I hope everyone had a fun holiday weekend last week-for those who celebrate Easter... and for those who don't i still hope you had lots of fun. I truly had a blast. But I missed you all and I was itching to write again. It's a little over 13,000 words, so personal best for me :)
Bit of a trigger WARNING. Torture and Implied (Past)Rape.
This takes place immediately after Harry and Daphne's conversation.
So please Enjoy!
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-=REVISED 4/6/2023=-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
I had some time and thought I thought I'd do some simple revisions-mostly grammar stuff, but also including changing the narrative from present tense to simple past tense. Hopefully, it's a better read this way.
Law of Retaliation
He shouldn't have said, 'Sure Daphne,' like some insipid hero rescuing a damsel, but she had dragged the school's injustice into his well-developed tunnel vision and blurred the lines. He could have ignored it if he really wanted to, but then he would have been just like everyone else, casually giving these abusers a free ride because it had nothing to do with his ultimate goal—abusers that Voldemort would happily approve of.
It was easy to imagine Dumbledore refusing to accept any student as truly evil, and thus was only in need of guidance, but that would have only provided them with a safe haven from the proper punishment necessary. If the parents hadn't helped as they should and the school hadn't drawn a line, why wouldn't they freely attack or violate when there were no serious repercussions? Harry sighed as he watched the girls leave and was joined by Draco.
"I hope you're happy, you absolute wanker!" the boy bellowed, sounding like the pompous Draco he remembered. "Because of you, I made a complete idiot out of myself!"
"Really?" Harry asked, perking up to hear. "I'm all ears."
"You could've warned me it was going to be a long conversation! If I'd known, I wouldn't have kept talking out my arse just to keep her there."
"What'd you tell her?" Harry asked curiously. When Draco didn't respond, Harry insisted. "Come on Malfoy. As your quote/unquote friend, I'd be the one to know, wouldn't I? You have to tell me."
"...I apologized," he began with a huff. "And I meant it! When I noticed you were taking your sweet time, I apologized about some more specific stuff. By the end of that series of apologies, you looked absolutely smitten with Greengrass-"
"I was not smitten-"
"SO, I said even more crazy shite, and now she thinks I've been repressing my deep-seeded love for her all! These! Fucking! Years! You prat! She thinks she's the reason I've changed! She's probably having a good ol laugh about this! They both are! And by tomorrow, I'm sure everyone'll know!"
After a beat of silence, Harry let out a deep, slow, rare yet captivated laugh. He laughed for ten minutes straight, occasionally smiling in a good mood all the way to dinner where Daphne was waiting for him by the entrance to the Great Hall. She looked at Draco, smirking but staying silent, clearly waiting for Harry's lead.
Harry looked at Draco, smiled at the mental image of Draco pronouncing his undying love for Tracey—which annoyed the silver-blond—then turned to Daphne, and said, "It's fine. Lover boy here knows."
Draco glared at a joyous Harry and muttered under his breath, "Piss off!"
"Your Ravenclaw's name is Hammond Hilliard," Daphne said, promptly without greeting, much to Harry's predilection. "His older brother, Robert Hilliard, came to Hogwarts nearly a decade ago, became a Ravenclaw prefect, and is now legal aid to Hogwarts governors board."
"So Hammond has legal cover if he needs it," Harry muttered, all trace of humor gone. He had never heard the name before but it was just as well. He rather it be a stranger, than someone he actually knew.
Daphne continued, "Hammond's rumored to be together with Isobel MacDougal, but I don't think that's the case. MacDougal is vain, arrogant, and nowhere near as smart as she wants to be. So, I'm betting she was the one who set Hammond on Granger out of academic jealousy and spite."
"How do you know all this?" Draco couldn't help but ask.
"A friendly ghost who loved my mother, a creepy old portrait who likes me more than he should, Tracey's side of the network, and sharp intuition," she easily answered.
Harry's heart began beating fast, his magic felt like it was boiling against his meager restraint, and all he could think to ask was, "Where is he?" His tone was dangerous and made both Daphne and Draco eye him with growing concern.
Daphne suddenly felt unexpectedly responsible for Hammond's life, and asked, "You're not going to do anything too bad, are you?"
"Point him out," Harry demanded, ignoring her question. Daphne hesitated, turned to the filling dining room, and spotted Hammond gathered with the other Ravenclaws around the clique of Beauxbaton girls—wearing their figure-flattering silk blue uniforms—who decided to dine in Hogwarts today. "He's one of the boys talking to the Beauxbaton girls."
"Which?" Harry demanded, identifying Fleur among the group of beautiful girls. Some of his fury dulled from shame of recalling how he hurt her earlier—though not by much.
"What are you going to do?" Daphne asked sternly.
Harry turned his piercing green eyes on her, and after a moment, answered, "I'm going to ask him to stop… politely."
"I don't believe that for a second," Daphne scoffed.
"I understand," Harry said, leaving her for the Ravenclaw table.
"Where are you- What's he going to do?" Daphne asked Draco.
"Figure out who Hammond is, I imagine," Malfoy simply replied, watching Harry move to the Ravenclaws with purpose.
"Obviously," Daphne retorted. "I mean, what's he going to do to him?"
"I don't know, I'm not his keeper," Draco hotly contested with obvious irritation. "You may be on the fence about trusting him now, and you should, but pay attention, because he doesn't do half measures. Sooner or later, you're going to have to decide; you're either in or you're out."
Nova flew off and landed before Hermione and Luna, much to the squealing surprise of the Beauxbaton girls nearby. His two friends were alone between large cliques, and Harry could see Hermione's hands were webbed as she appeared to be straining to get up, as if a great weight was keeping her down. When neither Hermione nor Luna petted Nova, Harry immediately understood why.
The Ravenclaw students brazen enough to laugh at the girls did so, while the others just ignored them, and to Harry's great disgust, some of the Beauxbaton girls smiled at the prank. The professors present at their table did nothing, huddled and conversing among themselves as they waited for dinner. Harry could tell they weren't even aware of Hermione and Luna's plight as they talked to each other. From a distance, he could tell it had something to do with the prophet, but he didn't heighten his hearing to eavesdrop.
Nova cozied up to the immobile girls as Harry walked past them, straight to the older Ravenclaw boys talking to the beautiful Beauxbaton girls. Harry spared an apologetic eye and nod to Fleur before addressing the group. "I'm looking for a Hammond Hillard?"
"It's Hilliard, heir Flamel," said a tall sixth or seventh year boy next to Fleur. Judging by his stature, the older boy probably played for the Ravenclaw team. He was currently sporting an idiotic, dopey grin, had a hooked nose, and neat, slick-back, sandy-blonde hair.
"Apologies mate," Harry returned, playing the part of a friendly stranger. "I lost a bet and was told to give a galleon to Hammond Hilliard."
"Is this some sort of joke?" Hammond questioned with a suspicious brow. "Who said? And what was the bet?"
Harry made the gold coin appear in hand, flipping it high with a flick of thumb. WHen it landed in his palm again, Harry said, "If you don't want it that's fine-"
"Alright, alright, give it here," Hammond quickly responded, reaching out for the coin. Smiling at Fleur, he joshed as he asked, "It's my lucky night or what, eh ladies?"
"Luck of the devil, I'd say," Harry remarked, forcing his smile as he flicked the coin with a strong flick of his thumb—striking it hard enough to hear a distinct ping noise—then he turned to leave.
As he passed Hermione and Luna, he flicked his wrist for his wand and neutralized the sticking charm that kept both girls stuck to the table and bench. He also canceled the animal charm that webbed their hands and fish-scaled their skin, all without stopping. Wand back in his wrist holster, Nova landing on his shoulder, and Harry exited the Great Hall, no longer hungry for food, but rather starved for retribution.
It seemed to take an eternity for dinner to conclude, so most students could walk back to their common rooms. It was the easiest sequence in the world to wait for Hammond close to the Ravenclaw common room, call the gold coin he had given the boy earlier to exit his robes, hit the floor, roll it away as the upper year gave chase. Disillusioned himself, Harry stunned him unconscious and flamed him to the chamber.
Sticking the unconscious body, spreadeagle to the cold stone floor, Harry's very first step was to ensure the baby basilisk would not eat Hammond. In the moment when the large infant snake slithered happily to greet its master, Harry learned that the snake's eyelids had lifted. After his initial shock of surviving the death stare, Harry examined the snake and learned it actually had two eyelids—the second, a clear membrane acting as a protective shield. After making sure the large serpent knew never to open the second eyelid, Harry tried to explain the plan to the adolescent serpent with little success.
~¿Why does master not eat bad food?~ the snakes hissed his question.
Harry groaned internally before trying again. ~Ares. I'm Ares, not master. Ares is my name and it's not food, it's a bad man.~
~¿Does me have name? I want name! Name me too!~
Thinking how much Nicolas was going to enjoy this moment, he hesitated to name it, but he couldn't keep calling it baby basilisk. With a sharp exhale, Harry nodded and looked deeply at his snake, letting himself gently feel the aura of the serpent's magic, before finally hissing ~Yes, yes you do have a name. And your name will be... Nāga. That is your name. I'm Ares. You are Nāga.~
After many minutes of trying to calm the overexcited baby basilisk down, Harry found it easier to explain that he wanted Hammond to stink of fear rather than be food. It was as if using his name made the jolly serpent more receptive. How the infant snake had understood him so quickly was beyond him, but when he pondered how quickly infant creatures take to their nature, he thought little of it.
Harry divested Hammond of all his clothes, kept him spread-eagle on the floor before enlarging the shrunken trunk he kept chained around his neck. He disarmed the security precautions and unlocked the fourth compartment housing Nicolas' special potions. Then, Harry conjured a table and set up a number of vials for the task ahead.
Harry gripped the edges of the table and simply allowed the most vile and evil acts he could think of to flood his mind, fuel his body, and contaminate his soul. This may have been in defense of his best friend, but defending her wasn't exactly what he was going to do to the rapist. He was going to torture this boy, and the price for that was surrendering himself to the darkest, poisonous, and evil parts of him—a process that took him little time to accomplish. In some ways, he could understand Hermione's hesitation to use force to punish; it would wake her up to a side of herself she was unfamiliar with and could very well be scared of. Gentle to a fault she may have been, but if he was ever given the choice, he'd much rather be her.
In the face of what he was about to do, Harry chuckled at such an ideal dream.
Harry dimmed the flame light in the room to near total darkness and enervated the stuck, nude boy into consciousness. The older boy took in a deep breath with a cough before utter confusion registered. When the cold hit him, he tried to move, only to find that he couldn't—that's when he started to panic. Aside from a few arches, corners, and crevices of his body, his head had the only real freedom of movement, looking around as best he could, but he couldn't see well in the darkness or Harry.
His struggles started to become frantic, and soon he was calling out, "Help! Anyone! Please! Help me!"
Harry immediately wondered if Hermione had ever felt the same way—called out for help the same way—making Harry want to kill him on the spot, but he held in his rage. Suffering would be better, he told himself. And this wasn't just for him.
In Parseltongue, Harry asked, ~¿Can you smell his fear, Nāga?~
Hammond shrieked, "Wha- Who's there!?"
~Nāga loves playing with master Aresss!~ The large snake childishly hissed from the perimeter of the darkened room, escalating Hammond's agitation and cries for help.
"Wh-Wh-Who's there?!" Hammond yelled fearfully. "Who's there?!"
Harry blinked twice and tilted his head up silently exercising his patience. He was tolerant of the adolescent snake because of its youth. It was fortunate that Hammond didn't understand what they were saying, and that was all that mattered.
~Nāga, use your tongue and try to sense how the food feels. ¿Can you do that for me?~Harry instructed.
~Nāga do anything for master Aresss!~ Harry could hear the large snake constantly slither on the stone floor around them, so he knew Hammond could hear it as well. ~Food grows more and more fear.~
~Keep slithering around us, Nāga, and food will grow even more fear.~Harry hissed before walking up to the boy, who tilted his chin up to view an upside down Ares Flamel.
"You!" Hammond yelled angrily, as Harry started walking around him, glaring at him the entire time. "Let me up you manky tosser! What the fuck is this, you sick freak?! Why am I naked-" He shut up when he saw Harry pull out Hammond's wand. "That's my wand! I swear to Merlin almighty if you do-" Hammond wailed loudly when Harry snapped the rapist's wand in half, then burned the halves in each hand to ashes. "You motherfucker! I'm going to kill you! You hear me!? You're dead! You're dead!"
Despite Hammond's rage, Harry appeared calm as he slowly walked around the yelling boy to a stop between his stuck legs. Harry nudged his prisoner's flaccid penis out of the way with his foot, and pressed down on his left testicle until the angry boy called out, "Wait! Wait! Stop! Please, stop! Look, look, I'm sorry. Please, I don't care about the wand. Whatever you want... you can have anything you want! I promise! Just- Just, please-"
"Stop talking," Harry serenely said. "If I hear another word come out of your mouth, I'm going to crush the left one. You have my most solemn vow."
Hammond's rapid breathing was heavy and loud but he nodded in fearful understanding.
Harry didn't remove his foot as he continued to say, "The first thing I want you to know is that I'm not going to kill you. Really, I'm not. You must be thinking, 'Of course, he wouldn't actually kill me. That'd be murder,' but that's only because you think I've never killed before, and that death is the worst thing that could happen to you. You'll learn very soon that it's not, and before long, you'll be praying for me to kill you."
Harry's tone darkened as his mind eagerly anticipated how he'd revel in this abuser's torment. He could feel his magic resonating with his flaring rage and had to do all in his power to hold himself back, or he might end up killing Hammond right away.
"Beg for it, plead, wish, or cry for it," Harry continued. "You won't die so easily. I won't allow it. It's too good for you, and I need to see you suffer. I want you to hurt, everyday, worse than she did."
Despite the fear in his eyes and the sweat running down his red and perspiring face, Harry could tell that 'she' registered something in his mind. He wanted to probe his mind right then and there, but he found it far too easy. When it looked like Hammond was going to ask about this 'she,' Harry pressed a bit more weight on the boy's soft left testicle, drawing out a strangled cry of shocking surprise from him.
~Food has much much fear, master.~ Harry heard Nāga hiss from nearby. Through the agony, Hammond frantically looked around for the source of the hissing and slithering but couldn't see anything.
"Until I say otherwise, keep your mouth shut." Hammond nodded, shutting his mouth, but that didn't keep the groan of pain from escaping his throat. Harry could hear Hammond's teeth chattering before he continued. "Now that you know I won't kill you, I also need you to know this isn't some random attack on you, or anything to do with you specifically—to be clear, I'd do this to anyone who hurt my friends, even if it were a female abuser. This has everything to do with my intolerance of certain behaviors you seem to think you're entirely justified acting on. I'll allow you to speak now but only because I'd love to hear you deny you're a rapist."
Hammond's first word of protest turned to a powerful cry of pain as Harry put all his weight down on the boy's soft reproductive organ—giving him the distinct feeling of crushing a particularly juicy grape under his foot. Harry let the immobile boy writhe against his restraints as he cried and yelled profanity for minutes, soaking it all in.
~Nāga, come say hi to food.~ Harry hissed.
The giant baby basilisk slithered as quick as a whip over Hammond's legs, next to Harry. Its fangs were the size of Hammond's hand, its large putrid yellow eyes, and its angry hiss of death elevated Hammond's cries of pain to high-pitched shrieks of monumental fear. It was only a few seconds before Hammond's wide bulging eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out from extreme terror.
~Good boy, Nāga.~ Harry stated, petting the top of the suddenly affectionate snake. It started to tangle and squeeze Harry in devoted ardor. ~Okay, okay. Just give me a minute with food and we'll play again.~
Nāga elicited a cry of joy and slithered excitedly away. Harry shook his head in reserved gaiety as he stepped around the unconscious Hammond. Snapping his wand into his hand, Harry pointed it at Hammond's head and used legilimency to dive into the boy's chaotic mind.
Harry looked around the boy's most recently stored or called-upon memories, and sure enough, he found the proof he didn't actually need to hurt the Ravenclaw, but couldn't continue without absolute certainty. Hermione, forced to her knees, fists gripping hair to hold her in place and giving Hammond a blow job. In terms of severity, what he was made to watch in the previous timeline was leagues worse than this, as well as specially geared to elicit the worst torment from him, but to see Hermione suffer again was no less infuriating or agonizing. In the memory, Luna was being held and groped, to his surprise, by an older Gryffindor boy Harry had seen, but didn't know. Isobel MacDougal was holding both Hermione and Luna's wands, watching on with glee and yelling derogatory remarks.
"You filthy good for nothing mudbloods need to learn your place. It's us—of pure magical blood—that are your superiors," Isobel vilely retorted. "You think you're soo much smarter than us, but that didn't keep you from ending up on your knees, sucking cock like some cheap, corner-walking whore, did it! You fucking disgust me! You shouldn't even be aloud to live because you taint everything you touch, you disgusting slag!"
At that, Harry only had enough patience to learn that was the first, but not the last time, it happened. There have been three occasions in total, as far as Hammond's memories showed, the last of which was two nights ago, catching Hermione—despite her caution—when she was exiting the library. He used brute force to hold her hands so she couldn't get her wand, and immediately forced her into an empty classroom. Then down to her knees.
"You know what I want, Granger," Harry heard the boy tell her before he quickly exited the unconscious boy's mind. Harry took several steps away from Hammond before retching up bile in place of the dinner he skipped. His eyes watered and his nose was prickly stuffy, but he didn't relent mental control to his shame-tarnished urge for swift revenge.
Though every urge of his being screamed to kill Hermione's abuser, his weakened rational mind was afraid that recourse wouldn't actually help her in any meaningful way. The most natural response in the world would be to make this filth suffer and die, but doing it by his hand would only avail him, not Hermione, and that was the only thought that stayed his hand. Harry had wrongs to right, certainly, but killing this filth wasn't the way to go about it.
Still, Harry walked back to the boy and woke him up by stomping down hard on the right testicle with a gushy splat, jolting Hammond's head up as he screamed a high pitched wail—the sharp scent of fear, blood, and semen filled the air. His screams gave Harry some measure of righteous satisfaction, but it wasn't enough; it was nowhere near enough.
Harry watched the boy scream and wail until he was red-faced, sweaty, streaming tears down the sides of his face. Hammond spasmed from the constant waves of pain and the shock of getting his testicles crushed. Harry stared into Hammond's pain-filled, pleading eyes with a blank almost clinical countenance for several minutes, absorbing the boy's torment before he turned and walked over to the table. Harry picked up the first of three vials and returned to Hammonds side, sitting crossed-legged by the wailing rapists.
Harry put the vial down next to him as Hammond stared pleadingly for it. He asked, "Does it hurt?"
Red, puffy eyes glared at him as Hammond yelled between coughs, "I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!"
Apathetic to the threat, Harry whipped out his white wand for Hammond to see and simply said, "I'll give you one chance to answer my questions."
"FUCK YOU!" he returned and Harry immediately conjured salt to rain down on his blood busted sack. The ear-piercing scream turned guttural as he tried desperately to break free of his magical restraints. Harry let him scream and cry for twenty minutes before he conjured a ball of fire to dance near his crotch. Hammond understood quickly and begged, "W-W-W-Wait! Wh-WH-WH-WAIT! P-p-p-ple-please..."
"Does it hurt?" Harry once again asked.
Sweating, red, and tear-faced, Hammond nodded feverishly, spitting out, "Y-Yehsssssh!"
"Do you want the pain to stop?"
"YES!" Hammond bellowed, voiced thick with agony.
"Tell me what you did to her, and I'll give you this vial for the pain," Harry continued, dancing the ball of fire close to Hammond's twitching pelvis.
Rapidly erratic breathing and constantly moving his head—as if to escape the agony—Hammond spoke with anguish and great difficulty, "I- I did- I did it... I made that- I made Granger suck me off, b-b-b-b-but that's it! That's it! I didn't... ugh, oh Godric! I-I-I-I didn't u-u-u-use her for magic practice... like the girls did!"
"Who was the Gryffindor with you?" Harry demanded.
"H-H-H-H-Higgs," he bemoaned, sniffing with an ever present groan from the pain. The boy didn't even question how Harry knew of the Gryffindor as he continued to answer, "A-Aamon Higgs, s-s-s-s-seventh- seventh year, like me!"
"Did he violate her too?" Harry asked, his tone low and homicidal.
"Yes!" Hammond cries. "Once! Just the o-o-one time on the traiiiinn! ….Please, mummy, it huuuurts..."
"Anyone else?" Harry asked lifting the vial close to the boy's face but kept it just shy of his pleading mouth.
Hammond answered anything and everything he knew as fast as he could to end his agony. "Isobel MacDougal, Qarinah Bagnold, Nimue Desford wwwould give G-Granger and the blonde a hard time, and-and-and-an Aamon was going to brinnnng some- some k-k-kid around. McLaggen I think he said! And that's it! That's it..." He then wailed and sobbed, "Please, let me out of here! I told everything I know..."
"Do the professors know?"
"NO!" Hammond yelled. "I d-d-d-on't think so! A ghost caught us, once. Filch nearly c-c-c-caught us, but no professors!"
"Was Hermione the only one you raped?" Harry coldly asked.
"Yesssss," Hammond tearfully sobbed, then croaked to a roar, "I'm not... not some p-p-p-pervert that enjoys raping girls! Isobel said it was okaayah! And- and- and Granger- she... it's not like she hated it... she- she would've liked it eventually!"
Harry's monstrously angered eyes glowed bright green for a long second at the drivel—the blasphemy—this parasite was using as cause to violate her.
"Held and abused against her will and you think she..." Harry mouthed in disbelief before he uncorked the vial. Hammond drank the entire content before a gasping choking shot spittle up. Harry slapped his hand over Hammond's mouth, keeping the potion in as his bulging brown eyes stared fearfully at enraged emerald-green ones.
"Cheers, maggot," Harry angrily growled. "It's for the pain, yeah, but what I didn't say was that it amplifies it just beyond your pain threshold. It won't let you pass out, and it won't kill you, but after twenty minutes, you'll be begging for death just to end it." Harry got up, ignoring Hammond's pitiful pleas of mercy. "I want you to know that this is only the beginning. You'll be my guest for a while, and everyday I will treat you to a new form of agony. If you ever wonder why this is happening to you, just know, I don't think you hate it, and I'm sure you'll eventually like it."
"No! Waiiiiiiii-" Hammond's words choked in his throat as the unbridled agony inflamed his entire body. When his pulsating veins popped up clear as day on his tense and seizing muscles, Harry walked over to Nova, and hissed and his basilisk familiar. ~Nāga, I'll be back later. Do not eat this food and I'll bring you a treat.~
Nova hopped on his shoulder as the large snake slithered to him.
~Treats, treats, treats! ¿When Nāga haves treats, Master?~ The large snake hissed happily.
~Soon Nāga. ¿So be a good boy, okay?~
Harry rubbed the underside of Nāga's round head and neck before he apparated to his room in Slytherin. Walking into the common room, Harry spotted Draco seated at a table with the other fourth years doing their homework. Tracey sent quick glances at Draco while Harry took note of everyone in the large common room and paid attention to possible threats, like the Upper Order seated on the plush couches and seats in front of the roaring fireplace. Without needing to call him, Draco turned around as if sensing him, to which Harry only tilted his head, as if to say, 'let's go.' Draco immediately picked up his books and headed to the fourth year dormitory while Harry waited.
As Harry felt the tenseness in the air, the silence expanded throughout the room and Slytherins moved farther away from him. Then he heard "Stupify!" from behind him, recognizing Yaroslav's voice before he felt the oppressiveness of his magic barrel through the air. Harry easily evaded it with a fluid sidestep as he snapped his white wand to hand. By that point, Khan and Boyle were in position at opposing points from Yaroslav, like the points of a triangle with Harry in the middle, and everyone else took cover from stray spells.
"Incarcerous!" "Expelliarmus!" "Stupify!" "Diffindo!" "Relashio!" "Stupify! Stupify! Stupify!" the three yelled at the same time without boasting or stopping.
Harry evaded spell after spell by the smallest of margins with laughable ease, never moving more than a few steps in any direction or forcing Nova to lose her balance on his shoulder. Their casting was so linear and slow, he could easily map their trajectory and evade the curses without the slightest bit of worry.
Harry then raised his wand and barely thought of the disarming spell before his magic flared and all three wands attacking him were ripped from his attackers' hands and flew to Harry. Letting his own wand slide back into his holster, Harry wandlessly caught all three wands, keeping them afloat before him, much to the amazement of the astonished crowd.
Ignoring the bullies' demands or pleas to give them back their wands, he took each one and snapped them in two with numb detachment. Truthfully, Harry didn't feel much during the exchange or as he burned the six pieces of broken wood to ash. Harry did nothing else to the three for the simple reason that they barely qualified as a nuisance, but when Khan rushed him—out of his mind in pure anger—with clenched fists, Harry easily catapulted him straight up, hard and fast, striking the stone ceiling with a hard THUD, and stuck him there with a sticking charm.
When Draco reentered the common room, he wasn't expecting it to be so chaotic. Everyone was in groups, blatantly talking or pointing at either Harry or Khan, who was stuck on the ceiling, limp and hemorrhaging copious amounts of blood from his head. Walking towards Harry, Draco was certain Khan was out cold and asked, "What happened to him?"
Harry turned to leave the common room as he answered the blond, "The same thing that happens when a breeze tries to move a mountain."
Draco follows Harry as they make their way to the seventh floor. Envisioning a room to duel in, the pair of Slytherins enter the Room of Requirement, finally giving Draco the chance to ask him, "What happened to Hilliard?"
"You should worry more about yourself," Harry replied as he moved to the opposite side of the square dueling stage. "First thing's first, we're going to work on your defense. It took me a long time to be able to defend against Voldemort's offense. Just because you shield doesn't mean it's strong enough to handle potent curses and I'm going to come at you with just as much ferocity."
"I wasn't implying I was worried, but I should know these things," Draco countered, ignoring the mention of training. "So I know how to act if certain subjects are brought up when you're not around."
"...He's not comfortable, but he's alive," Harry answered. "You ready?"
Near midnight, the two exit the Room of Requirement, Draco slumped and heaving with Nova's healing talons gripping his shoulder, and Harry no different than when he entered. Harry didn't slow his pace as Draco limped along.
"Will it kill you to learn some bloody healing spells?!" the heaving Draco yelled as they traveled the dark and silent corridor.
"What… Do you think just anybody can learn healing magic? It takes a particular mental and magical outlook that doesn't work well with my dark onus." Turning to wait for Draco, Harry huffed and added, "But I'll take a look at some of the easy stuff... later, when things settle down some."
"Or in class when you have nothing to do," Draco hotly suggested. "It's not like it matters what you learn during that time. You might as well learn a few healing spells so I don't have to go to the infirmary after every training session. I'm sure after a while, people are going to start wondering why I keep getting hurt."
"I suppose that's better than using any of my potions," Harry whimsically remarked.
"Wait, you have healing potions?! On you right now?!" Draco called out, standing straighter, then hurting for it.
"Will you shut up," Harry returned, sensing something ahead.
As Harry listened closely for a presence nearby, Draco pleaded, "Let me have something here, Flamel. It shouldn't hurt this much when I breathe."
Harry turned to Draco and clapped his hand over his mouth, shutting the silver-blond up. The moment Harry deduced the sounds were the steps of two professors, one male, the other female, walking towards each other at the juncture ahead, he calculated he had no more than seven seconds before they met. Understanding that his familiar was resistant to magic, Harry whipped around and whispered to Nova, "Flame back to my room and stay there. Draco, make your way to the infirmary from there."
Nova flamed away with Draco before the silver-blond could get one word out, and Harry mentally started the clock. He had told his avian friend to wait for him, but he knew if she didn't see him after twenty minutes, she'd promptly flame straight to his location—no matter who might be around to witness it—and that was something he definitely wanted to avoid. Harry had enough time to disillusion and silence himself before he was surprised to see Severus Snape and Lily Potter meet at the juncture just ahead. His shock didn't last long as Lily gave Snape a friendly hug, who appeared content and accustomed to allow the familiar greeting.
It was the closest Harry had ever been to his mother since she was murdered in his timeline—he could already feel his chest cavity constrict against his swelling organs. The only thing harder than never getting to know his mother in his timeline was learning that she abandoned him again in a timeline where she lived.
Standing before him was a lifetime of burning questions without answers, eternal wants without gain, and longing love without the time to appreciate it. He was stunted and stalled in the face of her. It was so sudden, but somehow Harry felt like she was the only thought he had ever had. His mind should have been clear, should have stayed rational and alert, but he was senseless, thoughtless, and vaguely noted a physiological response in her presence when he felt trails of moisture run down his face.
When Snape stepped back, suspiciously looking around the hall, Harry focused on pulling himself together and raising his occlumency to help him take control of his downhearted melancholy. It was fortunate for him that Lily was one of the few memories Horcrux-Voldemort could never tarnish. The parasite didn't know enough about her to really hurt him with her memory. Even when Horcrux-Voldemort assumed her face or said malicious things about her, it never hurt Harry because he never knew her. Still, through the years of torture and torment, in his mind, she was a source of reprieve from abuse. Thoughts of her were the precious few places he could escape towards where only minimal pain existed.
And now she was standing in front of him, living, breathing, beautiful.
"So, Severus, how goes your start-of-term woes?" Lily joked before looking around the corridor for any sign of unruly students. Harry's chest tightened even more at the sound of her voice, and his knees wavered to hold his weight. His face was already warm with a rushing blush, wet with tears, and his dry throat felt clogged.
"The year is already proving to be considerably more taxing than ever before," Severus answered her in his drawn-out tone, yet with more levity than Harry was used to hearing from the man—like old friends catching up. They slowly checked the corridor together room by room, cupboard by cupboard.
Harry moved closer to them, confident the potency of his invisibility and silencing charms would conceal him from even Snape's abilities of detection. Harry found that he had to actively force himself not to move too close to her as he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from her. He couldn't be sure she wouldn't rush into him for an unexpected reason.
"It can't be that bad," Lily returned. "Surely acquiring the gem that is Ares Flamel must feel satisfying, even for you." At the mention of Ares, he recalled that she left this timeline's Harry, and his anger grew in direct competition with his longing. Harry could feel it spike within him before he reasserted his control over his emotions.
"Capital," Severus dully responded, earning a smirk and head-shake from Lily.
"Minnie is so upset about losing the Flamel heir, she's resorted to using some of Pomona's special herbs for a little extra comfort," Lily stated with a smirk, placing her thumb and index to her lips as if holding a cigarette. Harry's eyes bulged at the idea of his strict and rigid Transfiguration professor, McGonagall, smoking special herbs. It was easily the most salacious thing he had ever heard.
"Oh dear me," Severus cooed sarcastically. "How will I ever live with myself, cognizant of the part I played in her puffing? The injustice. Shall I turn myself over to the Aurors now, you think?"
With a wide grin Lily smacked his shoulder, telling him, "Oh, you stop your silliness. It's her one indiscretion. We're all allowed to have our one thing."
"Albus had placed no small amount of importance on Mr. Flamel's academic success, considering what it could mean for him and his goals," Severus answered in a droll tone. "Given his association with the family, the boy's placement in Gryffindor was an easy assumption to make."
"I've heard good things from the others, Filius, in particular, is beside himself," Lily continued. "All of his professors are in an uproar, actually. It's a shame he isn't taking Muggle Studies. I would've liked to have been the professor to one of Hogwarts most prodigious students."
"You'll simply have to settle with the title of head of a Noble and Most Ancient House and mother of the Boy-Who-"
"Oh, please don't utter that infernal title in my presence, or I swear I will hurt you," Lily interjected with authority.
'Good to know I'm not the only one who hates that bloody title,' Harry mentally said, nodding his head.
With an uptick of the corners of his lips—like he knowing how much she hates it, as well—Snape puts his hands up in lame surrender. Moving away from the unpleasantness of her son's moniker, she then asked, "Have you had a chance to speak with Flamel yet?"
"I have," Severus stated, poking his head inside a classroom before closing the door.
"And?" Lily murmured, taking a look in the opposing classroom, finding nothing, then closing the door.
"And... nothing," Severus lamely replied, looking ahead.
Lily turned a suspicious eye directly on him. To Harry, she didn't seem to buy his response as she tilted her head and pressed lips to a thin line. "I don't know why you continue to think you can hide anything from me, Severus. Even when we were kids, I could always tell when you were holding something back, now spill."
"It's not your concern, Lily," Severus replied, with a hint of caution in his tone.
"Well, of course I know that," Lily readily agreed. "That doesn't mean you can't tell me, your fellow professor, what an intelligent student of Hogwarts is like. Unless, there's something more complicated involved. Maybe something along the lines of an interested third party, curious about our new student, making you do their bidding." Severus remained silent—possibly a confirmation of sorts—so she continued. "Don't think I don't know Albus has a plan for the boy. He's already asked Hardwin to be friendly with him—behind my back, no less—and believe you me, I will be having very direct words with him about that."
"Clearly that friendship didn't work out as he'd hoped," Severus evenly stated.
"No, it didn't and don't think you're off the hook, either," Lily returned, not letting his attempt to move the conversation along slip by her. "Now, spill it. Why'd you pause?"
"I didn't pause-"
Her tone bored and low, she quickly interrupted, "You paused. I know you paused. I heard you pause. You have a tell, so come now, unclench."
"Lily!" Severus gasped at her vulgarity.
"Severus!" Lily mocked in good humor.
"If the other matrons of Ancient and Noble houses heard you speak…" he muttered.
"They already don't like me, so I don't care," she rebuffed, making Harry nod with appreciation. "Now, come on. I'm your best friend."
Severus let out a long strained sigh, then said, "Very well. I do agree with the general consensus of Mr. Flamel's abilities. He is skilled beyond his years. However, he's also aloof, and far too smug."
"I think you're the only one that's described him as smug and aloof," she quaintly remarked. "What gave you that impression?"
"As I've said, I've spoken with him, and gleaned a great deal from our exchange," Severus said. "He isn't, at all, what I was expecting from an heir of a great house, or even your typical student."
"How so?" Lily questioned analytically.
"Generally you would expect heirs of great houses to be spoiled, obnoxious, out of touch, entitled, adequately educated, with a higher emphasis on business dealings, politics, and or high society."
"Not all heirs," Lily whispered loud enough to hear in defense of Hardwin.
Snape pressed his lips and chose to ignore the comment.
"From our conversation," he continued. "I can tell you, Ares Flamel shares none of those traits. He's acutely aware, well-spoken, very direct, annoyingly unapologetic, and worst of all, he's far more talented than your typical fourth year. He has all the makings of an arrogant antagonizer. You've no doubt heard about my many senior Slytherins visiting the hospital wing a few nights ago?"
"No thanks to you," Lily lightly clapped back. "I swear Severus, as your best friend, I often find myself learning about what goes on in your life from others. It's not right, I say."
"I am busy, Lily," Severus explained tersely. "I'd also go so far as to point out that this castle has a severe gossip problem. Why bother repeating myself when you can learn of a thing nearly as fast as it happens?"
Harry could easily tell Hogwarts rumor mill exasperated Snape. It was odd seeing so many emotional sides of the older man; not enough to be normal, but far more than Harry has personally seen.
"This castle is quite the chatterbox," Lily laughed. "Sound logic, and yes, Poppy did tell me about your injured students—Merlin, fourteen! She was amazed by the charm used and couldn't believe a fourth year had cast it. I'm familiar with the sensory deprivation charm; it's often used to assist diviners, aspiring animagus transformations, as well as certain trauma patients in the Janus Thickery ward at St. Mungo's. How'd it all happen?"
"Ares Flamel is what happened," Severus easily told her. "He dueled all twelve older years at the same time and soundly defeated them."
"Merlin!" Lily gasped. "How- How's that possible? What did he- Wait, Poppy didn't mention treating him. He wasn't injured?"
"He was not," Snape confirmed. "I saw a memory of the event, and even I cannot completely explain what he did, precisely. I've heard my students say he used magic from his family's grimoire; though at the moment, it's an unconfirmed theory."
"This is clear proof of what happens when practicing magic goes too far," Lily argued, shaking her head disapprovingly. "For the life of me, I simply can't understand why there's a dueling ring in Slytherin. None of the other houses have one, nor should they. Students need to be monitored when practicing or we risk their safety."
'Practice? Yeah, right,' Harry mentally snorted. He can easily tell Snape had no qualms about letting her think it was only a practice duel gone wrong.
"Yes, well," Snape continued. "They must learn from their mistakes. Considering this has been long approved by the Board of Governors, I don't expect Lucius to change it anytime soon."
"Then there should be more restrictions," Lily argued. "Surely, a prefect referee for the duels, or implement hours of operations. You went to see Albus about this, correct? To show him the memory?"
Curious, he turned to her and asked, "How did you know?"
"You always go through the antechamber when you're on your way to see Albus," she easily explained. "And honestly, when it involves that man, it's the only time you hold back on me."
"Lily..."
"I know, I know," she groaned, putting her hands up. "It's Albus, trust Albus, Albus knows all. Believe me, I know." She pointed a stern finger at Snape, stating, "But I'm no fool. I can tell he's interested in Flamel, not that I can completely wrap my head around why. If it's to gain support from Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel, then why not ask them directly? They're old friends, after all. And if it's to do with Hardwin, I can't understand why involve Ares Flamel when my son and Ron are nearly inseparable. It's terrible enough to imagine something happening to Ron simply for being friends, let alone risking another student to the dangers in Hardwin's life; not that I foresee a blossoming friendship between Hardwin and Ares anytime soon."
Again, even though Harry knew he had a brother, just the mention of Hardwin was like he had forgotten and was reminded all over again. It was so surreal.
Snape took a moment before stepping closer to Harry's mother. Snape placed both hands square on Lily's shoulders and said, "I can't speak of our conversations, Lily, but I will confess Albus is merely curious about the boy, more specifically, his origins."
"What do you mean?" she asked, looking expectantly.
"Don't you find the timing of his sudden appearance suspect, if not, at least odd? Even for their house?"
"No, not particularly," Lily honestly answered. "Revered as the Flamels may be, they've always been a recluse household. I assume they can hide their child as easily as themselves. I find it more amazing that we even have this opportunity to see them in our lifetime. We've only lived a speck of time compared to them."
"It's certainly excitable news among the community," Snape admitted. "However, that only proves the point. We don't know anything about him. Of all the dangers that can possibly lay ahead, the unexpected and unprepared for are truly the worst affairs to behold. Apparently, the existence of the boy came as a complete surprise to Albus, and he's been unable to acquire any new details from anyone, let alone Nicolas, which is troubling. Albus is simply doing his due diligence."
"Why?" Lily questioned. "I don't get it. After Bellatrix's escape from Azkaban last year and her attempts to kill my son ever since, what does the heir of Flamel really matter?"
"Nothing matters more to Albus than protecting your son," Severus sternly asserted. "With regards to Ares Flamel, the headmaster is simply curious, but I'm certain he won't rest until the dangers to Hardwin are abated. And neither will I, Lily. You have my word."
"I know," she agreed with a heart-warming smile. "Truly, I do. I've always been able to count on you."
For the longest fraction of a second, Harry was terrified Severus Snape was going to kiss his mother, and that spike of fear must've signaled Lily somehow, because she turned around as if sensing something. Harry stood still, looking directly into her cautious green eyes—'I do have her eyes,' he oddly noted—until Snape asked, "Is something the matter?"
"...No," she eventually responded, turning back to him. "I suppose not." They separate when Harry senses Nova's agitation—alerting him to the moments before his brilliant arrival. Harry heard Snape ask, "Any word from Remus?" before he soundlessly sprinted away from them to the opposite end of the corridor.
Harry strained to hear his mother respond, "No. None, so f..." before he rounded the corner, just in time for Nova to flame brightly right in front of him. Hoping they hadn't noticed the flash of light in the dark halls, he gripped his phoenix's talons and quickly flamed back to his modest bedroom in Slytherin.
In the silence of the room, Harry felt incredibly lackadaisical and just fell backward into his bed. He lay there for quite some time, not knowing how to absorb all he had heard. Simple as their conversation was to understand, he couldn't get past the knowledge of hearing his mother speak and laugh, seeing her smile and her mannerisms, taking in the scent of her fragrance, her eyebrows when she arched one, her cheeks when they rose, her vibrant red hair pulled behind her ear, her mouth, and her eyes. Harry memorized and relived every part of her he witnessed that night for the entire night and into his dreams. By early morning, he felt like both an expert and novice on the subject of his mother, as well as apprehensively eager for more and less.
With several hours to go before his morning workout with Draco, he decided to flame to the chamber and was greeted by the sweet sound of long, hoarse, breathy groans of a wounded animal. Hammond was exactly where he had left him, slick with sweat, rancid with the stench of feces, twitchy, and nearly catatonic. Harry raised the chamber's firelight as he walked over to his table. He could distinctly hear the large baby basilisk that claimed the chamber as its home slither quick as a whip towards him.
~Master Aressss!~ Nāga hissed jubilantly. It wrapped itself around Harry, squeezing him far too tightly.
~Oh`kay! Nāga! Nāga, down! Down boy!~ Harry hissed as he tried to keep the large serpent from crushing him. After several desperate moments of struggling, Nova took the initiative to grip Nāga's body in her strong talons and help unravel Harry. When Nāga began to play with Nova, Harry was relieved, and focused his attention on Hammond. Harry grabbed the second vial from the table and walked over to the stuck boy, who was only able to protest with weak mewling whines. Hammond was too weak to resist Harry when he force-fed the potion.
"There you go," Harry told him. "You'll start to feel better real soon." Harry moved to Hammond's discarded clothes as the draught counteracted the pain enhancing potion as well as numbed the pain from his injury. Hammond groaned loudly in sweet relief as Harry grabbed Hammond's Ravenclaw tie, then returned to the bound boy. Harry observed him weep and plead to let him go.
"I crushed your balls, but the sack isn't so badly cut where you'd be in any danger of bleeding out," Harry started, looking at the large splatter of dried blood and semen. He dropped the tie on Hammond's chest as he walked over, between his legs.
"Please!" Hammond immediately started to panic as he frantically attempted to break free. "PLEASE LET ME GOOO! I'LL NEVER TOUCH HER AGAIN! I PROMISE, PLEASE!"
Harry only stared, unflinching and resolute as he pointed his wand towards his crotch and warned, "I wouldn't move too much if I were you." Hammond redoubled his futile efforts to escape. Numb to the pain, Hammond could only see, instead of feel, Harry cut off his scrotum, burn it to a crisp in front of him, and stick the cleanly cut skin together again.
"In my book, rapists forfeit your right to make babies," Harry told him. "That's the first penalty. But, cheer up mate. It was painless and you get to keep the shaft."
"You cut my balls off!" Hammond rebuked. "You mutilated me! I'm- I'm permanently disfigured because of you! And you want me to be happy about it?! I'm going to fucking kill you! I'm going to take everything you love and destroy it in front of your eyes. You'll regret this!"
"Oh, please do fucking try Hilliard," Harry happily retorted, staring maniacally amused into Hammond's eyes. "I relish the thought! Because the moment a piece of shite rapist like you tries to come after me, I get to kill you free and clear. So yeah, be happy, because if it was up to me, you'd be suffering every possible way I can imagine for years, decades, or at the very least, dead."
"I didn't-" Hammond began to say before swallowing deeply and crying anew. "I didn't want... oh, Godric please... Isobel said- she said it was okay."
"Did Granger say it was okay?" Harry spat back. "Did you even hear her when she pleaded for you to stop? ...when you felt her try to push you away? Or when you held her down? I don't think you know what she went through—what you put her through. Which brings us to penalty number two."
"No, please," Hammond cried as Harry grabbed the tie from his chest. He looked over at Hammond's penis, and transfigured the tie into a wooden approximation of Hammond's organ. "If you thought having a small penis would ever work out in your favor, this might've been it. But seven centimeters(3in) doesn't really strike me as punishment so..." Harry elongated the wood phallus to seventeen centimeters(7in). Harry kneeled down next to a wrecked and ravaged Hammond. "This isn't going to hurt like last night, but in some ways, it's far worse... and appropriate. Your cock—well, a bigger version—is going to go in your mouth and down your throat until the moment you gag or attempt to swallow, and only then will it come back out. I'll give you half a second to breathe before it goes right back down, and the cycle will continue over, and over again. And just so you don't choke on your own vomit..."
Harry canceled the sticking charms and levitated Hammond, moving him to the nearest pillar. He forced Hammond to his knees and stuck his hands, arms, back and feet securely to the concrete pillar.
"You're responsible for your own choices. You don't get to blame this person or that person for abusing someone else. You're the one that held her down! Not Isobel! 'You know what I like, Granger.' Remember Hilliard? That was you!"
"...Th-Than you sh-shouldn't either," Hammond weakly reasoned, shaking like a leaf.
"As a victim, you certainly have the right to feel that way, but don't forget you created a victim as well, and you didn't listen to her, did you? Instead, you opted to indulge in your sick compulsion, forcing yourself on her with no regard for her feelings. Do you know who I am?"
Snot running down his nose and streams of tears escaping his tormented eyes, he slowly answers, "Ares... Flamel."
"No," Harry asserted, his gaze as intense as ever. "I'm the person telling you to stop. I'm the person telling you you're wrong. And you're going to listen to me. Do you know why?"
Hammond's mouth opened and closed several times in genuine fear before he stated, "Because you'll murder me... if I don't."
Harry shook his head before explaining, "Murder is a term used to describe a type of investigation pursued by the Ministry's DMLE in the event that a corpse is discovered as a result of foul play. 'It looks like murder,' is what they'd say. Which means, I can't actually murder you if they can't find your body. And remember, I have a large snake who's always hungry."
Harry slipped his wand into his hand and muttered a Latin incantation to charm the wood phallus to piston in and out on its own. Harry forced it into Hammond's mouth, a good way down his throat before his prisoner started gagging, then pulled it back out. Harry let it go, and the large wood replica of Hammond's cock continued to repeat its trained motion effortlessly, despite Hammond's attempts to move away. By the third time he gagged, bile started to rise and stream down the corners of his wide-open mouth. Harry watched him choke and recover, choke and recover, for half an hour before he left the chamber—much to Nāga's displeasure.
Harry and Draco finished their morning exercise and even raced to the Room of Requirement to incorporate weighted resistance into their morning regiment.
"My arms..." Draco whined as they made their way back to the Slytherin common room. "My arms feel like sacks of troll shite."
"I read it'll feel worse tomorrow," Harry responded with some drain, but not feeling nearly as exasperated as Draco. Unlike Draco, Harry's body was performing at optimum levels because of his mastery over his mindscape and the elixir still coursing through his veins. "You'll need to prepare yourself mentally. As things go on, I'm not going to slow down or stop simply because you're sore or tired. You break, twist, pull, or tear anything, we'll just repair it and keep going, understand?"
Though tired, Draco still managed to respond with heavy sarcasm, "As my Green Reaper commands."
Sweaty and tired, they entered the Slytherin common room to a mostly packed room. Draco took one look at Harry and noticed he wasn't surprised, before heading to the gathered fourth years and asking Tracey and Daphne, "What's going on?"
Tracey seemed conflicted to answer, so Daphne said in her stead, "It happened again." The observant girl spotted a sweaty Harry and gave him a once over before elaborating. "Some of the more stubborn Upper Order members decided to pay the first years a visit last night."
"Where have you been?" Nott called out excitedly. "Khan, Boyle, Yaroslav, Pucey, Montague and a few others I don't know—basically half of the Upper Order—are stuck right now, and they're fucking naked, mate!" Nott laughed and Crabbe and Goyles chuckled alongside him. It appeared to Harry that the large enforcers replaced Draco with Nott.
"One of them had an erection, it's so gross," Tracey added with a severe grimace, as if she could confirm the finding first hand. "They're getting looked over by Babbling right now. Snape's here, too, but Dumbledore still hasn't shown up."
"Some Headmaster," Parkinson snidely commented. "Shows how much he cares. I'm going to let daddy know just how heartless Dumbledore is when his own students are suffering. Maybe he can talk with the board and get him fired!"
Draco ignored Pansy and asked the group, "If they couldn't get in before, what made them think they could get in now?"
Harry heard all he needed to and decided to return to his room to clean up. Refreshed, Harry and Nova exited his room and happened to find Daphne slowly navigating the halls, confused. Harry snuck up to her and calmly said, "This is the boy's corridor, Daphne."
Her shoulders tensed and her spine straightened, but that was the only indication that he caught her unaware. She turned around to a smirking Ares with Nova on his shoulder.
With a huff, she claimed, "I was trying to find your room, but for the life of me I can't seem to remember where it is. I'm certain it's with the other fourth year rooms, though-"
"You were looking for me?" Harry interrupted. "If it's about sending a letter to my parents, I already did, last night. I'll let you know what they say."
"I, well, thank you, but that's not why I was looking for you," she said before giving Nova a small curtsy.
"Oh?" Harry responded, taking a forbidden moment to enjoy the sight of her lowering herself.
"Hammond Hilliard," she said, returning her attention to him. After wandlessly casting a quick muffliato, Harry did little more than raise his eyebrows in place of asking, 'What about him?' "What did you do to him?" she asked. "I have sources that say he never made it to his common room last night. They want to know if I knew what happened to him." Again, Harry didn't say anything, prompting her to ask, "Well?"
"Well, what?" Harry asked, looking deep into the crystal blue of her concerned eyes. "What do you want to hear Daphne? That he's fine, that he's dead, that I had nothing to do with anything? What would you feel comfortable knowing?"
"The truth," Daphne retorted. "I'm Slytherin and an heiress who will one day inherit my family's business—the legal parts and the not so legal parts. You don't think I'm capable of bearing bad news or hard truths? I need to know because you're jeopardizing my network. If any of my sources start to feel sharing information with me might lead to the harm of others, then they won't continue to do so, will they?"
Understanding her perspective, Harry asked, "So you need something to tell them? Your sources?"
"I'd like for you to trust me enough to tell me the truth," she replied. "But if you can give me something sensible or factual to assuage my sources, that would be helpful."
Harry took a moment to visually assess her and reassessed his opinion of her. He quickly realized that she was made of tougher stuff than the typical Slytherin. Her lips extended into a smirk as her eyes drooped seductively. She straightened her posture and somehow amplified the attention to her ample bust. Suddenly, the form-fitting black cardigan with silver accents, her Slytherin color tie, and plaid skirt seemed more enticing than before.
The charming girl asked, "Reconsidering your decision to have an affectionate friend like me, Ares?"
Even her tone was unexpectedly more flirtatious, but Harry shook his head in answer and to clear his hormone-addled mind. "Tell your sources you're not sure what happened to him but you heard he might be around by dinner."
Turning a bit side-faced to pageant her profile, she nonchalantly asked, "And will he? It wouldn't do either if I were labeled a liar."
He said nothing as his eyes expressed enough trust. When she smiled, Harry stepped around her to join the others in the common room. As Daphne called out to him, he turned to her. She looked like a temptation his mind warned his body not to fall for. She told him, "I asked Tracey if I could bring a date to the wedding." Walking beguilingly past Harry, her palms behind her back accentuated her figure as she ended her coy remark with, "If you're interested in knowing what she said, you're always welcome to ask me."
Left alone in the corridor, Harry began to realize what a tremendous nuisance teenage hormones were. He didn't remember feeling this much during his own timeline. Happy to compartmentalize certain rebellious urges, Harry joined the others in the common room. Blaise eyed Daphne and Harry suspiciously, much to his annoyance. He ignored the back-and-forth theories shared between Nott, Parkinson, the Carrows, and anyone else around them until Draco resurfaced from his room.
"Any change?" Draco asked.
He was about to get a response from Tracey when Dumbledore walked into the common room, leading William Weasley across the common room.
'Bill,' Harry mentally called as the tall redhead turned his gaze all around the room, taking in the ornate green and dark brown of the plush chamber, likely never having entered the Slytherin common room before. Harry was very happy to see him—as with many other familiar faces in this timeline—alive and well. 'He looks strong,' Harry thought as they made their way to the first-year corridor.
"Who's that?" Nott asked.
"Freakish red hair like that, no doubt a Weasley," Parkinson said with derision.
"That's the heir of the Ancient House of Weasley," Daphne answered. "Though not nobles, they're still an important family. I'm certain his name is William."
"I met him once visiting Auntie Lily," Tracey added. "I remember she said he's a curse breaker for Gringotts. Could be why he's here."
"You reckon he can break the wards on the first year rooms?" Nott asked with hopeful longing. "Because those manky first years are acting so smug, it's making me sick. I might even help the Upper Order break 'em in a bit just to set 'em right."
'No, no,' Harry quickly thought as he turned to Nott, and stared intently before asking, "Care to repeat that for me, Nott?"
Sensing the extreme pressure from his kill-me green eyes, Nott back peddled and stumbled through an explanation. "No- Not that I want to join them, obviously. I'm not looking to attack you or anything, mate. It's just, well you know, those first years are all... happy, like they've earned it, when it's clear they haven't! This is Slytherin! It's not right." Harry kept his gaze fierce and intense. "They just need to learn, is all I'm saying."
"They are learning," Draco intercepted. Harry noticed Snape, Dumbledore, Babbling, and Bill walk out of the corridor, but deliberate among themselves away from the crowd of rapt Slytherin.
"And what's that?" Zabini intently asked, critical of the importance of an answer. Harry enhanced his hearing in hopes of snagging any bits of information from Bill, or the others, but picked up only buzzing—telling him that they've taken to protecting their conversation.
"You're a smart guy, Blaise," Malfoy responded. "Isn't it obvious?" The group waited a moment before Draco pointed toward the first year corridor. "You want to be like them, you're going to end up like them."
"And you're going to be the one to teach 'em, eh, Malfoy?" stated an older boy from behind them.
Harry recalled the brunet-haired boy was one of the Upper Order. 'Gosforth... Damon,' Harry thought, recalling a few Slytherins shouting his name during the duel. Gosforth had an arm possessively around the shoulder of a dirty-blonde-haired girl, Ella Wilkins.
"Khan said one of you might know something," Gosforth said with a smirk. "He said to keep our eyes peeled, and low and behold, he was right. It's all too clear who it is now, isn't it?"
"It wasn't Draco," Pansy asserted defensively. "He would never go against the Order! Why would he when he'll definitely be a member as early as next year?"
"Pansy," Draco called, his tone low and threatening. "Don't talk for me... ever."
Pansy reacted as if she'd been stabbed in the chest.
"Yeah, Pansy," Gosforth mouthed with a deviant smirk. "Keep your trap shut and let the boy do his own talking."
"Think whatever you want Gosforth," Draco began. "Run back to your owner, and tell Khan whatever you like. This is never going to be settled with words alone, but I'll warn you nonetheless. The law of retaliation may be an eye for an eye, but that's the best way to ensure the world goes blind, stays deaf and acts dumb. You ought to really think about what you're doing and why, because if it doesn't end well for you, you'll have nobody to blame but yourself."
Such an open-ended and well-reasoned threat certainly wasn't what many had expected Draco to say. Tracey and Pansy, in particular, seemed surprised. But unlike them, Harry knew that the silver-blonde was thinking about his son and the world he would have liked to create for him, instead of the world he had actually created. Clearly, killing everyone was not the answer for him. But at such an early stage, Harry was sure these bullies and their enforced hierarchy wouldn't understand the words until they met the fist.
The atmosphere became tense between Draco and Gosforth, who looked like just the right type of idiot to start a duel in front of a professor, the head of Slytherin House, and the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Then, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, a loud male moan of pleasure rang loudly throughout the entire common room, rendering everyone in stunned silence. All those mature enough to understand that erotic sound was quickly in denial, with their eyes wide, ears alert, and bodies perfectly still. They were unable to grasp the source of the sound and unwilling to describe it.
Then they heard repeated, SLAP, SLAP, SLAP, SLAP, SLAP, like moist flesh smacking against moist flesh.
"Mnnnnn!" a male voice rang distinctly throughout the room, like it was the melody to the percussion of fleshy meat being slapped together. "Yes, Albus! Oh yes!" the delighted voice that sounds nearly identical to Severus Snape exclaimed. "Keep fucking my ass! Ahhnn, Yessshhh! Just like that Albus! Just! Like! That!"
SLAP, SLAP, SLAP.
"I love fucking your ass, Severus," an airy, older voice that was clearly Albus Dumbledore exclaimed. "Your ass is the greatest joy in my miserable old life, I can't wait to suck on your cock next!"
The relentless, moist smacking sounds were almost as visual as the two men standing before the entirety of Slytherin, and inspired uncomfortable and stomach-turning imagery.
Dumbledore held it together well, but Snape was visibly shaking with rage, and his onyx eyes were so murderous, no one in his line of sight dared to laugh. Though there were broad, restrained smiles or queasy looks spread throughout the Slytherins, Harry noticed the younger years' shocked fearful faces as they huddled together and stepped away from the stoic Headmaster and a fuming Snape. Bill's entire face was red, his eyes tightly closed and clearly holding in his laughter by covering his mouth with both hands to keep it together. Babbling looked extremely embarrassed, blushing a deep shade of red down to her neck and unsure of what to do with her hands. She clearly couldn't look at either the headmaster or the head of Slytherin.
The nearly endless seven seconds of loud, intense audio intercourse between Snape and Dumbledore came to an end with audio-Snape yelling out, "CUMMINNNNNNGGGG-"
Then there was only an abrupt cut to silence. It was so silent Harry could hear someone who must have a vivid imagination dry heaving somewhere in the room. Screaming erupted soon after, crying and wailing emanating from the first year corridor. Nobody assisted the rushing Upper Order as they tumbled out of the hall in a hurry, holding their private bits—some actually sporting shiny coated erections. When the older bullies saw Dumbledore and Snape standing next to each other, some—Khan among them—immediately threw up white or yellow bile as the others wailed and fled the other way.
Seemingly far too enraged to be of any use, Snape immediately left, his black robe billowing behind him, and without uttering a word. Dumbledore cleared his throat for an announcement, and the snickering or hushed laughter died down.
He announced, "If anyone has any relevant information concerning these wards, please see myself, Professor Babbling, or Professor Snape. Otherwise, I suggest we all adjourn to the Great Hall to enjoy breakfast." Harry easily noted there was less grandfatherly tone and more strain in his voice.
"Breakfast? Not bloody likely," Draco murmured to Harry, still, loud enough for the fourth years to laugh. "You'd have to have a stomach like a steel trap to hold down any food after hearing that?" Harry couldn't help the smallest of smiles don his face.
Dumbledore quickly said something to Bill and Babbling that Harry couldn't hear, then promptly left. There was a great BOOM of laughter and disgust in the wake of his departure that Harry didn't stay to partake in. He didn't know Bill as well as he knew Ron, but he was still a reminder of a blood-filled past Harry would rather not think about, so he made his way to the Great Hall, Nova on his shoulder, Draco right beside him, and other highly amused fourth years trailing behind.
As he entered the already full Hall, Harry's primary attention was not on Dumbledore and Snape's absence as Nova flew over to Hermione and Luna, or the small group of the Beauxbaton delegation seated together—Fleur among them—with several delighted Ravenclaw boys around them. No, his primary focus was on the snickering group of Ravenclaw girls Harry immediately recognized as Isobel MacDougal, Qarinah Bagnold, and Nimue Desford.
Harry walked over to Luna and Hermione and quickly noticed that they were wearing mouth masks with an image of a phoenix on them, but they had a knife and fork stuck in each hand. Nova was visibly concerned for the girls as Harry flicked his wrist for his wand and wordlessly dispelled the hexes as he passed them. He stopped only when he was right in front of Isobel, who seemed annoyed when Hermione and Luna were free of her hex. Harry was ready to do far worse in public than he should, and anger barely began to describe the expression on his face as he glared at the slightly taller older girls.
"What's it going to take for you to leave them alone?" Harry sternly asked, looking very agitated. "You know who I am, my last name and what that means. Don't answer me now. Think about what it'll take, and let me know after dinner."
Harry turned and walked to both girls, asking, "You alright?"
"Quite well now, thank you," Luna lightly said. "I wasn't looking forward to going about my day with ever-wet undergarments. It's not quite as fun when everyone thinks you've wet yourself. If you'll excuse me."
It didn't take Harry longer than a nanosecond to understand that they must be wearing cursed undergarments that are charmed to always be wet. Hermione stood up as well, though slowly and more embarrassed. Isobel and her friends laughed loudly for Hermione's benefit, but his best friend ignored them.
"Thank you," she told Harry, then stood still, seemingly conflicted to say more. After a moment, she said, "You... are incomprehensible to my natural inclinations."
Harry took a second to consider his response before stating, "With your intellect, I suspect that won't be the case for long."
"...Thank you—again, I mean," she said before walking away. "If you'll excuse me."
He called out, "See you in class."
Harry glared at the female bullies one last time before returning to the Slytherin table. In an unexpected show of emotion, Zabini seemed like he couldn't wait to ask, "What's up with you and Granger? Is she your type or something?"
Harry ignored him and the resulting haughty conversation about house allegiance. The day progressed as expected with a noteworthy announcement made before lunch by Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, asking anyone with information on Hammond Hilliard to please see a professor. Harry heard the murmurs ripple throughout the room, and weathered Daphne's nervous observation of him well enough until dinner when Hammond finally made his reappearance.
Harry flamed into the Chamber to the worst sound of gagging and groaning and the worst smell of stale bile and vomit. After giving Nāga a magically enlarged rat as a treat to chase and eat, Harry cleared away the dried vomit from the floor, and only the floor. The vomit on Hammond stayed on Hammond. The Ravenclaw's eyes looked dead and hopeless, and the rims were so red and puffy, Harry wondered if he started crying blood. The wood phallus went in easily, some spray of bile gurgled up, but nothing more than that. No reaction, no fight, no spirit.
"Congratulations, Hammond," Harry started, taking hold of the saliva and bile-coated phallus and throwing it to the side. "You survived. There is one final penalty you have to undergo before I let you go." He got no response from the stagnant Hammond as Harry walked over to the table and grabbed the last vial with clear liquid inside. He easily poured the contents of the vial down his captive's slack-jawed mouth.
"There you are," Harry said before whipping out his wand. "This one won't hurt you physically but it'll be long lasting. Personally, I think this is the best penalty." Harry began chanting as he aimed his wand at Hammond's chest. For the next twenty minutes, Harry enchanted ugly and uneven script to an immobile Hammond's skin. Not unlike a tattoo, in bold and fluid letters, it reads 'I'M A SICK RAPIST,' on Hammond's chest.
Harry finally released Hilliard from his magical bonds, and he immediately dropped to the floor. Harry got the boy's clothes and simply tied the garments around the older boy's waist, though not in any way that truly hid his nudity. Harry slapped Hammond's face a few times until some life returned into his eyes. At the sight of Harry, he immediately started welling up, as if he only just recognized Ares was back.
~Nāga.~ Harry hissed and the snake slithered over. The large snake asked, ~¿More fear Master?~ to which Harry responded ~Yes, Nāga, more fear.~
"Hammond," Harry started as the large snake slithers and began to slowly wrap itself around the terrified boy. "What have we learned here?"
"I," Hammond started and stopped as his voice sounded depressed or nudged in such a way as to make it uncomfortable to talk. His wide eyes couldn't look away from the large snake coiling around him as he struggled to say, "I... won't... touch... her... ever... again."
"Why, Hammond?" Harry asked. "Why won't you touch her again?"
"Because... it's wrong," he weakly replied. "I... was wrong. And- And because... you'll hurt me."
"What if you only see it happen right in front of you, but you're not involved?"
"I'll... stop it. I swear."
"Good. Very good. Now, you have an intent based dark mark on you. It won't disappear easily, and forewarning, every time you get excited about a girl, every time you pop a stiffy, that mark that I've enchanted on your body will move right up to your face, and the words 'I'm A Sick Rapist' will be visible for all to see—at least for an hour or so. Do you understand me, Hammond?"
The boy nods his head emphatically.
"People are going to ask you where you've been and you're going to feel safe with them," Harry continued. "You might even be tempted to tell them what you know. Should that ever be the case, remember two things. First, my family has more reach than any safety you think others can give you. And two, I won't care about you anymore than you make me. Say nothing to anyone and nothing more will happen to you. Talk and we'll pick this up right where we left off, understand?"
Hammond was nodding his head throughout the entire threat, adding when he finally could, "I swear... I won't say... anything."
"I know, Hammond. I know," Harry answered as he helped him to his feet, Nova landing on Harry's shoulder.
They were just about to depart when Hammond asked, You said... won't disappear... easily?"
"I truly only care about my friend," Harry said. "If you hadn't touched her, you wouldn't be here. To her cores, she believes in a better way... she believes in redemption and gives people second chances, so I'll give you one... only one. In the distant future, if you ever truly repent, in mind, body, soul, and magic, the curse'll disappear." The boy only nodded. Before they left the chamber, Harry added, "But if you ever touch her, or anyone, again in a manner they don't approve of, we're going to do this my way, and I promise you you won't survive it."
After they flamed out of the chamber, Harry entered the Great Hall along with every other student. He sat down, and once again, Dumbledore and Snape were absent. However, Bill was present, sitting with his exuberant family at the Gryffindor table. Without the other delegations present, dinner was under way, but before everyone began to eat, McGonagall again addressed the hall.
"Before we enjoy our meal, I'd like to once again remind everyone that we need to speak with Mr. Hammond Hilliard. If you see Mr. Hilliard please direct him toward any of the faculty."
She took her seat, and it wasn't until Faux-Moody showed up late to dinner—as he always did—that Harry's test proved his theory. Limping into the hall, his magical eye immediately swiveled to the invisible floating object above Ravenclaw table.
Faux-Moody immediately drew his wand and yelled, "Finite incantatem!" disenchanting Hammond, proving what Harry had guessed—the magical eye could see through his disillusionment charm, which meant he couldn't rely on that to catch him by surprise.
Hilliard dropped from where he was being levitated, landing hard on the table top before Ravenclaw witches Isobel, Qarinah, and Nimue. The vile strapped to Hammond's back broke on impact and tentacles of white smoke streaked out and high for all to see. The smoke turned into blazing fire, and soon formed angry words of warning.
Shocked gasps spread wide and fast, immediately followed by screams and shrieks. Chaos erupted in the hall as the students rushed away from the mostly naked boy on the table while the faculty rushed to the injured and catatonic student. McGonagall and Flitwick quickly led Hammond out of the room, but the rumor mill was in full force as the news had likely spread to Hogsmeade by then. A flash alerted Harry that a camera went off, likely Colin Creevey, capturing the flaming warning high in the Great Hall for all to read.
TO THOSE WHO INFLICT ABUSE,
YOU WILL NOT BE LECTURED,
YOU WILL NOT HAVE POINTS TAKEN,
YOU WILL SERVE NO DETENTION,
YOU WILL ONLY BLEED.
FOR I AM THE EDGE,
CROSS ME, AND YOU WILL FALL.
Harry simply carried on eating his meal throughout the entire commotion, all under the calculating eye of Daphne Greengrass and Hermione Granger.
I enjoyed writing this chapter a lot, especially getting to write Lily and Harry's reaction to her.
The torture stuff was a bit unnerving for me but I figure, for the story and the character arch, don't be afraid to show ugly things. The world isn't always sunshine and rainbows, you know?
If any of you actually picture Dumbledore reaming Snape... my job is complete, lol. J/K
Please, I welcome all constructive thoughts and opinions :)
Thanks for reading!