FicWad

12 Grimmauld Place, London - July 15th, Midday
„HARRY! “
Only seconds after the first squeezing sensation, Harry was engulfed in another. His strained lungs protested, as they tried to pump more air into their battered realms. Damn it, this wasn’t nice. This wasn’t even on the same planet as nice.
“Ginny! Air,” he groaned.
But apparently she misunderstood that tone, because now his ears were taking a battering. In form of what Ginevra ‘Bitch’ Weasley thought was an erotic voice. Positive thing was, she didn’t try to squeeze the life out of his body anymore.
“Oh Harry, don’t be so shy.”
Instead she rubbed herself against his body.
“Why don’t you ditch that uptight Susan and I’ll show you a really good time.”
Even Dumbledore smiled a pretty nasty smile. What was he getting at?
Sirius voice floated into Harry’s mind, ‘If you want some real fun, grab a Weasley.’ Traitor!
He tried to calm himself, tried to think of the sensations he had when Brigitta had hugged him. But it didn’t help; no, it amplified the thoroughly unpleasant feelings coursing through his body.
Then, to make it all worse, a scene from a Horror-movie, of which he caught a glimpse at the Dursleys, took hold. A slug trying to cover her victim with her slime. This was probably how that felt like. And wasn’t that slime digestive juice? The first stage of eating for a slug? He tried, he really tried, but there was that smell, penetrating his nose… was that … oh no … his stomach rumbled and started to heave. He tried, he really tried…
He pushed her away and vomited. Violently. Right onto her neckline. Where other women had their décolleté. Where Susan had her massive décolleté. Where Brigitta had an even more massive décolleté. Where seemingly every other woman had more than this Girl would ever have, right?
Harry felt so violated, so betrayed out of every nice feeling he had not five minutes before. He abhorred this, this, this… Weasley. And Sirius called this fun? He needed to be checked, repeatedly. O.k., maybe he spoke only of the senior generation Weasleys. Maybe Arthur had to talk – no, that good man should not be punished like this. He suffered enough. But his wife should do that. Yes. That’d be fitting. Just punishment for what she did to Alexander and whatever she might have done since then.
And just for good measure, he vomited right onto that neckline again. But then – he should have hit the floor. Why didn’t that Weaslette move?
Then she moved – and tried to slap him, but he dodged her first bitch-slaps before pushing her away. She whirled around (leaving a multitude of spots everywhere – even on Dumbledore) and stomped up the stairs, presumably to the bathroom.
Then Harry heard the laughter. The twins of course. How do they do that? Why are they here? How do they know?
Harry twisted himself free of Dumbledore and ran up the stairs and reached her, just as she opened the bathroom door.
“I’m sorry, Ginny. I don’t know what came over me,” he gasped.
“You don’t know?” the not-believing reply – complete with the shrill voice – came. “Well, I know what came over me,” and she slammed the bathroom door in his face.
The twins rolled on the floor, howling with laughter.
Totally overwhelmed, he looked down the stairs. Dumbledore was angry again.
‘Fuck Dumbledore,’ Harry thought.

12 Grimmauld Place, London – about 15 minutes later
It was a second trial. On one hand you had Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, Molly Weasley and Tonks; on the other side was Harry. And though his prosecutors weren’t towering 5 feet above him, they were trying pretty hard to make him feel so small as if they were. One guilt trip after another was launched but they needn’t have bothered, Harry refused to let himself be drowned by their sorrows. If they were sorrows at all.
Dumbledore had his grandfatherly facemask on; it had to be a facade, everything else was unconvincing, "Harry, I'm severely disappointed with you..."
"You're disappointed with me, Dumbledore?" Harry replied, nearly shouting, "You shout at me, handle me like I have no free will and no rights of my own, very nearly kidnap me from right in front of the Minister of Magic's office, and now you're effing disappointed with me? What the Hell is wrong with you?"
Molly's voice rose, "How dare you shout at the Headmaster! You should be thankful for all the things he did for you."
Harry's voice dripped with sarcasm, "Like delivering me to the Dursleys, who have treated me like a House Elf, like preparing me for the wizarding world with Hagrid's Storys? Like allowing Voldemort into a school full of children..."
"For Merlin's sake, Potter, you're supposed to be a Gryffindor," Snape interrupted, "grow some Balls, will you?"
Harry didn't even grace Snape with a look, "... and always, but always forcing me together with this... this... Loser, who thought he loved my Mother, when the truth probably was closer to him being obsessed with her."
Snape stood, wand falling into his hand.
"SEVERUS, SIT DOWN!" Dumbledore shouted, but he had to flood the room with his Magic, reminding Snape, who was the more powerful of them. But the look on Snape's face was one of utter loathing.
"Harry, there is no need to spread around the blame. I know, my decisions were sometimes controversial, but they are for the best. I ask you to believe me in this," and around the table some heads were nodding.
Harry thought he didn't hear right, "Of course, there is no need to spread around the blame. Just as I'm sure, that there is no need to slaughter pigs and cattle for food – or at least that's what cow and pig will tell you. But back to the matter at Hand: what reason do you have for being disappointed with me, when all I did was defend myself? You weren’t there, what was I supposed to do? Wait for them to convict me with this kangaroo court? Then wait for you for 12 years to make everything all right? Well, forgive me for not wanting to go to Azkaban. Which, by the way, was your effing responsibility too!" Harry shouted by now.
"But no, it was a school kids responsibility to make sure, a – not even convicted – victim of power (yours to be exact) got scot free, like he always was supposed to be. Not forgetting, that we now have a Minister of Magic who is finally worth her salt. And you are disappointed at me? Did I disrupt your plans for your wizarding Britain, oh great Dark Lord Dumbledore?"
Stunned silence around the Table. McGonagall looked like she was fighting a heart attack, Tonks looked stunned but beautiful, Snape glowered like usual and Molly looked like she prepared a new speech. But Dumbledore looked like he was on fire. His aura showed in the most brilliant and terrifying colours.
"Who do you think you are, Mister Potter. Do you know, who you are talking to?" Dumbledore roared, "I am responsible for defeating Grindelwald. I am the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot (once more), I am the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW and – more importantly – I’m your Headmaster!”
“Yeah, you’re also carrier of too many Names and Titles. How many years did it take until Grindelwald was taken care of? Wasn’t it 12 years? Are you fetishistically in love with the Number 12, hm?”
“THAT IS ENOUGH, MR POTTER!” Dumbledore screamed, but then he collected himself, “I thought I’d do you a favour in fetching you from Privet Drive, but seeing as you are most insolent, you shall spend the rest of your holiday there. I really thought better of you.”
Harry smiled, completely unimpressed, “Yeah, even Privet Drive is better than being here. At least there I can have some peace and quiet, even if it’s only for a few Minutes per Week.”
But Dumbledore wasn’t a politician for nothing, “Stop trying to fish for mercy, Mr Potter. This is the result of your own actions.”
Now Harry became curious, “Mercy? No, Lord Dumbledore you’ve just granted me mercy. By the way, how shall I get to Privet Drive? Or would you really shove me out of the door and let me be? Who knows what I could get up to?”
Arthur sighed, “I will take you, Harry.”
That set Harry back, “Thank you, Mr Weasley.”
One most uncomfortable sensation later, they were standing in the playground where the most prevalent episode in Harry’s life began. Luckily it was empty.
“Mr Weasley?” Harry asked.
Arthur Weasley only sighed again. Then he turned around, “Yes, Harry?”
“Could you tell me at least something of what’s going on? Lately almost everyone seems to go crazy around me and I can’t make head or tails of it.”
Arthur sat down on one swing, deep in thought. Twice, he seemed to start his answer, but twice he also stopped.
Then he found his beginning, “Harry, there is too much craziness around you. I am sorry to say, but we can’t make head or tails from your tales. How much of those are the truth – and how much of them are not.”
Harry was shocked. They thought he was spinning tales? Was he challenged again – this time even by someone he trusted? His anger evaporated, though, when he saw the form of Mr Weasley. He sat bent forward on that swing, elbows on his legs, as if he was defeated. Defeated by a life with Molly, in a – seemingly – dead end job and now even Harry himself heaped his anger and rebellion up on him, too.
Harry’s heart went out to him, followed by his hand. When it touched Mr Weasley’s shoulder he straightened his back until they looked into each other’s eyes.
Harry spoke up, “Mr Weasley, I am sorry for this happening to you. How can I make it easier for you?”
The smile on Arthur’s face was a tired one, “Thank you, Harry. You could start by telling me the truth. What has happened to you? Why are you rebelling so much?”
“Because there is so much craziness around me, Mr Weasley,” Harry replied, “Yes, of course it was all fun and games and exciting when Voldemort decided to steal the Philosophers Stone from Hogwarts. And when Ginny was abducted by Voldemort-inside-her I tried to help, of course. Even if I didn’t like her too much after she and Suzy had their huge row, she still was Ron’s sister and I wanted to help her. We even asked bloody Lockhart, though he turned out bloody worse than useless. Ron must have told you, that this Fraud tried to obliviate us and run away.”
Mr Weasley nodded.
“And I’m sure you know about Sirius. That he was never convicted, and innocent of any crime. And Fudge being an idiot, sending Dementors to Hogwarts. Then last year, when my Name came out of the Goblet of Fire, I’ve had enough. I didn’t want any more publicity. I could have sat in the stands with my Suzy, have a complete normal year and be absolutely happy about it. But someone called Barty Crouch jun. had other plans for me; at least until I foiled them. Yes, I know Barty Crouch jun. was supposed to be dead and none of the teachers would believe me, if they hadn’t seen him reverting from Polyjuice with their own eyes. And just yesterday I had to defend myself from Dementors again, sent by a hateful witch in the Ministry. I know this sounds like I’m making that up but please, Mr Weasley, I’m not. Please believe me, this – and only this – is what has happened to me.”
And their eyes crossed again. Minutes passed.
“But what about that love triangle with Hermione?” Arthur asked.
“That has never happened. I consider myself in a relationship with Susan Bones, as I did when that stupid article came out. That was a Skeeter coup, not mine.”
Arthur nodded, “All right Harry, I believe you. Just promise me, you don’t seek trouble, will you?”
“Just like last time, Mr Weasley. I promise I won’t look for trouble. I can’t promise you, that there will be no trouble looking for me and for that I’m really sorry.”
“This has to suffice, right?”
“Probably, Mr Weasley, and I’m not even sure from which direction the attacks will come.”
“And such a pity it is, that you have to worry about attacks. At your age, even…,” and he stood up from the swing.
“Believe me, Mr Weasley, I know – and agree,” Harry finished, “Good bye then.”
“Good bye Harry. Oh, by the way, what do you think of my daughter?”
Harry’s head snapped up, shock written all over his face. Mr Weasley must have heard about that episode – but then he saw Mr Weasley’s smile before he popped away. And for the first time since Brigitta’s hug, Harry found he could smile again too as he ambled towards No. 4, Privet Drive.
When he reached his home, he knew, this was going to be interesting. He would not be disappointed, as his Aunt wrenched the door open, pulled him in and hissed, “What the hell are you doing here? You’ve got some nerves standing in front of our door, after what you did.”
“Aunt Petunia, I don’t want to be here, but our jailer decided for me to endure your hospitality once more,” Harry responded, cockiness in his voice.
“Don’t you use that tone with me, freak! You are straining our patience to a point I wouldn’t dare to go near, if I were in your place,” Petunia ground out. You could hear she was near her breaking point.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Harry snorted. “Don’t take it up with me, take it up with the really big D. I’ll even lend you Hedwig, if you want. Just a word of warning, Dumbledore isn’t quite as peaceful as you know him at this moment. He might just slap you down.”
“What are you yattering on about, boy? You’re delusional, if you think namedropping is going to help you. In my house, I make the rules. And right now they say you can sleep in the gutter for all I care. This is not your home anymore!”
Harry’s eyebrows pulled up. He really wasn’t to be disappointed, was he?
No. 4, Privet Drive, July 15, 03:00 p.m.
It was the return of the screaming Dumbledore. Petunia, Vernon and Dudley, huddled together in a corner of their living room, trembled in fear in front of this insanely mad wizard. Every time, Crazy D trained his wand on them, they averted their eyes from him only to look around seconds later, when no curse struck them.
Harry, sitting in his room with the door opened, had this soft smile on his face, when he heard Dumbledore ripping his relatives a new one. He was genuinely interested how this would turn out. Then Dumbledore called him downstairs. As Harry stood in the doorway to the living room, his eyes fell on his relatives. They looked at him in wide-eyed fear, seemingly pleading him to do something. Yet, he regarded them with an indifferent look that seemed to say, ‘Welcome to my world.’
Then he noticed a vial of blood in Dumbledore’s hands. Ah, Blood Wards were on the agenda. It wouldn’t do for Dumbledore to lose his convenient Harry-prison.
‘Wonder what D had planned for himself this afternoon,’ Harry thought and had to work hard at keeping that damnable smirk (which fought just as hard) from his face. He succeeded, but only so. Instead, he held his arm towards Dumbledore, who took a sample of his blood with some barely mumbled words.
Two hours later, Dumbledore was finished mentally, magically and physically. He had also finished erecting the blood wards.
Harry approached him slowly, “I wonder if these are the same kind of Blood Wards they were before, Professor?” He hoped Dumbledore would slip.
Who seemed to be debating internally, what to answer, “No, Harry, they are not. When you are here, I urge you not to leave the grounds, as the protection ends right at the edge of the lot. You have to stay on the grounds at all times.”
However, his honest thoughts were rather along the lines of ‘There, see how you like it in your new prison.’
He even gave Harry the used vials. They were useless to him right now and he could get new blood from Harry if he needed it, couldn’t he?
Harry just nodded and slunk back inside the house. He would see how he could and would get around these so-called protections. He’d also see, how to use them for his own advantage.
As he entered his room, he noticed one of his mirrors vibrating. It was Sirius’s mirror.
“Pup, I’ve gotten an owl, informing me that all the allegations were dropped against me. I think I’ve waited long enough. What is going on over there with you?” Sirius asked just as the connection was established. He didn’t waste time, did he?
“Right Sirius, what do you know?” Harry replied.
“You were attacked by Dementors, but I should stay away on my ‘trip’, Dumbledore had it all in hands.”
Harry snorted a laugh, “If only it were so. You see it went like this…” and he went on to tell the latest episode.
Fifteen minutes later…
“… I swear that stench came from between her legs. So I puked on her. Twice. I’d have thought she’d move, but she didn’t. Stomps up the stairs, shrieks ‘Well, I know what came over me!’ and slams the Bathroom door in my face. I look down the stairs and Dumbledore is pissed.”
“Then they started to interrogate you?” Sirius asked.
“Well, it wasn’t so much an interrogation as rather one guilt trip after another. Especially Molly-tron,” Harry replied. “I swear Molly and Ginny, are … like … I don’t even know how to describe it. They are the absolute opposite of everything I consider female. So un-sweet, so domineering, I can’t stand it. I’ve had enough of that with Petunia. Why would I hook up with another female of that persuasion?
“But I feel so lucky having Susan. She isn’t like that. She’s sweet and soft and … simply there when I need her. And that hug from Brigitta was genuinely heavenly. I mean, I couldn’t even think straight. It was reaching so deep into my soul; it felt like she was reaching my toes – from my shoulder. I just wonder what she meant with other peoples decisions.”
“She probably meant her own decision,” Sirius interjected, “especially when she initiated that hug afterwards.”
“Yes, it was just like that,” Harry replied, energised. That was advice, as he preferred it, straight out without any deviation. Harry wished Dumbledore would take lessons from Sirius in answering questions.
“But back to the matter at hand, Harry,” Sirius said, a stern expression on his face, “the Ministry is an extremely dangerous ground. It might not be the kind of dangerous as is standing in front of Voldemort while he trains his wand at you, but in a different way. They can severely cripple your ambitions. You’d have to get training for the Wizengamot, Harry.”
“Why is that, Sirius?” Harry interjected, “I just want to be shot of them. If being a mage opens up so many avenues to me, what would I need a Ministry for? I’m not talking revolution, Sirius, but separation. Wizards have done it with wards keeping Muggles out. What if a Mage has wards to keep wizards out?”
“Because there’s still the queen. The Ministry of Magic is her way of dealing with magic users. All magic users,” Sirius answered. “There is no escape possibility, Harry. Every sentient being on this planet has a sort of government, even if it’s just a ‘Word-of-the-eldest’ kind of government. It’s unavoidable, unfortunately, but that’s the way power gets distributed in the world.”
Harry deeply wished he could reply to that, he even had a feeling of an argument in his head but he hadn’t formulated it. The words were simply missing.
“O.k. Sirius, I give, at least for now. We will continue this talk. There is a counter-argument to yours; it’s just the words that are failing me right now.”
Sirius eyebrows rose until the locks of his hair hid them completely. Then he centred himself once more.
“That being said, thank you for doing what you did,” there was a suspicious sheen on his eyes, “you probably have only a general idea what it means to me, but it feels so good to be acknowledged as free once again. Especially when I did nothing wrong in the first place.”
Then he started to cry freely, “I’m FREE again. Thank you so much, Harry. I swear that my decisions shall never bring harm to you again. By my magic,” and there was a flash in the mirror and around Harry’s body, “I so swear. Just promise me, that you’ll listen to what I have to say. Can you promise that, Harry?”
Harry choked up. So much trust in just a single short sentence, it completely overwhelmed him. Still, he answered, “Yes, Sirius. By my magic I so swear,” and was rewarded with that flash around them.
Sirius smiled the tearful smile, “Thank you, Harry. You needn’t have sworn, by the way.”
Harry’s sense of obligation objected with might, “No Sirius, I needed to swear. My consciousness would never leave me alone otherwise. It’s only fair.”
Sirius nodded, “Your father would have said the same, Harry, and your mother would have raised an eyebrow until you knew she felt the same. All right Harry, I have to go now. Thank you again for your deeds and by the way: I think you’re absolutely, completely, over-the-top-ly effing mad. I wouldn’t have it any other way with you, though. I’ll see you in a few days, Harry.”
Before Harry could reply, the connection closed. If that’s the way, he wanted to play – fine. Sirius would see what came of that.
Then the second mirror vibrated – Susan!
“Hello? Helloo? Can anyone hear me?”
Harry rushed over to the second mirror, “Susan it’s me, Harry. You figured the mirror out – yay. How are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine now. Harry, I’ve been so worried about you. The articles in the newspaper were so frightening. What if you were send to Azkaban?”
“Please calm yourself, Suzy. Everything was all right. I had prepared for most of the things they could throw at me. I was prepared enough.”
Susan took a deep breath and seemingly centred herself – not unlike Sirius, “Harry, could you please tell me what has happened? I want to hear it from you.”
Therefore, Harry regaled his tale of the Dementors, the Ministry and Dumbledore for the second time this day. He kept the part of the story with Ginny for last.
While telling the story, Susan looked shocked at first, then she started to smile, then to giggle, then she couldn’t hold it inside her and laughed the mother of all belly laughs.
“I’ll be damned, Harry, but if this wasn’t the most appropriate reaction to what that bitch calls flirting, I don’t know what it is,” Susan giggled after calming down enough.
“And my response to her remark of me being uptight is this,” she pulled her pullover over her head and Harry could see the massive mounds of her breasts just barely held together by a bra that would probably fit Ginny’s head.
“It’s just a pity these mirrors are so small,” Susan exclaimed, not just a little miffed.
“Hang on, Suzy, you can enlarge them by holding them in both hands and saying ‘enlarge’. Mine has grown already to a good size,” Harry interjected.
“Are you speaking of your mirror, Mr Potter? Or what was that about?” Susan asked, eyes shining, “It seemed you confused several things there for a second.”
Harry sat the mirror on his bed, before sitting down himself, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose, “Yes, I was talking of the mirror. What do you wish I was talking about, Susan?”
When he opened his eyes again, he saw his Suzy naked, jiggling her massive breasts with her hands.
“Oh, I don’t know, these maybe?” she said.
His John Thomas was hard in an instant. He only needed to stand up, loosen the belt and both his trousers and underpants fell off.
“Or did you maybe think of this getting enlarged?” the smile made its way on his face. One hand gripped his shaft; the other pulled his clothes off his upper body. Good enough, they were so wide.
Susan’s hand made its way down her body. One of her hands stayed with her breasts, kneading them hard. Her eyes were wide.
“Oh, how I wish these were your hands, Harry,” she moaned.
“Likewise” he grunted. He moved his hand in a comfortable speed now.
…
After the last waves of pleasure left Susan’s body she looked at Harry, “Would you allow me to bond with you, Harry?”