Chapter 17
Monday morning found Harry utterly and completely confused. He'd woken up with a scream after a most disturbing dream. Harry found himself in the graveyard where Lord Voldemort stood freshly resurrected. Voldemort announced to all his Death Eaters that he would marry Harry at once and they'd consummate their marriage right there in the graveyard with Cedric's dead body lying not ten feet away. Voldemort had approached Harry with a sharp smile, red eyes blazing and Harry found himself suddenly naked and in Harriet's body which was throbbing with desire.
That's when Harry had mercifully startled awake and had immediately vowed to himself he'd never spend another Sunday masturbating to excess if that sort of horrific dreams were the unwelcome result.
Not for the first time Harry wondered why he couldn't have reincarnated into the body of a fucking adult instead of that one of a teenager in the hormonal midst of discovering their wants and desires. Then again, if Harry had been reincarnated as an adult he wasn't sure what he would have done with his new life. While walking towards breakfast Harry contemplated his hypothetical choices. Imagine if he'd been a recently graduated Hogwarts student, or perhaps someone in their twenties with some boring Ministry job. Harry might still have emptied the Room of Requirement and done away with the basilisk to fill his Gringotts vault. And he might still have started passing off future potions recipes as his own.
And then what?
Then he'd be a very wealthy and very lonely young person stuck in the past because making friends was a hell of a lot easier when you were still in school than as an adult.
No, if Harry was totally honest with himself he had to admit that reincarnating into a teenage body had probably been the better of any possible scenarios. Even if it meant going through puberty again, which sucked much more than Harry remembered it sucking in his first life. Perhaps he was simply an adult looking back at his own adolescence with rose-tinted glasses instead of remembering all the awkwardness and horniness and anxiety that had plagued him growing up the first time.
Harry knew one thing, though. He never had a ridiculous crush on his enemy the first time around.
Yes, yes, Harry knew the new and improved Tom Riddle was no longer his enemy as he'd once been and probably, hopefully, would never turn into one in the first place. But as Harry's dreams had proven there was still a lot of trauma hiding away in Harry's subconscious when it came to Tom Riddle's murderous alter-ego. Which is what led Harry to feeling so utterly confused in the first place.
Harry's brand-new body was ready for Tom in every sexual way possible, as his many orgasms the previous day had proven. But Harry's mind was lagging behind, apparently, especially now that Harry had discovered he actually liked Tom a bit too much.
Harry had never, ever expected actual feelings to happen. Even if it was only a silly little teenage crush.
Ugh. Harry's mind wouldn't stop spinning with doubts and worries and lots and lots of bouts of sheer, dumb lust. One thing was for sure, though. Harry was going to limit himself to masturbating once a day. In the evening in bed, right before going to sleep. To help him relax at the end of his busy, stressful days. But no more than that because apparently a woman's body was prone to developing feelings when sexually stimulated a little bit too much.
At least that is what Harry told himself.
Tom was already seated at the Slytherin table and he gave Harry a small but bright smile. Harry stared at him blankly in return, desperate to keep any and all discoveries he'd made the last 24 hours about himself and about Tom an absolute secret. Tom was a genius when it came to reading people, Harry was well aware of that. Tom was a genius about most things, but especially about figuring people out in ways he could use to his own advantage.
Apparently, Harry's mask of indifference didn't do a very good job of hiding all the things Harry wanted to keep to himself because Tom's gaze narrowed while his smile slowly morphed into a knowing little smirk.
Closing his eyes, Harry shook his head as he sank down on the bench at the Ravenclaw table. Here he was, the Boy Who Lived to become a teenage girl lusting after Tom fucking Riddle with a vengeance. How had this whole mess become his life, seriously?
Myrtle had picked up on Harry's strange mood and left him alone, which Harry wasn't sure was a good thing or not. Thankfully the morning post proved a distraction. Harry received a short letter from Ruby Baird with a reasonable list of questions concerning the whole Mulciber fiasco and the assurance from Ruby that Harry could answer as few or as many questions as he liked. Harry tucked the letter away to answer later that day.
They had double Transfiguration first thing, which allowed Harry to zone out for most of the class because he already knew everything Dumbledore lectured them about the first hour. The rest of the time they spent vanishing old socks and frayed Hogwarts ties which didn't provide Harry with much of any real distraction either.
After lunch they had double Ancient Runes, much to Harry's despair. He wasn't sure how he was going to cope with Tom so close beside him for two hours now that his body seemed determined to reach hitherto unknown levels of arousal just at the thought of that man.
Tom looked positively gleeful as he slipped in the seat beside Harry. "Did you have a pleasant evening?" Tom asked with an innocent little smile that didn't fool Harry one bit.
For a moment Harry wanted to duck his head while he felt his cheeks heat up but then he remembered that he was a fucking Gryffindor once upon a time and he refused to give Tom the pleasure of seeing him embarrassed. So instead Harry looked Tom in the eye and returned that innocent smile with one of his own. "Oh yes, I had a fabulous night," Harry said in a throaty whisper. "I never knew magic could be so… stimulating."
And much to Harry's everlasting joy, Tom ducked his head instead, pale cheeks colouring a rosy pink.
Ha! Score for Harry right there.
"You are infuriating," Tom mumbled, still gazing steadily at his desk. "Every time I think I have you figured out you act in some unexpected way that makes me have to revaluate you entirely."
"I do try," Harry said with a wide grin, happy to see Tom brought down a bit by Harry's innate Gryffindorishness. It was probably good for Tom's generous ego, suffering a bit of embarrassment from time to time. Besides, in some ways Harry was an adult and he refused to be ashamed of sex in any way. Even when subtly called out on his masturbation habits by his crush.
Tom looked like he wanted to say more but Yates started lecturing so they fell quiet and focused their attention on the lesson. Harry did sneak plenty of glances at Tom when he had the chance. Aside from being absurdly handsome, there was also something so familiar about Tom. Something almost comforting, as strange as that sounded. Harry was once again reminded how their magic had reacted when they shared it during Tom's magical promise back in the bookstore.
Everything about Tom Riddle, his magic and his looks, made Harry feel like he'd finally arrived at some destination he hadn't even realized he was travelling to.
Of course, Harry had, once upon a time, housed a small piece of Tom's soul. And while Harry had never consciously missed that soul piece once it had been removed, perhaps some part of his own soul remembered it on some level that Harry's brain simply couldn't understand.
Was that it? Was that why Harry was so attracted to Tom as a person? Was that why Harry had been unable to stay away from Tom during the summer holidays even when he'd known it was probably the wiser thing to do so? Was that why his body seemed so obsessed with Tom now? Why he'd developed feelings in the first place?
Were he and Tom a kind of… soulmates? Was that why Harry was drawn to him like he'd never been drawn to anyone else?
Harry was so lost in thought he didn't even notice the class ending.
"Don't you have history now?" Tom asked while tucking his book into his bag.
"Huh?" Harry blinked up at him and realized he should probably gather up his own belongings. "Yeah, we have history now."
"Then I'll see you in the library in an hour," Tom said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He gave Harry a cheeky wink and sauntered out of the classroom.
That ridiculous man.
Harry stared after him for a moment until Myrtle cleared her throat beside him. "Yeah, I'm ready to go," Harry said while jumping up, conveniently ignoring Myrtle's questioning looks.
During History Harry pulled Ruby Baird's letter out and got ready to write a reply. Some of the questions she'd asked were downright intrusive. Harry had absolutely no desire to recount poor Harriet's sexual assault in detail to be published in their national newspaper. In the end Harry decided to write a letter instead of clinically answering a list of questions.
Dear Mrs Baird,
To answer your inquiry, I am one of a number of students who was assaulted by Konrad Mulciber at Hogwarts. I have spoken at length to the Aurors about my experience. I'm sure you can understand that I have no desire to recount any details to be published for all to read. Overcoming such trauma is hard enough without the whole country sticking their noses where they don't belong.
I can tell you why Mulciber was allowed to carry on with his crimes for as long as he was able. Because Mulciber choose muggleborns as his victims. And as we muggleborns only know too well, we are not treated the same as those with magical parents. While I was interrogated by the Aurors, no one thought to contact my parents even though I'm a minor. Had I been a pureblood the first thing that would have happened was making sure at least one of my parents was present to support me.
Afterwards it became clear that some of the staff at Hogwarts couldn't even imagine that a pureblood student had committed such serious crimes. Even though he had not a shred of evidence, Deputy Headmaster Dumbledore openly questioned my testimony in front of the Aurors, insisting that it must have been a half-blood, muggle-raised student who had assaulted me instead of Konrad Mulciber.
In fact, Hogwarts unfortunately has a history of covering up potential crimes when it comes to muggleborns. Some years ago a Gryffindor student named Ellen Mueller was found dead at school and the staff couldn't even be bothered to contact magical law enforcement to conduct a thorough investigation. Instead they simply shipped off Ms Mueller's body back to her muggle parents with a note.
Muggleborns have never been treated equally, even though we aren't even really born of muggles. As we now know, we are the descendants of squibs abandoned in the muggle world because of prejudice against them.
Headmaster Dippet has promised improvements at Hogwarts and so far he's taken several steps in the right direction. But Hogwarts, and the whole wizarding world, still have a long way to go when it comes to the acceptance and integration of squib descendants.
Yours sincerely,
Harriet Hubble
5th year Ravenclaw Prefect
As Harry tucked the letter away to be posted after class, he came across Euphemia Potter's letter that she'd sent a few days earlier. Due to all the recent chaos Harry had completely forgotten to answer it, so he grabbed a fresh sheet of paper and wrote a reply. He thanked Euphemia sincerely for her letter and her offer to be a shoulder to cry on should Harry need it. He explained that a friend of his had also experienced similar trauma and they were able to talk about it together to help them heal. And he assured her that should he need help he would contact her and Fleamont at once.
After class Harry hurried up to the Owlery. He sent Holly off to the Potters and used a school owl for his reply to Mrs Baird.
In the library Harry found everyone already seated around their usual table. Theodorus Nott and Orion Black were again seated amongst Harry's friends as though they belonged there. Harry sighed but didn't comment on it. For now.
Tom had saved him a seat and Harry sat down with a tired sigh.
"I've been thinking," Harry said to no one in particular. Everyone stopped doing what they were doing and looked up at him in surprise. "I think we should stop using the term muggleborn and instead only use squib descendant going forward."
"That's a great idea," Annabel said with an excited smile. "After all, change starts with us."
"We'll tell everyone in Hufflepuff to start calling us squib descendants," Arnold said with a determined nod.
"But are you actually sure that all muggleborns are squib descendants?" Orion asked with a daring curve of his eyebrow.
"Yes," Harry said with a flat look and then gestured at Lukas. "He's a Black descendant and related to you."
Orion's eyes widened as he gave Lukas a once over. Theodorus sat back in his seat and released a disbelieving sound.
For a moment Lukas seemed to want to disappear but then he apparently remembered that he was a Gryffindor and should therefor charge full steam ahead. "It's true," Lukas said, his face flushing just a bit from all the sudden attention. "On my mother's side, four generations ago. A squib named Corvus Black."
While his mouth sank open, Orion stared at Lukas until he finally noticed everyone's silent anticipation to his reaction. "Well." Orion swallowed. "There was a squib named Corvus, that much is true. Born in 1823."
"Yeah, that's him." Lukas gave Orion an even look, as though daring him to argue. "He's my great-great-grandfather."
"The relationship between you two is very distant," Theodorus pointed out, obviously trying to sound diplomatic but failing rather horribly.
"Distant or not, the relationship is there," Tom said, much to Harry's pleasant surprise. "Myrtle and I are also related through the Gaunts."
"Yep," Myrtle said, pushing her glasses up her nose so she could give Theodorus a rather defiant look. "I'm a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin."
"You lie!" Theodorus was half out of his seat, hand going towards his wand.
"Myrtle wouldn't lie about such things, would you, Myrtle?" Tom asked in parseltongue, causing everyone at the table except for Myrtle and Harry to flinch.
"Of course not!" Myrtle replied with a small frown.
"Ha!" Harry couldn't control himself and bounced in his seat. "That was parseltongue, right? She said something, she must have. That wasn't just random hissing."
Tom gave Myrtle a proud smile. "Perfect parseltongue," he said to a disbelieving Myrtle.
Theodorus had lost all colour in his face as he gaped at Myrtle as though he'd never seen or heard a parselmouth before. Orion looked absolutely stunned, as though someone had hit him over the head with a beater's bat.
"Wow," Annabel said, staring at Myrtle with wide eyes, though there was no fear to be found in them. "Wow, you're a parselmouth, Myrtle!"
"Am I really?" Myrtle sank a little lower in her seat. "It all sounded just like English to me."
"It takes some practice," Tom assured her with a surprisingly warm smile. "The more you speak parseltongue, the easier it will become to recognize it while it's being spoken, even by yourself."
Harry felt oddly sentimental as he looked between Myrtle and Tom a few times. What would Tom have done, once upon a time, if he'd ever found out he'd killed a parselmouth directly related to Slytherin? Myrtle's death had always been tragic, but the more Harry learned about it, the more tragic it became, if that was even possible. After he'd made his horcruxes, he probably wouldn't have cared anymore. But Tom as he was now probably would have been devastated knowing he'd murdered one of his own magical family members, someone who could even speak parseltongue.
As Harry observed Tom and Myrtle staring at each other, a flare of sour envy erupted in his belly. It was such an unexpected emotion that it took Harry completely aback. Harry was not jealous because Tom was paying more attention to Myrtle than usual. That was utterly ridiculous. Harry wasn't even sure what to do with the feelings he'd suddenly developed for Tom in the first place. He had no time to deal with teenage insecurities on top of that.
But a small voice in the back of his mind whispered that Tom might like to spend more and more time with Myrtle from now on, since she was the only other parselmouth Tom knew.
Harry stomped that little voice down hard. It was utterly ridiculous. Tom followed Harry around like a lovesick puppy, after all. And if Tom really did prefer to spend time with a fellow parselmouth, Harry could always reveal her own abilities to Tom, even though he had no feasible explanation for why he was a parselmouth as well in the first place. Well, perhaps Harry could suggest he had inherited it from Arvid Feborg, Harry's Dark Lord ancestor. That might be plausible enough to satisfy Tom's inevitable questions.
"The easiest way to practice is to conjure a snake every evening and talk to it," Tom explained patiently.
Myrtle shuddered and crossed her arms, shoulders hunched. "No, thank you! I'm scared of snakes."
"Merlin spare me," Theodorus mumbled, still staring at Myrtle as though he expected her to spontaneously transform into Salazar Slytherin himself. "A parselmouth who is scared of snakes."
"To be fair," Harry quickly pointed out. "Until three minutes ago Myrtle didn't know she could talk to snakes."
"It's fine," Tom said without a care in the world while he kept smiling at Myrtle. "The two of us will simply have to talk parseltongue together from now on."
And there was that sour rush of envy again. Harry swallowed against a feeling of bile in the back of his throat. Those stupid emotions could fuck right off.
They eventually managed to get some homework done before it was time to go to dinner. Once they made it to their dormitory Harry got out his wand, cast a serpensortia and summoned a rubber boa right on top of Myrtle's bed.
"Oh my god!" Myrtle stared at it with wide eyes, though she didn't seem scared at all. "That looks like a big, fat worm."
Harry chuckled. That was exactly why he'd chosen to confront Myrtle with that species of snake. The rubber boa was very small, a rather drab brown colour and it preferred to eat worms. Harry doubted it even had teeth. It was as non-threatening as a snake could possibly get. "It's a rubber boa. Ask it some questions."
Myrtle took a small step closer to her bed, leaning forwards just a little. "Are you really a snake? You look like a worm."
The tiny snake raised its head and coiled its body. "Of course I'm a snake. Are there any worms here? I am a bit hungry."
Glancing up at Harry with a giggle, Myrtle beamed. "This one's not scary at all. I can't believe I can talk to it!"
"This way you can practice as much as you want," Harry said as he lay back down on his bed. He had not conjured that snake just so Myrtle wouldn't be spending anymore time with Tom in the future. He had not! Harry reached for Mrs Ashford and buried his nose in a chapter on laundry charms.
Myrtle spent half an hour chatting with the snake and then she apparently gathered up enough courage and scooped up the tiny thing and slid it into the pocket of her robes. "I'm taking her to the greenhouses to look for worms. She's very hungry and there's still over an hour until curfew."
"Have fun!" Harry called after her. Once the door to the dormitory fell shut, Harry heaved a deep sigh.
He was not jealous that Myrtle was the first parselmouth that Tom got to meet. He was not!
Since Harry was alone in the dormitory and his mind was racing with absurd thoughts and his body was consumed with ridiculous emotions, Harry decided he needed a little distraction of the sexual kind. He closed and warded his curtains, conjured a dildo and used all the masturbation charms he'd practised the day before. He fucked himself to two glorious orgasms, one after another, because he reasoned that two orgasm in one session still counted only as one so Harry hadn't already broken the promise he'd made himself that morning to only masturbate once a day.
Harry conveniently decided to ignore the third orgasm he allowed himself before hopping into the shower. After all, masturbation was a perfectly normal, healthy part of growing up and a couple of orgasms had never hurt anyone.
The next day the students of their year were visibly and audibly more exited that usual, all thanks to the upcoming duels in their defence class.
Myrtle had brought the small snake with her to their double Herbology class and let it slither amongst the raised beds to look for more worms while they pruned various magical herbs.
"Tom!" Myrtle said at once as they walked into the classroom for double Arithmancy. "Look what Harriet got me." And Myrtle gently fished the snake out of her pocket and held it in both hands for Tom to admire.
And Harry was treated to the sight of Tom Riddle cooing over a tiny snake. He hissed a few nonsense endearments in parseltongue that made Myrtle giggle uncontrollably.
Fuck those fucking emotions! Harry was not feeling jealous. He was not!
"I've named her Petunia, after my favourite flower," Myrtle said with a glowing smile while Harry choked on his own spit. "I'm keeping her."
"What a charming name," Tom said and muttered endearments again.
Harry threw himself into his seat and slammed his book on his desk. He was fine. Utterly fine. In fact, he was honestly happy that his two friends got along so well.
Also, fuck those ridiculous teenage hormones that made an otherwise reasonable human being succumb to absurd feelings of jealousy.
"That was very kind of you," Tom whispered as he finally sat down beside Harry where he belonged.
"Hm?" Harry pretended to only now notice Tom. "Well, I firmly believe that the best way to deal with fear is to confront it."
Tom got a funny sort of look on his face for a moment, though Harry had no idea why. "I completely agree. Still, not everyone is as accepting of parseltongue, unfortunately."
"I have no problems with it," Harry said with a smile he tried to make as charming as possible. Of course, being a parselmouth had freaked Harry the fuck out for years and years. It wasn't until after the war, when Harry realized he'd kept the ability, that he'd made an effort to go out and talk to snakes just for fun. Sometimes he chatted with grass snakes and adders out in nature while going for a hike, and other times he visited different zoos where Harry enjoyed whispering to all the exotic snakes through the glass barriers. But ultimately Harry understood Tom's relief at knowing his special talent was accepted. Harry had never told anyone, not even Ron, Hermione or Ginny that he'd kept his parselmouth abilities. He'd been honestly worried about their reactions, even to the point that he was scared they might think the horcrux inside of him wasn't completely destroyed.
"I'm glad to hear that," Tom said with a smile that did things to Harry's belly. Not to mention other, lower parts of his body. He firmly ignored those sensations and concentrated on the professor.
Finally it was time for defence and everyone seemed more than a little excited or nervous or both.
Merrythought had pushed aside all the desks and created a duelling platform in the middle of her classroom, much to Harry's pleasant surprise. None of the professors he'd had during his Hogwarts days had ever bothered with something like that. Well, except that one time with Lockhart but that had been an unmitigated disaster mostly because Lockhart couldn't duel a toddler without a wand even if he tried.
"The normal rules apply," Merrythought said while all the students dumped their bags near the walls and took up spots around the platform. "A duel lasts three minutes or until one of the duellists gets disarmed. For today no offensive or defensive spells are allowed. I will draw opponents." And without further ado, Merrythought drew one name from a blue dish and one from a green dish. "First in the ring will be Maximus Lestrange and Daisy Corner."
Unsurprisingly, Lestrange wiped the floor with Daisy, though Daisy did get a few good shots in with some creative uses of sewing spells. She sewed Lestrange's trouser legs together, causing him to fall over. But that didn't stop Lestrange from casting an overpowered scourging charm at Daisy's face, causing her to cry out in shock, hands flying up on instinct and dropping her wand in the process.
Harry enjoyed seeing all the creative ways the students used magic. He set himself a challenge, to only use charms from a single category. If he allowed himself to use whatever magic he wanted he'd have much more of an unfair advantage than he already did with his Auror level knowledge of duelling.
"Next up are Abraxas Malfoy and Harriet Hubble," Merrythought called out about halfway through the class. Malfoy, still sporting a bright green head, confidently hopped onto the platform, seemingly convinced he could easily wipe the floor with an ignorant little mudblood.
Baking charms, Harry decided as he climbed on top of the platform. He was only going to use baking charms to teach Malfoy a little lesson.
"Begin!" Merrythought called.
Malfoy gave a half-hearted bow and immediately shot something blue in Harry's direction. Harry guessed it was a scourging charm. How original.
Without any effort, Harry sidestepped the spell and cast a charm to grease baking sheets at the floor beneath Malfoy's feet, causing him to slip around, desperate to find his footing. Without letting up, Harry cast a spell to dust a work surface with flower at Malfoy's head, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut and sneeze as the cloud of flower erupted around him. Immediately Harry aimed a spell to knead bread at Malfoy's stomach, which didn't really hurt him but which did cause him to double over. To wrap it all up, Harry conjured a large sheet of bright yellow fondant and aimed it tightly around Malfoy's face. As Malfoy desperately clawed at his head to get the fondant off, Harry rushed up to him and plucked the wand right out of his hand.
"Ms Hubble wins," Merrythought called out with a surprised look on her face. It was only now that Harry remembered that Harriet hadn't been the best at duelling. She'd been quite good at all the theoretical work, but she'd never been nearly as strong of a caster as Harry was. "You've come a long way," Merrythought said as Harry tried to sneak past her, hoping against hope she wouldn't comment on his sudden talents in duelling.
"Er…" Harry offered her an innocent little smile. "My aunt showed me a few things over the summer, you know, for my OWLs."
Merrythought narrowed her eyes and hummed in agreement. "For your OWLs, of course."
Harry all but fled back to Tom, who was looking at her with renewed appreciation.
"Were those all baking charms?" Tom asked with clear humour in his voice.
Harry raised her chin up and huffed. "Obviously." She gave Tom a daring look. "Not all of us discount the use of charms in the kitchen, Tom."
"Clearly," Tom agreed with a chuckle.
Next up was Myrtle against Elanor Greengrass. Myrtle quickly handed over Petunia to Tom to keep her safe, which Harry studiously ignored, and then she climbed onto the platform with slightly slumped shoulders. Both Myrtle and Elanor favoured cosmetic charms and were quite creative with them. Myrtle cast a moisturizing charm on the floor beneath Elanor's feet, while Elanor caused Myrtle to cough uncontrollably by shooting a stream of face powder at her. This caused Myrtle to double over and her overpowered exfoliation charm, which she'd aimed at Elanor's face, landed right between Elanor's legs.
"Fuck," Harry said in shock as Elanor fell to the floor of the platform, screaming and clawing at her own crotch. Tom was unable to hold back a snort of clear amusement before he composed himself again. Around them several students burst out into hysterical laughter while others buried their faces in their hands in second-hand embarrassment.
"I'm so sorry!" Myrtle shrieked in between coughs. "I was aiming at her face."
"Warren wins," Merrythought said with a shake of her head. "Someone take Miss Greengrass to the infirmary."
Tom was the last one to duel against Robert Clearwater. Tom used any number of cleaning charms to great effect. He waxed the floor beneath Clearwater's feet, he polished Clearwater's face until it gleamed, causing Clearwater to rub furiously at his eyes and finally he starched Clearwater's robes until they became as stiff as a board and Clearwater was unable to move his arms. In defeat, Clearwater dropped his wand with a resigned look on his shiny face. Apparently the whole class was already aware that winning in a duel against Tom Riddle was impossible.
"And Riddle wins," Merrythought called out, also not surprised in the least by this result. "Homework for this Friday is an essay about the spells you used today. Why did you choose them? Did they work? Why or why not."
Malfoy was still plucking strips of yellow fondant out of his green hair, much to Harry's amusement. He couldn't resist giving Malfoy a thumb's up while he followed Tom out of the classroom.
"I can't believe I won!" Myrtle all but danced through the corridor. "I don't think I've ever won a duel before."
"It was a spectacular victory," Harry said, unable to hold back his own laughter while remembering poor Elanor's plight.
They spent an hour in the library, regaling their Gryffindor and Hufflepuff friends of their victories.
"I'm taking notes," Annabel said, reaching for her quill. "We've got defence tomorrow. This way we might even win our own duels."
That evening, flush with his own victory, Harry spent an hour in bed lazily fucking himself with a dildo, which resulted in so many multiple orgasms that Harry lost count.
Still only counted as one masturbation session, so Harry was doing fine.
The next morning, when Harry and Myrtle walked into the Great Hall they were met with lots of whispers. Harry glimpsed a few worrying things on the frontpage of one student's Daily Prophet and once an owl delivered Harry's copy he wasted no time in unfolding it.
The entire front page of the newspaper was dedicated to Mulciber's crimes and the worrying state of Hogwarts.
Ruby Baird had printed Harry's letter word for word with his name boldly listed beneath it.
Harry slowly closed his eyes. Fuck his impulsivity. There was no hoping for anonymity ever again after this, he was sure of it.