FicWad

AN: Here is my contribution to the world of HP. My goal is to make an story, with plenty of plot and drama, and also a lot of smut, as an essential part of it. I hope you enjoy it.

Harry Potter, July 30, 23:55, Privet Drive:
Hello. My name is Harry Potter, and I'm about to turn 16. Right now, I am lying on my bed, feeling helpless and confused. No one likes having their godfather die, but what really tops it off is the fact that really I was the one responsible is bringing about his death. If only I hadn't been fooled by Voldemort, if only I had been powerful enough to fight the Death Eaters off myself, if only...

Right now, I am doing what you would expect any teenager with a private room and plenty of time to himself would be doing. As my hand strokes back and forth on my rapidly hardening cock, I think of Cho. We never went beyond kissing last year, and then we broke up before anything else could happen, but in my mind, I can picture her smooth, supple body beneath mine. Well, that's the story of my life: I never get the girl, I never win. I just lie down and have events trample over me.

As the clock strikes midnight, I cum. I picture Cho also in a orgasmic spasm, our mutual bliss combining and spilling over, but that part is nothing but a lie. I am alone, powerless, and denied even contact with the world outside of Privet Drive.

As I stare up at the ceiling, I decide something has to change. I swear to myself that I will find a way to win. To just beat Voldemort, with no fighting, no suffering, and no watching my friends die. And then I will get the girl, whatever girl that may be. Or more than one girl? I am about to go into another fantasy, this time about the Patil twins, when four owls swoop through the window.

I suppose these are my birthday owls for this year. I sweep my legs of my now cum-dreanched sheets and go to open them. I catalog my presents. The first three are from Hagrid, Ron, and Hermione respectively. The fourth one though, that's the interesting one. A majestic horned owl, bearing the Hogwarts crest, carries a rather large letter, from no other than Dumbledore.

I open it, and read:

Hello Harry,
I hope you enjoy your birthday. It is a great thing to have birthdays, as they enable us to reflect on our pasts, and take joy in our lives. Alas, at my age birthdays are more of a reminder of my advanced age than a cause for celebration, but must seize the day no less for that.

I am writing you for another, sadder reason as well. Your godfather's passing was a great sadness, to me as well as to everyone else that knew him. He was a great source of joy to us all, and I can imagine that no one feels his loss harder than you.

Despite that, please listen to what I am saying with an open mind. In his will, Sirius left all his worldly possessions to his godson, you. I know that you will say you do not want them, that you have no wish to benefit from the death of your godfather in any way, but please consider the situation carefully before you act rashly. I almost didn't send this to you, and tried to hide from you these facts until you are older and wiser, but I thought it prudent to treat you the way you doubtlessly want to be treated, as an adult, even if legally you won't be one until next year.

Sirius wanted you to have these, and he said as much in his will. Please do not trample on his last wishes so casually as I fear you might.

With congratulations on your birthday,
Albus Dumbledore

As I read the letter, anger bubbles up in my chest. How dare he suggest that I should take Sirius's possessions, his money. He knows I would trade them in a heartbeat for Sirius to be alive again. But part of me knows he is right. It is an irrational side of me that pushes this away, as though somehow by doing so it could bring him back. No, I decide. I will use this, as I will use everything else. I will find someway to gain some measure of control of my fate, so that no one more has to die. As my resolve hardens, so does my penis, reaching up as I imagine what else I could get if I had some real power in the world.

But that;'s just my hormones talking, so I ignore it and fish around for the envelope's remaining contents. There are three official looking documents. One from Gringotts, commanding me to show up to claim the Black family fortune. One is from the ministry, officially granting me the status of head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black. The third turns out to be a stupid ministry pamphlet entiteled “You just inherited a ton of money, so now what do you do?”. I discard it in the trash, then pull on some clothes. I have places to be and people to see.

I head downstairs, thankful that the Dursleys are asleep. I grab some money from Uncle Vernon's wallet, then leave the house, softly closing the door behind me.

Despite the late hour, I manage to catch a bus into London. By the time I get to the Leaky Cauldron, it is half past two in the morning, and the sun is starting to peak out over the horizon. I make my way through the Leaky Cauldron, and out into Diagon. Fired by my newfound determination, my destination is Gringotts bank.

Inside, I show the Gringotts document I received to a snooty goblin looking down at me from behind a podium. Pretty soon, I have the key to the Black family vaults, and am on the rollercoaster ride down to them. We go down, down, down, past traps and guardians, past even what seems to be a dragon, before finally pulling up in front of the vault.

I go into the vault, not knowing what to expect. As it turns out, there is nothing much surprising there. Some money, yes, even a small fortune, but a small fortune is something I already have in my own right, and not what I am looking for. I am not sure what I even am looking for. I flip through the stack of trinkets stored in the vault, but that's all the are, trinkets. Valuable trinkets, sure, that's why the are kept in a bank vault, but trinkets nonetheless. There was various jewelry, some of it enchanted, but it was obvious that any real artifact of power wouldn't be there. It would be out, being bused, or at least in an easily accessible place where it could be quickly accessed in an emergency.

Dejected, I stumble out of the bank and back to the Leaky Cauldron. I grab some flue powder, and head over to number 12, Grimmauld Place. Exhausted from my recent excursion, I stumble into a bed, not even caring that my relatives will notice me gone in the morning.

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The next day, I wake up late, then tagger downstairs to make myself breakfast. After eating, I make my way over to the house's library. I methodically start examining the titles, looking for something that might help. After a while, I still not have found anything even potentially useful. I make up my mind, and stride purposefully up to the section with the books that are that bit, to put it frankly, darker.

Anything light would have already been examined by other hands, eager also to put an end to this war. If I want to actually achieve something, I have to risk a bit more. I am reasonably confident in my ability to stick to my principles, even under temptation. I will unearth even the darkest secret, and use it for my own ends, not for the ends of the authors of these foul books. I will use it to vanquish the evil of Voldemort, no matter what the price is, and I will be the conquering hero. I will. Make no mistake about it. I will pay any price, bear any burden, shoulder any responsibility in order to stop what happened to Sirius from happening again.

At last, I find something good. It's a book of rituals. Rituals can give a lot of power easily, but they always come at a price. That's what the ministry says, anyway, and that's why they banned them. But from what I can see in this book, the prices are more than reasonable.

Magic books often have their gimmicks, and this one is no exception. The way it is set up, I can not read any chapter save the first until I conduct the ritual from the chapter before it. This is ominous, make no mistake. I can not tell what prices may be required for the later rituals. But how much of a problem is that? If it gets too much for me to pay, I can just stop, can't I? And, after all, I did just declare I was willing to pay any price...

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I quickly read through the first chapter thoroughly, and prepare for the first ritual. It is a generic one, intended for a permanent, though small, boost to everything. A little bit more physical strength, a bit better eyesight, a bit tougher and more resistant body, a bit faster mind, a bit more magical power. Just a bit of everything, perfect for a first ritual, to give me a taste of what I will be getting with further rituals. Further rituals will be more specialized, the book promises me, but this is plenty good enogh for now.

I gather up the ritual's components. A hair from a tiger and five manticore quills I grab from a potions kit I find lying around the house. Half a lemon and a silver goblet I take from the kitchen. A twig from an ash tree I take from the tree in the backyard. Finally, I am ready.

A part I didn't mention up until now: All rituals have components that are inherently sexual. Probably that is another reason the ministry banned them. Those old wizards can be very prudish at times. Not me though, I am a sixteen year old boy, after all. I quickly strip off my clothes, and stand naked over the gathered components.

This is only the first ritual, so its sexual price is quite tame. I am no stranger to wanking, as you obviously can tell. This time, the book instructs me to imagine myself in a position of power over someone else. So I think of Ginny, of how she was always so shy around me. I imagine that her crush on me has grown, and I imagine her under me, willing to do anything to please me. As the peak of orgasm hits me, I cam. Its nothing like how I imagine real sex would be, but it is all the sweeter for the fact that it would put me on the first step of the path to greatness, to power, to control of my own destiny. To getting laid, even.
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All I can say is that the ritual worked wonders. I feel so much stronger now, more able. I already have flipped through the next chapter of the book, and I am nervous, but I have a plan for getting there.

I phone Hermione from a telephone booth on the street, the house not having a telephone. I tell her I am staying at Grimmauld place, and she agrees to come over. She arrives on a bus not much later, and I let her into the house. We sit, and chat, as the day goes on, and by evening, we are snuggled together on the couch, reading together a book on diacrital metamagics. Actually, Hermione is reading it, I am half following along with my eyes, and half planning my next step. Things progressed naturally, and by the time the clock strikes eleven, we were inside one another's clothing and kissing each other passionately. It wasn't much longer before the clothing was off and my cock was rubbing against the entrance to her pussy.

I pushed down slowly, and as my cock touched her hymen, I mouthed the first part of the ritual's incantation. With no more than a brief sliver of pain, her hymen dissolved, and my dick was enveloped by her soft vagina.

She ground her hips against mine, and I moaned with pleasure. I slowly pulled out, and softly pushed in again, this time making it her turn to moan in ecstasy. Neither of us lasted much longer. As I went over the edge of orgasm, I mouthed the final words of the incantation, and my spurting seed combined with the ritual's power pushed her over the edge as well. She screamed my name, then the full force of the ritual's magic hit, and we both drifted off into peaceful oblivion.

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This ritual was a lot more specialized. It sacrifices a girl's virginity to create a special bond between the two of us. Me and Hermione can now sense each other's emotions, and send to each other thoughts, at any distance. What the book also mentioned only in passing, was that if I sacrificed my own virginity to the ritual too, the bond would be that much stronger. I guess the assumption was that anyone who got into that kind of magic would definitely already be familiar with sex, but I digress.

This brings us to where I am now. I am standing in the backyard of 12 Grimmauld Place, trying out my new magical power. Neither me nor Hermione could reasonably be described as anything but quite strong magically, and it seems that this enhanced bond has pooled out magical strength.

This is why I am standing over a hole in the ground that seems to be the best part of a mile deep. I thought that a good spell to try out my new power would be a simple digging charm. It worked, and how. When I drop a rock into it, it takes quite the while for the sound of it reaching the bottom to hit my ears.

I wander back inside and grab some breakfast. Hermione is already at the dining table, dressed in some clean clothes she found somewhere in the house, some robe belonging to a long forgotten ancestor of the Black family. She looks up from her toast and smiles at me when I walk in, but her expression quickly tuners to one of inquiry.

“Um,” she mumbles, unsure of how to phrase what she was trying to say, then started again. “Um,” she says again waving here hand in the air uncertainly. “What is this?”

I look at her, unsure of how to respond.

“I mean,” she quickly adds. “Last night was very nice.” At this point, she is blushing embarrassedly, but pushes on regardless. “But now this morning I feel, well, something between us.”

“YouknowwehadsexandIamobviouslyhappytobeyourgirlfriendandforyoutobemyboyfriend” she quickly adds, still blushing furiously. “But more than that. It feels like there is some intangible force connecting us now. Can you also feel it?”

I suppose I will have to tell her everything sometime, so no sense in delaying. I open my mouth. “Well...”