lap, her eyes closed and mouth smiling in contentment. He instinctively caressed her hair and tried to keep calm, while his chest began constricting.
The entire situation was completely frustrating, yet arousing at the same time. He was lucky that her head wasn't two inches to the left, otherwise she would have surely felt his cock hardening. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? How much she was making him want to absolutely devour her? No, of course not. She was just an innocent, playful girl, trusting her awkward brother. And he would do anything to keep her that way.
But he needed release. He couldn't go on like this, else the desire would surely drive him mad.
Therefore, by ten o'clock, he reapplied every privacy charm he knew to his room, and went to fetch Ravenna from the lighthouse. She was bleary when he awakened her from the potion-induced sleep, and he wasted no time putting her under the Imperius, before taking her back to his room.
All the ingredients were already on his desk. The skimpy clothes Ella wore earlier, which he had pinched from the laundry basket. A sliver of long black hair, taken from her hairbrush. And a bottle of Polyjuice.
He wouldn't defile his sister, but that didn't mean he couldn't have some pleasure with a replica of her. He silently thanked the inventor of Polyjuice as Ravenna transformed into the beautiful girl that he couldn't get out of his mind, wearing the same complimentary clothes, even smelling the same.
And she was just as warm, as he commanded her to lay on the bed, and began rubbing every inch of her juicy little body. He kissed her delicate neck, like he wanted to do all day, and smoothed over her soft, round breasts with his hands, before letting his mouth drift lower to her chest, and he began kneading the perfect shape of her supple bum. He was ecstatic as he sucked on her nipples and tits for ages, then on her cute, long navel, her curvy waist, cushy thighs, and finally, her tender lower lips.
It was absolute heaven. He didn't treat her like Ravenna, the fucktoy, but pretended that she was truly his sister, giving her all the gentle pleasure he could, and loosening her slowly, before heading for the main course, and taking his pants off.
All nerves in his organ screamed in delight as he finally entered her juicy depths, hugging him in an impossibly soft embrace like a fluffy cloud. He commanded her legs to wrap around his lower back and lock him in place, pulling him tighter into her, keeping their bodies bound together, never letting him go. He was almost tearful as his eyes closed in exquisite nirvana, and he came inside her heated sex.
Nobody outside could hear as he moaned "Oh, yes, Ella... I love you so much…"