Chapter 27

1st of September 1991
Hogwarts

Andromeda Black felt as if it was only natural to be sitting directly to the left of the Headmaster. She watched with a bemused smile as Dumbledore, for reasons she couldn't fathom, seemed to be trolling everyone with his whimsical antics. Trolling - what a nice word ! One Harry had taught her a few days ago, and that seemed to apply a lot to the most powerful wizard of Great Britain.

Andromeda adjusted her posture, drawing attention to the plunging neckline of her robes that revealed the tantalizing curve of her ample breasts. Her black silk robes clung to her figure like a lover's embrace, shimmering seductively under the enchanted ceiling. The fabric hugged her hourglass figure, accentuating every lush curve, while the daring slit up the side offered tantalizing glimpses of her toned legs. As she shifted slightly, her raven-black hair cascaded over her shoulders in luxurious waves, a stark contrast to her porcelain skin. She caught Harry's eye and offered him an encouraging smile, her crimson lips parting slightly in approval.

When Harry was sorted into Slytherin, it was a surprise, but not entirely unexpected. She had thought he might end up in Hufflepuff, but she had always told him that no house was inherently bad. She herself was a proud Slytherin. Harry caught her eye, and she gave him a reassuring nod, feeling a surge of pride as he joined his new house.

As the sorting continued, Andromeda leaned back in her chair, the movement causing her robes to shift and reveal more of her shapely legs. She noticed Ron Weasley, with his shock of red hair and nervous demeanor, being called. He walked up to the stool and was promptly sorted into Gryffindor. The Gryffindor table erupted in cheers.

She turned to the Weasley matriarch seated beside her and smiled warmly. "Congratulations, Madam Weasley."

"Oh, please, call me Molly," Mrs. Weasley said, returning the smile. "We're going to be working together now, after all."

"Of course, Molly," Andromeda replied, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Next, "Zabini, Blaise," was called. The elegant boy walked to the stool with an air of confidence. The beret barely touched his head before declaring, "SLYTHERIN!" Blaise made his way to the Slytherin table, greeted by polite applause and a few knowing nods from the older students.

Dumbledore suddenly stood up. The hall fell silent so quickly it was almost comical. He sat down again, and the room erupted in whispers.

Then he stood up again. Silence fell once more.

He sat. Noise resumed.

He stood up. Silence.

"Huh," he whispered to himself, "Now that's intriguing."

Then, with a dramatic flair, Dumbledore clapped his hands. The sound exploded like a crack of thunder, reverberating through the hall with such force it felt as if the very stones of Hogwarts trembled. The shockwave of power was nothing short of awe-inspiring; it surged through the room, causing every student to snap to attention. The air itself seemed to hum with the sheer magnitude of his magic. Some students gulped, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and reverence, while a few of the older Slytherins visibly quaked, their confident facades shattering under the weight of his authority. The entire hall was plunged into a stunned silence.

Near Andromeda, Professor Quirrell let out a small whimper, his eyes darting nervously. Andromeda turned her gaze toward him, her expression softening slightly. "Are you alright, Professor Quirrell?" she asked, her voice a soothing contrast to the tense atmosphere. Quirrell gave a weak, trembling smile, his words coming out in a stutter. "Y-yes, f-fine, thank you." He tugged at his turban nervously, trying to compose himself under her scrutinizing gaze.

Dumbledore's presence was magnetic, his gaze sweeping across the hall as he raised his hands. Silence fell, so profound it was as if the very stones of Hogwarts held their breath. "Welcome," he began, his voice a sonorous boom that seemed to resonate within each heart, "to another year at Hogwarts!"

He paused, eyes gleaming with a mix of warmth and authority. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has stood as a sanctuary of knowledge and magic for over a thousand years. This castle, these halls, have witnessed the rise of legends. It is here that young minds are honed, excellence is forged, and the future of the wizarding world is shaped."

"Within these ancient walls, you will find not just education, but transformation. The magic you learn here is not merely about spells and potions; it is about discovering who you are and what you can become. You are here because you possess potential, a spark of greatness that can set the world alight. Remember this: greatness is not in the accolades you receive, but in the courage to do what is right, the strength to stand by your convictions, and the compassion to help those in need. Here at Hogwarts, you are not just students; you are part of a legacy. A legacy that demands the best of you."

Dumbledore's eyes shone with fervor, his words a clarion call to the assembled students. "Embrace the challenges, seize the opportunities, and never shy away from the pursuit of knowledge. Support one another, challenge each other, and grow together. In these halls, you will forge bonds that will last a lifetime, and learn lessons that will shape your destiny."

With a final, emphatic gesture, he declared, "Welcome to Hogwarts. Let this year be one of discovery, achievement, and the pure, unending magic of learning."

For a heartbeat, the hall remained in a stunned silence, as if absorbing the gravity of Dumbledore's words. Then, a tidal wave of cheers and applause erupted, shaking the very walls. Teachers' chests swelled with pride, and Hagrid let out a booming laugh.

Dumbledore raised his hands once more for silence. "Thank you, thank you," he said, his voice playful yet authoritative. "As someone who believes in continuous improvement, I have a few changes to announce for this year."

A murmur of excitement spread through the hall, students leaning forward in anticipation.

"First," Dumbledore said,"as per its name, the Forbidden Forest is, indeed, forbidden. Why, you ask? Because it's filled with dangerous creatures like homicidal centaurs, homicidal spiders, and other homicidal... entities. So, naturally, it's forbidden. Unless, of course, you find yourself in detention. Then you'll be sent inside. At night. Alone. And, well, you might be eaten. But let's hope not. But maybe."

The hall erupted in a mix of nervous laughter and gasps, the students exchanging wide-eyed glances.

"And," he continued, his tone now more matter-of-fact, "as you may have noticed, there's a slight change in our pedagogical team. For instance, Professor Snape is not here tonight."

The Gryffindor table burst into cheers.

"But don't worry, he'll be back tomorrow," Dumbledore added with a grin. A collective groan rose from the Gryffindor table.

Andromeda Black stood up, commanding the attention of the entire hall. Her black silk robes clung to her voluptuous figure, shimmering under the enchanted ceiling's light. The plunging neckline showcased the tantalizing curve of her ample breasts, and the daring slit up the side of her robes offered glimpses of her toned, porcelain legs. Her nipples, slightly visible through the thin fabric, added an element of forbidden allure. Her raven-black hair cascaded over her shoulders in luxurious waves, contrasting starkly with her alabaster skin. Her deep blue eyes sparkled with intelligence and mischief, and her crimson lips parted in a sultry smile that made more than a few students' hearts race.

Dumbledore looked up, the twinkle in his eye brighter than ever. "So, exceptionally, for tonight, Andromeda Black will fulfill the duties of Head of Slytherin House. Telling the first years about the House and all that"

Pandemonium erupted at the Slytherin table. "What? You can't do that!" students protested, their voices rising in outrage and confusion. Whispers spread like wildfire through the hall. "She was cast out of the Blacks..." they murmured, eyes darting between Andromeda and the Slytherin table.

All eyes turned to Draco Malfoy, the presumed heir to the Black family. The weight of their gazes pressed down on him, making him feel smaller and more vulnerable than he ever had before. He knew he had to act, to say something. Feeling the pressure, Draco rose to his feet, his mind racing. "Professor Headmaster Dumbledore, with all respect" he began, his voice trembling slightly. Dumbledore's piercing gaze met his, making him falter. "I'm afraid you..." he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "...you mistook her name," he finished lamely, his face burning with embarrassment.

Dumbledore's expression took on a sharper edge, his eyes narrowing slightly. Then, theatrically, he revealed, "As of last night, Andromeda Black has been reinstated as a member of the Black family."

More whispers and screams erupted. "What? Why? How?" the students cried, their confusion mounting.

Andromeda's voice cut through the chaos like a blade. "Nephew, I'm afraid you badly checked the family tapestry if you think I've not been reinstated as a Black"

Draco spluttered in indignation, his face turning a deep shade of red. He knew she would not dare to make such a statement were it untrue. But how? How could this be? He had to tell Mother ! And Father !

Marcus Flint decided to intervene. He stood up, his voice booming. "Even if it's true, Headmaster, you have no right to replace Snape! Even for a night! It must be a decision for the Board of Governors. It's in the Chart!"

Silence fell over the hall as Dumbledore's gaze locked onto Flint - even if he had to admit it was mainly because he was surprised the boy had read the Chart. Hell, he knew how to read? The familiar twinkle in his eye vanished, replaced by a piercing, glacial intensity. Flint gulped, an icy dread creeping down his spine as the temperature seemed to drop around him.

"Indeed," Dumbledore intoned, his voice like a blade forged in the coldest depths, "it is true. But what is the Board going to do?" With a casual flick of his wrist, he unleashed a torrent of magical energy that surged through the hall, making the very air vibrate with raw power. The walls seemed to hum, and the torches flickered wildly. Flint's bravado shattered; his face drained of color as he buckled under the sheer, unrelenting force of Dumbledore's presence. His legs quivered, barely able to hold him up.

"What are you going to do?" Dumbledore's voice was a low, menacing growl, resonating with an authority that brooked no defiance.

Flint whimpered, his courage utterly spent, and sank back into his seat, utterly defeated.

Dumbledore's demeanor shifted instantly, his genial smile returning. "Good! That was the first announcement," he said cheerfully, clapping his hands together. The sound reverberated through the hall, bringing everyone back to attention.

He continued, his voice now warm and inviting. "Now, let's move on to the rest of the announcements."

"First," Dumbledore began with a faux somber tone, "I regret to inform you all that I had a bit of a mishap earlier today. You see, I tripped over Professor Binns and, well, accidentally exorcised him."

A moment of stunned silence followed. Then, as the news sank in, the hall erupted into raucous cheers. Students leapt from their seats, hugging each other and crying tears of relief. Whistles and claps echoed off the stone walls, and the usually composed faculty couldn't help but smile. Dumbledore waited for the excitement to die down, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "So sad," he continued, clearly not sad at all, "but this does mean we have a new History of Magic professor. Allow me to introduce a specialist in Materialist Dialectic."

From the shadows emerged a ghostly figure. He had a thick, bushy beard and a somewhat stern yet thoughtful expression. His spectral form was dressed in a heavy coat and hat. The hall fell into an intrigued silence, with students craning their necks to get a better look.

The ghostly figure floated to the front of the hall, looking at the students with a mixture of curiosity and determination. Whispers spread through the crowd. "Who's that?" "Never seen him before." "Is he going to be better than Binns?"

Dumbledore cleared his throat, drawing all eyes back to him. "Please welcome Karl Marx," he announced with a flourish.

Important Author Note :

Hello everyone,

First, I want to thanks the frequent reviewers of this story. It's only because of the reviews here I keep posting on ffnet, and not only at QQ. Many thanks, in particular to merendinoemiliano, Jxgod and .upg for the consistent reviews.

For new arrivals, I just wanted to remind you of a few things. My posts on are secondary—they're not my main platform, which is why updates there are a bit less frequent.

All chapters are available for free on the site Questionable Questing, complete with images (both SFW and NSFW) for each character. You just need to create an account on the forum to access them. The story and my account share the same name on QQ. There are also exclusive Omake/Extras, as the light NSFW one I added just below this one. As ffnet has a harsher policy on NSFW content, I am not sure if I will post the extras here, so I just wanted to let you know where to find them.

For those who want even more content, I also have a Pa-t.r eo.n. under the same name. There, you'll find 7 chapters in advance for this story (and up to 20 chapters in advance for my other stories), with chapters currently available up to chapter 34. That said, all chapters will eventually be posted for free on QQ and maybe here, just with a few months' delay. There is also a lot of exclusive extras.

Omake 1 - Nymphadora's training - NSFW

Nymphadora Tonks' room was an explosion of chaos and personality, perfectly reflecting its owner. The walls were painted a smoky gray, plastered with posters of Muggle punk bands whose enchanted subjects smirked, sneered, and posed in endless loops. String lights in mismatched colors zigzagged haphazardly across the ceiling, their soft glow casting a rebellious charm over the cluttered space. Her bed, unmade and inviting, dominated the room—a mass of rumpled tartan blankets and pillows scattered like afterthoughts. A crooked shelf leaned against one wall, piled high with Auror manuals, vinyl records, and potion vials, while an overworked wardrobe struggled to contain leather jackets, ripped jeans, and an array of boots. Tonks had turned the room into her sanctuary of defiance, with every detail screaming: I am who I want to be.

Tonks herself lounged lazily in the room, her outfit as bold and defiant as her surroundings. She wore a pair of black short shorts so tiny that they seemed barely there. The strings of her red thong peeked provocatively over the waistband, curving against her hips. The fabric of the shorts dug into her, framing the soft swell of her pussy in a way that left little to the imagination. Each movement caused them to shift slightly, teasingly, and she didn't seem to care. Her oversized t-shirt, once probably belonging to some old Muggle band, hung loosely off one shoulder, revealing the pale skin of her collarbone and the black strap of her bra underneath. The material stretched across her chest, barely containing her generous breasts, the fabric clinging suggestively to their fullness. Her nipples pressed against the thin shirt, a detail she didn't seem concerned about as she leaned back on her bed.

Her hair was its usual vibrant pink, styled into a messy, punk-inspired shag that framed her face in jagged layers. A streak of silver darted through the fringe, an accidental charm result she'd decided to keep. Her sharp, playful features were relaxed in the moment, her full lips quirking into a slight smirk as she stretched, her thighs parting casually on the bed. Her long legs, pale and toned, stretched out against the chaotic patchwork of her bedspread, one foot still clad in a striped sock, the other bare, flexing idly as she hummed a tune to herself. Her nails, painted a deep crimson, tapped against the neck of a butterbeer bottle sitting on the nightstand.

She let out a sigh, tugging at the hem of her shorts, not to cover anything but more as a habit, before standing and tossing the oversized shirt off with a dramatic flourish. Beneath it, her body was on full display, save for the black bra that cupped her breasts and the thong that still clung to her hips. Her curves were bold, unapologetic, the kind of body that made her posture seem deliberately careless. She glanced at the enchanted mirror across the room, smirking at her reflection, and muttered, "Looking good, Tonks."

As the evening wore on, she decided to make herself more comfortable. The black bra joined the shirt on the floor, her breasts spilling free, their weight making her sigh with relief as she stretched. She rolled her shoulders and ran her fingers through her hair, her bare torso catching the dim light of the fairy lights above her. Her nipples, taut and rosy, stood out against her pale skin, and she grazed them lightly with her fingers as if testing her own sensitivity. She bit her lip, her smirk softening into something more playful and private. "Might as well enjoy the quiet," she murmured to herself.

Her hands trailed down to the waistband of her shorts, teasing the fabric down over her hips. The tightness of the shorts made them a challenge to remove, but she wiggled them off with exaggerated movements, laughing at her own antics. "Come on, you little bastards," she muttered as she finally tossed them aside. Left in only her red thong, the strings snug against her hips and the delicate triangle of fabric barely covering her, she felt a rush of freedom. She let herself collapse back onto the bed, her bare legs spreading slightly as her hands trailed along her thighs, grazing her inner legs just enough to make her breath quicken.

Her fingers brushed the edge of her thong, teasing herself lightly as her other hand moved to her chest. She toyed with her nipple, pinching and rolling it between her fingers, a soft moan escaping her lips as her hips shifted on instinct. Her breathing deepened as she trailed her hand lower, her fingers brushing against the damp fabric between her legs. She closed her eyes, her head tilting back as she let herself indulge in the sensation. But a faint sound pricked her Auror instincts. Her head snapped up, and her wand was in her hand in a flash. She scanned the room, her gaze sharp, then flicked her wand toward the curtains. "Reveal yourself!" she barked.

The curtains shuddered, then groaned loudly. "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" a familiar voice bellowed, making her jump nearly out of her skin.

"MOODY?!" she shouted, her voice a mix of fury and disbelief. She scrambled to cover herself with a blanket, her face reddening with both embarrassment and fury. "You perverted old codger! What are you doing spying on me?"

The enchanted curtain protested weakly. "Don't flatter yourself, lass. Could've been a Death Eater sneaking in while you were... preoccupied."

Tonks groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Preoccupied?! I was having a bloody moment to myself, you paranoid lunatic!"

"Exactly the kind of vulnerability an enemy could exploit," Moody grumbled, his voice gruff but unapologetic. "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Tonks threw a pillow at the offending curtain, which fell silent, and flopped back onto her bed with a groan. "Bloody old warhorse," she muttered to herself.