A/N:
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ONE LAST NOTE: I forget exactly where it happened, but around this time I realized I was writing 3x novel chapters worth of words for every post. They WILL get shorter, somewhere closer to a normal novel chapter by word-count. The pace will seem to slow down. It's the same total words, but really what's happening is that I'm wirting the same words in smaller chunks so you're getting them slower. On my end, it's to prevent burnout (because writing 3x full chapters every day of the week ad nauseum is not a good idea).
TWO last notes!: Trigger Warnings in this chapter. It's violent. Lots of people die. Terrorism sucks. Some of them are good guys (in fact a majority). More good people get hurt. The bad guys? They almost get off lucky... almost. But they don't (mostly) get away with it, at least. So there's that.
Chap. 62: Peace and War
He was not used to seeing his pet Succubus glaring at him in actual anger.
"What?" he asked, "What did I do?"
"It's what you didn't do, Master," she glowered, her full, chitin-covered form several inches taller than him, wings flapping slowly behind her as she ducked under the door of his bedroom, clearly expecting him to follow.
She was standing just inside as he did, her arm held out to gesture at Pansy, who was still tied to the sawhorse, with several spurts of drying cum over her back.
"What? That I didn't release her?"
"No, Master," Lilith growled, "you didn't hold her, show her you still cared. I taught you this. A Dom needs to show his sub that he still cares after being rough and hard on her. After-care, remember? You just left this poor thing sitting here for four hours."
Harry blinked as his mouth fell open. "It's- it's been that long?"
"Yes!"
"Shit," he muttered, immediately stripping free of his dress robes again, and throwing them over the pillory while he struggled out of the rest.
"She doesn't need another fucking right now, Master," Lilith said as he stepped out of the last sock.
"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Harry murmured, almost ignoring the creature as he hurried past her, and immediately set about freeing Pansy Parkinson. She was limp, dangling in his arms as he freed first her legs, letting her stand on the little steps, and then her arms before lifting her into a bridal carry. Still breathing of course, but as he took her over to his bed, she seemed barely conscious. "H- Harry?"
"Yes, it's me, love," he murmured softly, leaning down to kiss the top of her head before laying her on the bed face-up. "Let me get you some Essence of Murtlap. I'm sorry, I've been a bad master. You didn't deserve all this."
She didn't protest, didn't even really seem to register what he'd said. But as Harry turned to hurry for the cream Hermione made sure was kept on the shelf to his right, Lilith was already holding it out to him expectantly. Without lust or arousal, at least not much, Harry worked the slightly acrid, yellow-white cream into Pansy's wounds, lifting and turning her body carefully to massage it into each welt and bruise, and then more carefully into the deep, angry purple-red line that the sawhorse itself had left down her front, from Pansy's collar to cunt.
Working that was the only time she'd made any noise at all. The entire time, a process of more than half an hour, Harry mentally berated himself. Lilith had, indeed, impressed upon him the importance of after-care for a sub's mental well-being, and here he was, his first real foray into that (at least alone), and he'd fucked it up.
Abused his sub without meaning to.
Carelessly.
It was the worst thing, she'd taught him, a Dom could do.
Made his sub feel worthless, like he didn't need her or that he didn't care about her.
Once the cream was applied to each and every wound, he closed the now half-empty tub and set it aside, where the Succubus returned it silently to the shelf, then leaned against the side of the headboard, her tail swishing in the air behind her. Harry didn't look to her for instructions, though. He knew what to do, now that he bothered thinking about it, thinking about more than that stupid party, or his dick.
"I've been terrible to you, Pansy, and I'm sorry," he murmured again, laying himself down on the bed to hold her close.
She wrapped her tender, abused body around him, and then sobbed.
He let her cry for a long time, drenching them both in her tears, before she quieted. "I thought you hated me," she whispered, "Just... using me, and... and leaving me there..."
"You wanted Ron, didn't you?"
She nodded into his salty chest, "He used me, and that was g-good... but then after..."
"Yeah... I'm so sorry, Pansy. I never meant for that to happen. I guess I thought he'd let you go, but I should've specified, asked him. I never considered it. You don't have to forgive me, and I won't ask. I'm still sorry."
"No," Pansy whimpered, "I do forgive you, I... don't forget me again. That's the worst."
"I couldn't," he murmured, kissing the top of her head again, "Even in my darkest times, I couldn't forget you. Not again."
And he meant it. Seeing her there, still so vulnerable, so shattered, was worse than when he'd found her after Daphne had asked for his help in dealing with her.
This time, it was because of him.
He had done it, he was at fault.
He actually was the guilty party this time.
But all he could do was hold her close, let her feel as much of his tenderness and care as he could manage.
When morning came, he was still wide awake, if a little tired, and leaning back against the headboard. Lilith had sucked him off in the night, using her full form for once, then vanished to take care of her normal cleaning. Pansy was nestled against him, leaning back onto his chest, snoring rather cutely. The bruises and welts had mostly faded, but the Essence of Murtlap hadn't been able to take care of the long line down her body in one night. It was pink and raw still, and Harry suspected it would be quite tender today.
At least there's no classes.
Indeed, they would be on the train in a few hours.
He let his eyes drift closed again. He had not slept all night, but instead had spent the time trying to reorder his brain, and figure several things out.
Which of the girls he was regularly shagging would hopefully stay with him when all was said and done. How to convince those who might be reluctant to do so, perhaps. How to make things up to Pansy for the damage he'd done the night before in neglecting her.
How to bring up Luna's desire to enter their group with the others.
Plans for the holiday, which Harry expected would be quite busy. He knew they would be spending most of it with Sirius, and then a day at the Burrow right after Christmas, but beyond that there would be a lot to do besides shagging.
He didn't notice his cock swelling at the thought, but Pansy did, for the pressure made her wake up, and the throbbing rod beneath her caused all sorts of desires to wake up alongside her. Without a word, knowing exactly where she was and feeling safe with him once more, Pansy lifted her body and then reached down to angle him properly before sinking down onto her Master's dick. "Harry," she sighed as she slid him into her, taking the spot she'd most wanted him to use last night. "You said you loved me."
He groaned at the feel of her, tight and smooth, enveloping him so utterly, even as he was surprised at her brazenness. "I guess I did," he said, holding her tight as she started to rise and fall on him, "I hope... I hope you don't mind."
"Mm-um," Pansy moaned, leaning back into him more as her hips began to gyrate slowly too, "I... I'm not sure I can say it back, but I..."
"That's okay," he whispered into her dark hair, "I was surprised I said it, but I meant it. You don't have to."
Pansy's pace picked up over the next minute as she enjoyed riding him. It was the first time she'd ever really taken charge in their intimate moments, and Harry found the contrast delightful, even if he truly did enjoy her usual more submissive behavior too. "You're going to make me cum soon," he told her after a bit longer, "You're so good, Pansy."
"You can do it inside," she whispered, surprising him, "I want you to make me pregnant, Harry."
"I-"
He couldn't respond. He knew full well that he could, but he'd only been climaxing into the girls so often because he could control his ability to have children, and was immune to carrying or spreading sexual diseases thanks to Lilith's Runes. But to hear Pansy say that, when he was already getting close...
He spurted quickly, a fast and powerful but ultimately short orgasm, as images of Pansy pregnant and still riding him, just like this, flittered through his mind. Of filling her again and again, until she had a second child with him, and then years later, when she was older, more mature, just as beautiful, and showing their older child, a daughter, how to suck a cock...
It was too much, too dirty and yet too wholesome and pure at the same time. He couldn't hold back.
When he had emptied himself, Pansy kept lifting and falling a bit more, then slowed until she fell still, with him still buried inside her. "Did you... finish?"
Pansy shook her head, "No, but it's fine. I enjoyed it."
"My women don't shag me and not finish," Harry told her, "so keep moving. You know I'm still hard."
"Yes, sir," Pansy murmured, and immediately resumed. But now her movements were faster, more frantic, and she added a hand to her cunt, twisting it in wild circles to get herself off as quickly as possible. To help with that, Harry reached up for her tits, pulling and twisting each of her already hard nipples in turn, alternating the pressure, then hefting one to her own mouth. It just reached.
"Suck on your tit, my little harlot," he whispered to her, "Get yourself off."
She groaned at the strange idea, and hesitated for a moment more, then leaned down just a little to take her nipple into her mouth. She moaned again at the sensation, and her bouncing slowed a little in her distraction, but it didn't seem to matter.
Harry willed himself to climax with her, heightening her own pleasure as she peaked, gasping and seizing again while he unloaded a second, slightly smaller, load into her depths.
Again she stayed there, but slowly Harry's member fell out of her, dripping with both their climaxes. After their breathing had regulated once more, he still held her close while asking, "Did you mean that?"
"Mean what?" Pansy murmured, thoroughly relaxed.
"About... about us. A- a child."
Pansy seemed to consider it a moment, then nodded. "One day. It probably wouldn't be a good idea now. It was... a spur of the moment thing. Would... would it be so bad?"
"Not bad at all," Harry told her, "I was just surprised. One day, Pansy Parkinson, you'll be the mother of some of my children. Would you like that?"
She nodded, settling into him even more, "I'd love it, Harry. I can't believe... how much things have changed, but I wouldn't sell it for the world."
She was quiet for a long time, then added in a whisper, "I can't sign a contract. I have no family."
"You have us," he reminded her, kissing her head, "You will always have us. I don't need you to sign a contract like Tracey and Daphne. You can just be here, with us. As much or as little as you want. But you'll always have a place with me."
Pansy turned her upper body to look up at him for the first time since they'd shifted into that position in the early morning hours, then kissed his stubbly jaw. "I'm glad. I... I've never heard anything that sounded better, Harry. But I need to go get ready to leave."
"Alright, my love," he murmured, "my little harlot."
"I am your little harlot," Pansy said with a giggle and a blush, "Because... well, you make me happier than I could've ever imagined. Before... I was not happy, I only thought I was. Thank you, Harry."
It still went unsaid as she left the room, naked as the day she was born, to gather her clothes and take a long, very hot shower, but Harry knew exactly how she felt.
Before Lilith, he had thought he knew what happiness felt like, even if he had been sexually frustrated. Being around his friends, flying, those had brought him happiness. His perspective had changed over the last months, though.
As his 'harem' continued to grow, his sense of fulfillment and joy in life (even aside from sex, which was great) was increasing daily, by leaps and bounds. He chuckled to himself as he rose from the bed too and began gathering his own casual clothes and uniform, intending to change on the train as usual, Harry had a realization that made him laugh. "If Dumbledore's right, and the Power He Knows Not is truly Love, then old Voldemort is well and truly fucked, and not in a good way."
That morning, another girl, Vicky Frobisher, had her virginity roughly claimed by one Theodore Nott, who used the process and loss, along with the blood and magic that released, to perform a ritual designed by his master decades before, and performed only once in the history of the world before himself.
Vicky Frobisher, sadly, did not survive long after the ritual's completion, just as Tom Riddle Sr.'s young maid did not survive when the young man who would become Lord Voldemort performed the ritual himself. It was only after that, after gaining more power and leaving even more of his humanity behind, that the young Tom Marvolo Riddle entered his family's old home and killed them all, using their deaths to perform a ritual that made him stronger still.
But as Theodore Nott stood over the broken, abused body of his well-trained victim, who had cried out in ecstasy despite her life-blood spilling alongside her virgin's blood when he climaxed in her, he felt no remorse. Instead, what he felt was power, and gratitude for the man who'd given it to him. And a need for more. When his newest gift arrived, he would be ready to receive it. They would have weeks, while the school was nearly empty, to get acquainted. And no one could find him here. No one besides Potter, for no one else spoke Parseltongue.
And Potter, he had it on good authority, would not be staying at the castle this year. No, he would be going home to visit his pathetic family, and shag his whore of a mudblood, and Merlin knew who many others.
Nott didn't care. He only needed a toy to play with while the hours and days passed as his body acclimated to its new abilities. When the Chamber of Secrets opened again, allowing him into the inner sanctum, there would be a new beast within it, set to ravage the school. And that beast would be him.
He grinned, picking up the lifeless body in one huge, monstrous hand, barely human and five times larger than it had been just an hour ago, and slid the husk onto his aching, groaning cock. It split nearly in two, but he didn't care, for it was still warm and wet. He used it to masturbate himself relentlessly, her blood and his juices giving just enough lube to finish the job again a few minutes later, before tossing the ruined flesh aside.
The once well-appointed bedroom they had stumbled across a few days earlier was useless, wrecked beyond repair by the rage he'd been in as soon as his new body rose from the cocoon of magic it had been made from, but Theodore Nott didn't care. He didn't need comfort. He only wanted to fuck, and to kill Albus Dumbledore. Once those were done, his Master would grant him even more power, show him what it was to be human again, yet so, so much more.
Just before the train was set to leave, a chime alerted him to the presence of a figure standing just outside the sewer entrance they had found using his master's instructions days ago.
A wide, sharp-toothed grin split the monstrous face. "She's here," he growled, "my new pet. Hopefully she'll last longer."
Then he began to run, in long, loping strides with occasional use of his much longer arms to balance or even pull himself along. He nearly filled the tunnel as he moved down it, the now tiny wand still clutched in his massive hand, his erection straining and dripping with his seed and the blood of his last victim. He really did hope this one lasted longer, it was more fun when they could still fight back, or urge him to go harder, faster.
He froze just outside the shattered grate that had once protected this entrance, still half-hidden in shadows as the beautiful creature his master had sent for his use stood, half-clothed at best, just inside the little clearing. "H- Hello. Nott... Theodore Nott?"
He nodded, "That's me," the huge face growled huskily, "You were sent?"
The woman, clearly more than standard human, like him, for all she resembled one, nodded. "Yes, my new master. I am to please you and serve you."
"Good. You can start with your mouth. Don't mind the blood."
She didn't hesitate, the voluptuous creature sank down onto his shaft with ease and vigor right there in the Forbidden Forest, taking seven inches and more into her throat. It wasn't yet half of his new size, but he would be patient. It still felt amazing, after all, and he wanted this one to live. So he would let her work until she could take all of him. For now. "That's good," he growled, wand still held at the ready in case she tried to fight or resist him.
Only after she had taken his load, coughing twice but without complaint, did Nott hold out the object twisted and coiled in his other massive hand. "Put this rope 'round your neck, and tie it closed."
She obeyed at once, her former Master's Imperius Curse or whatever he was using to control her still very much in effect.
Once the deed was done, he would start her training in earnest. She licked her lips of Frobisher's final blood with relish as she tied it shut, then bared two long, thin fangs. "I'm ready, my new Master."
"Good. Come, vampire. We have work to do."
The monstrous woman followed him into the dark tunnel, easily keeping up with his rapid, loping gait.
They did indeed have work to do before the students returned. A lot of it, in fact. Slytherin's new monster and his monstrous pet were, after all, just the beginning of his own master's plan. Just as the woman, the vampire, who had just blown him with relish was just the first. Hard to replace, yes, but not all of the night's children served Voldemort willingly. For now.
Soon, they would have no choice, just like all of wizard-kind.
Harry sighed as he finished helping Ron stow Hermione's, Ginny's, Lyra's, and their own luggage onto the overhead racks and sank into the nearest seat only to have the red-headed girl claim his lap even though there were two other places to sit comfortably. "Not that I mind," he chuckled, sliding a hand up Ginny's thigh to where it could rest on her flesh between skirt and stockings, and then a little higher, "but why this spot?"
Ginny shrugged a little shyly, then leaned in to kiss him. "Going to miss you," she murmured, "I won't see you 'till after Christmas."
Across from them, Hermione already had a book open and was reading it quickly, while Lyra examined her left arm, almost like she was looking at how well her nails were done. He would've thought that's what she was doing, in fact, if her chitinous armor had not been appearing and disappearing in a rippling wave from the shoulder down to her hand and back. To his right, Ron stretched his arms out across the back of the seat and his legs across the entire floor-space of the compartment, and closed his eyes. "Wake me up when the trolley comes," he muttered.
"I'll miss you, too," he replied to his Pet, "It's going to be a long few weeks."
"But you will have people to shag," she whispered, giving a pointed look at the Succubus, before watching her practice... whatever she was doing for a moment. "I'll only have my wand, my fingers, and that delightful purple dildo."
"You stole Hermione's dildo?"
"I stole Lilith's dildo," she whispered back, "I'm pretty sure it's hers."
"Mm... you're probably right," Harry chuckled, sliding his hand a little higher and dipping it between her thighs, "Do you need a shag before we get to London? One more to hold you over?"
"Of course," Ginny said with a grin, but opened her legs for his hand instead, "but you can keep doing that for now."
He cupped her sex casually, not caring any longer that if Ron so much as looked their way, he would see right up his sister's skirt to where Harry started running his fingernails lightly over the soft cotton that still covered her, for now. Soon after, the train lurched into motion, and quickly picked up speed. It would still be a couple of hours, but Harry was sure the trip would be quiet. There was no more Malfoy to bother him, no Dementors to pass by, and even Voldemort seemed to still be laying low.
After a few minutes of teasing her, Harry pulled Ginny's knickers to the side and slipped one, then two fingers into her steaming hot snatch, curling them upward quickly. "I shagged Luna last night," he told her softly, "And damn."
Ginny sighed, then leaned back against the window to give him even easier access, then lifted a hand to slip up underneath her shirt and jumper, while the other snaked around and up onto Harry's bare back beneath his own. "Is she hot?"
"Yeah, of course," Harry told her, in pleased wonderment yet again that he could openly talk about shagging another pretty, even beautiful girl (and a good friend of his girlfriend) with her, and another girlfriend and their shared best friend and a brother in the same compartment. "I think she came... uh, five times? Sexy as hell, and so wet."
"Ah," Ginny moaned, "She... she's a good kisser, right?"
"Very," Harry nodded, then the question and tone it was delivered with sparked something in Harry. "Wait... she's almost too good. Like... you, in fact."
"We practiced, you know, before... well, before you and I became friends," the ginger told him, rolling her pelvis against his hand slowly now, languidly increasing her pleasure but without urging on an orgasm. It seemed, like Harry, that Ginny wanted a leisurely ride without strenuous activity.
"It shows," he chuckled, leaning in to kiss her jaw and then mouth briefly before pulling back. "D'you reckon you'd kiss her again if she asked?"
"Been waiting for you to shag her," Ginny giggled, "so I could ask. She's in love with you, you know."
Harry blinked. "But... but she said she wanted to go to the party as friends."
"Of course, because you said as friends," Ginny reminded him, "she wanted to go anyway. She's liked you since fifth year, almost the day you met, because you didn't make fun of her. You know you're the first boy she's met that was our age that didn't? You always treated her like a person, not... Loony."
Harry frowned, glancing at Ron, who he was pretty sure was already asleep as they entered the hills south of Hogsmeade. Ginny, eyes half-open, answered the unasked question, "Of course she had a crush on him, still wants to sleep with him, but the prat lost her real affection a long time ago. Said some pretty vile things, a few years back."
"Oh," Harry muttered, frowning darkly.
"You don't have to go all noble on your best mate," Ginny teased quietly, lifting her far leg to rest it on his knee and shifted the left hand from her tits to cup his own, pushing it into her crotch harder and faster, guiding him now, "She told him off herself, and so did Mum and I, and Bill and Charlie gave him a really good bollocking over how to treat a lady."
"Heh... I think I'd have liked to see that. One after the other?"
"More or less," Ginny said with a happy grin at the memory, "all the same day. That's really good, Harry... but faster. I'm ready to cum."
"Do it then, Pet," he told her, knowing the phrase would have the exact effect he'd said.
Like himself, Ginny could almost orgasm on command, but it was his command, not hers, which triggered it. At once, she shuddered faintly, gasping as her eyes rolled back into her head for a few moments. Harry felt a pool of moisture appear on his pants almost immediately, which swelled a few inches over the next minute while she came down. Once she had, Ginny stood up, bent to shove her knickers to her ankles, stepped out of them and picked them up, pushed them into Harry's robe pockets, "To remember my smell," she whispered, and then reached for his trousers.
Once his dick was free, Ginny bent to lick the tip a few times, holding her hair back with her free hand, and then turned to sit on his lap in a different way, completely uncaring that others were in the room, as usual.
Of course, that was when the door opened, and a harassed-looking Katie Bell came into the compartment, shutting the door quickly before turning around and leaning against it. "Sorry for barging in," she groaned tiredly, "But I figure you lot at least won't pester me about Quidditch practices. You listened to the damned schedule and took notes a week ago."
Harry agreed. He, Ginny, and Ron had all written down the two meetings Katie had asked the team to meet over the summer for a few hours, though they hadn't yet locked down a place. Likely, they would be at the Burrow, flying over the apple orchard as usual.
It took a few minutes for Katie to move to the last empty seat and collapse into it, sighing, "Coote is okay, but Sloper is driving me barmy, asking again and again when we're meeting, like I haven't already said. Wa- wait, I k- what are you guys doing?"
"Shagging," Ginny said casually as she continued to rise and fall on Harry's cock. She reached down for her skirt, lifting it to give Katie a view, "Why, jealous?"
The older girl blushed and looked away, "I... not exactly. I've tried the whole... group thing."
"And she liked it," Harry told everyone, figuring it was safe now that she'd admitted that publicly, at least to this particular group of friends, "but there's more to it."
"Yeah, thanks, Harry," Katie sent him a glower over Ginny's shoulder, but the effect was marred by her deepening blush. "I'm not ready to get into a relationship just- just yet."
"No one said you were," Lyra piped up, the armor on her arm vanishing quickly while the girl was still facing the other way, and now appearing just as she had in public for the entire year. "You can shag without being in a relationship, even if we all are. Sort of, anyway."
"What do you mean, sort of," Katie asked shrewdly, casting an eye over all of them in turn.
Lyra pointed at the opposite bench, where Harry and Ron were sitting, "Ginny's not shagging her brother, obviously, and Ron and I aren't together, but we are shagging. We're all sort of together aside from that. Plus sometimes Neville and Hannah Abbot, and Lavender."
Katie let out a long, low whistle, then half under her breath said, "Damn, Potter... I knew you were getting around, but that many, on the regular?"
"Plus a few Slytherins and now I think a Ravenclaw again," Harry told her.
That made Hermione perk up, but after a few seconds, she looked back down at the thick book without saying anything.
Still moving on him but taking her time, drawing out their fun, Ginny pulled off her jumper and began unbuttoning her blouse. Once she was done, Harry watched Katie's face as the younger girl shook it a few times, "Getting hot in here," Ginny said breathily, "Or maybe it's just the workout."
"The- the common room was one thing," Katie muttered, blushing again, "but you're getting off on this whole being in public thing, aren't you?"
Ginny grinned, "And on Harry. His cock's the best, you know?"
Their team Captain didn't say anything, only looked out the window with a darker face than even before.
"It's okay," Ginny reassured her after several seconds, "You know I don't care if you shag. I want you to, even. I bet you're good at it."
This did nothing for Katie's blush. "I- I don't... er..."
"It's fine," Ginny giggled again, "Really. Hell, I'd shag you. I've been told I'm better with girls than boys, even."
This time, the older witch sent her a look that spoke of some disbelief, but also a desire to trust what the younger was saying.
It was Hermione of all people who tipped the scales, at least as Harry saw it, "It's true," the bookworm murmured without looking up, "Ginny eats pussy better than anyone but Lilith and maybe Harry. At least that I've ever met."
"Mm... I think she and Master are about even," Lyra added, "but it's nice to know that I'm still better."
"They're closing in though," Hermione told the Succubus, "So you should keep practicing, too. I bet Katie wouldn't mind if you practiced on her."
Left unsaid was the, I know I wouldn't.
Lyra actually leaned forward to look at the Chaser past the reading girl, "Do you want me to eat you out, Katie? I've been told Succubi are just about the best at everything. And Master said you were a bit lonely for company a while ago."
"He- he what? Wait, you're- you're a- you're the- her?"
Katie seemed completely gobsmacked. Apparently she hadn't put together the mysterious transfer student with Harry telling her about his new friend, even though he was pretty sure he'd flat-out told her before what Lyra was.
Honestly, it was getting hard to keep track of who knew and who didn't.
Lyra only nodded cheerfully, and held up a hand, "No pressure if you don't want me to, of course, just thought I'd offer. Master says your cunt feels amazing, and I'd love to taste it."
"That'd be hot," Ron muttered, showing he wasn't quite asleep anymore, if he had been, "Go to town, Lyra."
The Succubus snorted, "I wasn't saying I'd blow you, Ron. But I will, if you want me to."
"Sure."
Harry still wasn't sure if he was really awake or asleep, but somehow Ron unbuckled his own pants and freed his penis, which wasn't even erect.
Katie gasped, blushed again, but couldn't seem to tear her eyes away. "Like the twins," she mouthed, or at least that's what Harry thought. It was getting hard to see past Ginny's hair, which was starting to bounce as her tempo increased.
"I don't know about that," Lyra shrugged, "I've only met Fred and George during mealtimes at the Weasley's home, but they seem nice enough. Fond memories of you, from as early as fourth year."
Lyra's casual revelation that she had some form of mind-reading seemed to make Katie very uncomfortable, for she paled a little and sent her an anxious glance. "Er... p- please don't, um..."
"Spill your secrets?"
Katie nodded shyly.
The Succubus only shrugged, "I wouldn't, except possibly to Master, who you've already told the big one. Also, that's not nearly as uncommon as you might think. I know of at least... uh... nine poly relationships among the students that have started in the last two years. When I showed up, there were five, and Master's is one of the new ones. It is definitely the biggest, though, and still growing."
"P- Poly...?"
"Meaning many, or several, or a group," Hermione added, actually looking up and over at the older girl, "but in this case, it's short for polyamorous. Amour being love. A polyamorous relationship- also sometimes shortened to 'ship' in popular culture- is one where multiple partners share their love and affection for all. For example, I am both Harry and Ron's girlfriend, Ginny is also Harry's, and Lyra sort of fucks us all unconditionally. Hannah and Neville are together, but we pretty much all shag them, too, though as far as I know all the blokes here are straight. I shouldn't need to explain that usually us women are less... restricted as far as that goes."
Katie shook her head dumbly, seeming both fascinated and amazed by the explanation, despite having, by her own admission, been in such a relationship before. "I... with... well, um... Harry, can you...?"
"Tell them?"
She nodded shyly, her attention being drawn back to Ginny, who was tweaking her breasts through the gap in her blouse, and diddling her clit again while she bounced faster and faster.
"I could," Harry replied softly, "but I think it'd do you good to do it."
"I... well... Ron and Ginny's, uh..."
"Oh, yeah, didn't think of that. But really, you think they'd care?"
"What," Ginny moaned, while Lyra took pity on Ron and crossed the compartment onto her knees to start licking his still-limp but exposed genitals, "You think we wouldn't want to be with you after you shagged our brothers?"
This time, Katie's insecurities were obviously at the forefront as she nodded again, her mouth parting slightly with growing arousal.
"I-" Ginny said, the words interspersed between growing pants. She was getting close now, Harry knew, and he wasn't too far off himself, "I've eaten- Hermione's cunt- after- Ron's- c-creampied- her... Harry's- shagged her hard- after and- before R-Ron. Don't- ugh- care..."
Ginny suddenly froze as her climax peaked again, except for her vaginal muscles milking his cock while he was buried to the hilt. Knowing what she wanted even though he wasn't quite there yet naturally, Harry sent his lust surging out with a healthy serving of his semen deep into Ginny's body, which accepted it eagerly.
Shakily, Ginny slid up and off him, then bent to clean him with her mouth, as was her duty as his pet, while Lyra started sucking in earnest on Ron's now-hard cock next to them. Katie could do nothing but watch as the red-head, once she was finished with Harry, turned on her knees. "Seriously, I'll do it right now if you want. I'd love to taste my sexy Captain."
"E-Er... m-maybe later," Katie demurred, though Harry was pleased to notice her thighs twisting together, rubbing against each other while she split her attention between his exposed, still hard and wet dick, Ginny's open blouse and the smell of their sex that wafted up from beneath her skirt, and Lyra and Ron, who now had his eyes open and was watching the Succubus go at him with fervor.
"No?" Ginny asked after a second, "What about you, Hermione?"
The book clapped shut, surprising Katie enough to make her jump. "I suppose, you insatiable slag. Go ahead, I suppose it'll be a while until I can have the pleasure again."
"Sweet," Ginny laughed, and soon her legs were intertwined with Lyra's as they faced the opposite direction from each other, both showing their current partner that they would be missed, too.
Katie had left them without engaging in other activities, and Lavender had come and gone, sucking off Ron, eating out both Ginny and Hermione, and let Harry take her doggystyle on the floor, and even Hannah and Neville had made an appearance, Ginny blowing the blonde boy and Hannah taking Ron deep in her arse while she sucked on Hermione's tits, and Lyra tit-fucked Harry (possibly for the last time, she had whispered before doing it, in that form).
This, all before they had reached the outskirts of London, and the group had scrambled to re-dress in their more casual clothing, while the girls were covered in or leaking fluids from several spots.
All in all, it was probably the most pleasant train-ride to or from Hogwarts Harry had yet experienced, even including the recent ones when he'd gotten blowjobs or had sex at least once each way every time.
The train pulled into the busy platform 9 3/4 just after five-o'clock thanks to an afternoon snowstorm while passing between Scotland and England, moving down into the lowland forests that filled the southern half of the island wherever there weren't people.
The scene at the platform itself was predictable, families greeting their kin, students milling about, wishing their friends happy holidays, and so on. They had just met up with the Weasleys, including a disgruntled-looking Bill and a cheerful (for once) Sirius Black, who was out in public, free, and very happy to be so as Harry swept him into an ecstatic, yet manly hug.
The older wizard noted, not for the last time, that even though Harry was a bit short for his age, he was taller than he had been just a few short months ago, and quite noticeably so. In fact, if he wasn't mistaken... "You might be as tall as Moony, pup."
Harry grinned as they separated, and Sirius turned his attention (and not a small number of hugs from the females of the group) to those who knew him, and gave a polite hand-shake to Neville, and a deep bow with knuckle-kissing to a blushing Hannah.
The crowd was still thick, and they were just beginning to debate heading out when it happened.
Still riding the post-coital bliss and overjoyed to be around family and friends they had missed, none of the group, even Lyra, were prepared for the sudden depressurization of the entire area's atmosphere. Every single person, owl, cat, elf, or toad suddenly began to feel faint and gasp, clutching at their chests or throats. Lyra, the only one who didn't need to breathe, mouthed wordlessly as she stopped to gape at every living creature's sudden, desperate survival instinct.
Fortunately, the lack of pressure lasted only a split-second, and the crowd of hundreds of wizard-kind took a gasping, collective shuddering breath. Many of those with weaker constitution, children, the elderly, or those less prepared, were already on their knees, while the rest spent a few seconds trying to find out what was happening. All around Harry, while his own instinct was to draw his wand and fight though he had no target, people were crying out, asking each other what was going on.
That was when the entire second car, the prefects' car, imploded in a colossal wave of acid-green light that appeared around it in a mostly translucent sphere, but that, as the sphere collapsed in an instant, gathered density and force. Seventeen or more people that Harry could see as he spun toward the high-pitched whining were caught up in it, yanked into the air along with the car itself toward the epicenter of the sphere, some twenty feet off the ground. Their bodies, like the car, blurred in slow motion as the sphere continued to contract with sonic speed, growing brighter and brighter until the entire sphere, which had once spanned at least fifty feet in diameter, was no larger than a thimble of tightly-compressed magical energy, and far too many tons of debris and what had once been people.
"Get down!" Harry cried as he, like so many others, stared at the brilliant light.
Some panicking people obeyed, throwing themselves over family and friends, dragging more down. A few who had hold of arms or other parts of their family, twisted on the spot and disApparated instead, and one lucky family who had already been at the front of the queue for the Floo vanished in a flash of darker green flame, just in time.
Those who were still standing, about a quarter of the former crowd and more than fifty people Harry guessed, were blasted off their feet. Those closest were struck by flying metal and bone at unimaginable velocity as the sphere's contents exploded outward, and even the ones who had been able to hit the floor of the platform were obliterated as the remains of the train car peppered their bodies with millions of sand-sized particles with the density of iron or steel moving at thousands of feet per second. They did not even have time to mist, they were suddenly simply gone, melded into what was left of the ground or walls.
Some of those further away still screamed as the wave passed, a sickly purple-blue now, more of the debris moving outward in the wake of the magic, but anyone who had managed to get further than sixty feet from the imploding and then exploding car on the too-small platform felt only a faint breeze as the magic passed by, the particles no longer having the inertia to do any real damage.
For a few moments, as Harry stared at the place the train car had been but was now a crater some nine feet deep through the rails and all, the scarlet locomotive rolled slowly down and back into the hole as its own weight buckled the last bits of rail that had survived, twisted and molten-hot as they were.
Then the screaming started. Cries of pain, terror, fear, and loss as those nearby who had survived realized what Harry had already seen.
Then, through the light snow and gathering clouds, he saw a shadow begin to take form, massive and large. A skull, made of cloud and magic itself, with a long snake coiling from it in the place of a tongue. The Dark Mark.
Voldemort's sign, for when he or his followers had killed. A sign of terror.
Harry heard a growl from nearby as he pushed himself to his feet, a quick glance telling him that Sirius, somehow, had pulled Hermione and Hannah (of course the girls) to the ground and shielded them from more than a few bruises and a layer of dust. Ron, Ginny, and Lyra were rising too, quicker to react thanks to years of Quidditch if nothing else, or preternatural reflexes.
Only as he saw blood on the backs or even fronts of so many survivors did he take a moment to realize in the dreadful, wail-filled calm, that the growl was coming from his own throat.
There was a whump, then another, and another, five in all, as great shadows thirty feet tall or more appeared along the tracks from the front of the train out into London proper. The nearest turned toward them as it dropped a single long rope, hundreds of feet, that each of the creatures had held in their meaty, hairy and gnarled hands. It was humanoid, but twisted and misshapen, as if the rocks themselves had been fashioned into something like people, but with just enough skill to carve out eyes, nose, and mouth.
The nearest one looked like the largest, and it bent nearly in half to survey the survivors, who began to cry out in even more renewed terror. "Giants! Fekkin' Giants," someone shouted.
Harry had never seen just how big a real Giant was. Hagrid's half-brother, Grawp, who had been large enough to easily pick up and hold a mostly-grown Hermione in a single hand like a doll last year, was only eighteen feet tall. These giants were about half again that high, and probably six times more massive.
And the larger one was looking over the crowd with a greedy, hungry look. Almost casually, it reached down to the tottering locomotive, and hefted it with a single hand, which closed over the thing as if it was holding a medium-sized branch or club at best. "Oh, fuck," he heard Ron mutter, "He's gonna-"
No one had time to do more than scream again as the entire scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express came hurtling toward them, spinning through the air with an odd grace. Dimly, a part of Harry realized that, for all their huge size, Giants could be pretty smooth in their movements. It was, after all, a nearly perfect throw for a club-like object into soft meaty matter.
The locomotive hit the crowd about forty feet past Harry, thankfully near the edge of the platform, and lengthwise down the tracks. He had no idea how many people had died, crushed beneath it, but that was where most people had been fleeing in their haste to leave. Without looking, his heightened senses and now fully kicked-in battle awareness told him that the spin it had been thrown with would not have stopped, so the car carved an almost wave-like swath through the last twenty feet of the platform, leaving collapsed ribs on the least-effected, and bloody smears of bone and red on most.
Thus far, he estimated the attack had taken less than ten seconds, yet if he had to put a horrifying number on it, more than fifty people were dead.
His wand was already in his hand, a steady, reassuring presence, warm and promising violence. Normally, the touch of the Phoenix-feather wand brought peace and tranquility, comfort. Now, he knew full well why it was truly the brother to Voldemort's. He had already killed, was no stranger to taking lives, not anymore. But today...
He would take more.
His wand rose, and alongside him, a blood- and dust-covered Sirius' suit-clad arm did the same, a new wand he'd never seen before in his shaking grip. A moment later, just as inspiration struck, so did more. Hermione's, Ron's, and Ginny's he recognized at once. Then Neville's, and that same wizard's elderly grandmother, her vulture-hat askew, stepped forward past him into view.
There were more.
Harry didn't look, but he could feel the rage and righteous anger that flooded through those who could stand.
Lyra, behind and to his right, melted away, and in her place stood Lilith, tall, buxom, clad in armor of purple-black. In one hand, she wielded blood-red flame, and in the other, a long, semi-translucent whip studded with spikes that each aimed back toward the handle, ranging from needle-thin and only an inch long to six inches, more like the blades of a dagger toward the heavy tip. It moved and coiled through the air as his pet took her place at his side, her beautiful face rapturous with fury as her wings beat slowly.
For a moment, in the adrenaline-fueled heat of his new reality, Harry considered that it was too bad they hadn't been able to keep her secret longer. Too many people would see, Voldemort would learn what she was.
But just then, he decided it didn't matter.
No... what mattered were the dead, and the living who would be forced to mourn them.
Iron gates stronger than any spell crashed down on his emotions, channeling them, guiding them along the pathways of his mind toward a singular purpose.
Ending the threat.
Even caring for the wounded would have to wait, at least for him. "Get the wounded out if you can," he commanded, his magic rippling out along the vibrations in the air to pass through so many of those who had not already risen to fight. With it came purpose, direction, and the lost sheep, the lambs for whom he had suddenly become a shepherd, began to move.
Then, "Diffindo."
A simple Charm, taught in second year, and reviewed in fourth-year Defense Against the Dark Arts. A spell Harry had mastered in that year for its sheer utility.
The ability to cut things with a word and a simple flick of the wand to guide the spell's energy from point A to point B was beyond useful for so many things. And as Professor Flitwick and then the false Moody had ingrained on the students of Harry's year, if used improperly or without care, it could be dangerous, even deadly.
Harry did not miss, and behind that simple spell was a lifetime of agony at pain endured, pain witnessed, and new horrors such as he had yet to process. Giants are highly resistant to magic, which helped mitigate the effects.
Three of the huge leader's fingers on his right hand, which had thrown the locomotive engine, fell, spinning and arcing, onto the rooftops of King's Cross Station and the tracks the giant stood over. Blood, hot and steaming in the winter air, joined those of the humans it had slain in a bright arc of deep, malignant red darker than any humans would be, to splatter against wall and ground alike as the giant reeled back, recoiling and roaring to the sky in pain.
More light lanced out, spiraling, twisting, jerking, sputtering, and moving laser-straight in turn, in a rainbow of colors as those around him began to unleash whatever spell they could think of up into the nearest giant's face. Most splashed harmlessly against it, but a few caused small cuts or bruises, and a well-placed piercing hex smashed into one snaggled tooth, fracturing it into pieces inside the giant's roaring mouth.
It took a step back at the onslaught, raising an arm to protect its more vulnerable eyes, and stumbled into another giant, a female, who roared and shoved back, making the wounded monster take an unsteady step forward, too. Right into the crater.
Unable to see clearly through the debris, dust and magic in the air, it misjudged, and began to tumble. "Repulso!" Harry cried, along with a change in focus from more than a dozen witches and wizards, who cast the same spell nearly simultaneously.
It didn't do much, but did twist the body of the giant so that he landed on his side rather than his stomach, and sprawled over the train rather than on, as far as Harry could tell in the heat of the moment, any person. Two cars were still crushed, probably beyond repair, but that was minor.
The female he had backed into roared down at them in defiance, showing two rows of blackened, jagged teeth as spittle flew through the snow back at them.
Harry did not care, though he heard Ron recoil as a hand-sized droplet smashed into his robes just below the knee. "Eww!"
"Sectumsempra!"
Harry still did not know the name of the wizard who had written all the copious notes in his permanently-borrowed Potions textbook, but the target noted, For Enemies, could not be more clear in this moment. There was no visible effect, but as he followed the instructions, slashing through the air as though he were wielding a greatsword one-handed, slashes deeper than even his cutting hex appeared in a huge X on the female's torso, completely removing one arm in the process, and letting part of her ragged, hide tunic flap downward. He had no care for her bared lower breast.
Instead, finding it effective, Harry only growled, "Sectumsempra," again. He did not notice, as he stepped forward aggressively, Sirius' worried, astounded look in his direction.
More slashes appeared, this time along the giantess' thighs, one on the inside and one on the front. The former began to bleed copiously as she roared, staggered, and fell to a knee. The club she had carried in her spare hand as she arrived via the Portkey crashed to the tracks, bending them with a squeal of metal that sliced through the din of battle and roar of the giants toward the rear with a high pitch. A third cast drew three lines in a Z in a more focused pattern across the giantess' neck, which lolled back as her body fell with it, a three-layered wall of dark red gouted into the air to send a rain down around the crater, which moved almost like a hosepipe sprinkler's spray over her body and then, at the end as it died out along with her life, the third giant.
Now all three of them left, who had mostly been focused on causing mayhem and destruction to the station itself, turned toward the crowd, bellowing out their fury at seeing one comrade killed and the other brought low.
That nearest giant kicked out, thankfully only grazing one seventh-year Harry barely knew who had risen with a younger sibling under one arm. He went skidding, but he somehow rolled, and a moment later was on his feet again, an eleven- or twelve-year old girl sobbing in his arms as he resumed running for the Floo.
Harry roared himself, and did not use verbal magic this time, caught up in the moment as he was, there was simply no time. But his focus was sufficient, and as he swished and flicked at a breakneck pace to his left, the train car nearest the fallen giant's head rose, ripped free by the several large impacts and its own weight, from the cars ahead and behind. It rose high, rocketing into the air under Harry's intense guidance, and then crashed downward like a comet as Harry knocked one of Ron's spells askew, smashing his arm into his friend's.
The train-car smashed into the half-standing giant's crown with the speed of a jet plane at full throttle, if not quite the mass, and punched a hole clear through, spearing the skull from the bridge of its nose to far past its ear, and at a diagonal angle out the other side, bouncing off the giant's bare, heavily muscled shoulder. It didn't even groan, merely collapsed back onto the ground, half-laying on the train car that had killed it.
The spells continued to come from their side, and he heard the pop, pop, pop, of rapid-fire Apparition. Soon, more spells were headed toward the giants, along with the occasional fireball from Lilith's hand.
Without warning, a great gout of heat and white flame erupted behind Harry, who spun to face the new threat as he felt hair on the back of his neck sizzle and crisp.
More screaming, more blood, more pain, as another threat forced its way through the too-small Floo through what must have been a powerful enchantment to keep the connection open. The head, he recognized at once, of a dragon. What type, he did not know, but it was furious. He could see just one eye, and snarling, dripping fangs that boiled away the spit as it inhaled for another gout of flame.
More pops as he looked back at the Giants, who were still lumbering toward them. Nine seconds, as one club was already rising high.
The dragon would take three to inhale, more or less. Lessons from Hagrid, before they'd been able to convince him to get rid of Norberta: most dragons, aside from just a few breeds, took about six seconds to inhale enough to breath fire effectively. Only the Chinese Fireball and Ukrainian Ironbelly differed much from that, the Fireball taking almost twice as long and the Ironbelly about half of that, for their inner fires burned hotter than most, and had higher metabolisms.
This was neither, he wasn't sure what kind it was, but he had less time there.
"Lilith, the Dragon," he cried, turning fully to face it as more people panicked, the only escape route for most was closed.
"On it, Master," she said firmly, leaping into the air and extending her wings, hurtling as quickly as she could toward it. She wouldn't get there in time, he knew, but maybe she could prevent a third blast.
"Conjure rocks in front of it," he commanded, but too few that were fighting were facing that way, and as he worked his own unmastered conjuration- they'd only begun truly studying conjuring in this year's Transfiguration classes, after all- the hasty wall was too small.
Yellow-white the dragon's now open maw lit up from within, and in slow motion once again grew and grew, brighter and hotter, until the air shimmered and warped before more blazing, blinding-bright flame screamed out.
This time, thankfully, there was no one in the way of the direct blast, but the mound of bricks scattered some of the flames, causing it to lick out at random and scorch a few of the fighters in that area who had turned to face the newer threat. One fell to the ground, hastily conjuring water to attempt to douse her flaming robes, the other ignored the burning as he whipped his wand toward the dragon, sending a spell that glanced off its eye-socket harmlessly.
It roared and jerked forward another foot or two, still trying to force its way through the too-small hole, gnashed its teeth, and started inhaling again.
Harry turned, feeling adrenaline pump even faster as something akin to lust washed through him. He knew without looking that Lilith had reached the dragon and engaged it. He did not have the attention to discern what she was doing, but their connection burned with anger and passion equal to his own. As he turned back toward the giants, he found Hermione bleeding from a cut across her forehead, but still casting beside Hannah, who had fallen to her rump but was holding out a shaky wand herself, and Susan Bones, who had materialized out of the rubble with her middle-aged aunt in tow. "Harry," Susan gasped, "Auntie's here! The Aurors!"
"Good," he growled, "Dragon on one side, giants on the other, ma'am!"
"I see that," Amelia Bones, the director of the DMLE, shot right back testily, her wand already whipping through the air in complicated patterns, "Good work so far, Potter!"
"Ma'am!"
There was no time for pride. He had to fight.
The fourth giant's left eye was pulverized already as he looked at it, but the long pine it bore almost as a quarterstaff swept through the air. Six people ducked out of the arc, but two did not make it, and neither head survived the impact. Both bodies crumpled. Harry roared again, and his wand began to move, copying the older, gray-haired witch's movements as best he could, mirroring her spells. Susan was doing the same, a little slower, and calling out the words, unlike her more experienced aunt.
Harry switched his attention a moment later, spinning around Amelia to stand on the other side of Susan, and cast over Hermione and Hannah's heads. It was slower, but he actually knew what spells Susan was using. The other hand, almost without willing it, burst into crimson fire, gathering heat that did not burn, swirling and coursing with his love for the people who had been lost, those who had to now carry on without loved ones, without parents like himself, or their children, or who had lost siblings. Sympathy and empathy alike powered his fury, and as the emotion that energized him, drove his need to fight, to destroy, and to defend coalesced there along with his magic both new and old, he hurled it almost like a stone.
The ball burned at the core with the same sort of white-hot intensity the dragon had exhaled, but the outer areas licked with the color of blood-mixed flame as it spiraled and twisted, corkscrewing through the air along its directed path. To his left, the collection of witches and Ron winced and recoiled, but most of them only for a moment.
He would let no more come to harm.
There had already been too much death.
The roiling energy smashed into the giant's last eye, which exploded with the heat as energy only slightly dissipated into the viscous fluid inside the orb. The thin bone at the back of the socket did not last long either, even as sturdy as giants were. The brain behind that liquified in a four-foot cylinder, and boiled and hissed for another five feet beyond that, until the fireball, much weakened, detonated once more against the inside of the giant's skull at the back. It toppled slowly, wavering back and forth, unable even to gasp in pain as its last moments were filled with a cascading failure of every brain function, conscious or not.
Two giants left, and the dragon, which he still felt Lilith's will working to subdue, fighting as furiously as he was, the other half, it seemed, of his own divided soul.
There were more, softer whap, whap, whap noises as a half-dozen Death Eaters arrived, three on each side of the tracks where the giants had appeared. They immediately began sending spells toward the defenders, and Harry's wand almost reflexively moved into casting the Shield Charm, Protego, constantly. Even as focused as his magic was in the midst of this pitched battle, each cast lasted only a few seconds under the rapid-fire barrage of spells the enemy were sending his way.
Others around him were erecting more solid barriers, levitating fallen bricks, shards of wrecked train, and even one giant finger to absorb some of the spells, including a long stream of sickly green from a bulky, tousle-haired blond Death Eater that Harry recognized from the Azkaban breakout photos the year before. Thorfinn Rowle.
Those, he knew, would not be stopped by his shield charm or anyone else's. The rubble and debris could stop the lethal Killing Curse, but at the cost of recasting whatever spell had created the barrier again and again, which was tiring and did not always work. One mis-aimed defense would result in a dead target.
The fire appeared in his hand again without conscious thought, though Harry hurled it with just as much intent as he had against the giant.
Rowle looked up from his barrage just in time to catch the crimson and white flames in his face, blasting his hood off as he was incinerated from the waist up in a few seconds flat.
"That's heavy resistance," one of the Death Eaters cried, sounding worried.
Good, Harry thought, let them feel fear for once!
"Keep fightin'," a rough-looking man roared. Rowle had been the only one not wearing a mask, so Harry could not identify the voice, though it sounded familiar. Spells lanced back and forth as a battle-line was beginning to form, but the Death Eaters were severely outnumbered, so long as the dragon did not breath again, and the giants...
The giants were retreating! One had turned and run, the other reached for the rope, yanking it off the ground and hollering at it in some language Harry did not know, but that sounded vaguely Slavic, or maybe Danish.
"What's that thing by the dragon?" a third Death Eater yelled, pointing with his wand-free hand over their heads.
The Death Eaters, mid-cast, stopped to look as one, like morons.
One went down at once, several hexes hitting her chest, leaving bloody holes.
Another erected a Shield Charm of his own just in time, but it folded a moment later, and he took a Piercing Hex to the cheek, sending him spinning to the ground, too.
"Fuck, back to the Portkey," the woman who'd spoken first shouted, "We've got to tell the Dark Lord about that new creature!"
The three remaining Death Eaters began to step back hastily, the other two lying down covering fire for the last female as she bent to sweep up another, shorter rope, and throw it over both of the male's shoulders. "Home!"
The word was simple and the only activation the safety on the Portkey needed. At once, the three remaining black-robed figures vanished as soon as they had come.
The last giant was still shouting at the rope, a growing look of panic on his face as he turned to watch the four dozen or so Aurors running toward it, more and more spells coming.
It shouted one more time, then turned and ran after its fellow, who had already vanished into the increasing snow, no doubt leaving a trail of devastation through downtown London.
It did not make it far, as a trio of powerful blasting hexes smashed into the back of a single knee, buckling it. He lost track of how many spells hit its head along with the tracks themselves, but Harry suspected it would not rise again.
So he turned away from the friends and allies he was standing beside, a worried look cast about to make sure they were still standing, fighting.
Only Ron was down on his side, but his wand was still held in a shaky grip as he rolled over to look toward the dragon, a determined expression on his face as his mother and father now stood over him, blood and sweat-streaked just as everyone else still present, and sent a spell at the dragon.
A dragon which was motionless, or nearly so, but who looked with its single eye facing them directly into Lilith's battle-form face, its slit pupil wildly dilated and glowing with a rosy hue as it panted. Her whip had several spines embedded into the long, narrow snout while it twined three times around it, holding it closed, but the dragon did not seem to care.
"Stop! Stop casting on the dragon," he commanded, "Stop!"
Most did quickly, the power and tone of Harry's voice convincing even a few of the Aurors to stand down for a moment, though no one dared lower their wands toward the terrifying beast, even though only half of its head was visible.
A moment later, Amelia's voice rang out even louder, but just as firmly, "Squads one through five, after the giant! There's one still out there in downtown London! Cambry, get the Magical Reversal Squads on-scene, now, and the Obliviators after that! The rest of you, stand the fuck down, but keep your wands on that monster and the giants! Make sure they stay down!"
Then, a little quieter as she strode past him, "With me, Potter."
He did not question her. She was one to be obeyed, her wisdom and experience giving him more than enough comfort to defer leadership.
He had, after all, only taken it because he knew no one else would and could.
Harry realized his hands were shaking violently along with the rest of him as he and Amelia Bones stepped up to stand next to Lilith. The dragon's breath smelled of sulfur and death, and it was taking great, gasping, panting breaths, but held still aside from a quivering in its dinner-plate sized nostrils as they fought to feed its probably massive body as it was... exerting itself, somehow?
"I have it rutting, Master," Lilith said quietly, "just against the ground. Male, you see. I think it's claw might've gutted a Death Eater on the other side, but most got free when they realized it wasn't going to make it through and started fighting their bonds."
Amelia sent a long look up and down Lilith's true form, looked at Harry with a measured gaze for a moment, then turned toward the dragon, her tone all business. "It's helpless?"
"No," Lilith gave an almost mournful laugh, "but it can't fight back unless it's hurt. It will break my hold the moment it's actually injured. Minor pain won't do much, I have it pretty deeply enthralled right now. It's... taking a lot, Master. I can hold it a while longer, but not more than an hour. Likely less."
"Alright," Harry said, looking to the older witch, "What do you want her to do?"
"You are sure you can hold it?"
Lilith nodded, sweat, actual sweat, beginning to bead on her purple-pink skin. "For a while, yes. It wants only to mate, and thinks it has a dragon pinned beneath it right now."
"Good. Hold it. Do you know- can you read it? I need to know where the rest of it is, the Floo is too damaged to back-trace it. The whole of Central London's network got ripped apart when that thing went through. That was our first alarm, actually."
"Someplace with a castle and a very large dungeon, underground," Lilith said quietly, her eyes shining with her familiar pink hue as she reached out to lay a long-nailed hand on the dragon's brow and leaned a little closer, her face coming to less than a foot from the great eye, which was as big as her whole torso. "Cold. North, I think."
"Not much North of here with a big castle except Hogwarts, and they don't have a dungeon that could hold this," Amelia muttered thoughtfully, rubbing her chin with a slightly wrinkled hand. "Maybe... Glasgow? No..."
"It hadn't been there long," Lilith added after another moment, "but it saw fields, not trees. The land was flat."
"That narrows it down a little. Alright. Anything else?"
After a few more seconds, Lilith shook her head slightly, never breaking eye contact with the dragon. "No, it was unconscious until just before they dragged it inside. It only had a few seconds. It was caught in... someplace warmer, near large mountains with snow in the heat of summer?"
"That could be nearly any preserve," Amelia grumbled, "but it's better than nothing I suppose. Thank you. We'll try to get to wherever it's at. Potter, stay here, but get word to me through the Aurors if either she's about to slip up, or you get a better location."
"Right. Yes, ma'am," Harry returned, fighting the urge to snap off a salute.
She turned away, her own eyes watching the crowd as much as Harry's did, and began barking out more commands, one after the other, which even the civilians leapt to obey.
"You used Passionfire," Lilith said more quietly, still looking toward the dragon, "I felt it. I came, you know? It- it gave me the strength to break its will. Whatever was commanding this dragon, it was very powerful. This one is an alpha."
"Probably Voldemort, then," Harry growled, "Something like the Imperius, maybe, or a potion."
"Perhaps. You did well, Harry. Thank you. Many lives were saved. I know many were lost, but they are not down to your actions. More would have fallen without you."
Harry nodded, feeling a strange kinship with the captive dragon, forced to fight when it wanted nothing but to exist, to be, to live. He rested a hand on its snout too, and at his touch, the whip recoiled, melting into Lilith's hand, brushing one spine across the back of his hand as it did. He glanced at the Succubus, who must have done it purposefully, then back down at the welting line of blood. "What was that for?"
"Because you felt you needed it," she replied quietly, "You carry so much guilt, Master, and you don't need to. So I gave you a little punishment, like dear Pansy. You must let it go, or it will destroy you. Remember the righteous fury you felt just a short time ago. That is how you should feel about this... this cowardly, horrific act. You did well, better than anyone has a right to expect."
"I suppose," he murmured, the blood running slowly from his hand and onto the dragon's mouth, where it leaked slowly inside. "I feel bad for it. Him. I'm sure they'll put him down, when it wasn't his fault."
"I agree," the Succubus replied mournfully, "which is why I'm trying to make his last moments pleasurable. It did not deserve this, no more than the victims did. Those giants came to kill, however, of their own will."
"I've heard again and again they are vicious, love to fight and destroy," Harry told her, "from nearly every wizard or witch I've ever discussed them with. But Hagrid has a half-brother who is... more like a child who does not know his strength. He isn't vicious."
"It may be a case of nature versus nurture then," she told him quietly, just audible over the continued orders, cries of pain or for assistance with the wounded or trapped. "Their culture may demand it, ingrain it in them from birth, but that does not mean of course that they all turn out that way."
Harry nodded, "Like the children of Death Eaters who now fight alongside us. Did you see Millicent and Warrington? Even Daphne and Tracey cast a few times before taking cover. I didn't see Pansy, though, or Astoria."
"Cast out," the Succubus told him, "I can't spare the magic or concentration. You have a bond with each of them, too, Master. Use those feelings to find them. If you find nothing after trying, after remembering what they feel like to you..."
She did not finish it, did not need to. Harry understood, would have without even their own Bond. If he reached out to find the emotions of those he cared for and found nothing, they were no longer there to find. He almost did not dare to try, could not bear the knowledge that some of those he knew would almost certainly be gone.
He started with Hermione and the Weasleys, and slumped against the dragon, leaning his head on the scorching muzzle, ignoring the pain it created in his forehead as he felt them. His favorite swot, Arthur and Molly standing near their children, Bill, Ron, and Ginny. Then Sirius, who was helping Molly patch up her son's rather serious but not life-threatening injury in preparation for taking him to St. Mungo's to add to the growing crowd of patients.
The reassuring, but frantic heartbeat of Daphne as she held both Tracey and Astoria to her full chest, all three sobbing, but unhurt. Pansy, hiding behind the still-furious Millicent and Cassius, who shielded her from bystanders that accused her of being a spy, of helping to coordinate the attack that had nearly killed her. Staring in horrified awe at her wand, which he remembered through her eyes being the one that had pulped the third giant's first eye.
He felt pride and love anew, and looked up, "Director Bones!"
She turned and looked, held up a finger to stall the conversation she was having in hurried words with a few other senior Aurors including a dusty, too-thin Mad-Eye Moody and Tonks, his protégé, to hurry back toward him. Tonks snapped off a salute then blew him a kiss that would've made Harry blush a year before, and had her hand slapped for her trouble by the grizzled ex-Auror, who had seemingly come out of retirement today.
"What is it, Potter?"
Glossary: