FicWad

Disclaimer: Firstly, the mismatched numbers on the chapters are NOT MY FAULT! I refuse to take flak for a flawed piece of code in the site. Sooner or later, it will be cleared up. This is my little story, but it's rife with other people's brainchildren. If I'm housing yours and you have a problem with that, I'll bloody charge you for feeding and sheltering them. That goes for you too, Jo.



And you are very nice!"





There was no way around it. He had to use Sorcery for this kind of delicate manoeuvre. He silently called his power forth, and with the lightest of touches, he made Ginny sleep just a little deeper. That way she didn't wake up as Harry carefully levitated her off of him and downwards a little bit. He then carefully removed his hard penis from Jorunn's mouth and replaced it swiftly with Ginny's breast. Extracting himself from the pile of gorgeous women was a tricky piece of contortionism, but there was only one of them he wanted to wake up at the time. He wanted to visit Otherton, and if the girls woke up, he would spend the day at “the pink place” --- well, several pink places, actually. His eyes confirmed what his nose had already told him, that the pile consisted of his Bonded only. Jorunn had been sleeping with her favourite pacifier and Ginny had been sleeping almost on top of him, with her head in his crotch and Disa's fantastic boobs right beside her. Stina and Gabrielle were on top of his legs in a sixty-nine, with Stina's hands morphed into something dildo-like. One of them had apparently slipped out of Disa during the night, and the other one, of truly shocking dimensions, was moving softly in Gabrielle. Gabrielle was muttering in her sleep, and as she did it straight into Stina's pussy, was absolutely impossible to hear. By the smile on Stina's upper lips, her nethers apparently found it funny, though. Within touching distance was Hermione. She was sleeping with her bum in the air and her cheek pressed to the pillows. Lavender was right next to her with her legs spread wide and both hands fondling herself. His nose told him that she was very wet indeed, and he could see Hermione actually dripping slightly on the bed. Carefully, he levitated both girls along downstairs to his Grand hall, where he put them down, very gently, on the rug in front of the fireplace.

Hermione started to wake up when he slowly entered her from behind, but it was her almost instant orgasm that finished the job. Seeing Lavender's meticulously groomed little quim right in front of her made her decide to pay it forward, as it were, and sank her tongue into the fragrant snatch.

Lavender was primed and ready, and she also came before really waking up. When she did, though, she quickly crawled in under Hermione to a sixty-nine, and as Harry withdrew, the girls entertained each other to a second and third orgasm each. Harry sat in his chair and enjoyed the show, absently conjuring a third chair, and a table which the resident army of elves filled with a grand breakfast.

When the girls had worn each other out for the moment, they took their seats with fantastic blushes in place. Harry was slightly amused that neither of them looked for a way to cover themselves. They were blushing, but they displayed their bodies with pride. Embarrassed pride, but pride nonetheless.

“Isn't that a great way to wake up? I miss it at school, but over the summer, I did get quite used to it. Today, I was planning a trip to Otherton. Hermione, we're quite serious about you as an author of correct schoolbooks, so I thought we should set you up with some kind of office in town. Lavender, I've heard great things about you and your shop, so I was hoping to hire you on as a guide. How does that sound to you?”

“Honestly, Harry, do you think I can do it? I'd love to, but, oh I can't think properly. It sounds good.”

Harry smiled at his friends consternation. Hermione had a highly organised mind, and when too many things around her were strange or unfamiliar, she lost her rhythm. Waking up like she had would make her a bit erratic for a few more minutes. He turned to Lavender.

“Harry, anything you want from me is yours. You've given me... You've done... I owe you.”

“You owe me diddly-squat. If you hadn't taken Nott down, he might have gotten a better shot in, and by giving you the means to run your business, I'll be moving into another area of Wizarding business. Not like I own you or your business, but you do rely on a multi-species staff for your success, even if it's barely started. Things that restrict Otherton will restrict you, and your products are something that the Wizarding public and elite will want. I need you.”

“Thank you, but I still think I owe you. One day, I'll get drunk and tell you all about why, but for the time being, I would be grateful if you would fuck me every once in a while. That way, I'll feel like I'm sort of paying off a debt.”

“You're not currency, Lav. If you feel like you owe me, make money. Not for me, but for yourself. In the short time I've been active in this country, I've entrenched myself more and more into the Wizarding economy. Thanks to my Arches, Fortuescues buys dairy products from Sweden; the new Nimbus broom is made from Masur-birch from Finland; and the single greatest cleaning and laundry firm in Britain, muggle and magical, is staffed by the Kilchurn Elves. I have cornered the dairy market; wood and some services; you're moving into clothing and beauty products; and all in all, the tax income of the Ministry has climbed steadily since my first involvement. If I decide to pull out right now, taking everything with me, the Wizarding community in Britain would be bankrupt in a week. The goblins know this, and Neville's been buying stocks by the... What do you buy stocks in?”

“Barrel?”

“Wad?”

“Maybe, well, loads of them anyway.”

“Harry, do you want to take over the Wizarding world?”

“It's mine already. Have you read the laws? Trial by combat is a recognised, legislative procedure. Might makes right. I have to take over in order to make my rule illegal. Fun, huh?”

He concentrated on his breakfast for a while. He noticed the girls whispering and made the effort not to eavesdrop. Some soft pops alerted him to house elf activity, and looked up to see a tall glass of his favourite ice coffee in front of him. As he enjoyed it, Hermione started to interrogate him about the species he knew of, and she also did some deep breathing exercises clearly designed for him to keep his eyes on her. He was of course very much aware of it when Lavender got out of her chair and walked softly to his side, knelt and took his flaccid member in her mouth, where it stopped being flaccid in just a few heartbeats. He smiled, closed his eyes and leant back in his chair with his cold drink as the very pretty girl did her best to swallow him whole. He enjoyed hearing Hermione's strained voice as they kept talking, and he was actually surprised when Lavender climbed on top of him, and took him into her tight little ass. He opened his eyes and looked straight into hers as she sat down as far as she could, and kissed her. She clung to him as she rode him, her pleasure obvious and loud and as he was about to come, he kissed her again as he filled her lower intestine with his semen. None of them had said an intelligible word during the encounter, but as Lavender climbed off of him, squeezing her sphincter shut tight, she grinned at him.

“I had several reasons to do that, pleasure not withstanding. One of them is that I might need some investment to my business, so I should really try to get on your good side, another is that I'd like you to have your wits about you and make a good impression in Otherton, and who knows how much ogling you might have done if I hadn't gotten you off. Then, there's the fact that I never liked anal sex before, so I'm trying to figure out why you're different. Besides, taking that ramrod of yours through my tiniest door makes me feel like I have accomplished something today already. One of these days, I'm going to want kids, and I'll tell you when.”

“So you've heard, then?”

“Yes. I loved that.”

“I'll keep that in mind. Now, if you're done breakfasting, we should get dressed. Much as I love the sight of you beautiful ladies, the rest of the world would have a coronary --- from jealousy, of course. Of you, because you're simply gorgeous, and of me, because I'm in the company of two so gorgeous creatures, and that's just those who don't know you. Those who do would be even worse, knowing that both of you are so much more than visual expressions.”

“Yes, I think I'm a pretty good lay as well,” Hermione deadpanned.

“And I smell good, too.” Lavender continued. The girls looked at each other and started to giggle. It was looking out to be a good day.


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He was insane, and he knew it. Oh, not in the wearing-underpants-on-your-head way, but he knew now that he couldn't trust his own memory. Everything that he remembered ever happening to him might be a fiction. He had also learned that his personality was more or less gone. The brain things had eaten it. What he had was a number of traits in constant change, flux was the word that the Squib psychiatrist had used, and the Unspeakables had been very interested in his case. So much, actually, that they had paid him to make some scans, and to follow his progress. He wasn't rich or anything, but he had been able to give his parents almost 20 000 galleons and still keep enough to buy some fine oak timber from Sweden of all places. With the excuse that he needed some physical therapy, he had erected a wharf near the Burrow, and he had stretched the keel already. He found the thought amusing that if he kept the plans in his head, the final result of his construction would be completely unpredictable. It felt good to have a purpose. His condition had lost him everything else. He still carried Hermione's last letter in a cigar case on a chain around his neck.

“All in a hot and copper sky,
The bloody Sun, at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than the Moon.

Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean,” he mumbled as he tightened the big screws on the warper, being careful not to break the boards. He fetched another bucket from the pond and doused the groaning oak again. When the boards were wet, he pulled out his wand and started to pour magic into the wood. The Unspeakables had been kind enough to design the spells for him, but they had warned him that he needed to drain himself repeatedly in order for them to work on such a massive scale. He wasn't a natural Enchanter, but this spell should work anyway. It wasn't as if it was safe for him to have magic anyway. When he was drained and the wand felt hot in his hand, he put it away and went over to the large workbench. There were a lot of plugs to whittle.

“At first it seemed a little speck,
And then it seemed a mist:
It moved and moved, and took at last
A certain shape, I wist.”

Perhaps he could build himself redemption.


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She didn't have much of a gift for seeing what was to come, but she could sense that whatever was supposed to come had changed its mind and gone somewhere else as soon as he entered the shop. Suddenly, she understood what it was about this human that so annoyed uncle Bane. In his wake, stars changed their paths, bones became unthrown, or hidden behind something heavy, and the tea-leaves, if they ever used them, turned into cheap Earl Greyish teabags. History, present and future re-wrote themselves in his presence, and she didn't know whether to fall to her knees, run and hide, or try to snog him. All three seemed like good ideas. She must have stared at him, because he smiled and spoke to her.

“Lilac, I presume? I'm Harry. I've heard many good things about you.”

“Eh, thank you, My Lord. And thank you for ... making this place. It's fantastic. Everyone is a person, and people respect each other. Nothing of what the Herd said would happen have happened. No one has tried to put a saddle on me, or hitch a wagon after me. Eh, just ... thank you.”

“You're very welcome, Lilac. It's not really my doing, though. It's being made by others in my name, and I have a feeling that it won't stay this peaceful for long. Maybe it will, though. Perhaps the inevitable bickering is a human trait. Ah well, philosophy was never my strong suit. But speaking of suits...”


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Katie didn't quite know if she was happy or not. She had lived with her secret for so many years, and it had always been a special little part of her. No matter how bad a grade she got at potions, she was the one who could turn into a seal if she wanted to. When a boy walked out on her, it was for his own good. If he really got her worked up, the Selkie Charm might hurt him, so she could always rationalise it to herself. Now, in this new climate, her family was considering moving to Otherton and revealing their family secret for all the world to know. Sure, it would make things easier on her, with fewer secrets to keep from her friends but it would force her to give up that secret, special thing about her that had been such a comfort in rough times. If it hadn't been Harry who had been the man behind it all, she would have dismissed the whole thing out of hand, but after five years of school together, Katie Bell knew that there wasn't a dishonest bone in his body. He could have played his celebrity like Lockhart, but he hadn't. He seemed completely unaware of his status as a Quidditch-god, and he apparently didn't notice the fact that he actually had groupies who would do anything to get a piece of him --- or rather, a few inches. She had explained this to her father, and he had identified her crush with an intuition that was rather unsettling, coming from a male. She had, by family council, been tasked to go to Otherton to meet Harry as the Lord, and to try to figure out if this was all for real.

She was nervous. She had heard the talk of the town, what a great guy he was, how great the Ladies were, and how well he took care of the ones in need. She had been to the Werehouse and seen the statue, and to her enhanced senses, it had smelled like the wolf it was made to resemble. Professor Lupin had told her that all he needed to do was to touch the statue and transform in the building, and he got to keep his mind. The statue was said to be a gift from Loke, the father and mother of Fenrir, the original werewolf. Loke had apparently traded it to Harry for a silly WWW-trinket, one of which was displayed by the statue. It looked like a common pair of binoculars, and when you looked into it, you saw a blurry image of a naked woman. As the woman had resembled her, she had fiddled with the focus to see better, and as soon as she turned the knob, the toy had sprayed her with ink. The fact that a God had traded a huge silver statue for something as silly as that made her feel a whole lot better about being an atheist. She had also visited the beauty shop, Boutique Bouquette. She had heard that Lavender Brown ran it, but she hadn't been there. Instead, a bloody huge spider had welcomed her. Katie had frozen stiff until the spider had asked her in a friendly, but slightly weary tone if it would help if she shouted 'boo'. They had spent an enjoyable hour together, once the shock had worn off.

She had avoided the Vampire enclave, Batty Rouge, but the Huldr area, somewhat blandly called Garden of Senses, had been wonderful, and she had enjoyed the company of the Norse predators. She had even met Hagrid there. The large man had had a couple of petite Huldr girls around him, and while she had learnt that it was impossible to tell a Huldr's age by their appearance, it struck her as both funny and unnerving that all the girls around him looked like schoolgirls, no older that herself. Perhaps the friendly half-giant had more than prejudice to fight in school. After a slight shiver, she decided to be happy for him.

Now the talk of the town was that Harry was there, and it was time for her to find him. It was no big deal. He knew her, and she knew him. They had been team-mates, and had seen each other covered in sweat, dirt, blood, and even snot during cold seasons. She had helped carry him to the hospital wing twice, and he had given her a heavenly massage once. It was nothing to worry about.

She was, of course, terrified. Suddenly, her little schoolmate had grown up to be the object of thousands of girl's desires, and she was tasked to get close to him. Talk about competition!


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Harry was more than a bit uneasy, walking through the new town of Otherton. It was worse than it had ever been when it was just being the Boy Who Lived. These people thought that he was someone he wasn't. They thought that he was a hero, their saviour, the great equaliser and liberator of the oppressed, rather than just Harry, a scared little boy, who would prefer to shag all day long and not make a single decision that would affect thousands of people. He realised that he was surfing now: He was poised on top of a bloody big wave, the little figure on the top, the one they all could see and the one who would appear to control the power lifting him, but who would, eventually fall, maybe drown, when he got a little too cocky, too self-assured, too fooled himself by his own public persona.

Harry himself couldn't see it, of course, but the people he looked at with this growing sense of dread, the people he was so afraid to disappoint were the people no one else cared for, the people whose opinions never counted. The people watching the panicking young man with hero-worship in their eyes were people who couldn't go to St. Mungo's for help, but who now had a hospital built for them. They were the people who could go to a restaurant in their new home town and have a decent meal, by their own standards. In Batty Rogue, a Sanguinaria was being built, and donors were being recruited. The Huldr had their own nutritional needs met at the Inn or at the Giant's encampment right outside town. Deals were made with local farmers, and Ribbon had produced several coils of incredibly strong rope for one of them in exchange for a live pig every now and then. In a Goblin restaurant, the beef and the rats were cooked just right, and some places had multi-species menus.

He hadn't given them freedom, just hope and a place where they could pretend to be free. They loved him for it, but he couldn't see that. All he could see was a world of new responsibilities for the little boy in the cupboard. The sexy boy in the cupboard. The hot, manly powerful boy with all the muscles and the marvellous cock and all that semen and Harry understood that his beloved Bonded had come to his aid. It was a pretty cool feeling and for once, he paused, and really took in their image of him. For once, he decided to believe someone else's opinion of him.

He was one hell of a guy! From his perspective, they had a slightly odd view of his actions, but he couldn't find anything really wrong. He could easily distinguish between Gabrielle's selfless love, Disa's shameless physical attraction and adoration, Jorunn's slightly darker longing and her unwavering faith in him, Stina's more balanced, mature love as she knew him in a slightly different way and loved his flaws as much as his strengths. Ginny's unreserved hero-worship was almost silly in comparison, but it was as strong and deep as the others, and Harry began to feel good about himself after his minor panic attack. As he looked around, he saw the same people, but now he met their eyes and smiled. He nodded at a few, mumbled the occasional greeting, and absently healed a scraped Oread knee, smiling as the inhumanly perfect little girl kissed his cheek in thanks.

At a small distance, Katie watched him. He was such a natural leader. He cared so much, and was never aloof or afraid. At the thought that he would be a great father some day, something moved inside her, and the unbidden thought that she wouldn't mind being the mother surfaced, to her own great surprise. She steeled herself, put her most winsome smile on, and began to approach him with her Selkie charm on a low level. She hadn't gotten half way when he jerked upright and seemed to have a conversation with his sleeve. She was suddenly frightened when she saw the look of fury on his face before he promptly turned into a dragon, of all things, and flew away. Once her shock had worn off, she swore. He had been here, but now he was gone. She spotted Hermione and the Brown girl, so maybe she could harvest some gossip instead.


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Carrows was smiling. As the word invokes a friendly image it may not be the most suitable one, but it will have to do. One of his brethren --- or rather puppets --- was finishing a very long address to the assembly.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, witches and wizards of the Wizengamot. You have all read the proposal for amendment to the Creature act, you have seen the inevitability of the proposal, and how reasonable it is for the lower life forms and how imperative it is for our way of life. I move for immediate voting.”

The puppet sat down again with the look of a man who had already won when a young bespectacled man pressed his Speaker stone and rose for the Chief Warlock to recognise his right to speak. He had it already, of course. He wouldn't have agreed to run the new department if he could be censored.

“Chief Warlock?”

Dumbledore, for once in sombre black robes smiled at the young man in pinstripes.

“The Wizengamot recognises Percival Weasley, head of the newly formed Department for Common Sense.”

“Thank you, Chief Warlock. Ladies and gentlemen, I simply wish to point out that once you remove the rhetoric and flowery language, this suggestion is designed to make the House of Kilchurn declare war on Wizarding Britain. Kilchurn's stand on the rights of Sentients is well known, and this proposal classifies the Lords wife and consorts as domestic animals. From what I know of the man, he wouldn't accept this law as legal and he would take personal action against the people who would insult his family by agreeing to this proposition. I fail to see how a document legalising slavery and rape can protect our way of life, when it will end the life of everyone who acts on it. That is all.”

You could have heard a combine harvester drop. The noise of every member loudly expressing their ill-informed opinions was deafening until the Chief warlock showed why he was the only wizard for his job with his patented, area-effect Silencing charm while he waited for the people to sit down and use their Speaker stones in good order. The puppet, Mr Appelby, rose again.

“Mr Weasley, surely you exaggerate. Once we pass it, it will be law. Law!”

Percy shrugged. It was his job to point out flaws and stupid mistakes, not to correct them. He answered anyway.

“A law that will drive us into a quite unnecessary conflict with a power we simply can't match. After the former Minister's absurd case of cerebral indigestion, Kilchurn made no moves against the Ministry. This does not mean that he forgot about it. I'd say that he's not our friend, but rather the enemy of our enemies. Harry Potter is still our greatest hope against Mr Unmentionable. This proposition will make us his enemies. Madam Minister, your assessment of our Auror force and the actual strength of Kilchurn is more reliable than mine, so if you please?”

Amelia Bones rose. One of the first things she had changed in her Office was her rights in the Wizengamot. By only keeping her Veto power and relinquishing her 25% Ministerial vote, she had re-established some semblance of democracy to the assembly. Unfortunately, it had necessitated the new department. At this time, she understood that she had chosen the right man for the job.

“Mr Weasley, as the recruitment of Aurors takes time, we have about half of Kilchurn's human numbers. I have no accurate count of the number of Huldr there are in the country at this time, but one Huldr is a serious threat on the battlefield. I'm not the right person to ask about the specifics, though. He has talked the Giants away from Mr Unmentionable, and our own part-humans, a larger percentage than one might believe, are firmly behind him. From what I know of him and his operatives, he knows who's here, and if this bill is passed, you will all need to re-ward your homes, because he will take it as a personal insult, and he's stronger than us.”

She hadn't sat down when the warded doors crashed open, and Harry Potter, in full Lord-mode, strode down to the floor. By his side came Lord Longbottom, also in clothes more fitting for some archaic battlefield. Just because, Harry let his steel-capped boots strike sparks on the granite floor. He took up position in the absolute centre of the floor and rested his hands on his drawn sword, the point of which visibly sank down an inch into the floor.

“Let's make it simple. I speak for Kilchurn in this matter, and I invoke the Rules of House and Quarrel against the signatory parties. I will also tell you beforehand that I will call on Trial by Combat to have it stopped. Takers?”

There was no hesitation in his voice, no mercy in his eyes. This was a Sorcerer with his prime yet to come, a force only the most unwise would challenge.
Amelia chose a very non-threatening voice and demeanour.

“Mr Potter, you are not a member of the Wizengamot. How did you get in?”

He smiled mirthlessly.

“I swore a Wizard's oath that it was a matter of Life and Death for several members. If I can't convince you not to pass the bill, I will be forced to kill at least one of you, so the oath is valid. Neville handles the thinking side of politics, I will deal with the violent side. Carrows? It's your proposal, and I don't care just who you made deliver it. Care to defend it, wand by wand?”

Carrows couldn't believe his ears. There had been no traces of their interactions. It was impossible that this young whelp could know anything, but he quite obviously did. He stood, because he couldn't think of an alternative, and allowed his barely functioning Diplomatic autopilot to take control.

“Eh, no. You're more powerful than me, but might does not make right.”

He would have been much happier with this defence if the young man hadn't smiled at him.

“Then please explain your proposal to me again. This is political might, but there's nothing to defend it but pure, sheer bigotry. Ergo, might is what makes it float right now, and I intend to sink it. Please note that the most powerful mages are almost never Purebloods.”

This time, the room stayed silent. Very silent. After almost a minute, the Chief Warlock cleared his throat.

“I believe you're right, Lord Potter. I am myself of close Muggle descendance, albeit both my parents were magical humans. The second of the upper-echelon Mages alive had a pure Muggle father and your heritage, Lord Potter, is well documented. As for Lord Pritchard, his origins are shrouded in mystery, perhaps you can enlighten us?”

“Well, I'm not positive, but I believe his mother was Muggleborn, and he never talks about his father. I don't think they were close.”

Harry had to use his power to keep his face straight, and Neville had to look into his papers to hide his grin. He had just doled out another piece of Myrrdin-lore in the perfect, offhand way that made rumours flow and he had done it without actually lying. That, and the image of the sword sinking into the floor should do nicely. The real point rested on a small piece of leather on the floor, but it was covered by an illusion of an extra inch of steel that, of course, had sunk into the floor. It didn't have enough mass to rest on anything.
In the confusion, Conrad Mayweather stood, pressed his Speaker stone, and spoke without recognition.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Wizengamot, the circumstances have taken a life of their own. Therefore, I have chosen now to speak, formally out of turn, against the proposal delivered by Mr Appelby. As I have mentioned many times, I have some personal experience with Huldr, and during my service in our Diplomatic corps, I had the opportunity to interact with representatives of several of the here-mentioned species. They want to live their lives. They're going through life like we do, raising their kids, trying to find food, and looking for the next sickle like we do. Some of them have greater talents than we do at certain things. That doesn't make me feel inferior. Some of them are brighter than the average human, most of them are stronger than us, and health is rarely a problem for them. Yet I don't feel inferior. We're all a bit different. Actually, if you consider Mr Appelby's stature, you can see that I am a lot closer to average than he is, in height, weight, and colouring, as purple isn't considered a normal facial tone. My nose is average, my hairline is in an average place and I am, all in all, average. If the ones outside the norm should be considered less, I move that we expand Mr Appelby's proposal just a little bit. After all, he does have pretty daughters, and I'd love to have them as indentured maids. By their relation to the clearly abnormal Mr Appelby, they have to be animals as well. Please, Ladies and Gentlemen. Do see the grotesque absurdity of this proposal.”

Several of the present representatives of the Magical People of Britain looked at each other, blinking like owls in daytime. Amelia Bones, Minister of Magic, made some quite undignified snorting sounds and stood.

“Yes, it is quite preposterous when you look at it from all angles. May I suggest that if the proposal is continued, it must be in the by Mr Mayweather expanded form.[ed: I don't follow the second half of that last sentence.] Perhaps a Department of Normalcy should be formed? Mr Potter, as everybody already calls you ... Wait a minute. Mr Weasley, did you in fact call the Dark Lord Voldemort Mr Unmentionable, and made me do the same?”

“Yes, Madam Minister. If you aren't allowed to use his name, he is more or less unmentionable. As his followers have never declared themselves before the Wizengamot, we cannot know if he indeed has twelve sworn followers as needed to legitimise his claim to Lordship. As such, no Lordship applies to him. That the nomenclature sounds like a salesman for women's underwear is purely coincidental.”

“I'm sure it is, Mr Weasley. Ladies and gentlemen, as you know, I have been to Kilchurn myself, and I can assure you all that Mr Potter here has hundreds of sworn followers. I move for granting of full Lordship, under his own devise. This means no obligation for us, and is little more than a cumbersome address for him, but I believe that by showing up here today, before this disastrous motion could be implemented, Mr Potter has proven himself worthy of our respect. Do I hear a Second?”

“You do, Madam Minister. House Mayweather seconds the motion.”

“Opposed?”

The room went silent again. No one wanted to stand against the brand new power block that had formed among them. To the collective surprise of the present, Harry spoke up.

“While the necessity of the Department saddens me, I'd like to hear from Mr Weasley before I agree to the honour of this nomination.”

Percy stood, with only a small nervous tick revealing his surprise of this vote of confidence.

“Thank you, Lord Potter. Judging by the current consensus of the Wizarding population, and your unwavering support among the non-humans, it makes perfect sense to grant you a Lordship. After all, you are already a Lord in the eyes of the People.”

Harry turned. “Thank you, Mr Weasley. Nev, I'm a bit out-customed here.”

“Lord Potter, you have more than twelve sworn followers, and you can even muster up an all-human dozen if you need to. That's a Lordship right there. You have a fortified stronghold, a standing army, you have acted in the public's best interest by apprehending Death Eaters, and you're filthy rich. If you pushed for it, I could probably get you a Barony, but I wouldn't recommend it. It's yours, all right.”

“Is there anything left to do here? I'm not a member, after all, and I do have other duties.”

“I think we're done. Your diplomatic approach needs some polishing, but it's effective.”

“What approach?”

“The 'do it my way or I'll kill you' approach.”

“Oh. Well, it saves time. Let's get back to the castle, then. Ladies and Gentlemen, have a nice day.”

The security guard outside the chamber almost had a fit when the ancient Arch shot up from the floor to let the two young men through, but they almost skipped through it to avoid questions as they both knew that the made up story would be better and more entertaining than anything they could come up with.

“That was a lot more fun than I thought it would be. How did you learn about the motion?”

“Mayweather hired one of our Elves. He sent a message with the Elf the moment he learned of it.”

“Is he a friend or ally or what?”

“More of a what, I guess. He knows a fair bit about the other species and he supports our main agenda, but he's a bit wary of some of our tenants. If something happens that he feels is a threat to the public, he'll fight it, but he will never side with bigotry against us. Good bloke, that one.”

“We can do with more folks like that. His speech was brilliant, and how the hell did a guy like Carrows get a rep for being clever?”

“It depends on who you compare him to. It was bloody daft of him to even respond to you. He blew his own little conspiracy, but I don't think we've seen the last of him. How are things at the castle?”

“Gabrielle says I've made an impression in Otherton, especially my departure. There's a northern girl, probably Katie Bell, asking about me in town and Ginny has gone home to the Burrow to see her Mum. She sees it as her duty to storm the gates of hell on my behalf. Honestly, better her than me, I guess.”

“You coward, you.”

“Ever met Molly?”

“You have a point.”


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He had, with more than a little effort, managed to get on top of the Astronomy tower to think in peace. He would have his revenge. He was the prime of Magical Britain, and as Britain was the greatest nation on earth, that made him rightly the finest Wizard on the planet. It was logical. Potty was just lucky. He got a new wardrobe and a fancy Glamour and everybody acted like he was a Malfoy or something. He wasn't, and Draco would never allow him to rise to such heights. The scarhead belonged in the muck amongst mudbloods and pigs. Of course, he wasn't certain just what a pig was, but he imagined some kind of ratlike thing that smelled. To add infamy to insolence and insult, Potter had stolen Pansy from him, put her under the Imperius, and given her to the squib Longbottom. Now, of course, the curse had been lifted. He had taken his observations to the Gryffindor Head of House, who had scanned Pansy for mind-altering magic and found nothing but a mild, self-cast compulsion spell of the same kind that many students used to keep from biting their fingernails. The old crone had, when he urged her to search for potions or perhaps signs of torture, dismissed him and told him to stop whining.

A Malfoy didn't whine!

His train of thought was derailed by someone coming up the stairs. With his normal level of courage and straightforwardness, he managed to Disillusion himself and hid behind the door.

Tracey Davis and Pansy Parkinson were talking, and paid no attention to the rather obvious outline behind them, or the fully visible shoes.

“So, how's it really working out?”

“Oh, Tracey, it's brilliant. You were so right. There are so many things I just don't have to worry about. As long as I'm loyal and please him, everything is perfect, and I just don't have to care. Master does that for me.”

“You know, I thought I took the whole Sub part pretty far, but you're practically a pet.”

“I know. Isn't it great?”

They laughed about it and kept chatting about what great guys the louts who owned them were while Draco slowly reached his boiling point. Loyalty? Obedience? He should have had that. He could have given her all the domination she could take, and here she was, unable to even use her magic without her Master's approval. That gave him an idea. She could only fight with her Master's approval, and he wasn't here. That meant that Tracey were defenceless here, and as most students above fourth year knew, only major spells could be recorded up here. This was important, as silencing charms and anti-pregnancy charms were considered minor. In the halls, there were monitoring charms that kept track of all spells used, but the Tower was safe from that. He could simply petrify Potty's whore and dump her over the edge. There was no one here to stop him as Pansy wouldn't be able to do a thing even if she wanted to. As he had formulated a truly astoundingly brilliant plan and was the finest wizard on the planet, he immediately jumped into action, as great heroes are wont to do. By focusing hard enough to almost give himself a bleeding nose, he managed to cast the petrification curse wordlessly. He then cast off his own Disillusionment and strutted towards the struggling brunette with the pretty eyes.

“Only minor spells, bitch. No one will ever know.”

“Silencio! Tarantellegra!” The spells hit Draco in the back. He never knew Pansy packed such a punch with her wand. His legs were stomping around furiously but silently as the now gorgeous girl broke the spell on her friend. As Draco, the last Malfoy, tried to scream impotently, the girls looked at each other. As one, they moved and as Pansy conjured a board up on the parapet surrounding the tower, Tracey reinforced the Dancing hex. With soft and gentle banishers, they guided the helplessly dancing boy up on the board, up on the parapet. They didn't say anything, they just watched the furiously dancing boy desperately try to control his movements on the narrow parapet. After about a minute, the hex began to wear off.

They renewed it.

When they had renewed the hex twice, they looked at each other again, and Pansy stepped forward. She stepped up on the ledge inside the parapet and leant a bit towards the silently dancing, crying and sweating boy.

“Did you really bet your life on that my Master would mind if you DIE?”

As she shouted the last word in his face, his dancing legs took an involuntary step back.

The silencing charm was very good. No one even heard the impact.


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“Never fear. He's unpredictable. No one could know he would show up like that. He must have some kind of listening device in the chamber.”

“They're routinely swept by the Aurors for just such things.”

“He has seduced the Aurors as a group. They might ignore it.”

“True. Weasley started the ruckus, though. Can we do anything about him?”

“The word is that Potter has Bonded the little Weasley cunt. If he can Bond Humans, no one's safe. That might rally people to him, just to be safe, I guess. We can strike at both Potter and the pillock at the Ministry by hitting the cunt. I have a few men, but I might need a ward-master to get to their house. The oldest of the brood is a curse-breaker, so I believe there might be some inventive wards at the family home. It's time to strike directly at his heart.”




Author's notes.
I'm writing this unbeta'ed but pfeil, who actually can come up with some engaging scribblings on his own no matter what he says, will probably have had a large hand in making this stuff readable.

This line was written after the Beta-trip. He did. He must also be the fastest bloody Beta in Fanverse. So there.

The Muse was apparently not Linux compatible, but with more than healthy amounts of chocolate and some nice Islay products, a Muse can be coaxed back.
If you don't recognise the Ancient Mariner, shame on you. Google it and get some culture. The Ron bit is actually a bit of a precursor to a story I'm filing at on the side. It's more philosophical and poetic than this one, which isn't hard, and I doubt it'll pull the same crowd. Katie will have a hard time getting to know Harry. Now, something I want a few opinions on.

Ginny.

Love or Hate? If you've learned my style, you know why I'm asking.

As always, read, enjoy and review. Twice, please.

Vanir