Warning: The first scene is loving, erotic, or horrifying, depending on which character's point of view you consider.
Author's Note: While battling with the fearsome writers block, the bane of authors everywhere, I wrote several bonus scenes to keep the beast from overwhelming me. This chapter is composed entirely of said bonus scenes. Worry not, I have since felled the foul creature, and shall be posting a real chapter within minutes of posting this one. Feel free to skip this chapter entirely if you're only interested in the main story.
Let me know what you think of this bonus chapter. If it goes over well, I might slowly build up another collection of bonuses as I write the main story, and post them in a single chapter like this one instead of at the end of a regular chapter. Feel free to send me ideas for other bonus scenes as well. No promises that I'll use your suggestion, but your chances are good considering the scenes don't have to be part of the main story's canon.
Enough chit-chat, on with the show:
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Chapter 21
BONUS CHAPTER
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Hannah needs brain-bleach.
NOT part of the main stories canon.
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It didn't happen often, but on occasion Hannah was paired with Pansy Parkinson for their prefect rounds. It was just after curfew, and by mutual agreement, they patrolled separately but within earshot. While Pansy searched the far end of the seventh floor, Hannah headed the other way through the normally doorless corridor; however, this time there was a rough wooden door with rusty and pitted ironwork. The door was slightly ajar, and Hannah could hear voices coming from the other side.
Hannah really didn't like catching and punishing other students, but she wasn't about to shirk her duties either. Reluctantly, she pushed the door open to see who was using the Room of Requirement after hours. With any luck, they would be doing something like practicing wandwork, and she could let them off with a warning about paying closer attention to the time.
After closing the door behind her, Hannah realized that the room had been created to mimic an actual dungeon. She found herself in a stone passageway, that was lined with jail cells. Through the rusty iron bars, she could see conjured skeletal remains of fake prisoners. She was pretty sure they were fake, but she was still creeped out by the whole situation. Who would want the room to be like this, and for the love of Merlin, why?
The voices she had heard earlier, were now coming from the end of the passage. Hannah could see the flicker of torchlight coming from what presumably was a larger room. She walked toward the voices as quietly as she could, nervously fingering her wand as the creepy setting played tricks with her mind. Peeking around the corner, Hannah froze. The scene before her was so far out of her comfort zone, that she couldn't process it, and simply stood there, eyes widening as she took everything in.
In the center of the room, stood a naked man. His arms were stretched out above his head, and chained to rings that were bolted to the top of wooden posts that were on either side of him. His legs were forcibly held apart and secured by a three foot iron bar that was attached to each of his ankles. Hannah's eyes barely took in the scrawny form of the bound wizard, being drawn to the very prominent proof that this was indeed a man. Blushing hotly, she forced herself to look up, and was thankful that the wizards eyes were covered with a dark blindfold, he couldn't see that she had been staring at his... That line of thought had her focusing on the other parts of him, especially the unruly head of hair that clearly identified him.
Before Hannah could decide on what she should do, the staccato sound of heels walking on stone drew her attention away from Harry Black, to focus on her roommate. Wednesday Addams was slowly walking toward Harry, and her outfit had Hannah's blush burning hotter. The petite Addams wore thigh high leather boots with stiletto heels, arm length leather gloves, a too tight corset, and nothing else. To complete the image, she was carrying a coiled leather whip.
Unable to tear herself away from the unfolding scene, Hannah couldn't help but watch with unblinking eyes as Wednesday tore off Harry's blindfold, and stepped back to give him a good view of her ensemble.
Harry visibly became more aroused, and licked his lips. "You really planned this out didn't you?"
"This room has everything a girl could want, from thumbscrews to a well maintained rack. Tonight though, I thought we'd keep things simple." As she walked behind him, Wednesday let her whip unroll, and with a sharp motion, made it crack loudly.
Hannah almost screamed when she realized what was about to happen, but the look of anticipation on Harry's face confused her into further inaction. The next crack of the whip was accompanied by Harry jerking forward as far as his chains would allow, and he gave a short cry.
Mouth agape in disbelief, Hannah continued to watch as Harry shuddered with each strike. His cries grew in intensity, but they were clearly not cries of pain. His face was screwed up in a disturbing rictus of pleasure, even as blood began to pool from the brutal beating he was receiving.
After an eternity, Wednesday sauntered around to Harry's front, carrying a long iron bar, and licking the blood from her whip. Without comment, she tossed aside the weapon, and secured the bar to the posts at Harry's waist. Reaching up, she unhooked the chains from the top of the post, and resecured them to rings that were embedded in the floor. Harry was now doubled over the iron bar, and Hannah could see the damage Wednesday had done to his back.
Long bloody gashes crisscrossed Harry's back, and Hannah struggled to keep her dinner down. Realizing that she had let things go way too far, she gripped her wand firmly, ready to put a stop to the savage torture. Her resolve was replaced with confusion as she heard Harry moan.
"More! Merlin, you can't just stop. What kind of a demon are you to tease me like that?" Harry's begging left Hannah dazed and unsure.
With a smirk, Wednesday set a tall chair down in front of Harry, and sat down. She grabbed his hair, and forced him to crane his neck and look at her face. "Patience Harry, first thing first." Leaning back in the chair, Wednesday shifted forward, and buried Harry's face into her lap.
Hannah's thoughts and emotions warred with each other. The entire scene as a whole was sickening, and disturbing on so many levels, but once she realized what Harry was doing to Wednesday, she felt herself grow aroused, much to her own disgust. Biting her lip and rubbing her thighs together, Hannah fought to focus and gather her thoughts. She had to stop this right? At the very least, she should do something other than silently watch... Indecision continued to dominate, and Hannah was unable to even look away as Wednesday threw back her head, crying out in ecstasy.
With shaky hands, Wednesday pushed herself away from Harry, and took a few moments to recover. "That mouth of yours gives you an unfair advantage." She gasped, her breath straining against her corset. Wednesday leaned forward, falling out of the chair onto her hands and knees. Crawling underneath Harry, she sat on her heels, and ran a hand up his thigh. "Let's see if I can't even things up a bit."
Her sight was blocked, but from the sounds Harry made, Hannah had no problem figuring out exactly what Wednesday was doing. As Harry began to moan loader, Hannah finally managed to gain control of herself, and made a hasty retreat. She didn't stop until she left the Room of Requirements, ran down the corridor, and turned the corner to nearly bowl over Pansy Parkinson.
"Here you are, finally!" Pansy exclaimed in frustration. "Where were you? We have one more floor to clear before we can finish up, and go back to ignoring each other."
"Sorry... Go on ahead, I'll be right there." Hannah tried to compose herself, leaning heavily against the wall.
"What is your problem Abbot?" Pansy sneered.
Thinking furiously, she decided she desperately wanted to forget what had happened, so she came up with a believable lie. "Peeves... just... don't ask."
Pansy laughed. "You're pathetic Abbot. Fine, don't take too long, I'm not searching every closet myself."
Watching Pansy walk out of sight, Hannah tried to calm herself down, and nearly screamed when a shadow passed over her. Looking up, she saw Wednesday looking down at her. Thankfully the girl was now fully robed.
"I hope that between the talk I gave you, and what you just saw, you understand what sex is supposed to be like now." Wednesday said in a surprisingly gentle tone, before turning and heading down toward the basement.
-o-o-
The séance: afterlife aftermath
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James, Lily, and Sirius slowly solidified in the formless void that was the entrance to the land of the dead. Almost immediately a loud smack rang out, and James was sent sprawling. His enraged wife started screaming incoherently at him for his behavior. Unnoticed by either Potter, Sirius slowly sat down, scratching his head as he tried to understand the unbelievable change in his godson in the short amount of time since his death.
Long since having figured out the best way to handle Lily when she lost her temper, James quietly rode out the verbal and occasionally physical abuse.
"Well, what excuse can you possibly have for what you just did to our baby?" Lilly demanded, nostrils flaring as she waited for an answer.
James lowered his hands, and looked up at his wife, remorse apparent in his features. "I screwed up... It's just, the last thing I remember was trying to give you time to escape with Harry. I threw everything I had at that monster Voldemort, ready to die just to buy you an extra second or two... Then, in what seemed like an instant, we're surrounded by our grown up son and his friends."
Running his hands through his hair, James looked away from his wife's glare. "I.. I don't know, I just freaked out. I was raised in one of the lightest families there was. I was taught to hate dark witches and wizards. All of a sudden I find out my own son is a dark wizard, his intended a confessed murderer..."
"She killed the bastard responsible for our death James." Lily pointed out flatly. "She avenged us."
"I loved Peter like a brother..." He held up his hand, attempting to hold back the angry response Lily no doubt had. "I know, I know, but when we were down there I forgot almost everything we learned here in the afterlife. Even so, doesn't it bother you at all that Harry thought we'd be happy to see Wormtail's severed head?"
Turning away from her husband, Lily's words were cold and unyielding. "You've really stuck your foot in it this time. Stay out here, and don't you dare show your face until you at least have an idea of how you can apologize to Harry. I doubt he'll have another séance after the way you behaved."
James watched morosely as Lilly grabbed Sirius by the collar, dragging him away while demanding an explanation for why his description of Harry was so different from reality.
Alternate scene ending:
Lily sighed in resignation. "I guess I'm not really surprised Harry turned out like this. Serial killers do run in the family after all."
His mouth agape, James stared at his wife, his wide eyes filled with disbelief. "What?!"
"Oh like you've never wanted to murder someone before." Lily said dismissively.
-o-o-
The Mirror of Erised
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With his father's cloak wrapped around him, Harry stared into the ornate mirror, expecting to see his head floating midair. The cloak fell to the floor as what the mirror showed him shocked him utterly. There he was smiling widely, with a loving family surrounding him. Being surrounded by loved ones was strange enough, but what really caught his attention was that he was drenched with blood.
Harry held up his hands, noted that they were clean, and stared back at his reflection, which grinned back at him. Confused, he covered himself with the cloak, and made his way back to Gryffindor tower.
The next night Harry convinced Ron to view the strange mirror with him. Leaving out the blood-soaked aspect of his reflection, he described the loving family he saw. Confused, Ron explained that he saw only his own reflection, only he was older and wildly successful.
Ron considered the mirror mildly interesting, but Harry found himself obsessed with the strange reflection. He was intent on puzzling out what his vision meant, what the mirror was trying to show him. Night after night he returned to stare into the mirror, until one visit was interrupted by Dumbledore's gentle voice.
"Back again Harry?" the grandfatherly old headmaster asked rhetorically.
Once again Harry carefully left out the crazed and bloody reflection of himself as he spoke with Dumbledore regarding the nature of the mirror. Learning that the mirror of Erised showed ones deepest desires confused him. The surrounding family made sense, but the rest...
Dumbledore's heart sank as he lightly brushed the surface thoughts of the young boy. Apparently his changes didn't go as deeply as he'd dared to hope. Thankfully Harry didn't understand what he was seeing. The problem was easily remedied.
-o-o-
"Use the boy." A voice from nowhere ordered.
Quirrell grabbed Harry's sleeve, and forced him to look into the mirror. "Well boy, what do you see?"
Harry thought furiously about how he could prevent Quirrell from retrieving the sorcerer's stone for Voldemort. His eye's widened in shock as the mirror showed his grinning reflection holding up professor Quirrell's severed head. Not understanding the disturbing image, Harry made up a story about seeing a vision of him winning the house cup for Gryffindor.
"The boy lies. Let me see him, he cannot hide the truth from me." The voice from before demanded.
After a short argument with the voice, Quirrell relented and unwrapped his turban. The inhuman face of Voldemort protruded from the back of the professor's skull, and attempted to bargain with Harry while simultaneously probing with legilimency. Before any useful information could be sifted out of the boy's head, Harry shut his eyes, crying out in pain.
More intensely than it ever had before, Harry's scar erupted in pain. Clutching at his now bleeding forehead, he shut his eyes and tried to fight through the sensation. He felt Quirrell try to pull his hand away to force him to look at Voldemort, but the attempt was immediately abandoned.
Quirrell's cry of pain filled the room, and the smell of burnt flesh filled the air. Harry's eyes opened to see his defense professor clutching at his ruined hand, and realized that skin contact had somehow burned the older wizard.
Between taking in Quirrell's agony, and the increasing intensity of his own pain, something clicked deep within Harry. He suddenly understood what the mirror had been showing him, the best way to protect the stone from quirrell, was to kill him. Such an easy answer, he wondered why it had taken so long to see it. With a grin that matched his reflection, Harry knew exactly what to do.
Leaping forward, Harry grabbed Quirrell's head with both hands, sending them both to the ground. Kneeling on Quirrell's chest, Harry started laughing as the man struggled underneath him. Blood began to drip from Harry's scar, and as each drop landed, it burned a new hole in Quirrel's already blistering face. The agony Harry felt was intoxicating, but nothing compared to the fearful and pain filled screams from Quirrell and Voldemort.
All too soon Harry felt the man die in his hands, and with fascination, he watched the light leave his eyes. So entranced with Quirrell's dying moments, Harry never noticed the escape of the black cloud that was the remnant of Voldemort. Neither did he notice Headmaster Dumbledore approach him from behind.
Thoroughly sickened, Dumbledore stunned Harry, and pulled him off of the smoldering corpse. It was bad enough that Harry and his friends had followed Voldemort into the trap he'd laid, but for Harry to kill Quirinus... and with such glee... He had to reinforce, maybe even completely redo the boy's mental modifications.
What could possibly make three first years enter the deadly trap he'd created? It was designed to allow a fully trained wizard to enter with more than a little effort, then change to make doubling back a near impossibility. To protect the children, Hagrid's pet should have kept any students from even entering the deadly gauntlet. The Cerberus was trained to not harm anyone underage, but repel them all the same.
Dumbledore was grateful for the small mercy that Quirinus must have disabled the worst of the dangers as he passed through. Even so, Mister Weasley and Miss Granger were lucky to be alive. It was an absolute wonder that Mister Potter was mostly unscathed. All three children would need memory charms, and medical attention of course. Remembering a gauntlet of traps that first years could just barely overcome would have to do, there was just no way to completely cover up that the children had been through an ordeal.
Despite lacking the injuries of his companions, Harry would spend far more time in Madam Pomfrey's care. Dumbledore wanted to take his time, carefully ensuring that the boy would be normal when he woke up.
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Harry's boggart
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"Professor, why didn't you let me face the boggart?" Harry asked in frustration. Not only did everyone think he was a coward for fainting whenever a dementor got too close, but now it looked like the defense professor felt he needed to be coddled.
"For the simple reason that I feared your boggart would be Voldemort." Professor Lupin answered calmly, surprised at how upset Harry seemed.
After a long conversation, the two came to the conclusion that having a boggart that was a dementor would be the perfect tool for Lupin to teach Harry to depend himself against the real Azkaban guards. After going over the motion and incantation needed, Lupin released the boggart he'd been using in class.
Harry braced himself for the appearance of the dark creature, 'expecto patronum' on the tip of his tongue. What appeared instead caused him to lower his wand, and look at the professor in confusion.
With a twinkle in his eye, headmaster Dumbledore stepped out of the wardrobe, and gently smiling, pointed his wand at Harry. "Obliviate."
Professor Lupin and Harry looked at each other, then at the confused boggart that couldn't understand why its victim wasn't reacting. Deciding not to bother with the boy, the shapeshifter turned to the man, and transformed into a picturesque vision of the full moon.
Negligently, Lupin banished the boggart back into the wardrobe, not bothering with the traditional method. "This, is concerning... Harry, why are you afraid that Professor Dumbledore is going to memory charm you?"
Harry held his hand up to his forehead as he furrowed his brow. Thinking hard, he tried to grasp a thought that kept slipping away before he could examine it. "I... I don't know. Dumbledore is the greatest wizard alive... This doesn't make any sense, he'd never try to hurt me in any way. I'm sure of it."
"You're absolutely correct Harry. There must be something else going on here." Lupin frowned, he had no idea what this turn of events signified. "I think we should take the matter to the headmaster himself."
-o-o-
"I'm very glad that you brought this to my attention." Dumbledore's eyes were tired, and lacked their usual twinkle. "This is most troubling. Fortunately, I have a theory regarding the cause, and what must be done."
"Is there something wrong with me professor?" Harry was nervous, it wasn't like Dumbledore to not be mysteriously confident.
Dumbledore nodded sadly. "I'm afraid there is Harry, but everything will be made right once more. I'll see to it personally, but first I must speak with your professor. Help yourself to some of the delightful muggle candies I discovered. They're much like Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, but there are only pleasant flavors."
As Harry sat down to wait, Dumbledore led Lupin out into the hall, casting privacy charms as they walked. Before the defense professor could ask what he should do to help, he found himself facing the business end of Dumbledore's wand.
An unfortunately well practiced memory charm later, and Lupin was under the impression that he'd postponed Harry's patronus lessons until after the holidays, for reasons regarding his transformation and a need to find a new boggart.
"Good news Remus, I do believe I can provide you with a boggart." The headmaster smiled gently. "Unfortunately, to simplify your lessons with Mister Potter, and to prevent this one from escaping, I won't be able to supply it right away. I hope to enchant a chest to trap the creature. The enchantment will be so that once you let the boggart out, simply closing the chest will draw it back in."
Feeling tired from one of the worst transformations he could remember for some time, Lupin smiled back wearily. "That will be perfect, I need to recover anyway."
"Of course." The older wizard agreed. "Rest up, so you can teach Harry to the best of your ability. Teaching Mister Potter to defend himself from those foul dementors is too important to not give your all."
-o-o-
Dumbledore sighed deeply as he sat on the edge of his bed, too tired to even bother with changing into his nightclothes. This was turning out to be a most trying year. Blast Cornelius for convincing the governors that dementors were necessary to protect the children. There were other, safer ways, to guard the school. The danger those dark creatures posed to the students was bad enough, but the effect they had on Harry...
He let himself fall back into the comfort of his soft bed, and stared into the cloth canopy that swirled with the night sky. Those foul creatures kept undoing his efforts to mold Harry into a good person. It was exasperating having to cover up every time one got too close. He had thought it a good idea to subtly push Harry into asking Remus for help, but that turned out to be an even bigger headache.
Now he had to craft several complex enchantments to ensure that Harry's lessons went as planned. Much like he'd told Remus, the enchantments would prevent the boggart's escape, but that was only the beginning. The boggart would have to be tricked into turning into a fake dementor in spite of Harry's true fear. The effects of the dementor must be felt properly as well. It would not do for Harry to enjoy the exposure. The interaction between the latest modifications to Harry's mind, and the fake dementor's projection of despair, would have to be flawless. Perhaps he could make it so that Harry heard his mother scream, and beg for his life. A flash of green light could add to the 'memory.' Yes, that should work... So much to do...
To think, he was hoping for a calm and peaceful holiday. With Harry in the castle, he really should have known better.
-o-o-
The Talk
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"You wanted to talk with me mother?" Ten year old Wednesday said as she walked into her mother's greenhouse.
Morticia finished clipping the heads off of a rose bush, and turned to face her daughter. "Yes dear, sit down. This shouldn't take long, but it is very important."
Wednesday sat on one of the stone benches, and watched her mother impassively. Smiling, Morticia sat next to her daughter, and gave Wednesday a small side hug.
"You're growing up so fast, and soon you'll be having urges." Morticia started as she gently rubbed her daughter's shoulder.
"We've already discussed this mother." Wednesday interrupted, then recited what she thought her mother was about to talk about. "No homicide until I can dispose of the body properly. There will be plenty of time when I'm older to indulge."
With a small laugh, Morticia shook her head. "No dear, this is about sex. Although the two are related."
"We've talked about that too." Wednesday pointed out, and proceeded to clinically recite how babies are made.
"That's very good Wednesday, but there's more to sex than just making babies." Morticia squeezed Wednesday tightly, enough to drive the air from her lungs. "It feels good too. Soon you'll find yourself wanting to experience it yourself."
Wednesday looked up at her mother skeptically. "Does that mean that you and father aren't just trying to make a baby every night?"
"No dear, we have sex to express our love, and because it feels good. Someday you'll find a special someone who you'll want to share everything with." Morticia said with a knowing smile.
"I don't like sharing." Wednesday said flatly.
"You'll change your mind. Give it time." Morticia insisted. "However, when the time comes, it is important that you be particular with whom you choose to have sex. Ideally, along with feeling good, sex should bring you closer to that special someone. If you don't want to spend your life with the other person, there's little reason to become so intimate with them."
"This is about love isn't it?" Wednesday asked, clearly uninterested.
"In part, but I also want you to understand that sex is about feeling good. Intercourse is pleasant, but there is so much more to it than that. The intimacy involved gives you the opportunity to enjoy so many interesting kinds of pain." Morticia's looked up, gazing into the distance with unfocused eyes as she continued. "Opening yourself to someone completely, being at their mercy, unable to stop them from inflicting blinding pain... or mind-numbing pleasure..."
Wednesday tilted her head as she looked up at her mother who was lost in her own imagination. A look of longing was etched into her features as she muttered about fear, agony, and bliss. Assuming that their talk was over, she hopped down and left to find her father. No doubt he would know what to do to snap her mother out of her trance.
As she looked for Gomez, Wednesday recalled Morticia's look of longing, and how much her parents seemed to enjoy each other. She didn't understand it yet, but she decided it was worth remembering to think about later. If nothing else, she could probably manipulate some poor boy if he was foolish enough to fall in love with her. Thoughts of domination and murder filled her imagination for the rest of the day.
-o-o-
Pest control
-o-o-
There he was, Draco was staring into the flames once again. Pansy bit her lip as she stared at her blond housemate. He'd been doing that a lot this year, either staring into the flames, or off into the distance. She wasn't sure what was wrong with her sweetie, but she didn't like it one bit. He'd been ignoring her more and more, and worst of all he now had one of those things as a pet. She shuddered, remembering the sight of his creepy new pet. It had to be Potter's fault, something had happened there, something major. Nobody goes from enemy to friend so easily.
"Draco, baby, what's wrong?" She asked carefully. "We're all alone, so you can let me know. You don't have to hide anything from me."
Having learned his lesson from being startled out of his musings so often, Draco had been using an extrasensory charm, so he was well aware of Parkinson hovering behind him. "Nothing important, just wondering if there was a better way."
"A better way for what?" She asked as she sat down, almost on his lap.
Shifting away from the tenaciously clingy girl, he held back a smirk. "Feeding my little friend of course. He's not quite used to me yet, so he's a little nippy. The anti-venom draughts are effective and easy to brew, but they taste terrible."
As if burned, Pansy leaped away from Draco. "That... thing isn't here is it?"
"Where else would he be?" Draco adopted as innocent a face as he could manage. "I can't very well leave him in the dorm."
Pansy watched in horror as Draco rolled back his sleeve, the napping pet snake becoming visible, and the firelight dancing off of its scales. Realizing that she'd almost been pressing herself against that thing, her eyes rolled back, and she fainted.
Draco allowed himself to smirk as he stood to leave. The biting really was painful and annoying, but seeing Parkinson collapse like that was well worth the effort involved to keep his deadly new pet. Keeping himself dosed with anti-venom was a price well worth paying.