Recipe 2: Haunting a turret
This chapter contains depictions of : F/M, tF/M
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft And Wizardry always has been hosting the most peculiar and unexpected creatures for a school. Ghost, ghouls, gnomes, poltergeist, shades and shadow, rats, toad, pixie elves and students. Legends, stories and rumors about these creatures went to the schools one year after the other, but in the year 1998-1999, a secret story about a very unusual ghost spread through the seventh years students.
This specific year was unusual in many aspects, first, half of the seventh year were repeating it now that the war was over. As a result, an unexpectedly high number of seventh year students were of age, and not willing to abide by the school's stricts rules and curfew. They had also fought and resisted alongside the teachers, which added weight to their claim: to be treated as the adult they had become, and granted special privileges, such as exemption from curfew, permission to leave the school ground at any time, and also be provided with private accommodation in the Castle. The Headmistress couldn't say no to them, especially because they were represented by Hermione Granger herself. And thus, an aisle of the Castle was reserved for them, and all seventh years of legal age from the four Houses moved it in September.
A small hall for the meals was even prepared, in the spirit of uniting all Houses together but it was not really used, seventh year kept the habit of going to the Great Hall. However, a dozens of salons were furnished, hosting gatherings of students, not sorted by Houses, but by common interest and affinity, for games, study or simple discussion, in public or more secluded places, for couples to meet or unravel.
But one cannot cause disturbance in an abandoned place of a haunted Castle without consequences. All that racket woke up some long forgotten force, or so the rumors say. A ghost bound by love or duty? A demon banished on this realm? Some shadow from beyond? Nobody knows, yet heed this warning: don't wander too late at night and never fall asleep in that alcove, on the turret, after the witching hour, or your life force will be drained out of you!
"Hogwash! Poppycock and flapdoodle" you might say, "ghosts cannot interact with the living this way! Dementors have been hunted away! And no dark force can reside inside Hogwarts magical walls!
"These rumors are only made to keep the other students away from the Seventh years exclusive place, or at worst, the way Headmistress McGonagall tries to keep us in line, now that we don't have to obey her curfew anymore. A tale to scare the children to bed, from the imagination of Beedle the Bard!"
Well, well, well, you might be right. Is it true that now known creatures match what the witnesses describe. Because, yes, there are witnesses, and after you've read their testimony, you too may revise your judgement.
The first occurrence was on a friday of October. The emancipated Gryffondors seventh years had, once again, hosted a party to celebrate the end of the war, or the start of term, or Quidditch, friendship, or maybe they celebrated celebration itself. The great Harry Potter himself wasn't able to attend, however, the Legendary Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley were there, which was as good, for they had many tales to tell, and knew how to party.
On one side of the reception room, a buffet was served, with the most distinguished wine with spices, hydromels, and liquors, as well as chicken wings, roasted pork, fat deer laced with bread, eggs with black truffle, spit roasted suckling pig, sow teats marinated in tuna brine, oyster and snails, pear patina and light sweets such as cream puff, bostock, rhum pudding, marzipan, kouign aman, chocolate fountain with baskets of fruits, strawberry, fresh raisins, mangoes, apples, figs.
All evening long, wizards and witches of this exclusive court would enter and leave through the heavy tapestry that covered the stairs or doors or unknown secret passages around the room. Wearing they most exuberant clothes, either with way too much or way too little fabric, they'd stop for a drink, took a bite in a juicy pomegranate, and tried to inspire admiration from their peers with a new spell, to conjure an illusion, or the best brewage, or offer rarest flower to the target of their attention. If they felt more humble, they would cheer or boo other people attempt to show off.
For instance, Ginny Weasly made an impression when she lit up her robes conjuring a dancing safe-fire on the sewing. The stunning image of this fire-goddess in her clefted dress that left her back naked down below the waist distracted everyone from the fact that by Hogwarts rules, she wasn't allowed to be here, as it was only her first Seventh year. She took her leave from the crowd and newfound suitors and joined Hermione in the quieter side of the room, for a game of cards.
It was here that, under heavy smoke and low hangings light that discussions or serious games took place, in comfortable armchairs, around low tables. But it was also called the room of Courtship. Indeed with a well-worded flattery or an exuberant spell that gained you the favour of the one you pursued, you could invite them to join your pleasant company for a more private discussion, expose your charm and wits, and perhaps offer a kiss, receive a caress and if you have to leave discreetly, for one hour or for the night, no one would pretend to notice it.
At first, Neville Longbottom had done that masterfully because he left the room led by the hand by Hannah Abbot towards the small turret that flanked the external wall. However, very soon after, the witch reappeared alone to get back into the dance while Neville stayed there. People were too elegant to make any loud comments, only whispers and gossip. The night went by, and the party died out, and people went back to their quarters, alone or in pairs, or in triple. Ron, waiting for Hemione to cast a couple of cleaning spells, had a sympathetic thought for his comrade alone in his turret and decided he would come down when he felt like it; then the couple left the room.
They found Neville sound asleep on the round couch in the turret. He seemed confused and exhausted, not remembering to have fallen asleep, and he was extremely weak; they had to walk him to the infirmary, where it took him one day and a full night to recover. Madame Pomfrey was adamant that traces of curses or poisons were found. She blamed it on the mindless partying and cursed the Headmistress to have allowed such foolishness.
Hermione Granger took upon herself to clear up the case. She went to Hannah Abbot and asked her directly about her night. Blushing profusely, Hannah recounted her tale. Neville had joined her on a table of courtship, where, upon her request, under the table, with masterful skills, he had given him great pleasure, unbeknownst to the crowd, something she enjoyed immensely. To repay his kindness, and since they had been lovers for a while and she trusted him entirely, and she offered him a different side of herself, that she had been curious about for a while, the kind that required no birth control; and so they left for the turret. However, since Neville was still recovering from one year of battle and trauma, he tired easily, and was not able to conjure the additional vigor this task required. The was no harm done, of course, nor shame to have, and Anna assured her of her affection, and left him to rest,reserving him this pleasure for another time. Such expression of trust and benevolence between lovers commands admiration. Hannah was always good hearted with no trace of malice in her soul; she was basically as pure as an angel and Hermione saw no reason to doubt her, especially since Neville confirmed the story.
"What kind of ghost story is that?" I can hear you shout across the pages. "A wizard who went limp? It happens all the time! Just take a potion and go on with."
Well, well, you might have been right if it was the end of the story, even though most sorcerers are reluctant to mix magic with plumbing. However, the incident repeated itself, on the same turret, and made other victims
Someone, probably a Slytherin, because no one trusted them really, despite Draco's Malfoy claims to lead their reform, claimed Neville made it all up to protect his virility, which was an unfair accusation, as such archaic conceptions were unknown to him. Yet, to protect his honor, Dean Thomas swore to spend one night in that turret, and boasted to stop the darkness roaming there. He convinced Seamus to stand by the door on the other side of the stairs, in case a wizard was involved in this devilness. He even spent the day resting before, to ensure he would stay awake all night long, up to the morning. The next friday, he marched towards the turret with great fanfare and took guard. They found him sound asleep the next morning, afflicted by the same tiredness and he was sent to the infirmary as well. As for the guard, Seamus, he had left his post almost immediately, as he saw no point standing all night long, while a warm bed awaited him with a wet witch in it.
At this point, no one in Hogwarts hadn't heard of haunted turrets. The first to sixth years were bursting with curiosity and bombarded the sevenths years with questions, since they were not able to enter this part of the Castle themself. The older students were annoyed by it, and even Hermione, the Headgirl, usually so helpful towards the youngers, only gave evasive answers, as she didn't want them to meddle with the fragile balance she had obtained from the administration, and allowed her and the others such leisure.
As Hermione quickly pointed out, Dean's action had brought no additional information to her investigation of the mystery, since he too, couldn't recall the time he fell asleep. So, when Justin Finch-Fletchley offered himself as bait the same day, Saturday night, she brewed him the strongest tea she could, and instructed him to mark each down each hour on a parchment. On Sunday morning, Justin had been left untouched.
Circling through volunteers, the seventh years reproduced the experiment every night, but the ghost seemed to have vanished. Perhaps it felt Hermione's inquisition was closing down on him. But on Saturday morning, Justin had been claimed as a victim too.
Hermione hurried to the parchment, barely noticing Justin being sent to the infirmary. He had marked down all hours until one am, the witching hour. She decided to call for volunteers that would spend Friday night there, and after two month, here is what she learned.
The ghost would only strike on friday night, and every friday night, at one am precisely. He did not harm the witches, as Ginny discovered, almost disappointed, as she was sure she could vanquish it during the confrontation, only sorcerers, but not all of them, like Zabini. There were two possible outcomes of spending the night there.
First you would be bored, stay awake, or fall asleep naturally, and experience no memory loss or weakness. It did happen to all witches and one quarter of the sorcerers.
Or you would also experience memory loss, and heavy weakness, difficulty to walk, and overall loss in vigor for a day or two.
Hermione tried to match the outcomes against anything she could, House membership, grades, elective study, right or left handed, wand size, essence or content. She found no correlation except the gender of the volunteer, with the notable exception of Pansy Parkinson. But, like the others, she said she didn't remember anything, therefore Hermione didn't know what to do with this information. After a week spent rummaging her brain and grasping at straw, she even spent the night there and remained awake up until the morning.
The events took an unexpected turn after that. Since the ghost actions had no lasting effect on his victims, spending the night in the haunted turret became a new fad. The thrill was worth more than a day off to recover and being visited by the ghost was something you could boast about. But as it could only happen one night a week, there were soon too many candidates pressing themselves at the door every friday. That situation brought something Hermione had not imagined, sending several people at the same time, and the results were extraordinary.
When Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy went there, they both experienced the memory loss and weakness. But when Neville went back with Hannah, they were both spared. Ginny and Hermione were spared, however, more interesting, when Ernest Macmillan, who had always been spared alone, went with Justin, both were spared. It was as if all witches and a couple of sorcerers possessed an unknown defence mechanism against the ghost, that also covered a second person when they entered the turret together.
More intriguely, both Neville and Justin had been victims of the ghost at least one time, but when they went in there together, the ghost spared them. The ghost would only attack a small subset of pairs of people at the same time, even when the pairs were picked among people he would attack alone. But there was one invariant fact: each time a pair spent the night, either both of them were affected or none of them.
The last thing Hermione discovered was, that if three people or more went there, nothing would happen, no matter what combination she tried.
At this point of the story, it should be mentioned that all these information were gathered and compact long after the phenomen, through unreliable sources, sometimes contradicting each other, and in that case, the less consistent version was discarded. It is possible that many elements were misrepresented by a conspiracy of the seventh years in order to protect their recent privileges, and other elements were purposefully hidden. The truth of it might never be revealed, unless we were able to go into the mind of one of the victims of the haunted towers, which, unfortunately, is impossible, without magic at least.
Pansy Parkinson was a slender girl with mid long black hair and a perky face. That friday night, she wore a dark lipstick, black stockings with suspenders, as the fashion dictated and, more originally, a black swing dress cut just above the knee and long black opera gloves. Around midnight, she snuck out of her apartment, and by the light and her wand, tiptoed along the corridor, slid a finger behind the golden frame of a large painting of a vicar, and, very slowly, careful to to wake him up, opened it like a door and vanished inside a hole behind. She climbed a flight of stairs to emerge at the back of the courtship room, checked with her wands that she was alone, and trotted along the wall. There, she climbed the stairs to the turret, and entered the circular room. It was very small with a round sofa all around inside the round walls, covered with cushion and folded pleds on the floor, barely lit by the moonlight across a small window. She closed the door, lit a small oil lamp hanging from the ceiling, sat on the couch, legs crossed and murmured nox. Her watch pointed half past midnight.
She waited there, in the dim lit room, her heart still beating from the run and from the thrill about what was to come. As a good Slytherin, she had never put herself in any kind of danger, and for the first time, she would expose herself like never before. Around the red room, shades of orange cast by the feeble lamp danced across the cushions.
Five minute before one, she jumped because a roll of parchment appeared out of thin air. She caught it, heart pounding and read.
"In five minutes of time, an offer will be made to you. We'll knock three times on the doors. Should you desire to decline the offer, do not open the door before the first minute of the witching hour is over, then be on your way, and speak no word of this.
"But should you open the door before the first minute of the witching hour is over, we'll accept your invitation, and you'll be bound to secrecy of what is to come next. We are two witches, with a wager to settle.
"The first one will sit on your right; she thinks that there is no greatest pleasure, than taking what is offered.
"The other will sit on your left, and she thinks the true completion of desire is to give, not receive.
"You will offer your hand to one of them, and while the other leaves, she will prodigue her art, in the way her heart feels most.
"But our art is not for all, only those who truly desire it, and can demonstrate the hard expression of his desire, hence you shall present it in his glory, when we'll knock three times, on an open door, before we enter."
Hands slightly trembling, Pansy read the letter over and over, to ensure she understood it completely, as if on the next read, she would realize it had been a complete misunderstanding.
"Knock knock knock."
Slightly light-headed, with her mouth very dry, she got up, opened the door to the half and sat on the other side. She couldn't see any one in the darkness, on the other side. For thirty anxiously long seconds nothing happens, until she remembers the lifted her back, put both hands under her skirt, slid down her cute black panties down her knee, sat back on the edge of the couch and, conscious that her face was red hot, lifted the front of her skirt and spread her legs a little more, exposing her penis completely.
This display had convinced the two witches in the dark that Pansy did possess required appendice. One then the other entered the room; both wearing identical outfits, red robes with golden brodures and a hood that covered their face entirely. As promised, they sat on each side of Pansy, then, at the same time, put one hand on each thigh.
Pansy was startled by the simultaneous contact of her skin, and, as a reflex, because she was right handed, took the hand of the witch on her right.
Immediately, the other left. Once the door had closed, Pansy felt an immense pressure leave her shoulder. She looked up to discover the witch's face.
She had removed her hood and cloak. She had long black hair, fuzzy eyebrows, a brown skin and her red dark lips opened in a wonderful smile. It was Padma Patil, a Ravenclaw. She wore a long silky dress, but she could as well have been naked, as the fabric was so thin it was almost transparent. A rich flagrance had filled the air. Pansy was speechless, struck by this beauty. She couldn't stop gazing.
Padma was playing with Pansy's hand, tracing her index in her palm, scratching it ever so slightly with her fingernails, locking and unlocking the fingers, sliding in her the space between each finger, as it rubbed the skin. Then, still locking eyes with Pansy, her smile widened, and she put the other hand on Pansy's knee over the stocking, and went up, grazing the skin, the inner thigh. She applied herself with caresses and touches until Pansy's arousal became apparent Then she put a deep kiss on Pansy's lips, and whispered to her ear.
"I'm all yours, feed me to your heart content."
These words sent a shiver across Pansy's body, that took her out of her torpor. She was suddenly very aware of her own desire. Padma had lifted her black skirt so that she could put her head on Pansy's stomach, ear stuck to her skin. She was laying across the couch, resting on Pansy, her mouth facing the object of her desire. Pansy could feel Padma's breath on it. She remembered the term of the contract, and that it was her turn to act.
Caressing Padma's hair with one hand, she touched her lips with the other, and, with the index and major, spread them apart. She tilted Padma's head so that she could accommodate her offering without discomfort and put in in. A quick tongue welcomed it. Padma's mouth was wet and warm. Slowly at first, then accelerating Pansy started to feed Padma with her own desire.
As Padma realigned herself for comfort, she revealed a brown nipple, large and erect. Pansy grabbed Padma's breast and squeezed it between the sides of two fingers. She immediately felt Padma's reaction of pleasure. Her own movement of the waist had roughness, but was constitant, as she had now found the proper way to hold Padma's head. Thinking her own pleasure was greater than the one she provided to Padma, she thought about reaching for Padma's bush, that she glimpsed in the darkness, but it was too far away to reach, and she wasn't sure it was included in the deal she had entered. No matter, seconds after Pansy had decided against following her urge, Padma took the matter into her own hands, matching the movements with Pansy's waist movements.
Pansy's legs started to shake uncontrollably, she bended herself around Padma's head and her pleasure exploded with relief, which was all for Padma to taste. Pansy fell back on the couch, exhausted, unable to even lift an arm while Padma climaxed on her own, triggerd by Pansy's gift.
Padma raised herself to Pansy's level and locked eyes with her. It was the most erotic view Pansy had ever seen. Padma's hair was messy, with dilated pupils under fuzzy eyebrows, and her mouth, slightly opened, bore the trace of her relief. Then Padma did something unexpected, she presented her own fingers, wet with pleasure, for her to taste. Pansy sucked them with thirst then grabbed Padma's head to kiss her profusely, their tongue mixed together, and each tasted here an elixir made of both of their pleasure.
Then they cleaned themself and helped each other get dressed.
"I think I'll spend the night here," said Pansy, too exhausted to move, and fell immediately asleep.
Padme put a plaid over her, a kiss on the forehead, a hood on her own head and vanished behind the door.
Pansy's extase was so intense she would need two day to recover.