As a reminder, you can find MORE of this on my SubStar (dot adult slash KajaWilder), it's posted up past chapter 50 there... And if you guys haven't seen an update in at least a week, please let me know! I have a busy life, and I get distracted and forget things. This story(as well as ZpoW and PTaL) are supposed to be updated WEEKLY!

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Chap. 79: The Snowstorm

Harry spent the next three hours split more or less evenly between two places. The quarters where he still stayed along with the Slytherin contingent of his growing circle of friends, excluding Millie and her now-fianceé, and in the Hospital Wing with the Headmaster. In his quarters, most of his time was spent being 'relieved of stress' by one of his lovers while he wrote out notes. In the infirmary, however, he and the headmaster discussed an entirely different matter.

Getting the Goblins of Gringotts' Bank to release something, an unknown something no less, from the vault of a Death Eater was a truly Herculean task.

It wasn't like the Goblins would not sympathize with them. As Dumbledore had told Harry early on in their planning, they knew full well what kind of people Voldemort surrounded himself with. They knew that they would be on the short end of any world in which he ruled.

"But," he had explained, "the Goblins also believe, perhaps rightly, that if it comes to it, they can simply shut themselves off from the wider world, tunnel deep and far, and leave the rest of us to our own bloody devices. Of course, they would take all or a majority of the Death Eater's gold with them, which is also, I think, the only reason the bank has not been seized already."

"So if we were to do the same thing, or push too hard," Harry had mused back, "they could just do the same thing. Go underground, literally, and we'd never find it."

"Just so. I do not think we can spare the time for pure diplomacy, however. Goblins are, in general, a reasonable people, but they are not known to give up their treasures lightly. Especially if they are tasked to hold it for another. Those, they tend to guard even more fiercely than their own."

"Could we... maybe destroy the Horcrux while it's still in the bank? Whatever it is? Would they let us do that?"

Dumbledore's tired eyes narrowed a little as he frowned thoughtfully, "That is an avenue I would not have considered... perhaps they would, and perhaps not. I will make some discreet inquiries, I think."

That was one hour into their planning. Unfortunately, even that seemed unlikely to work. The Goblins simply would not allow an unauthorized person to enter any of their vaults. Not to mention, of course, that they still did not know for sure who's vault or vaults such an object would be in. They suspected Bellatrix Lestrange's, but they could not be sure. At least, not more sure than Harry and the Headmaster's combined gut feelings.

Still, since that was all the had to go on, the pair spent the next half hour talking through various options, not least of which was somehow trying to convince the more anti-Voldemort ministry to put some pressure on the Goblins. Perhaps the most extreme idea was actually breaking into the bank in some way, but every idea either of them had was shot down as most likely ending in death by dragon fire- no matter how prepared they were.

With that approach at an impasse for now, the Headmaster had eventually encouraged Harry to do a little bit of research into something he had already mentioned before, "Harry, I understand that you feel you must protect the school. I sympathize, and I empathize. But as you have told me already, Miss Bones has her aunt working on protection as we speak, and I do not think Voldemort will attack the school while I am here. Not even if he hears that I am in a, let us say, weakened state. Furthermore, since we do not know where or how they are attacking, there is little we can do except prepare as best we can- which we have done, and wait. However, I do recommend using that time wisely."

"How do you mean, sir?" Harry asked pointedly, "Because to me, it seems like the wisest course of action would be, I don't know, putting the school on alert or something."

"It is on alert. Professor McGonogall placed the protections around the school on high alert the moment I left with you for the Gaunt's hovel. Since I am injured, she is still acting as Headmistress and thus has control of them."

"Then, should we evacuate, or-"

"Not yet, I think," Dumbledore interrupted, lifting a wrinkled, pale hand from where it had been under his magically warmed blanket, "I do not wish to alert Voldemort to how much we know. Even if he were to come here directly, the Castle could hold him off for some time, while we evacuate the students and some staff through the various methods at our disposal. Plans are in place, Harry, of that I can assure you. I truly do feel we are as prepared as we could be in that respect."

The teenage wizard sighed, "Alright, fine, I... I suppose that'll have to do, then. What else were you thinking?"

"You may recall the strange urge I felt when picking up the Ring in the shack?"

"Well, yeah, of course. You asked for my Cloak, too."

"Just so. Part of that was because I fell victim to a magical compulsion briefly, but most of it, I will admit, is because of an old, old dream of mine. Please take that book there. It is the one I mentioned in the shack. Read The Tale of the Three Brothers. When you are done, please come back. We have something of import to discuss."

"Er... alright, sir. If you really think it's that important."

"I do. It may not make sense at first, but I truly believe it is."

"Alright. I'll... should I just read it here, then?"

"Perhaps read it with... oh, Miss Granger and Miss Lovegood. I believe each will be able to provide certain insights easier than I could."

So he had left the Hospital Wing, and returned to his assigned quarters.

There, Harry found the two women Dumbledore had mentioned, and asked them into the former dungeon room turned bedroom.

The tale was relatively short, and took just a couple of minutes to read. Harry's first impression was that it was nothing more than a fanciful children's tale, of the sort found throughout the book. Hermione seemed to agree, although she was worrying her lower lip thoughtfully as she said it.

Luna, however, had a different take. She drew three shapes in the air with her wand, igniting them with a blue-green light that shimmered as it hung without support. A triangle, a circle, and a vertical line, "The Deathly Hallows," she reported quietly, sounding more serious than Harry was used to from the blonde, "are indeed real. Daddy has been searching for signs of them his whole life."

"Your father searches for all sorts of things that aren't real, Luna," Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes, "I'm sorry, but Narcle, Wrathspits, and these Deathly Hallows just aren't real."

Lilith, as Lyra, knocked on the door and stuck her head inside, "Master? You alright? I can feel you getting more tense."

"I'm okay," he told her, but the Succubus in a student's body still came in and shut the door, sashaying across the room to the couch where he and the other two girls sat, her clothes disappearing into the aether as she did so.

"You could probably use some more relief though."

"That, I can always use," Harry sighed, as he reached down and freed his already stiffening dick from his robes for her.

Lyra sank to her knees, the familiar mouth engulfing him whole as she went about the task with her usual enthusiasm. Hermione was well used to Harry and Lilith's behavior by now, and didn't do more than glance at them while she continued a quiet argument with Luna. The blonde, less used to it but eager to join the group in full, immediately opened her own robes and lifted her skirt to start rubbing her pale blue, silk knickers while she watched. She still argued with Hermione though, pointing out, hardly for the first time, that just because the studious girl did not know something existed did not mean that it didn't.

Harry let his eyes close and his head fall back on the couch as he enjoyed Lyra's blowjob, the familiar argument washing over him with the book sitting on Hermione's curvaceous lap.

"Look, this symbol here means something," Hermione argued, trying to change tactics, "It's in place of the A, see?"

"Of course," Luna rolled her eyes, and if Harry were watching, would have seen her point to the symbols still hanging in the air, "The three Hallows. The Cloak of Invisibility, the Stone of Resurrection, and the Wand of Destiny."

"But that's ridiculous," Hermione protested again, "It's got to be something else. Death isn't a person, Luna, it's a transition from life to not-life."

"Why isn't it a person? How do you know? Have you met them?"

"Of course not! There's no one to meet! Just like I can't see a Nargle! The reason you can't catch a Crumple-Horned Snorcack is because they don't exist!"

Harry's eyes opened as Lyra's mouth left his dick, and he looked down to watch the Succubus look up at Hermione, "You mean a Narcqel?"

Hermione blinked, her argument derailed, "A- A what?"

"Nargles are a rare type of fairy," Luna answered for her, "as I'd have explained if you would ever given me a chance, Hermione. They are mischievous, and like to steal things to pad their nests."

"I've never heard of Nargles until you mentioned them last year, Luna," Hermione groaned, trying to ignore how very similar the names of Luna's fanciful creature and the definitely alien, likely Succubus-named thing Lyra had mentioned, were.

"No, no, Narcqels," Lyra interrupted, "and they're quite real, Hermione. They are- well, they don't resemble fairies like you have in your world, but they can look like them if you squint. They're more... insectoid. And they do like to steal things. They're dimensional hoppers. They go to various places and planes, take things they find interesting, and bring them home to their hives. For some reason, many of them like to steal socks from Muggle appliances."

Luna nodded, "Daddy has a lazy eye, and poor vision because of it."

Harry and Hermione both gaped.

"D- Dryer socks...?"

Lyra snapped her fingers, "Yes, that's the appliance. Sorry, it's been a while since we covered them, and the biology of our world was never my best subject. Anyway, master, do you want a deep-throat, or-"

"Nargles exist?" Hermione gasped.

"I told you," Luna shrugged, "and Wrackspurts, and Blibbering Humdingers, and-"

Lyra sighed, and seemed to resign herself to a hand-job instead, "Thrackpyrte. A minute parasite from our world, known to cause confusion. Some of our people grow rather addicted to the things, strangely... colonize nests in their heads. Never heard of anything like Blibbering Humdingers, though."

"But.. but... Nargles - Narcqels - exist. They... really exist."

"Yes," Luna said exasperatedly, "like I've been telling you for a year."

"... But... but that means..."

"That you owe Luna an apology," Harry grinned, reaching down to push Lyra's head further onto his shaft, "and I think you should do it by eating her out."

Hermione blushed.

Luna grinned, "Ooh, I think I like that idea. Come here, Hermione, I'm already ready."

The bookworm might have sent Harry a dirty look as she rose from the couch and moved around Lyra, who bobbed up and down his whole length obediently as only Hermione and the Succubus herself could, "That hardly seems fair, but... I suppose I do owe you, Luna. This one time."

Luna leaned against Harry's arm as she lifted a foot to the couch and slid her knickers aside, giving Hermione's tongue and soft lips easier access. Hermione had come a long way from a girl who was 'strictly straight', to a young woman who would do almost anything to please her friends and make them feel good. It was never more evident to Harry than right then, as she went about licking all over Luna's tight, pale, and clean-shaven pussy with a gusto that might have even put him to shame. He was still, until that moment, the only one of their group who'd been intimate with Luna. That, it seemed, was changing as of today, if Hermione was accepting her in.

Maybe I should put her in her place more often, if this is the result, he thought to Lyra.

The Succubus grinned around him, and never stopped moving as she thought back at him, Indeed, Master. It does bring up another curiosity regarding our crazy little blonde witch. Just what is she, that she knows about Narcqels and Thrackpyrtes? She's definitely not just human. Or at least someone she knows closely isn't.

Over the next several minutes, Luna encouraged Hermione to bring her to not just one but three orgasms with her mouth, fingers, and then both, before Harry gave Lyra the lunch she was looking for, and spent several minutes kissing all three of his girls tenderly.

They were still doing that when the sound of a far-distant explosion echoed through the foundations of the castle and all the way up to its highest towers.

Walden Macnair ignored the light, late-season snow falling around him as he forced the woman he had captured first to take his brutal pounding while two of his companions tortured her husband and a family dog. Macnair had always enjoyed doing the Dark Lord's work. Brutality, inflicting pain, exerting control, whether it be physical or magical, over others was always such a rush.

But lately, over the last year, things have gotten so much better.

Back in the old days, the Dark Lord didn't care if they had their way with just anyone. Now, he actively encouraged it, and even told his followers to impregnate any old magical whore they could, while the female Death Eaters were told to use whatever means necessary to create more offspring.

True, it meant there was less killing in general, which wasn't all that great...

But the young woman, perhaps in her lower-mid twenties, on her hands and knees in front of him, would probably think death would be preferable by the time he was done with her. He, and all the other marked Death Eaters. She was pretty, very pretty in fact, and likely the pride and joy of the bloody-faced young man's life. Curvy, perhaps seven and a half stone, with long black hair that was knotted and tangled in one of Macnair's hands, while his semen from the first load and some of her husband's blood was splattered across her face. The splintered ends of her broken wand were shoved into her arse, a slight mercy to prepare her for what came after he shot his seed into her womb. The arse would receive the same, then he'd go back to her still-dripping cunt for another round before turning her loose for his friends.

Tanlin, who simply enjoyed torture more than anything, simple man that he was, was abusing the dog with cutting spells nearby, laughing as it whined and yelped in pain, unable to move thanks to a body-paralysis jinx.

Qui Lin, a more recent recruit from China, had used some sort of magic Macnair wasn't familiar with to paralyze the man's torso and limbs, but leave his hips and mouth free to move. Then she had done a spell with the mans' own wand, and now the tiny but fierce tattooed woman was bouncing on his shaft shamelessly, leering at the sobbing face of Macnair's chattel.

Macnair made a note: take Qui Lin, too. She was pretty, for a foreigner, and her tits bounced nicely. If the useless mudblood didn't get her pregnant, perhaps he would have more luck. No doubt, the Dark Lord would reward him for giving him another future follower.

He yanked his prisoner's body back onto him as he ejaculated deep inside her. The potion he and all of his team had taken an hour earlier kept him hard, and once he was done, the brutal man wasted no time in shoving his cock into the poor woman's ass, still wet from his cum.

She, of course, had no such preparation, and no retreat from the man who had stuck her hands and knees to the floor, and used her relentlessly.

Forty minutes later, one of Macnair's team finally remembered they had an actual job to do, and slit the exhausted husband's throat with a spell, then turned his wand to the sky.

A blossom of green light shimmered into existence, a skull with a snake coming from its mouth.

Macnair orgasmed into the fourth capture's body while he watched the serpent twist through the clouds. Yes... it was a good day. He alone had captured four breed-mares for the cause, and his cock was aching for a break... but he was not done yet. He needed to take more, control more, brutalize more. More! More!

Two miles away,from the attack on Hogsmeade Village Macnair was leading, a huge, hulking, gray-skinned beast grunted in annoyance as he hauled the abused, ripped, shredded body of a female vampire from his own prodigiously large member, and lifted her head to his neck. She suckled quickly, pulling in a tiny fraction of his vibrant, immense power to refuel herself as she rebuilt her body through the dark, foul magics that gave her unlife in the first place.

It took about ten minutes, but Nott did not care. There was time, and the fools had taken so much anyway, "Des-track-shun start. We do plan. Kill all. Serve."

"Yes," the sex-mad vampire hissed, cooing even as her body was wracked with agony while her pelvis reassembled itself from the shards he had fucked it into over the last hours. She was used to it now, having been his plaything for weeks and weeks, "The plan... kill all, serve. Serve you."

"Yes," Nott grunted, and picked her up again, this time in his hand as he loped through the now-familiar tunnels of his lair. It would be the last time he was inside it, but he didn't care. The Vampiress had been a fun fuck-toy.

But he had more, or would soon. There was a whole castle full of living, warm flesh up there for him to sheathe himself in, their lifeblood sustaining both him and his pet, who no longer needed the rope to obey him. After the castle... yes, there was a whole wide world.

And he could kill them all, Master commanded it.

Until only Master remained, if needed, or they all submitted to his rule.

Not Nott's.

Nott didn't care to rule. He only wanted to fuck, and to kill. Nothing else mattered.

First, the school above.

Theodore Nott no longer existed, after all, and no trace of remorse for what he was about to do to the place he had once learned in, remained. What did remain was a cold-blooded, lusty monster who wanted just those two things for the rest of its existence. Voldemort's subtle control over him through the rope, exercised each time Theodore exerted control on first Vicky Frobischer and now the Vampiress, whose name he still did not care to know, had been worked over months.

Now, only Nott remained... and Nott was not in the mood for more restraint. It was time to let loose, at last, for the first time in its existence.

It would be free.

The whole castle shook as his massive body crashed through the magically-reinforced door that once blocked the Chamber of Secrets from the pipes and caverns below the school.