Chapter Seventy Six
Harry had the diadem, though he'd yet to destroy it — somehow, the artifact resisted the Killing Curse in a way the locket hadn't. Perhaps it had more protections or perhaps Regulus had stripped the locket of its protections over the years, leaving it more vulnerable.
He didn't know, but he'd figure it out. He was making progress. He'd destroyed the locket and the diary. Bellatrix would join Voldemort's ranks and attain Hufflepuff's cup.
Now it was time for the ring. Gaunt's ring. He'd had a hazy idea of what it was — where it was — but it was like every new bond he made, every bond he furthered, his memory cleared. Tom's memories.
It didn't even need new girls, necessarily, or even sex. Just declarations of love. Hermione in his arms, tracing his lips, telling him she loved him. And bang — he was Tom, burying the ring inside a golden box and hiding it beneath the Gaunt's shack's rotting floorboards.
Voldemort of the future would already have moved all of his horcruxes, now he knew Harry was hunting them.
But the horcruxes of the past wouldn't have moved, so it was Harry of the past who Apparated to the village of Little Hangleton. The tiny Yorkshire village nestled between two steep hills. Across the valley, one house stood out above all, a manor house.
The stately home reminded him that Narcissa was still working on his own manor — the Potter family home. She'd been delaying him again and again, but he'd seen the princely expenses on the balance sheet.
"It has to be grand," she argued, "to house my Lord in a manner befitting."
"And to have enough space for all your sluts." Helena added, giggling.
Harry shook himself. The Riddle House wasn't why he was here. Instead, he headed into the woods on the outskirts, through a tangle of trunks, dense enough that the overgrown branches bent and thwacked him. Through the woods, the sunlight disappearing with each step. The view of the valley blocked — the Gaunts wanted to be left well alone.
Alone to wallow in their depression. The shack was tiny, covered in moss, fallen tiles littering the path. Abandoned, it was left for nature to overcome it.
Except…through the filthy black window, a light. Candlelight.
Harry froze.
Somebody was here.
How? Who?
He stepped closer, wand in hand.
The door creaked open.
Lord Voldemort had to duck to step out of the doorway. He emerged silently, a golden box in hand. He took Harry in as Harry stared, shocked. The Dark Lord before rebirth, but still every bit a monster. He looked more human than Harry had imagined — skin waxy, eyes narrowing to slits. But he was not the snake-like creature of the future, not yet, even though each Horcrux had robbed him of his humanity.
"I thought you would come here." Voldemort said slowly, looking him up and down.
Harry said nothing. What could he say? What did Tom know?
"The man who everyone speaks of." The Dark Lord stepped closer. A twig cracked beneath his foot. Harry flinched. "The Lord of renown but no history." His eyes weren't red, but they held a red gleam. The monster in the making.
Voldemort stood, ten feet away. The trees rustled as a flock of birds escaped, shrieking fear. One did not have to be magic to sense wrong.
The Dark Lord's tongue flicked out to wet his lips. "I thought you another playboy, another pureblood son seeking purpose in the bottom of a bottle." He murmured. "But at the symposium, you revealed yourself as I knew you would. We are sharks in a pond, aren't we?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"A man out of time."
Harry's blood went cold. His throat was dry, but he could feel the saliva pooling in his mouth.
He knows.
He knows.
How did he walk free of this without destroying the future? Without changing two worlds?
In his head, Tom hissed in appreciation.
Ten feet away, Tom smiled.
"I heard a prophecy recently." The Dark Lord said conversationally, studying him curiously. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies." He quoted.
Harry stayed silent. Hysterical laughter bubbled in his chest. All his secrets were outing. Lily knew. Voldemort knew.
He may as well tell the Prophet.
"A prophecy is a strange thing, isn't it?" The Dark Lord rubbed his knuckles. "It says that you have the power to vanquish me but not that you and I are enemies." He sneered. "Are you my enemy?"
Still, Harry said nothing. Voldemort was afraid, he realized. A prophecy was only prophetic when it was heard by believers.
And Voldemort was a true believer.
"Born as the seventh month dies, to those who thrice defied me. I thought of two children, Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom." The man said.
"Which are you?" The Dark Lord whispered because he did not need to shout. The wind had escaped along with the birds. "You look almost like a Potter yet the socialites say you keep the company of the Longbottom woman exclusively."
Something rushed up Harry's throat. It felt like a scream but his throat was too tight for it to escape. It was all falling apart.
One wrong word and Neville would become the Boy-Who-Lived.
In the future, he held his eyes closed, because he couldn't bear to see what it would look like if he opened them.
Voldemort waited for an answer.
"Speak," said the gleeful Tom in his head.
Harry swept through the memories — the voices — in his head. All that made him. What would his girls say? What did their lives advise? Marie would speak lyrically. Narcissa would tell the man he didn't deserve an answer. Apolline would distract him with a lick of her lips. Hermione and Helena told him to run. Fleur and Hannah told him to fight, to show his power.
Bellatrix told him to kill.
But the answer came from Daphne.
Daphne would lie. Her tongue spoke truth only occasionally, a serpent's forked tongue.
A serpent's tongue…
"You fool!" Harry hissed in Parseltongue. "I am you. Don't you recognize the might of Lord Voldemort?"
The Dark Lord reared back. "Impossible."
"Was I always a fool?" Harry twirled his wand between his fingers, just like Voldemort did. "I speak your tongue. I know where we buried the ring. I know all you do — all we learned from Ibn Mas, from Grindelwald." He sneered and flicked his chin at the cabin behind Voldemort. "I know the secrets we never speak — the history of our family who lived there and I too feel the shame it brings us."
Voldemort stood, frozen. His eyes gleamed a brighter red, his wand jabbed in anger. "No! Lucius killed you — I saw your body. The future me, a man who defied death, a man reborn!"
Harry hesitated. Voldemort had followed him into the past and been ended by Lucius of all people? Was that how this time's Dark Lord knew to be wary of a time traveller?
"You have a child's ignorance." He said harshly. "Yes, death found us. Yes, our methods worked — I was saved from death. We conquered that which none ever have. But magic like this cannot be predicted, you know this." Harry swallowed. "Instead of one body, two were reborn."
Sweet Merlin, help me sell this line of bullshit.
"Two?" Voldemort hissed.
"Of course, two!" He growled. "We should have known, shouldn't we? Why would it not birth two when we have always been split in two? Tom Marvolo Riddle and Lord Voldemort, severed down the middle, as different as ink and parchment." He blew out a long breath through his lips. "Did you think that splitting your soul would have no repercussions? Magic saw that we were split and so it rebirthed us, split."
The Dark Lord stared, eyes wide. Harry knew he was selling a tall tale but he had a weapon — he knew things he could not possibly know.
"One of us was reborn in the image of Lord Voldemort, tainted and reshapen by the Dark Arts and our rituals. And I was reborn in the image of Tom Riddle. You say I look like a Potter but you've forgotten how we looked, haven't you?" Harry spoke, in the same silky tones that Tom did.
Voldemort stared silently, for a long moment. Harry clutched onto his wand, praying that this would work.
The Dark Lord edged forward. "I see now. The same cheekbones, the same eyes," he whispered. "Tell me what you know!" He urged. "How did I die? Which child shall I mark? How do I avoid the death that caused your birth?"
Harry sneered, doing his best Voldemort impression, his robes splayed behind him. "We both know that changing the past for the future is a fool's exercise. It will drive you mad. You shall walk the same path, assured that in your future, our future, we are mighty. We sit on the throne of our dreams."
Voldemort looked troubled. "If that were true, you would not be here."
"I am here for that." Harry nodded at the golden box Voldemort clutched. The box that held the Horcrux ring. "In the future, Harry Potter seeks our horcruxes. He destroyed the ring. I'm here to take it away in this time so it is never destroyed."
The Dark Lord snarled at the thought. "And the others?"
"Safe. I have made them so."
Voldemort's whole body blanched, his waxy skin whitening further. "I do not like this." He murmured.
"I am you, fool, working for us. Give me the ring."
The Dark Lord shook his head. "Power is never shared — you know this."
"Don't—"
"Avada Kedavra!"
Harry growled, snapping a tree from its roots to take the Killing Curse. But when the green glow dissipated, he heard the familiar pop.
His heart sank.
The Dark Lord had Disapparated, with the ring in hand.
"Fuck." Harry cursed. At least Voldemort had seemed to believe him. There was a chance the future was intact.
If, in the future, Neville is the Boy-Who-Lived and banging Cissy, I'm going to start throwing Killing Curses. The thought was darkly funny. He probably deserved it after fingering Nev's Mum.
Voldemort would probably walk the same path — too afraid of missing out on the throne that Harry had taunted him with. But it still felt like the walls were closing in. That had been too close to an apocalypse.
And the ring was still out of his hands.
He had to get it.
But how?
###
Harry of the future opened his eyes with trepidation. Nothing seemed different at first. He was in bed with Hermione in his arms, the girl sleeping softly. She was wearing high-cut French knickers and drooling into her pillow as always. He kissed her on the cheek.
She mumbled in her dream. "…won't fit, Hawwy."
Same old.
He rose and dressed quickly. Bottles of oil and lube on the bedside table, discarded lingerie on the floor, a tower of books by her bed. It was all as it should be.
Down the stairs of the girls dorms — the boy-detecting charms worked, the stairs turned into a ramp for him to slide down, his morning adrenaline.
The Common Room was empty. He was late for breakfast.
Same old.
Down to the Great Hall. It was fine. The conversation still stopped when he walked in. Hannah's adoring look. Daphne's little nod. Cho trying to catch his eye.
"Alright, Nev?" Harry deliberately sat next to Neville.
The boy shrugged. "Same manure, different day."
"How are your parents doing? Been to see them recently?"
Neville gave him a big grin. "Dad's still the same but Mum smiled at me yesterday."
"Is that…is that big?"
"You can't put a price on a smile, Harry. It felt like she recognized me, just for a second." Neville said ruefully. "Probably nothing, though."
"She'll get there." Harry patted him on the shoulder.
Ron leaned across the table. "You'll never guess what the news is." He said conspiratorially. Next to him, Lavender looked smug at having some gossip.
Harry's stomach sank. What had changed? "What?"
"Watch." He nodded to Ginny, who was standing up with her arm in the air.
Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat. It had the effect of silencing the room as always.
"Miss Weasley, can I help you?"
Ginny straightened her skirt and cleared her throat. Harry could see the nervous twitch in her fingers. "Yes, Professor, I wanted to ask if we could organize something to show Hogwarts is, like, still powerful and we're gonna stand strong against t-the Dark Lords."
There were a few titters across the Hall. Some of the Slytherins were holding in laughter.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "What did you have in mind, Miss Weasley?"
Ginny flushed. "I thought we could do a duelling contest so everyone could prove how powerful they are. It will, y'know, boost morale and stuff."
"That sounds like a fine idea, Miss Weasley." The Headmaster said approvingly. "We need more extracurricular activities outside of Quidditch."
Seamus shot his hand in the air. "Bagsie not duelling Harry!"
Dumbledore looked quite amused. "Perhaps, Mister Potter, it would be better if you did not participate, in order to keep things competitive."
Harry shrugged. "Fine by me." He was just relieved that this was the only news and not, like, France no longer existed.
"Then it's settled. Twenty points to Gryffindor for Miss Weasley's excellent suggestion. Tomorrow, instead of your after lunch lessons, you will each duel someone from your year. Should you be victorious in defeating your year, you will progress to duel candidates in the years above you. The seventh years will be excluded, as they need to concentrate on their coming exams." Dumbledore decided.
"But what's the winner get?" Seamus called.
"Quite right, Mister Finnegan. What does the winner get?" The old man hummed. "Perhaps an award for the Hogwarts Duelling Champion, to be placed for eternity in the Trophy Room."
The hall buzzed excitedly.
Harry stood. "And, to make things more exciting, to reward Hogwarts' best and brightest, two hundred and fifty galleons to the winner."
The Hall lit up with conversations. Dumbledore tipped his hat to Harry.
Ron was fanning himself. "A competition without Harry!"
"Thank you." Harry said dryly.
His friend didn't seem to have heard him. "And two hundred and fifty galleons — I could buy a new broom!"
"Or take me on that date you promised." Lavender muttered beside him.
Neville elbowed Harry. "You don't need to pay me, you know, if I win." He whispered. "I've been working real hard in the DA."
"I'll be rooting for you, mate." Harry said honestly. "That was a good idea, Gin, what brought that on?"
She blushed and shrugged. "Just wanted to lift the spirits, you know. Luna's woken up now Sprout's got the Mandrakes ready, and I thought it'd be nice for her to have some entertainment."
Harry looked at her knowingly. "And you didn't want to show off a little?"
She grinned. "Maybe a little."
After breakfast, Harry found Daphne waiting for him outside of the Great Hall. She was bent over a little, adjusting her green wool socks at her thighs. He caught a little undercheek before she straightened up.
"There you are." She said cheerfully, pressing a finger into his chest. "This duelling contest — I already have your money. What do I get if I win?"
Harry smirked. She was a divine tease. Her lips so glossy they were shining, her hair being tugged in her hands.
"What do you want?"
She looked up at him through her eyelashes. "Maybe…" She bit her lip. "A night with you?"
"You get that anyway."
"No, I mean," She leaned closer, blushing. "A proper night like the rest of the girls get…something more—"
"Gentle?" Harry said with surprise. He'd never really had that with her — always pounding her into squeals and screams.
She swallowed. "It's stupid, forget it."
"No—" He caught her hand as she turned away. "It's not stupid. You have a deal." He held her back as he kissed her, a kiss that had her breathing heavy, cheeks red. A lover's kiss.
"I'll win." Daphne promised earnestly.
"I'd expect nothing less. Now leave." He turned her around and patted her bottom.
She glared. "What, why?"
"Because I want to watch you go." He grinned as she blushed and gave him a smoldering look. She strutted away with a swap in her hips.
Harry sighed in satisfaction. A duelling contest where he just had to watch and not participate? What could go wrong?
###
Harry hummed as he sat on the wooden counter in the Owlery, idly feeding Hedwig.
"You've gotten used to the good stuff, huh, girl?"
Hedwig hooted softly.
"Only Eeylops Premium Owl Treats. I've gotten rather spoiled myself." He replied, perusing his latest envelope of photos from Fleur and Marie. He'd never again look at a cucumber in the same way.
She clacked her beak.
"I know." Harry said sheepishly. "I can use one of the school owls if you don't want to keep flying back and forth to France."
She screeched and nipped at his finger.
"Alright, alright! No school owls." Harry glared at her. "So possessive."
She hooted back at him, only quietening down when he stroked her feathers.
"Are you talking to her?" Pansy's voice interrupted him.
"She's a good listener." He said simply.
"So am I." Pansy leaned on the doorway. She pushed a strand of black hair out of her eyes and he saw a hole in the stitches of her blouse's armpit. "I've learned the Carrows are planning to fight hard in the duelling contest, to show off their strength to you."
Harry shrugged. "So what?"
She scowled. "You wanted to know what they were up to."
"You want me to pay you when they brush their teeth too?"
Pansy crossed her arms. "We had a deal."
"We had an exchange with no promise of further exchanges." Harry corrected. "Why do you use such heavy cosmetic charms?"
She flinched. "What—I mean, just to cover up some acne."
Harry hissed as if in pain. "So close."
"What?"
"If you'd said a scar or like a really ugly face, I would have believed you. But acne?" He shook his head disappointedly. "We spent all last year in Herbology squeezing and collecting bubotuber pus and half of it went missing. Why?"
"I don't know why—"
"Of course you do. You observe everything. Diluted bubotuber pus cures acne. Sprout told us over and over again because she'd rather her pus was stolen that something like Eloise Midgen cursing her nose off trying to get rid of her acne." Harry kicked his legs cheerfully. "Even if you're poor, Pansy, like Weasley poor, you still wouldn't have acne."
"You don't know shit about girls' skin, Potter—"
His next spell stuck her to the doorway. Her wand clattered to the floor. But he wasn't trying to hurt her. He just wanted to know her secret.
It took more than a Finite — her charms were carefully applied and tied to a holding rune inscribed on her earring. It took him so much time to unravel, he almost felt embarrassed — Voldemort knew magic's depths but the depths of women's cosmetic charms were a different field entirely.
The charms unravelled. Pansy slowly revealed.
"Wow." Harry murmured, standing before her. In front of his eyes, she became a woman.
A woman unlike any he knew. Heavy eyeliner rimmed gray eyes, gleaming with rage, partially covered by her long black bangs. Her nose grew longer, slimmed, unaesthetic turning to aristocratic. Everything grew larger — eyes, tits, lips, hips, the dip of her swan neck. Her ear pierced with a And the greatest surprise — the ink across her skin. A spider skittered into her socks. An arrow shot through a black heart on her wrist. Words formed on her neck, quotes he didn't know.
He stepped back to admire all of her ink.
She was a moving art piece.
She was art.
Breathing, angry, scared.
Unique.
"Incredible." Harry breathed. "You are stunning." In a world of pureblood princesses, she'd chosen to mark herself, taint herself. He wanted to add one more tattoo — a lightning bolt.
"Are you done?" She jabbed angrily. "Do you want to cop a feel too?"
He snickered. "Sorry. I knew you were hiding something, but this…"
"You wouldn't know, golden boy, but life's easier when you don't stand out. So what?"
"Easy, claws, I won't say anything."
"It's not your loose lips that bother me." Pansy snapped. "It's the hard-on you have."
"Wait—" Harry looked down. He wasn't even hard.
When he looked back up, she was smirking. The strawberry-red lipstick blazed in comparison to her porcelain pale skin and dark black hair.
"Gotcha." She gloated. "Now are you going to pay me or not? You got a free show and all."
Harry admired her. All attitude.
"Draco didn't know?"
"Nobody knows." Pansy looked away.
"But why?"
"Why is none of your fucking business."
Harry pulled out a bag of galleons. "Are you sure?"
She snatched it from him and stared holes into the floor. "Fuck you. Fine. I had to be somebody else to keep my House safe, to give us a future. We had an arranged marriage which would have made my House safe and me powerful, but Mother warned me that if he defiled me before I left school, he'd use a clause in the contract to throw me away for another girl, a pure girl." Pansy crossed her arms, looking left and right, anywhere but right at him. "So I made sure he wouldn't want me — I didn't have to fight him off because he was never on."
"And this?" Harry waved at the ink, the everything.
Pansy scowled. "I don't know, it's just, whatever. You wouldn't get it."
"No, it's cool. Really cool."
She tugged on her lip, touched her piercing, realized what she was doing and stood ramrod straight. "How could you get it? When you have to hide everything, you have to…I don't know. It doesn't matter. The more desperate you fucking boys — Draco too — became for a perfect blue-eyed blonde-haired pureblood princess, the more I wanted to be anything but."
"Something worth paying for."
She growled. "I told you Potter, I'm not a whore."
"I know." He leaned forward and peeled open her blouse a little, making her flinch.
It was as he thought — bland and boring underwear.
"Get the fuck off me." She hissed.
Harry shrugged. "If you want more money, buy something sexy. It's like…" He hummed, searching for the right expression. Hedwig hooted. "Right. It's like feeding your owl raw chicken. Beautiful things need to be treated right."
Pansy ground her teeth, her chest heaving with rage. "You're so fucking arrogant, Potter."
He grinned. "When I get too big for my boots, Hedwig bites me." He brushed her hair away from her eyes and leaned in close. "I can't wait to find out if you bite too."
###
Before the next day's duelling competition, Harry held the scheduled DA meeting. Everyone was more focused, eager for the practice time, but too excited too.
"Since it doesn't look like anyone's going to be patient enough to learn any new spells, let's split up into duelling pairs." He said to cheers.
"Finally." Dean cracked his neck. "Get ready to go down, Finnegan."
"Let's mix it up a little." Harry suggested. "Everyone, pair off with someone you've never fought before."
"Is that a good idea?" Justin muttered, looking at a sweetly smiling Daphne.
"I don't bite," she said innocently.
"Just the pillow." Harry whispered as he walked behind her.
"Come on Hermione, fight me." Lee Jordan begged. "Otherwise there's only the Carrow twins left and they scare the shit outta me."
"Sorry, Lee." Hermione blushed. "I'm not in duelling condition today. I pulled a muscle." Harry scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. He had to get a new obsession other than plundering Mione's booty.
"It's alright, Lee, I'll duel you," he said.
Lee looked like a cat in headlights. Nobody liked duelling Harry. "Ah, it's okay Hazza, I'll duel the weird sist—whoa." He whirled around to find himself staring straight in Flora Carrow's eyes.
She smiled without teeth. "Are you ready?"
At the end of the meeting, the DA piled out, sweaty, bloody but grinning. "I expect a good performance from you all tomorrow." Harry called.
When everyone had left, three remained.
Cho, Tonks and Ginny. They stared at each other awkwardly.
"I was just going to ask Harry about a spell I'm having trouble with." Ginny declared bravely.
Tonks pushed her chest out. "I'm sure he can help you in the next DA — I was just going to see if he could help me with some urgent homework."
Cho coughed politely. "I'm sure Hermione can help you, Dora. I needed to talk to Harry about a charity donation for Cedric. You know, my dead boyfriend?" She said pointedly.
Ginny huffed. Tonks' smile soured. But neither of the two could figure out a way to decline, so they both stomped out.
Harry wiggled his eyebrows as the beautiful Chinese girl approached. "What was all that about?"
"Just getting rid of the riffraff." She sighed.
"Charity donation, huh?"
"Well," She said slowly. "It's more about something I need to pay than you need to pay. I seem to remember losing a bet."
"So you did." Harry recalled. So much had happened since then, he'd almost forgotten. Their Quidditch bet. "If I won, I got to use your face, to do with as I like, if I recall?"
Cho held her hands behind her back as if she was shy. But everything with Cho was on purpose, Harry knew. The Ravenclaw blue headband that let some of her long black hair escape to frame her face, the eyeliner around her almond eyes, the cheap rose-gold bracelets on her wrists, because everyone knew she was from money, so she didn't need to show it. The popular girl in school didn't get there by accident.
She came closer, closed her eyes. A slight quiver to her shoulders because no matter how experienced she pretended to be, she was still a virgin.
He kissed her softly, hand on her back. The bare skin of her midriff, because she always had four buttons undone on her blouse — two at the top, two down below. Everything on purpose.
Their tongues duelled until she smiled into his lips. "You get to use my face as you like and you're just going to kiss me?"
"So eager." Harry teased.
"Maybe I want to show you what I can do with a ring on my finger."
"Oh?"
Cho pouted, her finger on his chest. "Don't you want a blowjob from the most popular girl in school?" She licked her lips. "I thought that was a guy's fantasy."
"I guess I could be convinced." He said. As she went down, his cock rose up. A thought in his mind and the Room of Requirement obeyed. The lights dimmed. A velvet cushion under her knees. A box of tissues at her side. A towel.
Cho looked bemused.
Harry coughed. "I can be a bit of a mouthful."
She unzipped him, her trembling fingers betraying her confident smile.
THWAP!
Harry couldn't help himself — he snorted at the look of shock on her face as his cock slapped her in the face.
"What the fuck?" She gasped. She tried to escape from under it but only ended up rubbing it all over her face. Finally, she lifted it up with both hands. "It's a monster."
"It can be difficult."
"Yeah, no shit—" Cho cut herself off as it grew in her hands, becoming fully erect. "Merlin, Harry."
"It's a sweet gesture, the bet and all." Harry said awkwardly. "But uh, well, you'd need a few weeks to be able to take me in. Don't try and push yourself, really, I'm happy with whatever."
Cho frowned. "Greengrass took a few weeks, you mean."
"Longer." Harry admitted. Daphne still struggled, but in her defense, he usually only gave her a minute to try before he forced his way down her throat.
"Well, she's not me." Cho said decisively. She took a deep breath. She could do this. She'd studied it. She'd practiced on her wand. She'd read what she could and listened to the older girls.
But his cock was intimidating. It wasn't anything like she'd imagined. It was long and as thick as her arm, veiny and pulsing and red, and the smell was in her nostrils. She didn't even know where to start.
"Start with your hands, beautiful." Harry advised.
Cho flushed. She wanted to blow his mind, not take advice from him, but she needed it.
A bottle appeared on the towel. "Lube is good." He added. "Coat your hands and then keep up a nice steady rhythm."
Come on, Cho. You have one shot at this. Harry Potter, in your hands. Don't fuck it up. She squirted the lube in her hands and took his cock in her hands. The sight of her fingers failing to wrap around his girth felt like a dagger blow — she was out of her depth.
But she jerked him from base to tip, just like the older girls said.
"When you're more advanced, you can even use your saliva." Harry said.
More advanced!
Cho was used to playing the worldly popular girl who boys tripped over, pretending to all that she was more experienced than she was. She felt like the mask had been ripped away. The room was filled with the sound of slick wet jerking, but no moans, no sighs from his lips. How was she going to get him to cum when he buried his cock in Narcissa Malfoy every weekend?
The spit in the back of her throat burned, so she spat it onto his cock.
"Keep it sloppy." Patricia Stimpson had told her, when she'd gone for advice. "Men love that."
The saliva string held from his dick to her lips, but the noise picked up. Sloppy. Wet. Her hands jerked faster.
Merlin, it was tiring. She felt like her hands travelled a mile from his base to his tip. But finally, she heard it.
It was glorious.
It wasn't even a moan. Just a contented murmur. Or a soft exhale.
Harry was happy.
A shot of unexpected adrenaline. She could do this. Shlick-shlick-shlick.
I'm Cho Chang. I can do anything. If Greengrass and Granger can wrangle this monster, so can I.
With a burst of courage, she took the last, leaning forward to finally put her lips on it. But the beast jerked — a lance of precum spurted — straight up her nose.
"Gaugh—" She coughed, spluttered, her eyes tearing up. When she recovered, it was to the sound of Harry's laughter.
"It's okay, you'll get there. Not everyone can ride a broom on their first try, right?"
"Oh, you want to take it there." Cho glared. "Just because you win one match—"
"More than one, if I remember right—"
"We'll see how this ends." She wiped her nose, spat on his cock again and then choked Harry's response from his lips, by attaching her lips to his cockhead. Stimpson had told her to treat it like an Acid Pop. Tongue swirling, finding not acid but sweet and salty. She wasn't brave enough to stretch her lips around it, settling for lapping at his head, suckling the hot cream that shot out.
Stimpson was wrong, she decided. Cocks weren't Acid Pops. They were Canary Creams, except they turned her into a feverish slut instead of a big yellow bird. Cho drank him down, moaning, clamping her thighs together and squirming as she slurped.
"Eyes open, sweetheart." Harry chided. "Let me see those big beautiful eyes."
Cho's eyes snapped open.
Stupid! Stimpson had already told her that.
"Remember, you've got to feed their big dumb ego." Patricia rolled her eyes. "Merlin knows Cormac's ego is big enough already, but trust me, you'll get it over with quicker. They want to see your eyes so they can convince themselves that you're enjoying it. It's all about power."
Only Cho didn't have to fake it. She did enjoy it — the throb and pulse of his cock as she suckled, his hand cradling her head, his darkened eyes. It was about power…but she felt powerful. For the first time, she held his undivided attention. For the first time, she wasn't competing with the Hogwarts population, armed with steadily shortening skirts and flashes of panties. She was in the lead. The treasure chest was ready to be opened, not by key but tongue.
He wanted to see her eyes. So she kept them wide, doe-like. She batted them like the minx she was. She fluttered her eyelashes.
He wanted a show. So she slobbered noisily. Ran his cock over her face, a trail of him that she could follow back to the source.
"Talk dirty." Patricia urged in her head. "I got Cormac to blow in like a minute once, just coz I called him Daddy. Only way I got enough sleep to pass my OWLs, I tell ya."
Cho took a deep breath. It was time for the real test. "Are you ready for your future wife to deepthroat you, Harry?" She said, feeling his heavy balls jolt at her words. They were so huge, they seemed magical. If she could get him to cum, maybe liquid gold would spray out and coalesce into a ring on her finger. Victory.
Harry smiled, a little patronizing. "Do your best, gorgeous. I'll be happy with whatever."
She felt the fire of competition deep in her belly. People always underestimated her. The pretty girl couldn't be smart enough to get good grades too, but she did. The popular girl couldn't be the best seeker Ravenclaw had seen in decades, but she was.
Cho smirked. "Watch this."
Lips stretched wide, as wide as she could go, just barely fitting around his cock.
"Keep those teeth away." Patricia blushed. "Cormac called me Grindylow for a week just 'cos he got a little nibble once. Wanker."
She choked. His cock was uncompromising. There was no room to escape as the fleshy snake invaded. It was pulsing, practically living, and all Stimpson's advice flew out of her head as she concentrated on breathing. Her cheeks bulged obscenely, her eyes watered.
But she wasn't a fucking quitter.
She grabbed his ass — his fine toned Quidditch ass — and pulled herself slowly forward.
"Gurrk—" Cho gagged.
"Doing so well, sweetheart." Harry stroked her head.
"Furckshyoo."
He sniggered.
She'd have the last laugh. His cock slid into her tight throat, making it bulge. But when Harry paused, she pushed him further, deeper. Staring up as his pelvis approached, inch by inch.
"What the fuck?" He muttered in amazement.
Cho's eyes lit up in triumph as her lips pressed against his base. She held him there for a long moment as his cock throbbed, swallowing around his cock as he spurted pre-cum. A lipstick kiss against his groin, a flag on Mount Everest.
Then she retreated in wet gurgles. She dismounted with less grace than she'd hoped, coughing and spluttering.
"Told ya."
"How did you do that?" Harry said in awe.
She giggled. "Been training my gag reflex for years — how do you think I stay so slim?" She stuck two fingers down her throat for effect, like she did after every meal.
"That's not healthy—oh—" Cho cut off his warning by swallowing his cock again, right to the base. Swallowing, milking, choking.
She didn't want to hear his concerns. Mother had taught her the price of power and she'd always been happy to pay it. The foreign girl in a world where only the old Houses were respected — but Cho was loved.
The white boys lusted after her. Diggory. Potter. Davies.
So what if she coughed up a meal or five?
The price of power had always via her throat. With careful words, regurgitated meals, or this…the inhuman cock of a world-changing wizard.
She paid it happily. "Gurk-gurk-gurk—" She choked wetly, bobbing her head, holding his ass to lever herself back and forth. Cum-saliva dripped from her distended lips, tears ran down her cheeks, cock rammed so far down it felt like he was in her stomach.
"Aren't you a constant surprise?" Harry exclaimed. She felt a thrill — the thrill she knew so well, the thrill of validation. The books she'd studied told her that she sought the attention that her parents hadn't given her, because her traditional parents showed love in a language she didn't recognize. Father was sharp but always seemed distracted, dazed. Mother spent so much time directing him that Cho had seemed forgotten.
But not at Hogwarts. Nobody could forget her here. The boys fell over themselves. Whistles and stares, flowers and chocolate. Now this — the ultimate validation. Harry Potter, the king without a monarchy.
Get the ring. Eyes on the prize.
She did it all. Sucked hard, tongue working up and down his veins, hands working his balls, gagging loudly, bobbing frantically, eyes adoring. A girl's audition to become his Lady. She could do this for the rest of her life — he tasted divine and he looked like a Lord. Hand firm in her hair, masterful. His thumb traced her forehead and she thought the act was…a husband's.
She ignored the heat between her thighs, ignored her wet pussy, her nipples that were desperate to be held. Her pleasure would come in a white dress, elevated above the common man.
"Men are all the same." Patricia told her. "Do everything I've said and he'll blow in five minutes, tops."
But her jaw strained and the treasure chest never unlocked. She whimpered, panic in her eyes.
Harry smiled softly, seeing her consternation. "Now I know you can take it, maybe I'll take the reigns? The bet was for your face however I like, after all."
She didn't understand, not until his hand in her hair moved to the back of her skull, holding her firmly. His legs on either side of her head, his knees dipped. Cho gurgled, trying to take back control.
"Icanshdo-gurk-eet." She choked out.
"Ssh," Harry murmured. He wouldn't let her head move. His cock retreated until she could see it in its entirety — glistening, wet, red, angry — and then—"
"Gurk—" He rammed it back into his throat, to the base. A furious pace into a frantic facefucking that sent Cho reeling. His balls slapped against her chin, the soundtrack to his pounding. She gagged and retched, her face being slammed against his sticky groin. She stared up at him, trying to understand where she'd gone wrong, her bronze eyes seeing the pot of gold slip away. This wasn't how a wife was treated — she couldn't breathe, just a hole for his monstrous dick.
"Glug…glug…" She slobbered.
"Feels so fucking good." Harry sighed, throwing his head back. "No gag reflex — you were made to be facefucked, weren't you?"
No! Cho screamed in her head. She was made to be a wife, not a whore. But she could only concentrate on breathing. She tapped his ass, trying to communicate her oxygen issues, but he wasn't listening.
"Your throat feels so good when you do that." Harry groaned. All she was doing was trying to breathe, spluttering, choking, but each action made her throat roll and massage his cock.
Is this how I die?
The colours swam. Her eyes rolled back as he fucked her face. Cum and saliva dripped from her puffy lips.
"I'm close, Cho." Harry warned.
"Hnngh—" She replied, her throat convulsing. She'd made a mistake. She couldn't do this. Power wasn't worth it. But in her surrender, her spasming throat sent Harry over the edge.
He held her firm. "Fuck, girl! How do you do—Guh!" He buried his cock as far as it would go down her throat and shuddered. His balls trembled as he unloaded, hosing her stomach with thick loads of cum, his hips lurching, bucking, thrusting, bathing her throat in hot cream. Cho's hands fell to her side, limp, barely conscious, as her stomach was filled with gallons, not liquid gold but a treasure all the same.
"Merlin." Harry gasped giddily when he was done, pulling out. His cock jumped and spurted a few more ropes over Cho's face. "Whoops. Cho? Cho? You okay?"
Cho choked, chest heaving, desperate for breath. Cum-bubbles shot out of both nostrils. Creamy slime poured from her red puffy lips. Cum dripped from her cheeks, an accidental moustache on her lips. She blinked, her eyes red and unfocused.
Harry took a sharp intake of breath. "Did I go too far?"
"Guh."
"Cho, honey, are you okay?"
She held up a hand, retching.
He stroked her comfortingly, feeling mildly guilty. He'd become a bit too accustomed to defiling Daphne and Bellatrix. "I'm sorry about that. Uh, you did so well though."
She looked up at him, not comprehending. Cum dripped from her eyelashes. "D-did I do good?" She coughed.
"Definitely. Best first blowjob I've ever seen."
She wiped some cum off her forehead and looked at him blearily. "W-wife material?"
Harry hesitated. He treated Daphne like that and he was going to marry her, so…
"Oh, for sure. We'll see." He ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe I'll give you some privacy to clean up."
"R-right." Cho coughed and a cum bubble inflated from her lips and blew up with a pop that made her jump. "See you around."
Harry patted her head affectionately. "That was amazing, beautiful. You were incredible. I'm can't wait til our next bet! Give me a smile, sweetheart?"
She did her best. Harry admired her — glazed in his seed, smiling tremulously, her lips covered in cream, she looked mind-blowing. You can't put a price on a smile like that.
Cho waited for the door to close behind him before she groaned and fell back onto the floor. She wondered how she looked like and the Room provided a mirror.
"Oh, no." She shivered. Her hair was more white than black. Tear tracks mixed with creamy trails. Her smeared lips were ringed by a cum moustache. Her belly was inflated, drowned by so much cum that a button had popped off her blouse. The Cho in the mirror looked disgusted as she wiped her face.
"No," Mirror Cho said. "Definitely not wife material."
###
Flitwick floated the tables of the Great Hall against the wall while McGonagall worked on the dueling arena. Instead of four long tables, four stone catwalks morphed up from the stone floor like a timelapse of a volcano's birth. Flitwick enchanted each arena — a sandy desert, a foreboding forest, a school classroom and a icy river, complete with ice floes for the duellists to stand on. Harry admired their work — the faculty were no amateurs.
Still, the Professors demurred to Dumbledore when it was time to put up spell protections around the dueling arenas. The old man pushed power into the runes he'd inscribed, a golden beam that fizzled dramatically.
The Headmaster wiped his brow and glanced over at Harry. "Perhaps a little assistance, my boy?"
"Sure." Harry said in surprise. Each wall of the arenas had empowerment rune which glowed. Professional duelling arenas would have much more protections, but it was unlikely the students would have spells powerful enough to need more than Dumbledore's shields.
Pressed against the walls, the students watched excitedly. Lee Jordan took bets when McGonagall faced the other away. Tonks loudly bemoaned the fact she'd pulled her hamstring, since it would be unfair for an Auror to complete in a school competition. Harry even saw Professor Sinistra placing bets on Hermione.
Harry wasn't sure she'd win anything. Hermione was an impressive witch, but a duellist? Duelling required an certain cruelty.
Still, he watched all of his girls proudly as he leaned on the Hogwarts stone.
Hermione tied her hair behind her, taking nervous breaths. Hannah muttered incantations under her breath. Daphne was having Tracey apply face-cream to her cheeks, for some reason.
On the other side of the Hall, Cho blushed at his gaze. Her stomach had deflated, thankfully, though she'd covered her midriff.
"Going to bet on me, Harry?" Susie said at his side.
"It's tough competition," Harry shrugged. "But I know you've got some bite. Try to enjoy yourself though — you won't get much opportunity to fight without real danger."
She elbowed him, amused. "That was an elaborate no."
"As the head of the DA, I'm an impartial viewer." Together, they watched the younger years duelling, clapping and cheering.
The firsties did little more than sparks and levitating charms, but Harry whistled, fingers in his mouth, when he saw Ellie Branstone manage a Disarming Charm. "Go, Ellie!"
She curtseyed, grinning.
The second years knocked the victorious firsties out easily.
"Ouch." Susan shuddered when she saw little Dennis Creevey get lit up by a fiery Incendio charm and then tossed back onto a neat trap — a porcupine transfigured into a spiky pin cushion. The girl who'd beaten him roared with triumph, beating her chest. "That looked personal. Maybe Hannah's right."
"Oh, you two are talking again?" Harry said casually.
Susan gave him a flat stare. "You're so transparent. Yes, we're talking."
Harry smirked. "What did she say?"
"The girls have it out for the Creevey brothers because of their creepy cameras. She swears she saw the bigger one flying outside her window the other day." She shuddered.
He snorted. The boys were so transfixed by Hannah's mammoth chest that he wouldn't be surprised if it was true. He'd have to be more careful — he'd fucked Hannah against that very window the other day, smushing her tits against the glass.
When the duels got to the fourth years, the Headmaster fired a bang from his wand.
"Forgive me for the interruption." Dumbledore smoothed down his yellow robes. "But we have good news for the fourth years, and for the rest of the school too. Please give a warm welcome to the newly awakened young lady who saw the truth before the rest of us. Miss Lovegood!"
The doors swung open and Luna stepped in shyly. Her large silver eyes widened when the Great Hall erupted in cheers. Every student stood, clapping enthusiastically. Luna's mouth dropped open in wonder. Her eyes watered. Her hands jumped around, aimless — behind her, by her side, rubbed her plum earrings and then hugged herself.
She caught his eye and gave him a big smile.
The applause fell away.
"Speech!" Ron called.
Luna toyed with her long straggly hair. "I'm glad to…" She swallowed a lump in her throat. "I hope to find more friends among the living than the dead."
The Hall was silent. Students looked at each other confused. Harry smirked — Luna could baffle anyone at any time.
Cho saved her, beating Harry to it. She whooped. "Three cheers for Luna! Hip, hip—"
The popular girl sparked the crowd. "Hooray!" They responded obediently.
After the cheers, Luna found him by the wall. "I knew you'd figure it out." She said simply.
"Only with your help. Thank you, Luna."
"How's my mother?"
A blast erupted from Ginny's wand, deafening the room as her opponent went flying, but Harry's eyes were on Luna. "What did you say?!"
"I said 'how's my wager?'" Luna said, frowning at him. "I bet on Ginny to win."
"Oh." He shook himself, a finger in his ear. He was going mad. "I…she looks like she has something to prove."
The petite redhead was moving fast — she'd barely finished with her last opponent when the victor of the other arena climbed the stairs, waited through Flitwick's countdown, and then promptly got blown away with a nasty Banisher-Blasting combo.
Susan clapped enthusiastically and then hesitated as Ginny glared at her. "What did I do?" She muttered to Harry.
"Adrenaline from the fight," he replied wisely. "When I duel, I'm angry at everything too."
"Miss Weasley is the winner of the fourth year duels and will progress to the fifth year!"
"Here we go." Harry said cheerfully. "Good luck, Susie."
The duels were fierce. He'd been unsure about how effective his DA teaching was, but the standard of the fifth-year duels were much better than the year below, and he could see that even the older students looked a little nervous.
Ron did well, utilizing his favourite technique Harry had taught him. The Gentleman's Defense was a historical tactic where the duellist held a conjured umbrella over their wand hand, hiding their hand movements as they chained their spells together. A clean wrist-twist sent a Stunning Spell at a much faster pace than Justin and then Seamus expected.
But it was his girls Harry was watching closely. Hermione cleverly used a pencil-sharpening charm to sharpen the beaks of her conjured flock of birds — they ended up nearly pecking all of Morag MacDougal's clothes off before she surrendered, to the groans of the watching boys. Daphne blew away Goyle with an array of deliberately inaccurate Severing Charms, cutting the tree trunk behind him until it smashed down on top of him. Dumbledore gave her a disappointed look as Pomfrey tried to revive him.
Hannah thrust her chest out proudly once she'd dispatched of three opponents, using some nasty semi-dark spells. Millicent Bulstrode had to hold her intestines in before Pomfrey could get to her. Harry gave her a nod — she was learning quickly.
But it was Ginny that caught his eye. She moved like a professional, pirouetting around Susan's stunner before jabbing her wand into the air, tip lighting purple. Two jabs, two fixed points in the air, and between each point grew a tornado-like vacuum. Susan squealed as she was pulled toward it, along with the leaves and dirt. Legs kicking and aloft, the Hufflepuff was helpless to defend herself against the brutal bone-breaker Ginny sent her way.
Ron whooped loudly, but the Hufflepuffs weren't happy, muttering between themselves.
Susan was laid on a hospital bed. "Is she okay?" Ginny had her hand to her mouth. "I didn't want to hurt her — I just thought she'd be more powerful."
Harry scratched his cheek. The two-point vacuum wasn't something he'd taught her and it wasn't something easily learned.
"She's covered in Wrackspurts." Luna told him quietly. "I'll have to write about the surge of Wrackspurts at Hogwarts in the next issue of the Quibbler."
"That's your Dad's paper, right? How's it doing?" He never saw anyone reading it in the castle.
Luna looked a little morose. "Not well. Daddy says advertisers want to see bigger sales numbers and without their money, we can't go to Sweden to look for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks."
"…I see."
Daphne and Pansy faced off next. "I'll try not to tear your last of clothes." Daphne sneered.
"I'll try not to trip on your ego." Pansy shot back.
The fight was explosive, dark spells from the go, corrosive acid, slashing cuts, gouging fire. Harry blinked and found Dumbledore at his side.
"This isn't quite the advertisement for Hogwarts' education I had in mind." The Headmaster frowned.
"Powerful, though." He felt Dumbledore's frown. "You can hardly blame me for Pansy! That's Draco all the way."
Daphne loosened the belt she'd cinched at her skirt, Transfigured it into a sword and sent it spearing through Pansy's leg, pinning her to the ice block behind her. The blue ice was splashed red.
Harry winced. "Okay, you can blame me for her."
"I thought your study sessions leaned a little more towards the curriculum." Dumbledore chided.
"They do. Daphne's, well, you know her family. Merlin knows where she gets her spells from."
Harry groaned as Ginny torched Hermione's flock of birds in flame. The redhead ripped her fishnet stocking off her leg, enlarged it, used the dead birds to light it and sent it flying at Hermione. The Muggleborn girl ended up caught like a fish. When Flitwick freed her, her hair was smoking and her glare was burning.
"And Miss Weasley?" Dumbledore stroked his chin. "Her creative duelling style is very reminiscent of you."
"I didn't teach her that, really." Harry said truthfully. Where had she picked up such skills? "You, uh, don't think that…you know?"
The Headmaster glanced at him. "The diary was destroyed completely. I checked it thoroughly when you brought it to me."
"Right." Harry shook his head. "Just being stupid."
Dumbledore's ire wasn't eased by Ginny's Dark Arts fight with Hannah, either, nor was he pleased with the cheers of the Hogwarts' boys when Ginny used a twist on the Jelly-Legs Curse on Hannah's breasts, making her big tits bounce so wildly that they smacked the blonde on the chin and left her vulnerable to Ginny's finisher.
"Forcing intent in order to vary the result of a curse." The Headmaster noted. "Not an easily learned magic."
"It's not." Harry agreed, deciding not to mention the fact that he hadn't taught it her. "But this is why we're doing this duelling contest, right? Showing off how powerful Hogwarts is. Look over there." He nodded subtly to the corner of Slytherins.
Flint, Nott, the Carrows, Goyle, Crabbe and all the others. They watched with more than a little amazement as Ginny tore through the fifth-year students.
Harry continued. "Tell me they won't wonder, just for a second, even, if they're going to choose the right side. If they should follow their parents."
"I see." Dumbledore murmured. "Perhaps you are right, Harry, as you often are. But look to the students, too." He jutted his chin to the firsties, who were watching in awe. Ellie Branstone's eyes almost popped out of her head when Ginny's pool of acid trapped her older brother between an icy pool and her coming curse. "Are we teaching the right lesson if they watch Miss Weasley and equate the Dark Arts with power?"
Harry crossed his arms, heat in his chest. He felt irritated, which probably meant Dumbledore was right. He hated it when the old man was right.
"Oi, Harry!" A soaking wet Ron barreled towards him, covered in cuts, steam rising from his burnt hair. "You been having secret meetings with my sister?"
"N-no!" He cleared his throat. "No, Ron, mate, I wouldn't."
Ron's blank face turned into a grinning one. "Then how is she so flipping good? She's kicking ass! You bugger, you!" Ron grabbed his head and rubbed his knuckles on his scalp.
"Ron, gerroff—"
"I'm just messing." His friend clapped his shoulder. "But seriously, don't fuck my sister."
Dumbledore cleared his throat.
Ron's face reddened. "Sorry, Professor. I meant, don't screw my sister."
"Ron—"
Flitwick's cannon blast interrupted the awkward moment. The tiny Professor's squeaky voice bounced around the room. "The final duel will be between Miss Weasley and Miss Greengrass!"
Harry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Dumbledore gave him a pointed look.
"Fine, hang on." He pushed through the crowd and found Daphne just before she climbed the stage to fight Ginny. "Daphne, keep it clean in this one. Nothing nasty."
"But she's—"
"I know." Harry said firmly. "But the kids are watching and the old man wants the right message — a message like soon-to-be Lady Black doesn't need to use flesh-eating acid curses to beat someone. Remember, you represent me now."
Daphne deflated. "I don't even know nice spells." She grumbled.
"Cheer up, sweetheart. You want a gentle night with me, fight gentle up there, okay?"
She nodded, blushing. "Okay." He resisted the urge to pat her ass as she climbed the stage to the cheers of the Slytherins.
Ginny bounced on her heels, wand swishing in anticipation. Daphne curtsied gracefully.
"Let's have a clean flight." Flitwick's high-pitched voice demanded. "For the final fight, each of the four long arena's are combined into one. The forest, the iceberg, the classroom, the desert, side by side."
"Three, two, one." Flitwick counted them down.
"Go, Gin!" Ron bellowed.
The redhead came out of the gates hot, hiding an ear-shrivelling curse behind a Conjunctivitis. Harry whistled — removing one of your opponent's senses was a good way to win a fight quick. Ginny wanted this to be fast.
But Daphne only rolled her eyes. She answered with what duellers called the Three Fucks — the Full Body-Bind to paralyze, the Furnunculus to plaster to boils and pimples, and the Flagrate to set fire to the skin. If it had hit, it would have been a less lethal version of what Neville's vial had done to the Veela's, but Ginny blocked with a conjured ice floe.
The ice splintered and, levitated by Ginny's wand, all expected them to be sent back as icy shards. Instead, she sent them high into the air and Transfigured them.
Daphne shielded herself warily, but instead of sharp debris, she found herself covered in sparkling glitter.
"That's why you wanted Harry, isn't it?" Ginny called. "To cover yourself in glitter and glory? The trophy wife?"
The blonde sighed sympathetically. "Whereas you covet my groom, greedy for his attention." Daphne shook her head. "Little girl, I will help you grow up." She ended her sentence with a gust of wind from her wand, not at Ginny but at the desert of sand. The storm picked up — Ginny had to divide her attention between the sudden barrage of spells Daphne sent and the coming storm.
Their hair ruffled as the maelstrom picked up, earth and dust and grit. Skirts lifted, but even the boys were too transfixed by the fight to cheer.
Harry smiled proudly. His fiancee had chosen a good spell to end the fight. If Ginny had recognized it, she would have doused it immediately before the storm-spell grew stronger.
Only Ginny held her wand out, her hair whipping, a fiery torch in the tempest. And to Harry's disbelief, the storm blew away from her, toward Daphne, picking up classroom books and ice rocks alike.
The blonde took a wary step back against a forest tree, one hand holding down her billowing skirt.
Harry's throat dried. The storm could shred her. He pulled forward — and felt something pull on him, in him. His magic drained, siphoned.
Panic, his heartbeat racing. Was Voldemort using their connection?
No. He felt the magic leave him…to Daphne. Pure power traversed the bond between them, to his amazement.
She whispered a spell as the storm enveloped her, hid her from view.
The students screamed as the ice and sand smacked against the arena shields with heavy thuds, but with nothing left to consume, it died away.
Leaving a tree, its bark given an odd metallic sheen. The sheen turned back to bark and from the trunk stepped Daphne.
Ginny gaped.
The students roared their approval.
"How did she do that?" Ron elbowed him.
Harry knew how. She'd used his power. In her panic, she'd tugged on the only lifeline she had. Her love, their bond. And unknowingly, he'd responded.
She glanced over at him, fear in her eyes. He gave her a comforting nod and fear turned to relish.
"Nice try, red." Daphne stalked forward, practically vibrating with magic. "Show me what you have."
Ginny glowered, pulling out dark curse after curse. Parasitic gestaters, flesh decayers, acid beams. "Shed your skin already, snake," she spat. "Show everyone what you're really like. Show Harry what you're really like!"
Daphne smiled, making free use of the massive pool of Harry's magic. Golden shields, tree trunks flying into block curses, classroom tables Transfigured into silver domes. "The Dark Arts are not the way, girl. Harry's shown me that."
Harry held his hand over his twitching lips.
"Bravo." Dumbledore muttered under his breath.
Daphne closed the distance, her wand jerking in a blur. The earth rose up at Daphne's feet and split its way to Ginny, like an invisible groundhog beast. The soil chewed up and spat out, a rupture in the earth, but Ginny didn't see, distracted by Daphne's blast of colourful spells.
"You got a big hole for a little girl." Daphne jeered. Ginny's eyes widened. Realization came too late. She dropped two feet down into the tunnel, trapped in the duelling arena itself. Daphne finished her with a Stunner.
The Great Hall erupted, applause and cheers. Flitwick's wand blew ribbons into the air.
"A terrific performance, Miss Greengrass!" The little Professor squeaked.
"Much better, don't you think?" Dumbledore leaned into Harry. On the stage, Daphne gave him a heartrending smile, blush on her cheeks.
"Daphne, Daphne!" Little Ellie Branstone had her hand in the air. "How do I fight like you?"
Daphne paused, her smile turning sickly as she noted the eager attention of the entire crowd of first years. "Um, study hard and," she looked back at Harry incredulously, who gave her an encouraging nod. "Remember, the Dark Arts are bad, real bad. Don't do them."
Harry tried not to look too amused when Dumbledore glanced at him.
"I suppose it'll have to do." The Headmaster said dryly.
"You happy now?"
"It was you that said I needed to care more about reputation." Dumbledore noted. "You requested I do that photoshoot with Scrimgeour outside Hogwarts."
"I…yeah, reputations are important." Harry admitted, watching as Ginny was revived, at the fury in her eyes. He'd been ignoring her but she had tremendous power. Some of that magic, it was almost instinctual. Clearly, she'd found a tome or five of rare Dark Arts books too. Or perhaps a teacher…
Dumbledore hummed as the redhead stepped off the stage. The Gryffindors parted for her, silent, odd expressions on their faces. "Reputations are like Fudge Flies in summer heat, my boy. Sticky and very hard to clean up. I fear Miss Weasley may learn that soon."
Harry smiled grimly. "Fire, Professor."
"Pardon?"
"Fire kills Fudge Flies. Their chocolate wings can't fly when they melt and drop to the floor."
The Headmaster nodded thoughtfully. "If only bad press could be dealt with in the same manner."
###
Harry stroked Daphne's sweat-soaked back as she shifted herself up and down his shaft, her nipples dragging along his chest, her long blonde hair entangled with his.
"So tight." He murmured as she ground herself slowly. Even as she rode him, he wondered at their connection. How had she pulled his power from him, used his magic? Was it a matter of love, or because he'd bedded her enough times, or because she was desperate?
They'd have to do a lot of testing. If his girls could pull his magic to protect themselves, he'd sleep a lot better at night.
"Yeah?" Daphne exhaled, her eyes lidded as she rolled her hips in a circle. "You feel so fucking good inside me." She squeezed him, making him gasp — her soaking wet snatch was so hot around his shaft.
"I'm close," she whispered. The closed curtains of her four-poster bed had sheltered their slow sex for an hour now, lit only by the moonlight through the fabric.
"Again?" Harry teased. "Don't you think you've had enough?"
She giggled as she used a hand on his chest to manoeuvre herself on him. She couldn't deny it — there was a pool of her juices on his groin, on the sheets. "I can't get enough of you," she told him between kisses to his skin.
"Want me to do the thing?"
"Don't do the thing." She begged. "It's embarrassing."
He pulled her close, her sweaty body against his. Found her ear, nibbled on her earlobe, and whispered. His hand slid onto her perfect ass and his thumb traced her rosebud before pushing inside. "My good girl."
Daphne jerked, squealed, her body quivering as she came, flooding his cock. "Harry, Harry, Harry—" She was reduced to a limp pile of limbs, shuddering through little jolts of pleasure.
"Whoops." Harry kissed her forehead affectionately.
"You didn't cum." She whined when she'd recovered.
"I'm close."
She grabbed his hand, held it to her breast. "Inside me," she implored. "So my tummy fills up, like it will one day, when you want children."
An ethereal white phoenix fluttered through the walls.
"No!" Daphne groaned. "Go away, fuck off, bird!"
The Patronus cocked its head and warbled…with Dumbledore's voice. "Another Dark Mark, Harry. There is no immediate danger but perhaps our presence is necessary."
"Nooo," Daphne sighed as he rolled her over and pulled out of her in a gushy pop. "You weren't done." She glared at the phoenix. "He's not done!"
Harry grinned. "Go to sleep, darling, it's late and I'll be back even later."
Her eyes glistened unexpectedly. "B-but if you don't cum, then what if you can only get off when you're in m-my ass."
Harry gave her a kiss as he buttoned his shirt. "Trust me, baby, that's not the case. I was stopping myself from cumming because I was enjoying you so much."
"Really?"
"Really. Go to bed."
"I'll dream of you."
He shook his head as he left the dungeons in a hurry. It turned out Daphne was quite a romantic when nobody was around to see her and judge her for it.
Up to Dumbledore's office. The old man looked like he'd been woken up — he was wearing an old striped nightcap, complete with pom-pom on the end.
"Kingsley notified me. You'll forgive a Side-Along?"
"By all means."
Harry held out his arm and Dumbledore apparated him. The cold chill of the black night was felt and then immediately taken away — the fire robbed the black and the cold. The fire of the building in the Alley, flaming high into the sky, smoke trailing up to meet the Mark in the sky.
The two Dark Marks, silhouetted by the moon, glowing white beaming through the skull and skeletal phoenix. A cosmic seal of approval.
From the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley, they joined the building crowd, people streaming from the buildings.
"Voldemort and—"
"Gone." Dumbledore answered. "If they were even here in the first place. This isn't an attack, it's a message."
"Is anyone hurt?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "Shacklebolt said the building isn't occupied overnight, thankfully." He winced as one of the building's support beams collapsed, embers soaring higher. "But the Daily Prophet's printing presses will be destroyed and with it, the paper."
Harry smelled Rita before he saw her — the cloying cloud of strawberry perfume. She stood between them, her Quick Quill working away, but her trademark smile was tight.
"I may have gone too far." She said with mock surprise, smacking her lips. The fire's glow lit across her face, highlighting the caked-on makeup. "Dumbledore."
"Ms Skeeter." The Headmaster gave her a nod. "I'll see if I can help douse the fires before it spreads."
With Dumbledore gone, Harry gave Rita a raised eyebrow. "Think it was the Butt Bandits headline?"
She shrugged, unable to raise even a laugh. "My editor did warn me. Apparently ultra powerful wizards don't like the public knowing they love the butt."
Harry cleared his throat, feeling his ears tinge red. "Imagine that. What are you going to do now?"
She grimaced. "It's either telling teenage girls how to kiss in Witch Weekly or telling middle-aged men their opinions are valid on the Wizarding Wireless. Neither seem quite appealing, do they, darling? Want to hire me?"
"Me?" Harry coughed.
"Why not?" She shrugged. "You've got the biggest bank, I've got the sharpest quill. Let's make history. Call it The Daily Bolt."
Harry shook his head. "Too much trouble — the printing press for every wizard and witch in the country, thousands of owls, the wages. Besides, any positive press I got, people would say I bought it."
Rita's smile flickered. "Worth a shot, I guess."
"I may have a better idea." He held out his arm. "Side-Along?"
Rita gave him an amused look. "Not even a pick up line — how did you know I was an easy girl?"
"Must be the perfume. Come on, no tricks."
To the castle gates. Rita stared up at the castle and shivered. "The memories I had here — best days of my life."
"Getting fingered in the broom cupboards?"
"The greenhouse, actually." Rita caught his eye and sniggered. "Why are we here?"
"You'll see."
Up through the grounds and into the castle.
Rita deliberately ground her muddy shoes into the stone as they bundled through the wooden doors. "No Filch anymore to stop me. Fucker."
"Speaking ill of the dead? Did he used to stop your school adventures?"
The bottle-blonde shivered. "Stop them? Watch them, more like — dirty perv's breath used to fog up the greenhouse."
"No!"
"Seriously." She nodded. "We used to call him the Peeper Creeper."
"I can't believe it."
Rita's eyes grew animated. "Nobody believed us when we reported it — he was the one that made me want to be a reporter, believe it or not. I wanted to dig up the rocks of all the creeps and weirdos." She gave a short sharp laugh. "Probably shouldn't have done it with You-Know-Who though."
He led her into the Hospital Wing. In the bed, a lantern lit up the face of a blonde with scraggly hair, reading her book with enormous goggles.
"Rita Skeeter, meet Luna Lovegood."
"Oh, no." Rita bemoaned. "Harry, you can't be serious."
Luna smiled serenely. "Hello, Rita Skeeter. I hope the fire wasn't too bad."
"How did you know about the fire?" Rita said suspiciously.
"You've got embers in your hair."
"Oh."
"Luna, you want bigger numbers for The Quibbler. Rita, you want a job." Harry jabbed his finger at them both. "It's a win-win."
Rita blew her lips in a raspberry. "I don't want to write about bloody riddlespurts."
"Wrackspurts." Luna corrected. "Daddy doesn't set the agenda for articles."
"Really?" Rita hummed, suddenly interested. "No editorial?"
"No editorial."
"I write what I want?"
Luna shrugged. "Daddy's just happy if he can fund our adventures to find a Crumple-Horned Snorkack."
Rita's eyes narrowed. "You can reach everyone in the country?"
"Oh, yes."
Rita stuck her hand out. "It's a deal, Luna. Let's be friends."
Luna shook her hand enthusiastically. "More friends!" She squealed.
A wooden chair conjured from thin air and scraped along the stone. The blonde journalist sat down and leaned forward. "Now let's discuss pay. I'll need a nice place in the Alley, one bedroom's fine but it needs an en-suite and a good sized kitchen. A broomstick as standard, of course, a Floo powder allowance, a St Mungo's dental package…" Rita trailed off as she realized Luna was nervously twisting her Butterbeer cork necklace. "What is it? I can do without dental. What do you usually pay?"
Luna bit her lip and leaned over to whisper into Rita's ear.
"But that won't even cover a pair of heels!" Rita squealed.
Harry sighed. "Perhaps, if it were discrete, to help you and your father out, Luna, I'd be happy to cover Rita's salary."
"And Bozo." Rita added immediately. "I need a photographer."
"And Bozo."
Luna's silver eyes fluttered, her mouth agape. "You'd do that, Harry?"
Rita snorted. "Believe me, girl, he's getting the better deal."
Harry smirked. The country's only major paper with the lead reporter under his thumb? He'd pay three times as much.
"Shall we shake on it?" He suggested.
Rita scowled at him. "I feel like I'm sixteen again, getting fingered by a Slytherin pureblood."
Harry looked at her flatly. "You want a job or not?"
"That's what he told me." She quipped. "Alright," She grabbed his hand and Luna's and shook them wildly. "But I'm still running the little Malfoy's slut story."
"What Malfoy slut story?" Luna asked innocently.
"Never you mind." Harry said quickly. "Welcome to the team, Rita."
She gave him a smirk, her crimson nails tapping against her chin. "We'll never talk about this again, but being in this castle, having a new job…if you want, I'll blow you in the girl's bathroom, for old time's sake."
Luna almost choked, looking between them.
Harry rolled his eyes. Rita would do anything to get ahead. The toxic woman was mostly repulsive but he could probably still get it up…if he didn't have a blonde princess waiting for him in the dungeon with a thick soft bottom for him to press himself against. Maybe he could wake her up with spooning sex…
"Uh, maybe next time?"
"Worth a shot." Rita cackled. She grabbed her acid green quill from behind her ear and some parchment, leaning forward. "So, Luna, what's new in the Hogwarts rumour mill? Do you think Dumbledore's a closeted Parselmouth?"
Luna stared at her, unsure. "I don't think the Headmaster can talk to snakes—"
Rita wiggled her painted-on eyebrows. "I mean, does he like a trouser-snake?"
"I'll…leave you to it." Harry turned on his heel, pinching the bridge of his nose. Finding Skeeter a job was like Hagrid buying a dragon egg — expensive and guaranteed to blow up in his face.
But it was better than letting Tom win.
Tom thought he could silence those that opposed him, oppress them with fear. But it was Fred and George that had shown him how to deal with bullies — by laughing at them.
Dental insurance, broomsticks, expensive apartments?
He'd pay it all.
You can't put a price on a smile.
Luna and Rita - a dangerous duo. Will Harry's lies to Voldie hold up? Next week, next Friday, next chapter - Pansy gets dared and is daring, Tracey finally gets punished, and Tonks requests help.
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