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Chapter 4 - The Call

Saturday morning found Harry snuggled into his duvet listening to his girlfriend's contented little snore.

She's so cute, Harry thought, why haven't I noticed before?

Myrtle's eyes fluttered then flew open wide. She sat up with her back against the headboard, looking perplexed.

"I had a dream." She said with some uncertainty, as if she wasn't sure.

"About what?" Harry whispered as he sat up to pull Myrtle into a comforting embrace.

"You don't understand, Harry. Ghosts don't dream, we visit other people in their dreams but have none of our own."

He leaned over to nuzzle her hair and said, "You don't feel like a ghost to me."

"Hmmmmmm," she sighed, pulling his arms closer around her, "can we just stay here all day?"

"Sounds good to me, luv, but Ihave to visit the loo, and then we'll both want brekkers."

He leaned forward for a kiss and was surprised when Myrtle placed her fingers on his lips.

"Sorry, love, but your breath doesn't half stink."

Harry was a taken aback just abit by that.

"No, don't take offense, love, but it's one of those facts of life that most blokes just don't get.

"Here," she said, pulling the invisibility cloak over herself, "let's visit the loo, bring your toothbrush."

He pulled on his boxers, grabbed a towel and helped Myrtle down from his four-poster.

She led him into the bathroom and, seeing it empty, gathered the cloak about her waist. Harry smiled to see her pert baps seeming to say "good morning, darling!"

Myrtle smiled at the sight of Harry ogling her tiny titties. "If a boy is lucky he'll have a girlfriend who will be honest with him and let him know what to do in certain situations."

Harry smirked, "and am I going to get lucky?"

"Oh yes you are going to get unbelievably lucky, now brush your teeth then let me do the same."

They did. And only then did Myrtle kiss him.

She kissed him in such a way that he knew that she knew the size, shape and texture of his tonsils. Grinning goofily she led him into the showers.

"Um, Harry, can the cloak get wet? Will water hurt it?"

"Actually, it never gets wet. Water just runs off it."

She smiled and re-fastened the cloak, cape fashion, around her neck so that she stood before him completely nude.

"Drop the boxers, Mister Potter."

"As you wish." Harry said, remembering Farmboy's line to Buttercup. He stepped out of his pants, then placed them on his towel on the shelf next to the shower stall. Harry smiled as he thought of all the things he was going to show Myrtle: movies, music, Mars bars, (and that was just the things beginning with the letter "m") all the muggle things she'd missed out on over the past five decades.

He was grinning like a loon as they stepped into the small shower cubicle.

"What's so amusing, Harry?"

"I have so much to show you, Myrtle, I hardly know where to start."

"And I have much to show you, Harry, and I know exactly where to start."

As Harry pulled the chain to start the magically heated water flow. She went down on her knees before him, kneeling partially on the cloak for comfort and, as warm water cascaded over them, began to stroke his already firm cock.

"Ohhhhhhhhh!"

"Oh you ain't seen nuthin' yet, sweetheart." Myrtle promised and placed her lips around the velvet helmet, sucked softly placing little licks on the underside as she stroked his firm length with her right hand, twisting as she stroked.

"Ah, Myrtle, I'm gonna, I'm gonna, ah, ah, ah, ahhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Harry groaned as he shot rope after rope of hot, sticky cum into Myrtle's mouth.

Myrtle slurped, sucked and swallowed several times all the while stroking Harry's erection, which refused to flag even after he'd finished spewing.

Harry pulled Myrtle to her feet and kissed her, deeply, not caring that he could taste himself on her. He was completely in love with this girl and had to show her.

"Myrtle Malone, I lov -"

"Oi, Harry!" Ron's voice interrupted.

Both lovers groaned. Myrtle pulled the cloak over her just as Ron came around the corner.

"Whacha doin' in here, Harry, sounds like you're in pain or summat."

"Just trying to get a shower, mate he said, turning away so that Weasley wouldn't see his persisting boner."

Ron, who grew up with five older brothers had an idea that maybe Harry was just wanking - something Ron did frequently.

"Well, finish up and come to brekkers already!"

"Alright, alright."

Ron left the showers and Harry asked "You okay, Myrtle?"

"I will be, Harry. Here," she said, handing him his cloak, "I need to check on a few things while you're at breakfast."

"No, you'll go all ghosty again."

"It's alright, Harry, I'm ready for it now. And I know you'll let me use the cloak to become corporeal again."

"Why not just take the cloak and go invisibly? I'd feel better if you didn't have to be a ghost."

Myrtle kissed him hard. "You're so sweet, but for what I need to do I need to be able to pass through walls and your cloak doesn't allow for that."

"Your cloak, you mean," Harry said, "I'm giving it to you."

"We'll call it our cloak then, just hold it for me until I get back, please?"

Harry kissed her, trying to pour his whole heart into the connection so that Myrtle wouldn't leave, or if she did, she would want to come back soon.

"As soon as I can, love." She said, dreamily, and handed Harry their cloak.

She hated leaving the world of the living, the world of warmth and feeling and hot and cold and rubbing warm and tingly sticky bits together. Only then did she remember that she'd left her clothing on Harry's bed.

/Better keep to the shadows/, she thought, don't want to "traumatize the firsties," like Hermione says.

Myrtle felt the feather touch of an ethereal cloak draped about her shoulders. She looked up to see the Grey Lady smiling down on her.

"Thank you, m'lady Ravenclaw."

"Happy to help, Miss Malone, It's unheard of for a girl to find the love of her life after death, and your young man's feelings for you are so pure, so strong. He found me in the library where I usually spend my mornings and asked if I could see to your modesty and comfort. He's quite the gentleman."

"Therein lies my problem, my lady. He's loved by so many that if word of our, um, relationship gets out it will break the hearts of those who love him best, and you know how that affects all of us at Hogwarts."

The Grey Lady looked wistful,"Indeed, when James Potter declared for Lily I had to restrain three girls from jumping off the astronomy tower - pity he married a first-generation."

Myrtle nodded in understanding. The term "muggle" was a 20th century affectation. Older mages referred to the newly magical as first-generation mages, meaning the first of the family known to have magic.

Older traditions allowed for polyamory and polygamy either in the form of multiple pairings or formal covens. Most covens formed around a sorcerer of enormous power or latency, that is to say potential for directing power. High latency meant that the wizard could make use of the magical potential of the world around him. Witches have always been drawn to the most powerful wizards and Harry had to be off the scale of magical latency.

Lily Potter had only just begun to realize James's potential and was in the process of negotiating a concubine for him when they were forced into hiding by Dumbledore and Voldemort. Young Emiline Vance had been thrilled at the idea.

"I have the tacit approval for Hermione Granger as Matriarch; or rather co-matriarch as Harry seems to love us equally."

"Yes, that boy seems to have agreat capacity for unselfish love."

Without realizing it both specters faded into a quiet corner of the Hufflepuff common room. In one of the corners in a study carrel three young witches knelt around a candle. Hannah Abbot, Megan Jones, and Susan Bones held hands and prayed for good health and fortune to follow the focus of their lives, the object of their affections, Harry James Potter.

"So mote it be." The girls said in unison.

"Blessed be." Myrtle and Lady Grey responded.

The three Hufflepuffs looked confused.

"Who said that?" Megan asked, not afraid, just curious.

"Sorry to intrude ladies," Lady Grey said, stepping from the shadows, "But we have a bit of news for you."

)O(

Daphne Greengrass, Tracy Davis, and Millicent Bulstrode stood likewise around a blooded candle. At first they divined the most potent source of power in the school - imagine their surprise when Harry's name popped up not once, but three times. Not all Slytherins embrace evil, just ambition. Their dream was to belong to the most powerful mage in the land no matter who he was. Pansy Parkinson stood apart, not interfering, but not joining either, she still had her doubts.

At that point across the room Draco Malfoy chose to be his usual asinine self, "Father says that we should demand our due, half-bloods will follow us and mudbloods will serve us - and I have plans for a certain buck-toothed, bushy haired mudblood bitch!"

Any other time Pansy would have gone into her camouflage "simpering sycophant" mode but something extraordinary happened.

The girls were startled by the sudden appearance of the Grey Lady and intrigued by the news she brought. Pansy was drawn into the conversation and made a life altering decision on the spot.

)O(

In Ravenclaw Mandy Brocklehurst knelt completing the circle formed by herself, Su Li and Padma Patil. "Sisters," Myrtle said, "I have wonderful news, and, if you are agreeable . . ."

A young witch with dirty blonde hair and an aire of distraction knelt with the other girls and said ". . . we will be convening a coven before the sun sets this day."

The four Ravenclaw girls dared to hope.

)O(

In Gryffindor tower there were no witches who kept a shrine to the object of their affections - but every issue of the Prophet or Witch Weekly that had a photo of Harry Potter in it was stashed away in the trunks and under the pillows of most of the Lionesses. Collin Creevy's obsession with Harry provided the girls, as well as one or two boys, with all the icons they needed for their quiet but desperate obsession.

Then again, Myrtle had kept aspecial watch on the Gryffindors since first meeting Harry in her bathroom three years before so she had a pretty good idea who to talk to. Starting with the head of house.

)O(

If you look at a mirror, not straight on, but with your peripheral vision you will occasionally catch aglimpse of /something/. A shadow, a flash of color - but when you look straight on you only see yourself and the reflection of the room you're in.

The two-dimensional space between the glass and its reflection is always a portal to any of the infinite number of between worlds. Most of the time the denizens of these sandwiched realities are content to exist and interact with each other as they have since their Diaspora nearly two millennia ago.

Some, however, insinuate themselves into human affairs.

Astarte preened her long, honey-blonde hair idly as she watched the two ghosts of Hogwarts set what they thought were their plans into motion.

"Oh, Lily," the golden haired deity chuckled, "our son seems to be coming into his own, and none too soon. He does seem to have the ability to bring out the best - and worst - in those who orbit within his spheres."

Her echoing laughter sounded through the halls of Hogwarts like the tinkling of a small silver bell.