Chapter Sixty One
Lord Voldemort had three paintings in his bedchamber, on each of the walls that faced his bed. Three paintings portraying the three castles that defined his life.
Hogwarts, of course, where he learned the beginnings of magic and started on his road to power. He'd once held a particular love for the cold Scottish stone, even if the castle now represented his greatest obstacle.
Nurmengard, where he'd gone from a great to the greatest, convincing Grindelwald to train him, to pass on his legacy, one lord of the Dark Arts to another.
And the last, more a fortress than a castle. Azkaban. He had never stepped foot on the island, but it had tortured him for fourteen years. To drift as a shell, less than a ghost, knowing that his friends, his allies, his faithful, were imprisoned. To know that each of them would bring him back to life, if only they could break free of the prison, if only Voldemort could break them free.
He hung a painting of the stormy island because it reminded him of how he'd made it through those fourteen miserable years and the glorious celebration they'd had when the loyal inmates were returned to him.
The three castles also served as a lesson to him.
Nurmengard, the prison impossible to crack. But Lord Voldemort had done it, slipping himself inside and living there until he'd extracted all of Grindelwald's knowledge.
Azkaban, a mass breakout thought impossible. Lord Voldemort had puzzled on how to get in there, an island in the frigid sea. Unplottable, warded, accessed only from the Ministry. He'd felt like a fool when he realized he never had to get into Azkaban, he just had to get his faithful out.
Bribes to the guards, wands hidden in packages of food and books. Galleons to those who could be swayed by coin, threats and blackmail to those who couldn't. It was the sort of thing Lucius had been good at.
Lord Voldemort reclined on his bed and gazed at the three paintings.
There was a lesson there. Hogwarts held Dumbledore and Harry Potter, no longer just thorns but an entire rosebush.
He could not get inside but…perhaps, he considered, he just needed to get them out.
###
Ginny scampered back to her bed and breathed a sigh of relief.
"Tempus." She murmured.
Two hours past midnight, well past curfew. It had happened again.
She had lost track of time, practicing spells in a forgotten classroom, feeling power which she'd never had. Deft charms, slashing curses, explosions of magic which trembled her very heart.
But it wasn't like her first year at Hogwarts. Time had just passed quickly, she hadn't lost whole mornings.
She wasn't covered in blood or feathers of roosters.
She let her head hit the pillow, waiting for her racing heart to slow.
"I'm fine." She murmured into the room. Nobody answered.
Nobody ever answered her, nobody but Tom.
###
"You might have to carry me out." Harry joked, staring at the straining table. Lady Patil scoffed, but she was clearly delighted. She'd put on a feast which shamed even Molly Weasley, all plated on a giant banana leaf.
Breads, rices, vegetables of every colour, pickles. Harry couldn't name half of the things, but the smell was intoxicating.
Lady Patil shook her head — the candles around the room were reflected in her sequin sari, but also the brightness in her eyes. "Atithi Devo Bhava. It means the guest is akin to God. It is our culture, see?"
Padma snorted. "Yeah, like every guest gets this, Mum." Her and her sister wore elaborate cream lehengas with backless tops — cholis, each side trimmed with gold. Smoky kohl-lined eyes, heavy bangles from wrist to elbow, delicate necklaces — Harry wore his best suit and still felt very under-dressed.
"Only the best for the new damaad."
"Damaad?"
"Son in law." Parvati blushed.
Lord Patil said some things in rapid-fire Hindi and the girls went silent.
"Come, eat, Harry." He gestured.
Harry ate the best he could, following the man's etiquette as his wife spooned things onto his plate as fast he ate them. The pretty woman hovered over his shoulder the whole time, no matter how much he begged her to sit.
Padma and Parvati just giggled away, but they seemed pleased at how much he enjoyed the food.
"I've never had anything like this." He professed. "Uh, I think I had some of my Uncle's leftover chicken tikka masala once—"
"Pssh!" Lady Patil sniffed. "Fake Indian food designed for the British palate. Real Indians eat lentils, rice, vegetables you cannot even get in this forsaken country—"
"Mum!"
"—here, you like dosa? I made it myself, try—"
"Mum, he's about to explode if you feed him anymore—"
"It's okay—" Harry coughed, his ears watering. "Jesus, what was that?"
"I think I made the daal too spicy." Lady Patil hummed.
Parvati cracked up. "Imagine the papers if we killed Harry Potter with a Kashmiri chili."
Padma elbowed her sister. "Chosen one suffers chili casualty."
"Or Potter suffers pepper passing!"
"Girls!" Lord Patil warned, but the two were a giggling pair of fireworks — setting off one sparked the other. He caught Harry's eye. "They'll be your problem now, no refunds."
"Dad!"
"I'm a lucky guy." He said plainly.
"We'll see about that. But we are grateful — business is back and we are closer than ever to House Chang." He bowed his head. "So thank you, Lord Potter."
Harry shifted uncomfortably — he wanted to take one more bite, but Lady Patil was waiting for an inch of clean plate to fill it again…
"How's Lord Chang doing?"
"We're putting his mind back together, slowly but surely. It's…damaged, as you can imagine. I can't imagine being imprisoned for that many years."
Harry sipped from a glass of orange…yoghurt? "I'm worried his wife might have a change of heart."
The man grimaced and adjusted his spectacles — his black hair had a red tint. A hair dye to look young. It hadn't worked. "We're going to help Chang with his mind defenses so she can't do it again. He says she's reformed, begging…" He shrugged.
Harry wrinkled his nose. It was possible, he supposed — he had left a firm reminder of their once-love in the very depths of her mind, in the most suggestible part of her core. "Don't take this as an insult, but ah, try to resist the urge to leave any of your own work in his mind, while you're in it? The man's been through enough."
Lord Patil grinned at him — he wasn't a big man at all, but when he grinned he looked like a shark. "I won't pretend the thought didn't cross my mind. I won't, though."
Lady Patil had bored of the business talk. She stood behind her daughters, brushing their hair. "Don't you think my daughters are beautiful, Lord Potter?"
"Mum!" The twins chorused.
"Like the rising sun." He said simply.
"Beautiful enough to marry properly, don't you think?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Divya!" Lord Patil snapped. His wife looked unapologetic. "I'm sorry, Harry. She — we — always imagined we'd marry our girls to Indian men."
"I can sympathise." He gave the woman a sheepish smile. "But I'm afraid I can't marry your lovely daughters, as lovely as they are."
Lord Patil hummed. "The deal was the deal—"
His wife crossed her arms, scowling. "It wasn't even kept to, China will know something happened. It was meant to be discrete."
"Divya, enough!"
Harry coughed. Clearly, Lord Patil's wife wasn't the demure, cooking, housewife she appeared to be. "With respect, it wasn't possible to be discrete, since the man you wanted me to mind alter was being possessed by the actual power of the House." His words had more heat than he intended, his magic vibrating the plates.
The twins looked down, uncomfortable.
"Easy, Harry." Lord Patil said gently. "We're not looking to back out of the deal, not at all. We're happy with the outcome and we'd like to have closer ties to your House, mutually beneficial business, even."
"But? I feel it coming."
"But…we would like to delay, a little."
Harry looked at him, unimpressed. The girls were his prize and he was eager to collect. "Delay?"
Lord Patil fiddled with his shirt sleeves but his eyes didn't leave Harry's. "We, well, get a fair amount of business from men looking to sweet-talk our daughters into marriage. Men trying to earn my favour. If these men don't know our daughters are taken, we can keep that happening."
Harry crossed his arms, irritated. "I can be discrete."
"You can." The man said evenly. "But can my girls? My Parvati?"
"Hey! Dad!"
"We can use magic to help that." Harry pointed out.
"We can, but a silence of the tongue doesn't help if Parvati blushes every time she looks at you, or starts spending your money on a new wardrobe, or you start smelling like the awful perfumes she wears."
Parvati scowled. "I'm not that bad."
Harry studied the man. His proposal wasn't unreasonable…but damn it, he really wanted to fuck the two gorgeous Indian girls. He wanted to lay one on top of the other and make his seed dribble from Padma's cunt onto Parvati's pert ass. "I don't want to see you backing out." He said slowly. "That would make a problem between us."
Lord Patil held his hands up, nodding animatedly. "Just until we have the business running at full speed, I promise. You have my word, Lord Potter."
"Perhaps, in India, we could do a marriage of sorts." Lady Patil said loudly. "I know - I know it's not a marriage for real, but back home, they wouldn't know—just a small haldi, a little mehndi event, a roka of course."
Padma palmed her face. "Yeah, a little thing only for half of India."
Lady Patil snapped. "You two are always talking nonsense, you should have some respect for your mother—"
"We can do whatever, as long as the deal is the deal." Harry said firmly. "And if I'm waiting, I need you to do something for me."
"What is it?" Lord Patil asked, sending a warning look at his wife.
"While I was in Chang's head — his wife — she was showing me the forests and mountains of China. She was threatening me with Chinese magical creatures and I thought of one she didn't show me. The Qilin."
Lord Patil stiffened. "Everybody knows of it, of course. That which sees into a man's soul."
"I want you to find it for me." He declared. "Search Chang's mind, see what he knows, what his wife knows."
"Would they know?" The man asked skeptically.
"The Qilin…I conjured it with a thought, but it was formed in her mind. It was so detailed, lifelike. She must have seen it before." Harry murmured, lost in thought. If he could attain the creature and kill it, the precognitive abilities would make him…all-conquering.
Lord Patil hesitated. Padma stared at Harry, unblinking. "We-we'll do what we can."
"Good."
"Perhaps some dessert?" Lady Patil offered, voice strained.
After a dessert which Harry swore was just a bowl of pure syrup, Lord and Lady Patil told their daughters to give him a tour of their home.
The Patil's home wasn't as decadent as Chang's, but Harry didn't see much of it, because the girls took him immediately to their bedroom.
Padma took one of his hands.
Parvati, the other. "We share everything." She whispered into his ear.
Including, it seemed, their bedroom. It was a chamber fit for a sultan, yet it barely seemed to contain the chaotic two girls. The room itself was a war between them, fought in lights and smells.
Ambient lights under desks and above the bedframe — pinks and purples from Parvati, while Padma favoured candles and incense in shades of orange. A dozen lamps of different sizes, glowing through gossamer fabrics to cast the wall in pinks reds.
The bed itself was large, the sheets hidden under a huge pile of clothes.
Parvati kicked some panties under the bed — Padma's long-suffering sigh seemed well-practiced.
"They're not mine, you're the only one that wears panties." Parvati scowled at her sister.
"You were meant to clean up."
"You could have cleaned up too!"
The girls took a synchronized sigh and turned to him.
"We've been so excited, since you completed the job—" Padma trailed a finger down his arm.
"—haven't been able to sleep." Parvati nuzzled his neck. "We've always imagined bringing a boy here—"
"—what might happen." Padma teased.
"I think your parents was pretty clear nothing was happening for a while." Harry said, a little overwhelmed. The two dusky girls were effortlessly beautiful, a beater's bat to the senses in perfume and makeup and exotic eyes.
The twins snorted as one. "Wrong!" They chorused.
"Mother said we should give assurances that we wouldn't be backing out of the deal." Parvati pressed a butterfly kiss to his neck as she pushed him onto a cushion-laden love-seat, tossing a discarded bra out of his way.
"We've got some ideas on that front." Padma murmured.
Harry swallowed.
"The fly in the trap." Mei Chang snorted in his head. "And I worried my daughter was acting in a way that was too easy. Poor Lord Patil."
"Perhaps I should have recruited more witches over the years." Tom mused. "They seem so pliable."
"You—" Even to himself, his voice sounded squeaky. Twins. Yesterday, Fleur. Today, twins. Had he reached the promised land? "You do?"
But the girls had disappeared into the en-suite bathroom, giggling, shoulder-bumping.
Harry was left alone for a long moment to deal with the voices in my head.
"Don't fuck this for me." He whispered harshly.
"Your puerile adventures are merely another sign of your weakness." Tom hissed.
"It's twins, man!" Harry cried. "Come on, I know you've thought about it."
"Lord Voldemort does not sink to the depths of mere animals, he stands above—"
"Twins!" Harry said flatly.
Padma poked her head around the bathroom door — her shoulders were bare. "Did you say something, Harry?"
"N-nothing!" He gave her his best smile.
"Be right out." She winked.
"I forged new paths in magic, while you merely seek to sate your libido." Tom scoffed. "How can you seek to defeat me?"
Harry pointed a finger sharply, even though there was nobody in front of me. "It was a long time ago, I bet, but there was once a bright-eyed semi-innocent Tom Riddle who was at Hogwarts as he realized that hey, girls aren't so icky after all. And I bet there was a pair of twins in the school — matching skirt, matching stockings. Tell me the thought never crossed your mind."
Tom never answered. Perhaps that was answer enough.
"Don't fuck this for me." Harry pleaded again.
A snap of fingers from the bathroom. The lamps faded, leaving only the candles. Music begun, drums, tambourines, cymbals.
The girls came back out — they'd changed.
Merlin, had they changed.
They wore Ravenclaw blue gauzy fabric, tightly wrapped around their bodies, the fabric so bewildering that it showed everything and nothing at the same time. Caramel skin, acres of it, but the girls were a parade of shimmying hips and out-stretched arms, such that Harry never got more than a glimpse of what should have been beneath the fabric; the darkened mounds of their pussy, the tips of their nipples.
Their faces, Padma smirking, Parvati laughing, were covered too behind a veil of the same fabric, down to her chin. A belt of gold sat around their waist, centred by a brilliant blue sapphire, the belt inlaid with gleaming Galleons, jangling with their movement, the belt holding ribbons of blue gauze that flitted around their bare legs, as well as a sheer loin cloth draped down between their thighs.
"They say that the father will check this belt for Galleons at the end of the first dance, to ensure that his new son-in-law has behaved himself." Padma told him.
The glinting coins blinded him when he looked too eagerly, and though Harry reached for the girls, they danced away from his groping fingers.
"Nuh-uh." Padma wiggled her finger.
"But—" He drank in their breasts, hardening in his suit trousers.
"We told you," she said, "we've been imagining this for a long time."
They twirled in dizzying spins, so fast that they became blue-lamps in themselves, reflecting light onto the wall. When they slowed, they dipped into a bow, holding their breasts to stop Harry seeing all of them.
Then, they took turns belly-dancing for him, undulating round and round, a seductive dance of jiggling breasts and flesh. Parvati bent back and spread her legs. Padma turned and danced her ass into his face for a single moment.
They worked as a team — Padma unfurled her long leg to push him back in his seat just as Parvati stripped her top away, her back bare, holding her top with just her hands. Padma grazed his cock with her hand as Parvati shook her ass, the coins jangling with her, and cupped his shaft as her sister turned to show the curve of her breasts.
Harry's mouth was dry, and drier still when Parvati turned fully, holding her top tightly to her breasts, so tightly he could see them both now perfectly, full with dark nipples, a perfect handful. A gold chain wrapped underneath her breasts, as if they needed an accessory.
Then it was Padma's turn to entice him. Parvati draped herself over his shoulders as her sister turned in achingly slow rotations. Her own top fell to the ground and she was left in a pseudo loin cloth, her long legs bare on either side of the blue gossamer.
Padma danced and twirled closer to him, but Parvati held his hands so he couldn't touch her, even as Padma bent for him, tossed her sleek black hair onto his face, as she drew her loin cloth so tightly that it outlined the dark lips of her pussy, looking over her shoulder through her veil.
Her belly rotated, her ass flexing seductively, until the music peaked. The denouement - Padma and Parvati both slid onto the floor, their asses raised high. Their fingers slid and parted their pussies. A glimpse of pure pink.
And then it was over. Padma slapped him back out of his furore. Parvati pushed him back as he tried to rise.
"That was amazing." Harry said earnestly.
"What makes you think it's over?" Parvati wiggled her eyebrows. She pushed him back in the sofa as her sister fetched a jug, her long leg unfurling to push her toes against his chest. Again, the slightest glimpse of her nakedness, the smallest flash of lips.
Padma returned with a white jug and slowly poured it over her sister. Harry smelled it first; fragrant jasmine oil. The oil acted like the opposite of an Invisibility Cloak, making all more visible, darkening the only cloth they wore, their loin clothes and pressing it tight to their body. Their bodies were covered in shining, intoxicating oil.
But still they didn't touch him, but one another. Rubbing their breasts together, sliding their pussies against thighs, turned to hide their pussies. In the flickering candle light, they looked ethereal, like slave girls for a Sultan, smoky eyes in a smoky room, lidded looks and little touches.
"Girls, I'm going insane over here."
The two giggled in unison. Finally, they took mercy. They led him to the other side of their chamber, to a wooden table with padded upholstery.
There were two holes in the table, one for his face, the other for his…
"What do you think?" Padma said innocently. "Will you have trouble waiting for us?"
He gaped.
Parvati kissed his ear lobe. "Boys always think that girls don't have fantasies either."
Padma nibbled on his other ear. "I told you, didn't I? We'd be so grateful if you did that job for us."
Breaking into Chang's mind was the best thing I ever did.
"My House fallen due to vapid whores and weak men." Mei Chang grumbled.
The girls stripped him.
"So big." Parvati gasped.
"A wizard of power, with a staff so grand…" Padma murmured.
"His might and magic, the best in the land." Parvati finished the old rhyming couplet.
Harry climbed the table hesitantly, unsure what to expect.
"Close your eyes." The girls said gently.
He shivered as hot oil dripped down his back, his cock throbbing eagerly as the two girls rubbed him down, coating him in oil. Bottles and bottles of oil until every inch of him was warm and wet. Though they had four hands, it felt like there were twelve, the two Indian girls using their thighs and feet to rub against him.
Kneading muscles he didn't know were tight, his thighs and his legs. And then, tellingly, he felt one girl — Padma? — on his shoulders, working at his neck with firm thumbs. Her sister laid down on him, squirming back and forth.
Harry moaned — her soft tits were massaging him, her pussy squirming up and down his body. The room was filled music and squeaky oil-rubs and soft moans. His cock ached as he felt dripping pussy rub against his skin.
"Harry," Parvati whimpered.
"We can do this for you every night." Padma whispered.
Harry did his best to just relax and enjoy it, massaged by full oiled tits and wet pussies, but his dick was desperate for attention. Finally, Parvati's hands oiled his inner thighs and then gently caressed his heavy balls.
And Padma left his shoulders and disappeared underneath the table. Two oil-soaked hands wrapped firmly around his cock that stabbed through the hole. Harry's eyes flickered open to see the shining beauty kneeling under his cock, pulling at his dick, milking him, ready for her shower to begin.
"Fuuuck," He groaned. It was too much — Parvati sliding her cunt against him, kneading his balls and thighs, rubbing her tits across his back. Squirming, rubbing, rocking back and forth as she found her own orgasm.
"I think he's ready to blow already." Padma giggled as she tugged him from base to tip with both hands.
The oil felt too fucking good.
"Yes, cum, all over her." Parvati begged.
"Do the thing!" Padma ordered.
Parvati slid down his body and the next he knew, the girl's tongue was on his balls, licking and lapping like he was a Fortescue ice cream, all while her sister jerked him furiously, each tug accompanied by an obscenely wet sound.
Harry gasped, squirmed as Parvati crammed his balls in her mouth, practically gargling on them, slobbering.
"Do the thing!" Padma ordered again.
Harry's eyes went wide — he thought Parvati was doing the thing.
But then the beautiful girl shifted and the next he knew, a wet little tongue was circling his asshole, caressing and tickling.
What the f—
Harry gasped as he came, milked by Padma's speedy tight grip. Through the hole, he could see her kneeling as she was drenched, her eyes closed and smiling as she took her first Harry-shower.
"Ugh—" He cried incomprehensibly, his hips trembling.
Ropes of white that coated her shiny black hair, glazed her face, splattered her tits, filled tongue, all with the naughty knowledge that her own sister was kneading his balls dry of every drop that fell onto her.
When he'd came every last bit, he collapsed, limp. Padma appeared, white as a snowman but smiling broadly.
The two girls hugged, squealing. "Did you see what I did? Just like I do to you!" Parvati shrieked.
"Look at me! Like coconut shampoo!" Padma jumped up and down as they hugged, getting her sister as cum-dirty as she was.
"Did you enjoy that, Harry?" The girls chorused. He didn't even know what Parvati had done — all of Tom's memories hadn't prepared him for that. Had he liked it? He'd erupted like a volcano, he supposed.
Padma bit her lip. "Was it worth the danger of Chang's mind?"
Harry groaned, his mind melted. He thought about the dragons, the fights with Voldemort, the duel with Lady Chang, the voices that ever since bounced around his mind.
He couldn't even muster a reply.
The two girls smiled and pressed their bodies against each other, hips cocked, legs apart.
"He's not saying anything." Parvati hummed.
"I think that's a good thing."
"Hope we didn't break him."
"When can we do it again?"
"Do you think Dad will know if we break the rules?"
Harry drooled onto the bed. He'd thought the Patil dinner would be a respite from horny Fleur — now he was wondering if he might have signed himself up for a good time, not a long time. "You girls are gonna be the death of me." He croaked.
Parvati seemed excited by the idea. "Is that possible? Imagine the headlines!"
"You and your headlines." Padma rolled her eyes.
Parvati grinned. "Harry's Hanky-Panky Heart Attack."
###
Harry thought it best to avoid Hogwarts — his loyal girls were determined to remind him that they too loved him just as much as Fleur. He'd had to physically pull Hannah up by the pigtails to stop her from trying to blow him, but that hadn't stopped her whining as she trailed him up the path to Slughorn's last known destination.
"But you love my blowjobs." She said sullenly. "I'll use my tits and spit and everything."
He pinched his nose. "Be a good girl and do as I said and maybe we'll stop at the Leaky Cauldron before we go back, okay?"
"Deal!" She cheered up, bouncing on her tip toes. She'd dressed up as he'd asked. "Where are we?"
"This is the little village of Budleigh Babberton." He said, tugging her up a steep, narrow street lined with dark-windowed houses, as she tottered on towering high heels.
Behind them, a church clock chimed midnight.
"And like, why I am dressed so slutty?" Hannah asked, trying in vain to make her skirt cover all of her ass. "Not that I mind, of course." She added hurriedly.
"Dumbledore said Slughorn likes a little Hogwarts T and A, and I don't mean Transfiguration and Animation."
Hannah's pouty pink lips formed an O. "And that matters because?"
"Because the school needs a Potions teacher with Snape teaching defense, and if I do Dumbledore a favor, then he owes me a favor, and I would quite like the Headmaster to owe me." Harry said simply, pulling her down a side street.
"Oh." Hannah undid one more button on her blouse to ensure her pink bra was on display, pushing up her jugs. "So what do you need me to do?"
"Nothing. Just be the sexy tease you always are." Harry patted her bum affectionately. "We don't need to get him off, we just need to jump his engine."
Hannah fluttered her eyelashes. "A tease doesn't put out, Master. But I'm glad you came to me. I miss you, you know."
"I know, sweetheart." He paused to pull her into his embrace and kissed her forehead. "Miss you too, love." He never got as much time as he wanted to with his loves, always chasing the next thing, the power. "We'll get some time together, soon—oh." Harry stopped at the front gate.
The address Dumbledore had given him was…in disarray. The front door hung off its hinges. A bloody handprint on the yellow door.
Hannah pulled her wand out of her bra. "Not much good fighting in these heels." She grimaced.
"Hmm," Harry led her into the house. "Lumos."
The house was wrecked. The grandfather clock still ticked, but it was in three pieces. The piano still played when Hannah lay a finger on it, but half its keys were on the floor, coated in a gleaming red liquid. The moonlight sparkled in the wreckage of the fallen chandelier.
The reflected light shone on the wallpaper.
"Gosh!" Hannah gasped at the sheer amount of blood on the wallpaper. "It's a massacre."
Harry's eyes narrowed as he stepped past an overstuffed armchair. "That's a lot of blood. Too much, one might say."
"I can't fight in these heels, let me take 'em off."
"No, don't sit there—"
Hannah collapsed into the overstuffed armchair, which yelled, "Hello mummy!"
Hannah screamed and shot to her feet. Harry blinked and the armchair had transformed into a crouching man, who looked like a struggling dating profile, very fat, very old, very bald. He massaged his crotch, red-faced.
"Sorry about that, dear." He said, hiding a pillow in front of his groin.
His walruslike mustache wobbled, even as his lilac silk pajamas tented noticeably. His eyes shined as he noticed Harry.
"Goodness, is that you, Harry Potter?"
"Charmed." Harry said sarcastically. "Dumbledore asked me to say hello. Professor Slughorn, right?"
"Bloody old man. Call me Horace, please, I knew your mother, after all, a good friend, indeed. Oh, I am sorry, sweetheart. Just hiding from bad men, you understand?"
Hannah gave him a tight smile as she fluttered her fingers to cool herself down. "It's okay, sir."
"Ooh," The man trembled. "Best not call me sir, it's not good on the heart of an old man." He seemed impressively unabashed for an old man with an erection who'd just been pretending to be an armchair.
Slughorn looked around at his home in dismay. "Never thought all my hard work disguising this place would be undone by high heels and a young lady's bottom." He pulled a handkerchief from a maroon velvet jacket and patted at his forehead. "But you saw through me before that, didn't you, my boy?"
Harry nodded. "No Dark Mark. That blood's real pinkish, too."
The man clapped a pudgy head to his forehead, absently dropping his pillow. Hannah squeaked at the tent in his pajamas.
"Whoopsie." Horace reddened. "Forgive me, darling. Not every day an old man gets used as a chair. I've been making myself an armchair for fifty years and I've never had such good fortune. A lovely lady and Harry Potter, my goodness, where are my manners?"
"Here, let me help." Harry waved his wand. The grandfather clock rearranged itself together like Jenga blocks, feathers zooming back into cushions. The piano played an awful cacophony as the keys clicked back in. The blood on the wall poured itself into a jug.
Slughorn watched, impressed. "Just like your mother. Magic in the blood, I do say." He held out a hand for Harry to shake. "You've got her eyes, you know." He settled back into a real armchair, this time. "One of my favourites, though a teacher shouldn't have any." He winked at Hannah. "Charming girl. So vivacious, like you, dear!"
Harry's smile was tight — the creepy old man going on about his mother wasn't as charming as he seemed to think.
Slughorn's eyes trailed down Hannah's form, taking in her creamy breasts straining at her blouse, the bare mid-riff, Hannah's cute little belly-button, the low-slung high-rise plaid skirt, the yellow Hufflepuff stockings. "Merlin, do I miss Hogwarts. The teaching, I mean." He said quickly. "Don't think I don't know why you're here!" He pointed a fat finger at Harry. His legs were so short they did not touch the floor.
His face reddened. "Old man thought I'd see a pair of — I mean — a pair of bright young things, eager to be taught and run straight back to Hogwarts."
Hannah played with her pigtails as she sat opposite him. "I'm sure you have a lot of knowledge to give, sir."
Slughorn swallowed — Hannah's skirt had ridden very high when she sat down. "Well, yes, of course. Potions Master, not too many of them left." He shook his head out of a trance. "But Hogwarts, it's very dangerous, that awful business at Hogsmeade and all these students losing their lives." He gave a mournful glance at Harry. "I'm just a retired old man, searching for some peace in life, you know. Not so easy to get up at my age, you know?"
"I'll make us some tea." Harry said.
"Oh, three sugars." The man smiled broadly. "So kind, just like poor Lily."
Hannah pointed at the many glittering photo frames on the dresser. "Goodness, sir, you know a lot of people. Is that—"
"Gwenog Jones, yes." Slughorn smiled in satisfaction. "Captains the Holyhead Harpies, always gives me free tickets and the, uh, team calendar every year. And that's Barnabas Cuffe, editor of the Prophet, he wanted me to do a column, do you know?"
Hannah's awed open mouth was perfect. She crossed her legs — from behind Slughorn, in the kitchen, Harry could see a glimpse of her white panties. "Wow! Free tickets." Hannah sighed and her ample chest sighed with her. "I'd do anything for Harpies tickets."
Slughorn choked. "Well, yes, I mean…I get hampers from Ambrosius Flume, of Honeydukes, every year on my birthday. D-do you like chocolate?"
"Mmm! I just love sweet things. I can almost taste it on my tongue." Hannah closed her eyes, drew her shoulders together and shivered like she was having an orgasm.
"M-Merlin." Slughorn patted at his sweating forehead. "A-are there a lot of girls like you at Hogwarts?"
"Like me?"
"N-nothing. Oh, here's the tea. Thank you, Harry." Harry gave the man some tea and then, as he gave a cup to Hannah, accidentally spilled it all over her.
"Ow!"
"Oh, sorry!"
Hannah squealed as she hastily wiped at her blouse, which was quickly turning transparent. "It burns!" She tugged her blouse off, the buttons pinging everywhere.
Harry offered her a tea towel to clean herself, but she was left in a lacy yellow push-up bra.
Slughorn surreptitiously placed a pillow on his lap. "Merlin's staff, what's in the water at Hogwarts?" He muttered under his breath, staring at Hannah's huge tits as she wiped herself off.
Harry sat down and sipped at his tea. "House Elves make your tea at Hogwarts, you know."
The plump man closed his eyes and reopened them as if he couldn't believe his eyes. "It's just so…unsafe."
"Safer than here." Harry commented idly. "With me and Dumbledore there, where is safer?"
Hannah sighed. "Is there somewhere I can go clean up?"
"Just down the hall, my dear."
Together, they watched the busty girl ease herself up, tug her skirt down, and totter past in her heels.
"I do miss teaching." Slughorn professed. "Those lovely young minds."
"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Especially if I was one of the few people who knew Tom Riddle's secret power. The horcruxes."
Slughorn's face ran cold like he'd been dunked in water, his eyes growing wide. "How do you know?"
"Dumbledore told me." Harry lied. In fact, he'd seen it in Tom's memories, seen how Tom charmed Slughorn, plied him with gifts and drink. "It's not safe, Professor — he'll either recruit you or kill you, eventually."
The handkerchief wiped away more sweat. "I…I'll always regret that day. I never knew what he'd do, you understand? I never would have, not if I'd known—"
"Of course." Harry interrupted smoothly. "Tom's a madman with a slippery tongue, nobody would blame you. But the most important thing is to keep you safe. We can't have the land's best Potions Master working for the wrong side, can we?"
Slughorn stared at him for a long time, his eyes brimming with tears, before his walrus moustache twitched up. "Y-you're right, yes, of course, smart like your mother."
Harry tapped his nose. "I'll never tell anyone. It wasn't your fault that Tom probably made seven horcruxes."
"B-but how? I've never told…the memory I gave to Dumbledore, I altered—"
Harry winked at him. "Dumbledore always knows, doesn't he? But he's still willing to keep you safe at Hogwarts, as long as I agree."
"As long as you agree…" Slughorn said dumbly. "I, my boy, I'm very glad you came here—"
"And I will agree." Harry continued as if the man hadn't said anything. "But I want to make sure that you've been host about what you told Tom. Because the Headmaster and I, we have to defeat him, and we can't do that without knowing everything."
Slughorn sat bolt upright, hands together. "That's all I told him, my boy! I told him not to ask those questions, to go down that awful path! I…we were just talking theory!"
Hook, line, sinker. Harry had his own information he wanted to know. "I understand. You discussed seven, because seven is the most powerful number—"
"I told him it was awful to even discuss it—"
"And did you talk about what would happen if you splintered someone else's soul, not your own?"
Like, say, how a whorecrux would work.
Slughorn frowned. "No-no, I mean, why would we have discussed that? It would be pointless, you'd just be making them less—"
"Less?"
"Less human, less themselves, less." He shook his head. "We never even spoke about that!"
"Are you sure?" Harry pressed. "Did you talk about how to target a specific part of a soul? A powerful feeling, like love, or a relationship?"
He needed to know how to seal up the sheer power of the bond into a Whorecrux, to awaken it in the future.
"Merlin, Harry!" Slughorn cried. "This is evil magic, abhorrent, it was only a slip of the tongue, I barely said anything to him—"
"But if you had—"
"My boy!" Slughorn looked sick. "Do we really need to talk about this?"
"It's key to defeating him, to making up for our mistakes."
"Merlin forgive me." The man muttered, his jowls trembling. "It would need power, it would need focus, it'd need an object related to those feelings."
"An object?"
"Magic is emotion based, yes, an object! Something sentimental." The Potions Master took a gulp of his tea, the cup quivering in his hand. "Nobody would splinter someone else's soul, anyway."
"Why not?"
"Because they'd lose a little of themselves, too!"
Harry frowned. "Why?"
"Soul magic is powerful, boy. When one is opened, it sucks like a hoover from all around it, a hole in the universe." He shuddered.
"So the caster, even if he splinters other people's souls, he could only do it a number of times?"
"Yes, no, I don't know!" Slughorn looked deeply troubled, staring at Harry as if he was Tom Riddle himself. "This is all theory, my boy, how am I to say?"
Harry was silent. Can I only cast a finite number of Whorecruxes?
Could he only bring some of his bondmates from the past into the future?
"I'll ask the Headmaster to get your room ready at Hogwarts." Harry promised.
"Am I interrupting?" Hannah walked back in. Her blouse was back on, though transparent.
"Not at all, we were just finishing. The Professor is going to be our new teacher."
Hannah clapped excitedly. "Woo! I hope I can learn a lot from you, sir."
Slughorn visibly swallowed. "I, well, yes, I just hope Hogwarts is the right decision for me and I'll need some time to prepare—"
Hannah's stiletto caught on the rug. She fell with a cry on the floor, her skirt flipping over her behind to reveal her tight white panties, outlining the contours of her cunt.
"Sweet baby Merlin." Slughorn swore. "Tell Dumbledore I'll start tomorrow."
###
Harry smacked Ron's shoulder as he settled in beside him at the Gryffindor table. He needed a bit of time with the guys — having a harem of loving girls wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
"Harry!" Seamus cried. "You're actually in the castle for once?"
"We are blessed." Neville pressed his hands together and held them up to the starry Enchanted Ceiling. "He is once more amongst us mortals."
Dean grinned. "He has emerged like a butterfly from the cocoon that lies between MILFy Malfoy's thighs."
Ron snorted. "Or was it that snake Daphne this time? I hope she's kinder in bed than she is in class — yesterday, she told me my face looked like some food poisoning she'd had once."
"That was her being kind, in fairness." Seamus grinned.
"Yeah, fuck you—"
"Fuck you!"
Harry just shook his head and laughed. His boys. "Where's the food at? I'm starving."
"Not arrived yet," Ron pointed to the staff table, where Dumbledore was standing up. "Announcements first."
"Apologies, ladies and gentlemen, for delaying your fine breakfast and what was stimulating conversation, I'm sure." His eyes landed on Harry for a second. "But our hard-working caretaker Mr. Filch has asked to say a few words."
Harry blinked. The Hall tittered. Filch had never said a few words, in all their time at Hogwarts.
"He's been on a right tear since the twins left." Seamus whispered, leaning across the table. "Too much time on his hands. Confiscating things left, right and centre."
Ginny nodded from down the table. "He's gone really batty. I even saw him collecting sand from the Forbidden Forest the other day."
Neville frowned. "What were you doing in the Forest?"
"Sssh," Ron urged.
Filch shuffled up to the table from where he stood by the Great Hall doors, lurching with every step. His bulging pale eyes stared out at the student body with hatred. "Good evening, boys and girls." He smiled with stained teeth.
Ginny shuddered.
"I have confiscated a lot of dangerous artifacts found around the castle recently." He wheezed, scowling. "Lot of Quidditch cheating artifacts. Hexed gloves, enchanted Bludgers, bewitched Broomsticks. Cursed amulets to aid the mind's sharpness! I've had enough of it! Students will be punished if I 'ave much more of it! I know who you are — I know your type!"
The hall was totally silent. Harry found himself wishing Fred and George were here.
Filch opened his mouth as if to say something else and then abruptly turned and lurched off the elevated stage. The Headmaster looked unperturbed.
"Thank you, Mr. Filch, for that warning message and your tireless hard work. Why don't you join us for our morning meal? It is so rare that we get to enjoy your company." Dumbledore smiled pleasantly.
Filch looked like he'd rather do anything but. Still, he sat beside Professor McGonagall, who gave him the tightest smile Harry had ever seen.
"I swear Filch was staring at me the whole time." Dean whispered. "Fucking racist!"
Seamus rolled his eyes. "Eh, Filch hates everyone."
"He always calls me boy."
"He calls everyone boy!"
"That's true, he does." Neville said absently.
"I'm telling you, he's a racist." Dean insisted.
"Righshh!" Ron agreed around a bread roll — the breakfast had finally arrived. He swallowed. "He hates me too cos I'm ginger!"
"I've told you before, Ron. Ginger is not a race." Dean threw a bread roll at his forehead. "You're not like me and, like, Zabini."
Harry looked at the other racist of Hogwarts over at the Slytherin table. Unlike Filch, Daphne had her charms, though he dreaded to think what awful things she might have said to quiet Blaise Zabini, a boy who glared a lot and said little.
Flint and Crabbe and Goyle were in furious discussion with each other — presumably the two trolls had needed a new leader with Malfoy gone.
"Ginger discrimination is a real thing." Ron pursed his lips. "And that reminds me!" He elbowed Harry hard and glowered.
"What?!"
"Your new fiancée told me last year that my hair looked like a burning red asshole."
"Sorry? What do you want me to say?" Harry wasn't sure he could tell Ron that Daphne was now intimately familiar with burning assholes.
"I don't know, just like, tell her that gingers are people too." Ron crossed his arms when Seamus sniggered.
"So where were you really, Harry?" Neville asked, always looking to defuse the situation.
Harry cast a Muffliato Charm around them all, in preparation for his next words.
"Actually, it was France that called this time. Cheese and bread and French girls…" He said teasingly.
Neville's jaw dropped. "Wait, did you?"
Dean grabbed Seamus's arm tightly. "No!"
Harry paused for a long moment, looking at each of his frozen friends, taking in the feeling.
"Gentlemen," He said seriously. "I am proud to report back that my army successfully breached the gates of Castle Fleur."
"Aieeeee!" Dean wailed, so loud they got several looks even through the Muffliato Charm.
"You jammy chancer." Seamus shook his head in admiration.
"I didn't think it could be done." Neville said slowly.
Ron just clapped a hand on his shoulder, his eyes welling up. "I'm so proud of you."
Harry patted his hand softly. "Thanks, mate."
"Was it everything we dreamed of?" Dean leaned forward eagerly.
"Was she filthy? I bet she was filthy." Seamus thumped the table.
Harry thought about it — Fleur had deep-throated him, accidentally taken him briefly in the ass, squirted all over him and then sucked the cum he'd swiped up from her pussy from his fingers. She'd even cleaned her own mother's cunt, though he hadn't given her much choice in the matter.
"She was…definitely filthy."
"I knew it!"
Neville stared at his plate, his expression distant. "It's just a relief to know that someone is having sex with her." He shook himself. "What a tragedy it would have been if nobody did. A rose with no water."
"Shut up, Nev. Harry, did you last a minute?" Seamus cracked. "I would have lasted ten seconds, tops."
"Mate, you can't ask that." Dean wrinkled his nose. "No shame, Harry, it's enough that you got in there."
Ron stared at his friends as if they'd grown three heads. "Lads, you're talking to Harry Potter. He didn't last with Fleur, Fleur lasted with him."
"Ayyyyy," Harry fist-bumped his friend. It was good to be a kid once again.
"But seriously, no judgment. You only gotta catch the snitch for a second." Ron whispered to him.
"Honestly, this is like, top three of your achievements." Dean pointed a piece of bacon at him. "I'm saying, like, number one is nailing Fleur. Number two is killing the Dark Lord as a baby. Number three—"
"TriWizard Cup?" Neville suggested.
Dean snort-giggled as he exchanged a knowing glance at Seamus. "Nah, it's definitely…"
"Banging Malfoy's mum." They chorused. The two boys erupted into laughter.
Ron craned his neck around, searching for Hermione. His voice dropped. "With Fleur…are you two, like, a thing?"
"We're a thing, keep it quiet."
The boys whistled.
"I knew it!" Ron pounded the table. "Once she got a taste of the Firebolt, she had to come back!"
"The Firebolt?" He said, bewildered.
"Knew she was just gagging for it." Seamus said with satisfaction. "Give her one from me, will you, Hazza? She literally waited once until I was on the moving stairwell just below her until she walked over the missing step, so I could see right up her skirt. Then, get this, she leans over the railing and winks at me!"
"I was in the greenhouse alone in the morning." Neville said. "She's jogging around the lake and then when she's done, she walks by the greenhouse, and she like pulls up her top and presses h-her knockers against the glass! And nobody ever believed me!"
"Yeah, mate, that still didn't happen." Dean rolled his eyes. "But I swear I saw her stealing a baguette from the kitchen. I walked past her and she looks me in the eye and starts like, jerking off the baguette and smirking at me. She was like 'Zis is you in five minutes'." He exclaimed, eyes wide.
Harry guffawed. That all sounded like his Fleur. "Maybe this will help soothe your bruised egos." He pulled some envelopes from his robes and handed them out.
Neville clutched it to his chest, his face pale. "Is this what I think it is?"
"It is." Fleur had been predictably delighted to pose for the teasing photos. The photos were more pin-up teases than full-frontal wild, but there was a glimpse of pussy and a lot of her tits as she writhed on the bed in just stockings and heels. Her chest was sort of covered by her hand-bra, until she decided to blow a kiss at the camera.
"This is the greatest gift ever." Dean held the envelope like it was a baby.
"I won't ever forget this, Potter." Seamus promised.
Ron couldn't get out the words, his throat choked.
"Why would you give us this in the morning?" Dean groaned. "How am I going to get through a whole day of lessons?"
"Merlin," Seamus thought suddenly. "Don't wank at the same time as me tonight, boys, that's weird. Neville."
"Why are you singling me out?"
"Your bed is next to mine, I don't want to hear you grunting away—"
"Well, where else am I going to do it?"
"Do it in the greenhouse, you love that place."
Harry chortled. "Maybe it'll be good for the plants."
"Harry!" Neville cried, betrayed.
"Ahem!" Dumbledore said, standing from staff table. His voice echoed around the Hall, silencing the conversation. Harry dropped the Muffliato Charm.
"Not again," Ron groaned. "I was still eating."
"Apologies again to Mister Weasley." Dumbledore said dryly. Ron's ears tinged red. "I had hoped our guest might arrive earlier, but there's no harm in a mid-meal announcement, is there, Mister Weasley?"
"No, sir." Ron flushed.
"Good." The Headmaster smiled broadly. "We have a new member of faculty joining us, just in time to join us for breakfast. Please welcome our new Potions Master, Professor Slughorn!"
The doors opened and Slughorn practically bounded in, his bald head shiny in the morning sunlight, silver mustache gleaming gold like the buttons on his waistcoat. The man twirled his wand and bowed deeply, testing his coat buttons heavily.
With each twirl of his wand, the Enchanted Ceiling sounded like a cannon, shooting down gold glitter, like enormous clouds of stardust. The younger years cooed in awe, while the older ones grumbled as it settled in their hair and in their meals.
"It's in my cereal." Ron bemoaned.
"I just washed my hair." Lavender scowled.
Luna shivered, her head snapping up to stare at the ceiling. "All that glitters is not gold." She said dreamily.
"Forgive a little showmanship!" Slughorn laughed cheerily. "But I did so like to imagine that Hogwarts herself has missed me and chosen to celebrate my return, and I beg your forgiveness at this old man's self-importance!"
"Pompous, isn't he?" Ginny muttered.
"You don't know the half of it." Harry replied.
"I'm thrilled to teach this year and am so excited to get stuck into lessons. I'm always available for one-on-one tutoring, too, don't forget!"
"That's unusual." Ginny said.
"Best not take him up on it, trust me." Harry grimaced.
"Back to your breakfasts!" Slughorn laughed, sinking into a chair beside Professor McGonagall, who looked disgruntled at her newly glittery hair.
Over at the Slytherin table, Daphne was ordering a firstie to comb the glitter out of her hair.
"I think the glitter looks good in your hair, Parvati." Seamus tried his best charming smile, calling down the table.
"Thanks, Seamus." She curled her long hair around her neck.
Harry bit his fist — there was no good way of telling his friend that he was barking up the wrong tree.
"What?" Seamus said, at the pitying look on his friends' faces. "We can't let Harry have all the fun. Like, what are you doing to get a girl, Nev?"
"I'm counting the hours til I can open this envelope." The boy said, red-faced.
"Ron? Are you still mooning after Lavender? Are you even a thing?"
The boy flushed. "We're not not a thing, if you get me." He paused. "When I go home, do you think I can keep this photo in my room without my mum finding it?"
"Definitely not." Harry said sympathetically. "Or if not her, the twins."
Ron groaned. "Life's so hard."
"Cheer up mate," said Dean. "Double Potions today."
"No!"
Harry laughed. Hogwarts was home. He had so much to do. Another invite from the Veela Court, send more apology flowers to Susan, try and clear things up with Katie.
He needed to create his first Whorecrux and find the actual Horcruxes once he had a past-partner to go with. He needed — needed was a strong word — to bang Neville's mum Alice, once she was recovered from birthing Neville.
Harry scratched his temple and looked at his friend.
All to help bring Alice from her mental coma, of course, for Neville's sake.
"I am genuinely surprised by how often you come up with new ways to disgust me." Mei Chang murmured in his head.
Her voice reminded him - he still wanted her daughter.
So many avenues to power, so little time.
The breakfast went late, as meals often did when there was a new teacher in town. Classes needed to be rearranged, new schedules handed out.
"Get my new schedule for me?" Ginny asked Ron. "I need to grab a book from the library before Pince gets there. She's still mad I haven't returned one from last year. I can't find it!"
Ron waved his sister off. "Mental, that one." His mouth turned sour and he pointed at Harry suddenly. "You stay away from her!"
"What did I do?!" He protested.
"Nothing, yet." He said suspiciously. "But I know you'll do that run your hand through your hair thing and save her life again and then it's all over. I'm not having it!"
"Run my hand through my hair?"
"It's true." Hermione told him. "You do it."
Katie gave him a dry smile — at least she was talking to him again. "All the girls know to be careful of the Harry hair run. It's a killer."
"Even I almost fell for it." Dean cracked. He scowled at Seamus' look. "What? I'm joking!"
Ernie walked over from the Hufflepuff table, holding a slice of toast in each hand. "We talking about Harry's devastating sex hair?"
Harry grimaced — now they'd pointed it out, he felt he couldn't even touch his hair. "Get me out of here already."
"No running away!" Tonks' hands were on his shoulders and then prodding at his wild hair. "This time, you're doing a full day of classes at least."
Hermione glared at her.
Slughorn did another speech to announce his Slug Club, which to Harry just seemed like a way of getting starry-eyed schoolgirls alone.
Perhaps he should start a club. Who was he kidding? That was basically what the DA was.
Finally, Professor McGonagall fired her wand into the air with a fiery crack, her way of telling everyone to get their asses in gear.
As they queued to leave the Great Hall, there was a pop and Peeves appeared, eyes wicked dark, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching water balloons.
"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Glitter and gleam, shine and shimmer." He sang. "It can only get better if I make it wetter!"
The students' loud groan only made Peeves cackle as he rained down balloons. Harry conjured Hermione an umbrella.
"I could almost mistake you for a gentleman." She murmured, smiling at him. She leaned closer. "If it wasn't for how uncomfortable it is to sit down now!"
Harry gave her an unapologetic grin — he loved the fact she had to squirm through meals and lessons with his plug in her tight little ass, his gift.
That reminded him — he had one more gift to give out. He slipped Ernie an envelope as they escaped Peeves' shower. "Here — it's a little thank you for coming with me to rescue Hermione."
Ernie looked at him with wide eyes. "Is this what the boys have been talking about? Am I in the club? I'm one of the guys!"
Seamus rolled his eyes. "Don't make a thing of it, eejit."
Ernie pressed the envelope to his chest. "House MacMillan will never forget this gift." He grinned happily as they walked through the castle corridors. "Remember when I thought you were the Heir of Slytherin, back in second year?"
Harry shuddered. "Don't remind me of that year — dark times. Thank God we're past—"
A high-pitched piercing scream split the air. His stomach lurched and together, they hurtled around the corridor, their footsteps pounding on the floor.
Romilda Vane was on her knees, her eyes wet, holding her chest as she pointed ahead of her. "I f-found—" was all she could say.
Shining on the wall, foot-high words painted on the stone between two windows, shimmering in flaming torchlight.
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
"No," Ron murmured, a slight quiver in his voice.
Beneath the words, it was unmistakable. The brown trenchcoat, the bulging eyes.
Argus Filch, staring up at the ceiling. Dead, blood puddling around him.
Mrs. Norris mewled sadly, her tongue lapping at his cheeks, her tail raised high.
Harry felt his insides grow cold. Filch's cat stepped in the man's blood as she desperately brushed his face, circling him, batting her tail at his nose.
He would not wake.
Not ever.
On the wall, a painting of Iris Pius had been slashed to pieces, hanging in oil-paint ribbons.
"Wh-who could do this?" Ernie trembled.
Slowly, the screams and cries grew louder. The crowd grew and grew, students all enveloping the grisly scene.
Harry watched each face arrive, searching for something in their eyes.
Daphne. Susan. Turpin. Chang.
Davies. Zabini. Goyle. Flint. Crabbe.
Parkinson. Alicia. Angelina. Jordan.
More and more and more. Until the one he'd been waiting to see.
Ginny arrived, her face pale, covering her mouth with her palm. She met his gaze, shaking her head vigorously. Denial.
Harry stepped closer to Filch's body, away from the crowd.
"S-shouldn't we wait for the teachers?" Hermione's voice wavered.
He squatted closer to the man, keen eyes searching for any clue. Filch's eyes were angry, in death as in life.
On the man's breast, there was a single hair.
Harry straightened the man's coat respectfully and in the same motion, palmed the hair into his pocket. He didn't want people to see what he'd found, not until he was certain.
His pocket felt it was burning with the evidence he'd hidden away.
Of course it did.
Daphne was right. Weasley hair was burning red.
It's a murder mystery, but the identity of the killer may not be as simple as it seems. Did you enjoy Harry's reveal of Fleur to the boys? Next week, next Friday, next chapter - with Hogwarts in lockdown, detectives Harry and Ron are in action. But with all the students locked in the Great Hall, can they solve the crime before the killer strikes again?
Want to read a few chaps ahead for the full murder mystery, see artwork of Padma and Patil and read a few chaps ahead, along with exclusive salacious artwork of Daphne, Hermione, Cho and more from this story, as well as fun little sexy story scenes? Check my profile bio.
Free no strings art on my X right now, link in bio. Fleur as a French maid, Helena and Cissy in lingerie together and Daphne in a teddy - don't miss it. Just a taste of the many more elsewhere.