FicWad

Disclaimer: The Potterverse belongs to JKR and her legal drone army. I'm just playing with it but, and this is important, it's an AU. That means Alternative Universe. I change whatever I want to change and write what I want to write. That includes my violation of the Indian culture. As I don't make any money on this, I don't even have to bow to the audience. I still do, though.


A Dismal Thing To Do!


Harry didn't know what to do. He had options, of course he had options but he still didn't know which one to choose, so he followed the fastest route to a peaceful solution. Well, more peaceful for him, anyway.

He knocked on Professor Umbridge's door.

As soon as it opened, it almost slammed shut again, but Harry was in no mood to tolerate that kind of thing. The door blew up, and Harald Fafnersson, in all his glory, stepped through. With an impatient wave of his hand, the shivering witch lost her wand, and it hit the wall quickly enough to snap. With burning eyes, he glared at the pathetic excuse for a ministry toadie as she sank down against the wall.

“The Ministry is attacking my home, Undersecretary Umbridge. One of your Aurors launched a fire curse at my pregnant wife, Undersecretary Umbridge.”

The nauseating display of kitten-obsessed bad taste that plagued the walls shattered, and on the desk, quills and parchments were smoking.

“Undersecretary Umbridge, do you have an emergency portkey that will take you to the Ministry if you are injured?”

The panicking woman nodded.

“Good. Here's the message: Either back down and pay restitution, or die. The attack will end in ten minutes or we will be at all-out war. Got it?”

She nodded again, not thinking about the obvious next step until the merciless force of a battle hammer struck her hip, shattering her pelvis, femur and several vertebrae before the portkey whisked her away, leaving only a smelling puddle on the floor. Harry squared his shoulders and left.

He had made it to the Great Hall, where a frantic Susan came running, followed by an equally frantic McGonagall. They stopped in good time, and approached him warily. He was still in full Lord-mode, and quite intimidating.

“Harry,” Susan began, “my aunt says that the Aurors will attack Kilchurn and that she's been fired. Do you know anything more?”

“Yes. On arrival, they shot a deadly curse at Gabrielle. When I get too angry, my mental defences shut down the bond-link. She's alive, and not seriously injured, but someone took a shot at her. That's all I need to know, really.”

“Harry, My Lord, just remember that the Aurors are not your enemies. They are just following the Minister's orders. There are many good people among them. Try not to kill them.”

“I'll do my best, but if they attack, I will allow the Huldr to have a go at them. I'll ask them to play nice, though.” Susan nodded in recognition and took a step back.

“Harry, do you know why Professor Umbridge's emergency portkey just activated?” McGonagall asked, not really needing the answer. Harry, as a man of action, had no doubt caused it.

“She's delivering my ultimatum to the Minister. Unless they cease all hostilities in the next ... six minutes, there will be a war. At this time, it's between me and Fudge, but anyone attacking me will be added to the losing side. Now, if you excuse me, I need to be somewhere. Susan, you know how to reach me.” With that, he took off towards the dungeons. As he strode down the stairs, Draco Malfoy and Ted Nott chose to try to stand in his way. He didn't even slow down, but deflected their curses with a casual wave, and grabbed both boys by their collars, pulling them along with him as he continued down two more flights of stairs.

“Boys, I'd love to kill you right now, but as I'm a bit busy, and I want to pay attention to details when I pull your intestines out through your urethras, I hope you don't mind a rain check?”

He dropped them in the middle of the stairs, leaving the suddenly terrified boys to drag their bruised and battered bodies to the hospital wing on their own.

The lesson was obvious. Thou shalt not annoy Harry Potter, lest you wish to go 'squish' under his boot.

Kilchurn was much more peaceful than its Lord. As soon as Harry left the Arch, a tankard of mead was pressed into his hand by Commander Steiner, and Björn was there, smiling, so Harry did his best to calm down.

“Report.”

“Herr Fafnersson, we have sixteen Aurors in the dungeons, about seventy outside, and very little going on. Apparently, a large black man is in charge outside, and he's waiting for confirmations to attack.” Steiner snapped. Björn continued.

“They are completely surrounded, demoralised and, well, doomed. Why don't you take Stina along and talk to them? This is not a worthy fight. Maybe Leif as well, just to fly the colours a bit.”

“Sounds like a plan. I know one black Auror, and he's a good man I'd rather not kill. Do we have enough mead and tankards in the house for seventy?”

There was a pop, and the richest house-elf in the world appeared.

“Lord Kilchurn Harry Potter Sir, I's having a suggestion ....”

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Kingsley Shacklebolt was fidgety. Impatient had sounded better, and Charged For Battle would have been nice, but he knew himself quite well, and Fidgety was just the word.

They had been ordered to lay siege to a bloody castle, and a castle they could barely see at that. Half the time it was just a ruin, and half the time it was a pretty impressive structure, with guarded battlements and all. He had ordered two teams to watch the skies for the dragon, but he didn't have the foggiest notion what to do if anyone saw it. He almost jumped out of his skin when a House Elf popped in right next to him. The Elf was dressed in a small tuxedo, and looked every part a butler.

“Auror Shacklebolt, Sir. The Lord Kilchurn regrets this delay, and invites yourself and ten into the courtyard for a cup convival until the festivities start. For those Aurors who no longer wish to serve a Minister who has made himself a personal enemy of the Lord, Kilchurn offers political asylum.”

“Thank you for this, erm, kind offer, but it might be considered as me leaving my post.”

“It might also be wise to do some clever spying inside, not? We will make the castle fully visible and hold the meeting in view through the open gate. The minister wishes this conflict, not Kilchurn. The situation grew worse after one Auror decided to use deadly force against the Lord's pregnant wife, but it wasn't you, and we know this.”

Suddenly, there was a call from the barely visible battlements.

“Shacklebolt! Dobby speaks for me. Come on in and have a drink. You'll be safe.”

He couldn't really believe his ears.

“Potter? Is that you?”

“Yes, it's me. You thought Dumbledore had style. I sent a message to the Minister, and hopefully, you won't have to fight us today. Hell, we're partners. You deal with the scum, and we watch your backs. I'm not throwing that away; I owe too much to the Aurors. Let's talk.”

“Mon, it's good to hear some sense. We're coming in.”

He turned to his group.

“Okay, team. I trust Harry, and I'm sure it's him. Anyone know someone who should join us? There's room for three more.”

“The teams are trained together. Let's leave the seats.”

“Good point, Brown. Let's go.”

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Harry was in full gear for war. His layered dragonhide battlerobe with the great claymore hanging in a baldric across his back gave him a Samurai look which was offset by the battle hammer hanging from his bronze plate belt. This made the staff in his hand quite ridiculous, as he only had two hands, and was unlikely to drop either hammer, sword, or staff in a fight. The Auror team looked at him and recognized him immediately as Bad News.

“Auror Shacklebolt, how nice of you to drop by. Mead?”

The Auror was suitably shaken, and nodded. This was hardly what he had expected. The courtyard was full of flowers, a table was placed in the middle, and beautiful women were everywhere. The women wore simple white gowns, and one of them, a brunette, also wore a large bandage covering her shoulder. As he wasn't deaf and paid attention to rumours, he looked around for tails hidden under the gowns, and he found them everywhere. Suddenly, this little image of paradise didn't seem quite so friendly any more.

“Good eyes, Shacklebolt. Most of these women are Huldr, and until you get the signal to attack, they pose no threat to you at all. This is Elaine, who has posed as my girlfriend so far. Actually, she's my fiancé.”

“I am pleased to meet you, Auror Shacklebolt,” said the bandaged girl in a pleasant alto. “Harry speaks highly of you, and puts you in stark contrast to the monster in the dungeon.”

“Charmed,” said the slightly bewildered Auror, and bowed to kiss the offered hand. “May I ask what kind of monster you have there?”

Harry laughed, completely without humour.

“The Dawlish kind. He threw a deadly curse at my pregnant wife, and I claim full Line Protection rights. He will not return. Fortunately, Elaine was able to block the curse, and she's tougher than she looks. ”

“I see. Do you know why Kilchurn suddenly became an enemy of the Ministry?”

“It may be the interview I gave in the paper. Kilchurn doesn't hold Fudge in very high regard, and I said so. The next thing he did was send you here to try and save face. Apparently, Madam Bones opposed this, so he fired her. Basically, you're not here on a Ministry errand. You're here as Fudge's hissy fit.”

The Aurors within hearing range grimaced at the pretty girl's apt description.

“She's right. I may have aggravated the situation a bit by activating his undersecretary's emergency portkey to send him a message, though. He won't be happy about that, but he started this, not me, and I'm ready to finish it.”

Kingsley didn't really like the sound of that.

“I do have a lot of people here to stop you. Wouldn't that make it hard to move on the Minister?”

“No, not really. You were at Longbottom Estate, right? You saw the result of seven people and a dragon. I have thirty Huldr in the castle right now, two dragons, a giant and almost two hundred trained warriors. The Queensberry rules will not apply. You're also surrounded by three hundred Huldr, using their power over nature to hide. I believe some of the Aurors are actually sitting on Huldr right now without knowing it. If you get the orders to attack, just throw down your wand. That way you'll live. Please understand that I'm not threatening you here. The Minister has no idea what we can do, and he sent you here with a much too small force to even make a dent in our defences. Umbridge is a casualty by now, I guess. Dawlish will be, but that's where it ends from my point of view.”

“I see. Mistah Potter, not that I doubt you personally or anything, but it's hard to believe that these charming ladies could pose such a threat to trained Aurors. I know very little about Huldr, after all.”

“Of course. You and one more, disarmed and captured by one of them, would that do?”

Auror Brown moved quickly to his team leader's side. Harry gave them a questioning look, and both men nodded. Two seconds later, both men were sitting in chairs, with their wands on the table, and a pretty little girl holding them both down with one hand on each man's shoulder. The girl looked to be about fifteen years old, a blonde little thing with pigtails and a friendly smile.

Harry walked over to them with their wands.

“You see, a Huldr is almost as fast as a vampire, and just as strong. Their allure is powerful, and Occlumency won't help you. They can sap your magic and strength if they want to, and they're sturdier, more resilient than humans. They are predators; we are usually prey. They just don't like it, so they come here because here they can feed and live without having to harm anyone. I've seen to that. The greatest threat to these girls' dreams of living without hunting is Fudge, and I'm very sorry that he has put you in this position.”

“So am I. Please excuse me, I need to talk to the other teams for a second.”

The large man was visibly shaken as he left his team inside, and called a meeting with the team leaders.

“Guys, we're here because a girl told a reporter that she doesn't like Fudge. There are enough troops inside the castle to grind us into the turf, but they won't need to, because we're surrounded as well. There are hundreds of Huldr in the area, and, well, if we attack, we're dead. Thoughts?”

“What about the missing teams? There were supposed to be two teams coming in along the shore, right?”

“I think they're in the dungeons. Dawlish shot a curse at Potter's pregnant wife. He won't leave here, and good riddance. I think the rest will be released.”

“Hold on, did you say that the Minister sent us here for personal reasons? A personal vendetta, that kind of thing?”

“Pretty much. It's about the article in the Prophet, nothing else. The girl who spoke to Skeeter is also the one who took the curse for Harry's wife. By the bandage, I'd guess she jumped in the way of it.”

“Wasn't she his girlfriend or fiancé or something? He has a wife, too?”

“Looks that way, lucky bugger. She's a hot little thing, too. I haven't seen his wife yet, though.”

“That's not illegal, but using us as a personal brass knuckle is. Gentlemen, I'd rather go back and arrest Fudge for Misuse, Conduct Unbecoming and Criminal Stupidity. How about you?”

“Hell yeah. My wife is expecting me home tonight, and being dead would sort of keep me from that. She gets right shirty when I miss dinner.”

“I agree. I'd like to see the other teams return with us, though.”

“Come on then, let's go talk to Harry.”

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“Conrad! Conraa-ad!”

“Yes, Mother. What are you yelling about?”

“Get that broad behind of yours to the Ministry and get Fudge out of there. Augusta just called, and Fudge has gone to war against Kilchurn.”

“What? That's madness! He had Huldr by his side at Longbottom's. I've met some Huldr in my days, and I sure don't want to do so on a battlefield. He'll get us all killed! The bloody article even said ... bloody hell, where's my robe?”

Conrad Mayweather jumped into the Floo. Maybe it wasn't too late.

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He was the Minister of Magic. He had a plaque on his desk that said so. He just didn't look much like a leader at the time. Percy Weasley had been there when the battered body of Dolores Umbridge had appeared. Somehow, he had thought, they all had thought that the Ministry would protect them from everything. Obviously, Kilchurn didn't care. Kilchurn didn't care about cauldron bottoms, about trade quotas, or about rules and regulations. According to everything Percy had heard, Kilchurn was only interested in equality, and Percy couldn't find much wrong with that.

Kilchurn, or rather Potter, had destroyed a Ministry official just to send a message to the Ministry, and that message had chilled Percy's blood. If a representative of the Ministry had hurt Potter's wife, there would be hell to pay, and a war would be almost inevitable.

He made his decision. He opened the security console and moved some pegs around. He could hear Fudge in his office, and that office was now sealed, and the Floo blocked. He grabbed some parchment and a quill.

Dear Ginevra.

I know you didn't expect to hear from me, but there's a bit of a situation here. The Minister has lost his mind, and you are the only one I can think of who might get through to Harry Potter at this time. Please tell him that Fudge acted alone, and only in his own interests. I have Fudge locked up in his office, and I'm sending out retreat orders right now. Please find him and make him stop. The Aurors are not his enemies.

With belated, but loving regards,

Percy I Weasley
Coup-maker in the Ministry.

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Some attacks on fortified strongholds weren't so bad, the Aurors concluded, as a long line of beautiful women began to walk around, carrying large trays of beer and mead-tankards. The girls smiled and laughed with the Aurors, releasing their tension with a saucy wink here and there, and didn't complain about a hand or two on their swaying posteriors, and the girls were positively surprised that their tails weren't considered repulsive at all. When the crowd had been served, Shacklebolt conjured himself a lectern, jumped up on it and cast a Sonorus.

“Fellow Aurors, we've been ordered to stand down. The order has been issued by Fudge's secretary, Weasley, who saw that Fudge had lost his mind and locked him into his own office. I have a whole new respect for the little twerp --- he's a brave twerp now.

Anyway, as many of you have noticed, these ladies are Huldr, and right now, they're using their powers to help us relax by feeding off a little of our excess energy, so we may actually all be sleeping well tonight. Relax, have a drink, and then, I think, we have a Minister to arrest. This wasn't a legal matter, it was purely personal, and I've had it with that shit. You all with me?”

“What about Dawlish's and Barber's teams?” someone called out.

“Barber and his team are being brought up right now. Dawlish's team will be back once they're healed up, and Dawlish won't return. He made an unprovoked attack on the pregnant wife of Harry Potter, and, well, he's not returning. Potter claimed full Line Protection rights, and I don't blame him. It's legal and everything. His team got a bit banged up, but trust me, there are worse things than Huldr nurses. Once the Otherton hospital is up, I won't mind going there for my nicks and bruises. Let's help them along, people, and get the turd who sent us here to get killed behind bars.”

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“Were you hurt?”

“Don't be silly, beloved.” Just to make the point obvious, she morphed to face the other way, and then into a handstand without really moving, just rearranging herself. “The heat was dispersed throughout the Loch. I didn't really feel it, and even if I had, I heal fast and Gabrielle would have been worth it.”

“It's just, well, I love you, and I'd hate to see you hurt. Where's Gabrielle?”

“In her room. She might just need some reassurance. I sometimes forget how young she is. Don't forget that she's a Veela, though. Don't expect a human reaction. Scoot, beloved. I'll send Jorunn up as soon as she's back from delivering the team.”

“Thanks. See you.”

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The room was ... pink. Very pink, and frilly to boot. It wasn't so much lace as pink and white gauze, and Harry figured that the room looked a bit like what the inside of a piece of cotton candy must be like. On a heart-shaped bed --- pink, of course --- was his wife. She was naked, sleeping, and covered by a sheet, and he could clearly see the bulge on her taut stomach. Without making a sound, he unhooked his weapons and allowed his clothes to pool onto the floor, where they resumed their shape.

He climbed into the bed behind her and pressed her back to his chest. She felt so small, and Harry's protective reflexes fired up again. She didn't really wake up, but she made a kind of strange jerking motion with her pelvis, and to his amusement he realised that he had his crown inside her tight little vagina without having moved a muscle. He brought his Passionfire out in his hands, and caressed her breasts with a soft, blue glow that made his drowsy wife purr and thrust back a little. He started thrusting gently, and in combination with his hands, the petite Veela was pushed into a string of small orgasms that didn't let up until she pushed his hands away to turn around and straddle him. Locking her lips to his, she pushed herself down on him, and without moving, she used her internal muscles to basically jerk him off inside her. With her tongue chasing his, she squeezed him hard and as he drew close, began to slide all the way up and down without letting his mouth go, and sighed happily as he filled her folds with his semen, retreating into the orgasm she had been fighting off for several minutes. He bathed her in his Fire, and when he sensed that she was content and happy, he released her. As she fell back into slumber, he smiled and crawled out of the bed, dressed, and left. Veela girls were so much less complicated to deal with. He could sense her reasoning, vaguely, as she was almost asleep, through the Bond. Her Master still loved her, still found her desirable even if she had been a bit stupid and taken such a risk. He hadn't been angry, and as he had come to her and gifted her with his semen, so all was right in the Veela world.

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On the way down to the Arch room, he met Jorunn, and she had fire in her eyes.

“Love, you have too much rage still inside. Come on, fuck me hard.”

So he did. His panic when he was alerted to the attack, his rage at the ministry, and his tension from dealing with the Aurors had built up to dangerous levels, some of which was poured into Jorunn as he forced himself down her throat repeatedly before ripping her clothes off, forgoing magic, and simply rammed himself into her pussy from behind. She yelped a little as Harry drove himself deep with unrelenting force, but thrust back at him nonetheless. After a minute, she turned and pushed him back on the floor and dived onto his cock, taking it as deep as she could in her throat. Harry fucked her throat a couple of strokes until she spat him out and straddled him, this time taking him up her tightest hole. He felt her magic as she did a cleansing charm, but as soon as he got inside her, he sensed that she had foregone the lubrication. As he reached to do it, she stopped him.

“No, Master. I will heal, and I have some rage inside, too. I need the pain, so just fuck me.”

She cried out as he forced her open, but she had told him to, and he trusted her. He was too large for even her tough body without lubrication, though, so as she forced herself down over him, he felt her stretch beyond her capacity. As he felt the entrance get slick with blood, he sent the question through the bond, and she wordlessly told him to go on. He did so, and flooded her with Passionfire as he tore up her insides, but as he drew close, he turned her over on her back, pulled out and sung Healing into her as he made a cleansing charm on his cock and gently penetrated her pussy. He pushed deep, and as he felt her cervix, he pushed up against it. Well there, he relaxed and sent his semen into her uterus. She looked at him with wide eyes when she felt his intent, and opened herself fully, allowing him to make her pregnant. Her complete acceptance made his orgasm even more intense, and his enhanced body pumped semen inside her until there was a steady stream running down her crack, onto the floor.

“Thank you, Master. I'd say you have at least one more forceful fuck left before you can be really gentle, but thank you. I really hope I get pregnant. Now, get back to school, and turn that Tracey-girl into a puddle. Do bond someone as well. We want some more company here. Now, go fuck some schoolgirl.”

As usual, he smiled and did as the pretty girl told him.

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Almost half of the Wizengamot found themselves already at the ministry when the summons for an emergency session came. In less than ten minutes the requisite two-thirds were in the chambers, and the gallery held almost all of the GOL's. Present also was, not quite surprisingly, Neville Longbottom, dressed in his Kilchurn costume and carrying a dagger at his side with the Potter crest proudly displayed. A fairly confused Chief Warlock tried to bring order to the assembly and the agenda at the same time, and was actually quite relieved when Percy Weasley whispered in his ear and took over.

He avoided the seats, and took up position in the centre of the open floor. A judicious use of the cannon-blast charm brought him the undivided attention of the delegates.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Wizengamot. Today, in a fit of pique over a non-supportive article in the Daily Prophet, the Minister ordered every available Auror, the eighty-eight men and women not otherwise assigned, to attack Kilchurn Castle immediately for the flimsiest of reasons. Madam Amelia Bones objected, was forced to leave the Ministry, and has been impossible to locate thus far. However, the Minister did bring us all to the brink of disaster, and only inches from a most horrible civil war. Please, Lord Longbottom, could you please describe these events from your perspective?”

Neville was a bit surprised at this, but he realised what the former Head Boy was after. He took the floor with his hand on his dagger.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the operative person in this has been neither myself nor Caradoc Pritchard, but Harry Potter, a man with no reason to love the Ministry. Elaine, who gave the interview, is Harry's Fiancé, but she's one of three, and he's also married to one girl already. His wife is pregnant, which is sort of important. The first indication of all this that Kilchurn received was when Auror Dawlish made an unprovoked attack on Lord Potter's pregnant wife. The curse was deadly, and if Elaine, who is quite a bit sturdier than she looks, hadn't stopped the curse with her body, none of us would be here.

When Lord Potter, who has a mental link to his girls, learned of this, he became angry beyond my ability to calm him down. He sought out Professor Umbridge, with whom he has an unpleasant history --- also due to the Minister --- and wounded her badly as a message to Fudge. He did make sure that she would survive, however. He used a classified transport to Kilchurn, where the commanders of our armed forces managed to calm him down. By that time, the Castle had the seventy-two Aurors surrounded by an overwhelming force, and the hundreds of trained fighters inside the castle were armed and ready. Sixteen Aurors had approached from another direction, and as the leader of one of those teams was the one who opened fire, they were all in custody. As Lord Potter recognised the site-leader among the Aurors, he managed to defuse the situation while both sides were waiting for ministry confirmation of the attack. Thankfully, this brave man here had neutralised Fudge, so the disaster never happened. I was alerted to this as he sent a message to Kilchurn, using his personal connections with the house. I received it rather than the Lord, but was able to contact the Castle in time. Ladies and Gentlemen, Lord Potter has prepared for a war against the current Dark Lord; he is prepared to fight for his family, as some of them are classified as beasts by this body; and less than a thousand Aurors isn't much of a threat, frankly. If he gets to live in peace, if his friends and family are treated with the respect they deserve, his forces can be seen as a resource for the Aurors and the Ministry. Ladies and Gentlemen of the Wizengamot, there are two victims of this conflict who will not recover. Dolores Umbridge will spend the rest of her life at St. Mungo's, the bill for which Kilchurn will pay. Lord Potter has also claimed full Line Protection rights against Auror Dawlish, and he's unlikely to be seen again. This ends the current events. Thank you.”

Augusta Longbottom looked down on her grandson. When he had been called to the floor, she had been nervous out of habit, but had quickly recovered. He had played the Wizengamot like a flute, altering his voice and posture to match his words exactly. He had gone from whispers to roars, from mild voice to blasts of a war bassoon. What he had said didn't matter as much as how he had said it. The Minister had attacked a pregnant woman without provocation. Kilchurn House could have levelled the Ministry, but sagely chose not to. There were some unfortunate costs, but all in all, Kilchurn forgave the Ministry. All that was left was for the Ministry to find a scapegoat, and Fudge had more or less volunteered.

Percy thanked the younger Lord, and resumed.

“This could have been an unmitigated disaster. The House of Kilchurn is not our enemy, even if they may violate a couple of laws that we might look at later, but due to this unilateral declaration of war, I ask the Wizengamot to second my request for a vote of No Confidence regarding Cornelius Fudge, and for his removal from his current post.”

The gathered Grand Old Ladies smiled.

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Some hours earlier, Harry had exited the Arch at Hogwart's. Jorunn had been right. He still had way too much energy to relax. He wasn't thinking about how he looked, and that he was at full size as well. He took the stairs two steps at the time, and the rare students he encountered, usually couples, backed away from him or just stared. The stocky warrior that was climbing the stairs had very little in common with the scrawny boy they had seen just this morning, and as dinner was about to be served, it was much too soon for any kind of training regimen to have had this effect. He marched into the Great Hall, and flopped down unceremoniously at the table.

“What?” he asked, as his fellow Gryffindors stared at him. Dean cleared his throat.

“Eh, Harry. You're in full size, you're dressed in dragonhide, you have that hammer hanging loose and a sword across your back. That's a far cry from school robes, you know.”

“Oh. That might explain it. Never mind; The day's screwed enough as it is. Another thing won't matter.”

“What happened? You disappeared, Umbridge vanished, and Bones and Nev were just frantic for a while, but no-one knows anything. You wouldn't believe some of the rumours going around.”

“Does any of the rumours say that the Minister decided to attack Kilchurn with almost a hundred Aurors, that one of them cursed my pregnant wife, and that it was touch-and-go for a full scaled war until Percy Weasley arranged a coup and arrested the Minister?”

As everybody stared dumbly, he made the obvious conclusion.

“They weren't too informed, then, as that's pretty much what happened.”

Dean, the unofficial spokesman for the ill informed started counting on his fingers.

“Okay Mate: Why, What, Wife, War, and Who?” He looked around. “Anyone have any other questions?”

Seamus laughed.

“No, you've got them all covered, all right.”

As Harry retold the story again, a lot of students gathered around the table. As he clearly was getting angrier as he told it, a lot of them drooped off again, with a few noteworthy exceptions. Padma had taken up position behind Parvati and was staring at him with open mouth. Harry decided to bring her back to reality, and maybe tease her a bit as well, mostly to make himself focus on something else for a minute.

“Padma, you have an absolutely beautiful tongue, did you know that?”

There was an audible clap as she closed her mouth and seemed to shrink a bit, so Harry guessed that she was blushing. He looked around, and was highly amused to see Luna standing behind him, with Marietta Edgecombe kneeling at her feet. It must have been interesting in Ravenclaw these past few days. However, he couldn't see any Slytherins, not even the one he wanted to see. He felt sort of desperate for some reason. He had made love to his wife, fucked his girlfriend, and now he needed to shag the daylights out of someone. If he had understood the Lady Hogwarts, the twins would make a play for his attention that night, and he didn't want to hurt them. Tracey, on the other hand, would welcome some roughness. Maintaining the game didn't have the appeal it used to. He had yet to prove his command ability, but he knew he had it now, so he was confident that he could order her to be his toy for a while. It would probably be awkward, but this day already held his record for weirdest shag. In hindsight, he couldn't believe he had done that to Jorunn, but he also knew that she was probably the toughest of his girls. If anyone wanted to have some serious pain sometimes, it was certainly her. Tracey wouldn't be able to take that, but if he just remembered to morph ahead of time, she would want to take whatever he dished out.

With that thought firmly in mind, he rose.

“As much as I would like to stick around and gaze longingly at Padma's delightfully pink tongue, I have some working out to do. Catch you guys later.”

“But I've caught you right now, Potter. You will not subvert my house any further,” said a voice from behind, accompanied by a stunner that fizzed out harmlessly on his armour-clad back. He turned with a bored expression.

“Professor, attacking a student from behind has to be against some rule. It's not even good Slytherin tactics, because you have to ...”

At that point, the seething potions professor launched another hex, which Harry caught on his armoured arm. A third actually opened a gash across Harry's forehead, and Harry, quite literally, saw red. He reached over his shoulder and drew his sword, but he didn't get to do anything further , as the greasy man keeled over, revealing the dainty little form of Daphne Greengrass standing behind him with a cracked pitcher in her hand.

“Vindictiveness and counter-attacking after the fact is not the way of the serpent,” she said, looking at Harry, with a few glances at the sword as he re-sheathed it. “Fighting with any available means at the right time is.”

“Well put, Slytherin Greengrass. Thank you; I'll remember that.”

“Frankly, I think I saved his life. Would you help me get him to the hospital wing?”

“Of course.”

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As they walked the maze of halls and corridors towards the hospital wing, they talked mostly nonsense, while the conjured stretcher bounced between the walls. Harry was of course very much aware that she was working hard to be cute and sexy, but she wasn't coming on to him overtly. After a while, he simply asked her.

“So, what's on your mind? You're working hard to remind me that you're a beautiful girl, but I don't think you're coming on to me, so what's going on?”

“Eh, this is me trying to worm my way into your affection. Does it work?”

“It does, actually, but why? I think you know that I'm married, I have three consorts as well, and there's even some other girls I shag every now and then. At this point, I like you even if I don't trust you very far.”

“I know you're shagging Tracey, and, well, she speaks highly of you, and if you don't mind, I'd like to watch you sometime. She says that you're annoyingly gentle and I just want to know what that's like.”

He laughed a bit, still feeling the pent-up aggression.

“I intended to go find her later, but that's because I have a lot of aggression today. I'd like to shag it out of me, and she might be a willing recipient.”

“She will, but today is perhaps not the best day. She's got her period.”

“Let's see what she says about that.”

They deposited the still unconscious Professor in the tender care of Madam Pomfrey and made their way back through the labyrinth.

“You got me off track nicely there, but now I'm back. What's in this for you?”

“I want to live. I want to be on the winning side, like any other Slytherin, and that means I have to get closer to you. Also ... TraceyandPansyseemssohappy.”

“What?”

“They are happy, all right? In our house, there's a constant struggle to achieve dominant positions, to fight or outsmart all others. It's just hard. If you're on the bottom, any one can take advantage of you. I have no idea how many girls gets raped once they're in third year just because they're not at the top, and now no one touches Tracey or Pansy, because they have made themselves property. I want that kind of peace. That kind of unstated influence they're getting, simply by carrying a shadow of you and the House of Kilchurn.”

“We'll talk more about that later. I have a strong feeling that Tracey is coming this way right now. I intend to use her, so you may want to be somewhere else.”

His senses told him, somehow, that Tracey was coming closer --- or rather that her necklace was coming closer. He hadn't felt that before, and figured that it might be a good thing. He would have a word with Jormungandr about that later, but right now, he stopped by a fairly deep niche in the wall that housed a suit of armour, but there was some space behind it. It looked like a good spot in any case, so he built a quick wall-shield, leaving about six feet of space behind it, and he laced the shield with illusions and Notice-Me-Not-charms, making it look like an unusually boring piece of masonry. Just when he was done with it, Tracey came jogging around a corner. Harry raised his hand and stopped her.

“Good. You're here. Get in behind this suit of armour and on your knees.”

As he followed her through the false wall, he noticed that Greengrass was following them, but he chose not to say anything. Well inside, Tracey was on her knees, and was already gaping. It was tempting to simply shag her face, but he had to ask her.

“This is why you came running, isn't it?”

“Yes Master. I think it was the necklace that told me to hurry and where to go.”

“Do you have your period now?”

“Yes Master, but I use a tampon, so my mouth and ass are still available if you want to avoid the bleeding.”

“I'm mostly interested in your ass today, but one of these days, I might just make you pregnant. Shut up now and suck my cock.”

He couldn't quite get over the fact that Tracey blushed happily when he ordered her to do things like that, but there was no denying her joy when she liberated his unmorphed member. As she took the crown in her mouth, he was frankly astonished when she continued to push him down until her nose was pressed into his stomach. She pulled off of him and smiled.

“Purgamentum potion. It pays to be a Slytherin, sometimes. Use me, Master; I'm your personal rubber toy.”

She didn't get to say anything more, as he shoved his length down her throat again. Potions. What a lovely science, he thought to himself as he roughly grabbed the girl's neck and fucked her throat violently. He noticed Daphne kneeling beside them, and he was prepared to see fear in her eyes at his rough handling of her friend. Instead, her eyes were slightly glazed, and she was licking her lips. He pulled out of Tracey's throat and turned a little, making his member swing towards the little blonde. She didn't hesitate for a second, but grabbed his member with both hands and started jerking him and licking the crown clean from the precum that was almost running out of it. As he enjoyed her ministrations, he pulled Tracey on to her feet. He pushed a finger into her tight little arse and performed the charm. To his surprise, her knees buckled in an orgasm, something that appeared to surprise her too. He turned her around and felt the strange softness in her body that the potion had created. Just to see if it was possible, he lifted her right leg and laid it behind her neck. She turned and smiled at him, but he barely noticed. He was almost transfixed by her crotch. She was wet and wide open to him. Clear juice flowed from her pussy, and her arse was slightly open as well, due to the charm. He gently pried his cock out of Daphne's hands and pressed it against Tracey's tight little opening. As he pressed himself inside, extending her beyond the possible, he flooded her nerve system with Passionfire and as his huge member slid in to the root, she cried out in a powerful orgasm that wet her feet with juices. Daphne crawled closer, staring at her friends stretched opening, hesitantly lifting her hand to Tracey's clit. At Harry's nod, she got bolder and started fingering the hooded little pearl expertly. Harry pumped his full length in and out, over and over as Tracey came time after time thanks in no small part to her friends ministrations. Harry felt himself drawing close, and flashed Tracey with his blue bolts again. As he overdid it a bit, a small spark carried over to Daphne, and the small girl howled in an incredibly loud orgasm and attached her mouth to Harry's balls, licking and sucking.

“Tracey, I'm about to cum. Drink it, but share if she wants to.”

As the thoroughly shagged girl slipped off his cock in a fluid motion, she bent her back downwards in a truly impossible way, so to Harry, it almost felt like another stroke as his cock left her arse and entered her throat. Thanks to the cleansing properties of the charm, he imagined that it was without too much discomfort, but he didn't really care. As he pumped into her throat, Daphne had stood up, and was now pressing her body against his. She had lifted her blouse and skirt so he could feel her hard nipples and moist bush as she whispered in his ear about how beautiful his cock was, how lovely it tasted and how much she wanted his cum. As very few men can stand against a horny girl begging for his cum, he came, and Tracey pulled off. She took his semen in her mouth, swallowing greedily, and as Daphne practically dove onto it, Tracey shared the spurting member with her friend who swallowed with equal greed. As Harry's store ran out, the girls met in a hot, cummy kiss and continued to clean each other's faces before licking Harry clean. As they readjusted their clothes again, Tracey laid her hand on her Master's arm.

“Master, is there a necklace for Daph too? She had a spark already, but ... “

“It's better to play it safe. I agree. I don't have one right now, but I'll get you one if you want it.”

The petite blonde asked in a small voice.

“Does this mean I'm yours, too? I'd like that ... Master. I'll learn to make that potion, so you can fuck me next time.”

“If you want to belong to me, that's fine by me. Just remember that this is not a passing thing. If I choose to make you pregnant, the decision is mine, not yours. If I want you to walk around naked the decision is mine, not yours. If I want you to come to my room and suck my cock from sunset to sunrise, that's exactly what you'll do. Think about it, but when I put that necklace around your neck, it's final. You understand?”

“Yes, Master. I'm ovulating tomorrow, if you want to impregnate me as soon as possible.”

“I'm in no hurry. I have made one girl pregnant today already, so I can be patient. Once you have that necklace I'll give you a real Passionfire Orgasm, and trust me, it's worth a capital letter. See you babes later.”

As he made his way back up to Gryffindor Tower, he wondered what the hell just happened. He had practically enslaved another girl, and it had felt like the right thing to do. He wondered whether he becoming obsessed or something, but the thought made him guffaw. Of course he was. He had women all over throwing themselves at him. He really had to talk to Susan. He was going to need that shagging schedule. This little session had reduced his tension by loads, though. Having a castle full of 'Shaggabilities' might just be a comfortable thing.

A feeling of foreboding made him turn around and pick up the pace. As he drew near the new secret space, he heard angry voices, both male and female, so he morphed himself transparent and silenced his feet. As he turned the last corner, he saw Malfoy, Nott and Goyle. Malfoy holding Daphne against the wall as the two other boys tore at Tracey's clothes.

Harry went cold with rage.

Without moving, he made Tracey's necklace shine and sung Movement at Malfoy.

As his voice appeared to come from all directions at once, Goyle and Nott was looking in the wrong direction as Malfoy's leg began to twist. His scream made them refocus, and they stared as the blonde boy's foot began to turn, continuing beyond the breaking point of bone and sinews, which was audibly announced. As the twisting motion approached the breaking point of skin, it moved upwards, and by sheer, fiendish creativity, Harry laced a little Healing into his voice, thereby keeping Malfoy from fainting as his leg was twisted and destroyed up to his knee, with sharp bone fragments piercing his skin all the way and blood pooling below him.

With a final twist, the match-sized pieces of remaining bone sliced his skin to shreds, destroying the leg beyond repair. Harry stopped singing, and Malfoy finally lost consciousness. The picture before him was frozen for ten seconds, before Nott threw Mobilicorpus, and with Goyle in tow, ran towards the Hospital wing with the freely bleeding Malfoy trailing a red ribbon behind them. He could see that the girls were unharmed, so he returned to his previous trail, smiling the kind of smile that approaches careless divers, and has a fin on top. Those girls were his.

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Luna's breast dagger was finished on the shelf, and the untraditional Athamé he was making for Hermione was coming together nicely. By sheer luck, the foldings of the wavy blade gave the impression of pages, making it possibly better for ritual than herbal work. He had no intention of making it into a real one, though, as Hermione didn't use that type of magic at all, but he was able to incorporate a stolen hair from her, as well as Veela hairs, tail hair from a Foxtail huldr, and breast hair from a Squirreltail. Not from Jorunn and Disa, though, instead from girls he didn't really know, but who were known to be intelligent and studied, at least from the limited perspective of their species. He had encased the thin little braid in Audsilber and incorporated it in the handle. He was now using his smallest chisel to give the impression of fur on the silver Ermine on the guard, shaped like an open book, with said ermine stretched out, resting, on the pages. The coals were cooling, and the only thing he had in the fires were ingots of a strange greenish alloy that he had made by absently pouring three crucibles into one. As Surt had told him, sometimes really stupid things were done, and it was better to see what had really happened than to curse the result. Therefore, he had poured the metal into ingots to see what the result would look like. As the mix contained both Audsilber, moon silver and regular, Vaulundersteel, and bronze, there was just no telling what it would be like when it cooled. As he put the chisel down, he noticed that he was not alone. By the door was a tall man in a pin-striped suit. His friendly smile brought out the similarities with the Patil twins, even if he hadn't been obviously Indian.

“Mister Potter, I must say I am impressed by the driven focus in such a young man. I am Suman Patil, and my daughters wished for me to see you. Do you know why?”

He spoke in the rapid, exact English of a studied immigrant, and he seemed so friendly and good-natured that Harry immediately liked him.

“Welcome to my smithy Mr Patil, and thank you. Metal has no patience with the careless. The eyes of your daughters have given me some ideas, but the exact reason for your visit is still unknown to me.”

“Naturally, Mister Potter. I would believe that any young man could see intent in the eyes of my daughters. Can we sit? This is not a subject easily brought by men and should never be forced upon fathers.”

The exaggerated wariness in the man's voice made Harry smile as he conjured a couple of chairs and a table.

“Of course, Sir. Please, sit, and trust me when I say that few subjects will be new or embarrassing to me. Do not expect shocked outcries from me.”

“I see what you mean. To begin where I should, Magical Britain is unusually rife with powerful mages. A population of less than a third of ours, magically speaking, has in recent times produced your headmaster, You-know-Who, and yourself, as well as many other powerful individuals. In India, the level of power is in decline, and while we have few Squibs, we have very few with notable power. I am considered very powerful by our standards, but I am nothing special here. May I ask about your power level?”

“I am a Sorcerer, Mr Patil, and my power is nearly limitless, but I am also not fully human. My children will be sorcerers as well, and inherit my power and my special traits, but as I understand it, they will be human, and take after their mothers. I believe I can tell where the subject will take us, and I confess that I am oath-bound by the Goddess Freja to give children to any suitable woman who asks, and my children will spend some time with her to learn how to use their Sorcery, and to make sure that none of the bigotry that is so rampant today will take hold with my descendants.”

“You are assigned to father a whole race, then?”

“Pretty much, yes.”

“I don't know whether to pity you or envy you. There is a technique from Khajuraho, to move a just conceived child between women. Many women came there to receive a blessed child ,conceived in the womb of one of the Shakti priestesses. Would you be willing to help Magical India that way? By impregnating my daughters and have the children grow to term in other women? The children would be well cared for, you could get to know them if you wish, and we will not hinder your deal with the Goddess as it so greatly benefits us.”

The name Khajuraho was actually familiar to Harry, as a book on Indian temples, Khajuraho in particular, was the furthest Dudley had ever gone in his foreign studies. When he had discovered other magazines, with more pictures than text, the book had found it's way into the smallest bedroom. Still, the whole concept was making Harry more than a little dizzy.

“We are moving out of my depth here, Mr Patil. It is my duty, I believe, to father children, but this sounds like a baby-making production line. I need to get used to the idea first, before I can answer.”

Suman Patil smiled at him again, nodding in agreement.

“I understand perfectly, Mister Potter. In international diplomacy, we are now at the point where we would separate for the day, claiming consultations with our governments, while we really just think things over. I will, however, consult with mine, and learn just how far I can go with concessions, as there is a Goddess involved. Now I believe my daughters intend to persuade you, so I will leave. Thank you for your time, and may your Goddess preserve you from determined twin daughters.”

They laughed together at his hopeless tone as the friendly gentleman headed for the door. As the door swung shut behind him, it was opened again, and two visions of sensuality came through it, closed it, and sauntered towards him with perfect synchronisation. They wore body-jewellery and very little else, and the look in the four identical eyes heated him more than the forge. It was good to be him.





Author's notes.
This chapter was beta'd and lightly edited by Pfeil. It's a lot cleaner than the others, thanks to him. He has made a LaTeX version of the chapters to this point, available on my Yahoo-group, so I thought I'd mail him the latest chapter for that purpose. The best impulse I've had, I think.
If you don't know about Khajuraho, there's a gap in your schooling. Go Google! The name Suman means, roughly translated, Good-natured. The reason for the ten most depicted percent of the decór at Khajuraho is widely debated and the theories goes from protection from lightning strikes to the Shakti cult I used. That means, roughly, a focus on the female side of divinity, by the way. Unfortunately, the age of the temples are probably wrong for that. I can't remember where I read about the fetal transplant magic, but it's not my own original idea to use that in a temple setting.

From the top, though. Harry has made a number of blunders here, and that was intentional. I also said that this would be a more bloody than smutty chapter, and that didn't hold.

Jorunn hasn't been in the story for a while, and I wanted to highlight her more vicious nature in this rather gruesome way. As you might have noticed, this little crisis has made Harry re-evaluate a lot of things, including babies.

I had to rearrange things a bit for the story to work, and I really wanted to hurt Malfoy a bit. No, I'm not done. Bopping Snape in the head with a pitcher was just for fun. Purgamentum means Rubber, by the way. I guess I should include the translations for my home-brewed potion names.

I also got to introduce a member of the Wizengamot with personal knowledge of Huldr. Just pointing it out. CJ_Cold gave me the idea of Huldr Barmaids. This is not the last we see of them.

Anyway, read enjoy and review.