Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Harry Potter and the Midnight Sun.
The Carpenter said nothing but "Cut us another slice:
Re-flowering, investigation, conversation and some boinking, too.
?Blocked
Disclaimer. I don't own Harry Potter, the Wizarding world, my house, a car or a dog. I don't really want a dog, but a car would be nice. The Chrysler Pacifica is very nice, but a scooter would do, frankly. If I'm to own a house, I wouldn't want this one. It was built in the 80's, when most builders cheated a lot, and the place needs to be rebuilt, basically. Harry? What would I do with a moody brat like that? I do own my Huldr though, as I altered the original myths like hell, and adjusted the name. Feel free to use them, though. They like it.
The Carpenter said nothing but
"Cut us another slice:
On some level, she was aware that she must be richer that she had ever been, but the knowledge didn't really register with her. The conflicting feelings of loss and freedom balanced out, and together, they dominated her view of the world. She was walking through the beautiful forest, free of her chains but alone in the world. Other than two letters, one each from the ministry and the school, no one had contacted her. Not one person wanted to know how she was doing or how she would handle things. She knew, of course, that this was earned. Her family had been the cream of the cream, admired by some and feared by others, and never, ever making friends. No one in Wizarding Britain cared to know her fate, and right now she, the loneliest woman in Britain --- by her own standards anyway --- was crossing the pathless forest, heading towards Otherton. She had enough non-human blood to qualify, at least she hoped she did. Maybe she would be accepted. That would be nice.
Suddenly she froze. In a clearing ahead of her, two wolves were playing, and she did recognise Werewolves when she saw them. In spite of the broad day light and the fact that the full moon was several days away, the two wolf cubs, who were playing a rather violent game of tag in front of her, were unmistakably Werewolves. She sank down on her knees and watched them. If they sensed her, she was too close to get away anyway, but by presenting a non-threatening visage, she might just escape their notice. She watched the cubs play for a long time, seeing them raise and lower their tails as they won or lost the game, and old lessons in Care surfaced in her memory. She could recognise that the raised tail was the sign of the dominant, and that their relaxed postures and raised ears meant that they must be siblings in play, to exchange dominance so easily.
Their postures changed suddenly, from relaxed and playful to wary and cautious as they caught her scent. As they slowly approached her, she was grateful to see that they were cautious, but not threatening or threatened. She realised that she had been slightly mistaken about the age of the cubs when they snapped into human shape, revealing themselves as two girls, the older about seven years old and the younger about five. The wolves had worn leashes, but as the girls transformed, the leashes shimmered and became grey dresses with a runic pattern around the necks. The older girl had light brown hair and hazel eyes with a worried expression.
“Hello. We scare you? We think alone here now.”
The older woman smiled at the girls as soothingly as she could. She wasn't used to being nice to children, but she did her best. They were obviously not British, and she was impressed by the heavily accented English the girl used. She hadn't been anywhere near that proficient at another language at that age, even if she spoke several today. She waved her hand.
“It's all right. You were playing. Do you live in Otherton?”
The girl obviously understood her, and nodded vigorously.
“Yes. Father is religious cordonator and Mother is doctor in sickhouse.”
“Cordonator?”
“He not like word priest.”
Ah. Coordinator. Not a bad title to use in a place with so many cultures and religions, but it indicated less zeal than she was used to from a priest. A priest who recognized a validity in other faiths? Unthinkable. She nodded anyway.
“I see. What's your name?”
“Ylva. Little sister is Hilde. You?”
She was stumped by the seemingly easy question. What was her name? She wouldn't dream of using her slave name. It had been used as an insult too many times, and was heavily wrought by the expectations of her family, both her blood and her latter. Her husband had rarely used it, and it had few positive memories attached to it. No, she had decided to try and make herself anew, and a new name should be a part of that.
“I'm not sure. Can you tell me the name of a little white flower in your language?”
“Hmm. Vitsippa. Sippa. Is that your name?”
“It is now. It's nice to meet you, Ylva and Hilde. I'm Vitsippa. Call me Sippa.”
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“Mr Potter, I'm sorry, Lord Potter, I was very surprised to find your name on my Visitor's list.”
“Where else would I turn for advice on common sense, Mr Weasley?”
“A very good question, unfortunately. First, though, is it true that you have Bonded my sister and made her pregnant?”
“It is, but it was more of a mishap, frankly. I didn't think there was any risk of Bonding her as I thought she was a Human, and when she reached out and more or less Bonded me, I forgot about the risk of pregnancy altogether.”
“I confess that I find it disturbing on many levels, but I know my sister, and this had all the markings of her deepest desire granted. I may be disturbed, but I don't hold it against you in any way.”
“Thank you. Now, I have a bit of a sticky situation on my hands, and I need advice from someone who would tell me if I'm in the wrong. You know of the Longbottoms? There's a strong chance that one of my Consorts can heal them, but I desperately need Neville as an independent actor. If his father regained his health, would Neville stay head of his family?”
“He would, as the position has passed to him already, and he has proven himself competent in the position. Common sense dictates that I advise you that Neville would undoubtedly listen to his father, perhaps more than to you. It might put him in a bad position.”
“Truly. I believe you have a well working idea of my needs and wants here, what's your advice?”
“Hmm. Not an easy question. In your position, I would heal them, which would possibly strengthen Neville's devotion to you, if such a thing is possible. Then, I would send the older Longbottom's to recuperate somewhere, and let Neville visit as often as he'd like, but monitor them. That's what I'd do, but I'm not a very nice person. The so-called 'right' thing to do would be to heal them and let them play happy families for a while, but you really can't spare Neville, I understand.”
“Your suggestion has merit, and frankly, I have been given the same advice before. The difference is that while I know the first person to be incredibly intelligent, she may not tell me something I don't want to know. I don't think you have those scruples.”
“Speaking of scruples, are there any companies or trades left for you to get your hands on? I did a quick survey the other day, and I found more than thirty companies that operate out of Otherton. In the interest of common sense, do you know what would happen if someone put a stop to Otherton?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. You would have an economy in chaos. In the short time I've been operating the place, your tax income should have doubled, and most of the Death Eater controlled businesses are almost bankrupt. Otherton cleans your offices, makes your clothes, and cooks your food. If I didn't feel like helping you with the transition, you would have better part of a month of chaos. Without chocolate, I might add. The only major source of chocolate that I don't have deals with are Papua and Madagascar --- and only because I don't like their chocolate. I'd say that any obstacles thrown in our direction are contrary to common sense and the interests of the Wizarding world.”
“In the patois of the world, you have us by the scrotum.”
“Oh, no. I leave that for the Huldr.”
“Are they really so hot-blooded?”
“It's more like we get hungry, and in Otherton, they can get three square meals a day, instead of having to stuff themselves monthly. It's only when they stuff themselves that they become dangerous.”
“Lord Potter, I have had some conversations with Mr Mayweather, and he believes they might be somewhat more dangerous than you let on.”
“Perhaps. They are, after all, predators. They're fast and strong, and can pose quite a danger to an enemy. I do try not to be one.”
“So I've been told. I should tell you that there are some messages for you here in the Ministry, as all official diplomatic mail is redirected to the Ministry. Apparently, the Hopi Nation is looking for an alliance of sorts, as are the Aztec, and the tribes of Uluru and Zimbabwe recognises you as King of Britain. They have refused to recognise the Ministry for twenty years.”
“So you read my mail?”
“I did. However, I'm the only one who has, as I could classify them. I may not like it, but the foreign ministries have a lot more faith in you than they do in us. Given my choice to either fight you or help you, I go with common sense. The mail will be delivered to Kilchurn momentarily.”
“Thank you. Do come and visit sometime. I'm told that renting a room at the Tall Tails is an education in itself, and yours is already paid for.”
“I may just do that sometime. For educational purposes, of course.
“Of course. Have a good one, Mr Weasley.
He silently reached for the Bond and sent the go-ahead to Stina. She didn't waste any time, but brought Jorunn and Gabrielle with her to St. Mungo's for a check-up on Gabrielle's progressing pregnancy and to bring the two insensate Longbottoms back into active duty.
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Aurora Sinistra tried to glare at the two girls in front of her. As acting head of Slytherin, the Aurors had decided to allow her to interrogate her students in of a fashion, as they had failed to find any suspects. It was written off as a suicide, but Aurora couldn't believe someone like Draco Malfoy would have the guts to jump. These girls were recorded going up to her tower fifteen minutes after Malfoy, and they had said that they had found some planks, but nothing else out of the ordinary. She cursed again the decision to forego the real-time monitoring for large spells in favour of a system that recorded spells every half hour. As such, it was impossible to tell exactly when those planks had been conjured, and they had evaporated before anyone could take a wand-profile scan. It was quite unlike Minerva to be so slow, but there it was. The pink-haired Auror who had led the investigation had only smiled when Aurora pointed out the stains of sweat evident on a magnification scan of the floor, claiming that she might have left a couple of similar stains there during her last year in school.
Professor Sinistra had given up. Whatever had happened, it was now a suicide. This cross between an interrogation and a grief-counselling session was the only thing she had been allowed to do in order to find the truth.
“Miss Parkinson?”
“Yes, Professor?”
“Can you conjure a plank?”
“According to the potentiomantic scan taken when I was ten, that level of magic should be out of my reach.”
“That's not a 'no', is it?”
“Excuse me, Professor?”
“Have you ever done it?”
“Why should I attempt Magics that experts have said is impossible to me?”
“Why indeed. Tracey, your wand showed a lot of cleansing and elasticity charms. Several dozens, in fact. Why is that?”
“Professor, I believe my personal life is not in your jurisdiction.”
“Indulge me.”
“All right. You know my Master, Harry Potter? Well, to sum it up, he has a really large penis, and if I don't cast a couple of rubberskin charms, there's no way I could take him either in my ass or down my throat ...“
“Thank you, I think I understand now. Pansy, your charms were for the same reasons, I guess?”
“Basically yes, Professor.”
The interrogation continued for almost a full hour, and it had some pretty spectacular results. The two girls didn't give anything away, but they managed to sing their respective Masters' praises at every opportunity, especially sexually. While Draco was still the victim of a suicide, which apparently couldn't be questioned, the still beautiful but slightly stern professor had soaked through her panties and started to entertain ideas of giving Mr Potter a date ... err ... detention with her in the tower some night. The girls in front of her appeared to know that as well, and used every opportunity to boast. She decided to close her own investigation and have herself a nice calming draught. It wouldn't do for a calm and collected Professor to jump a sixth-year's magic broomstick, now, would it? As they stood up, she tossed out a final question without really expecting an answer.
“I wonder what could have driven Mr Malfoy to take such a step?”
The two voluntary slave girls stopped and looked at each other. Without looking at her, Tracey said.
“It was probably a mistake. He must have tried to balance on the ledge without really knowing how close to the edge he was.”
“There are so many ways to overstep, after all, and he didn't have much of a sense for boundaries.”
Pansy's contribution cleared it all up for the Professor. She knew what had happened, and she knew that she wouldn't do anything about it. Draco had insulted and harmed the boys who the girls saw as masters so many times, and somehow, he had gone too far. She didn't really want to know what he had done, and settled for a softer response.
“If Misters Potter and Longbotton knew the circumstances, do you think they would understand it?”
The girls nodded.
“That is all. Please tell your Masters that I would like to see them at their convenience.”
Tracey smiled, and it was a smile full of mischief.
“If you don't mind a rather personal situation, I believe my Master is studying in the Room of Requirement at the moment. I'm sure he won't mind if you drop in on him, and neither will his study partner.”
“And who might that be?”
“At this time? Probably Daphne, but it might be Granger. I've forgotten the schedule.”
With that, the girls were gone. Aurora Sinistra stood frozen by her desk, marvelling at the vision she had been granted. She could see her futures, two of them, stretch out before her. One was a long, dull progression of years behind her desk, gazing at the cold light of the stars, trying to decipher their meaning and their movements, trying to determine if there was a greater will controlling them, always wondering if the Greater Will, if it existed, cared about her. It was a safe future, with simple decisions and little risk. The other line she saw started with her walk to the legendary Room of Requirement. It would bring her closer to a legend. The Legend of Harry Potter would outlast the facts of his life. Whatever he did, there would be legends of more. Whoever he was, he was Pendragon in the minds of the people. Pritchard was definitely Merlin. It was one of the things that everybody knew and yet no one knew why. It was a life of adventure, of excitement. A life of answers to questions she barely dared to ask. It was a dangerous line to walk, one with the potential of utter darkness, but the darkness had blazing edges, and the voice of a younger Aurora reminded her that it might be preferable to the eternal twilight of a long life at the desk. Her hands rose, like they had a will of their own, and undid the prim bun that normally held her long hair in check. She shook it out, looking in the mirror for grey hairs and not finding any. She might be old enough to be Mr Potter's mother, but the margin was not wide. She set off to find the Room of Requirement.
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“... And that's how the touch telepathy should work. I believe you'll need some training in Occlumency to work it consciously, even if you should have a natural defence. The defence just holds people out who try to attack you, but the training incorporates techniques of organising your mind that might be very useful in controlling this ability. Your latent Empathy will be efficient as a way to know if people are lying to you, but by touching them, you'll know for sure, and you'll know what they were hiding. Oh, God. I don't know what I'm doing, sitting here talking to myself. I've worked out most of the permutations of the spell, but it's possible that I'm dead wrong, and you're sitting there, wondering what I'm on about. Ah well, on to the next chapter. You should have at least seven ways to heal yourself available, and quite frankly, if you master them all, I can't imagine how you could possibly be hurt. The first one, that I sincerely hope you already know, is the Water way. You can turn a wounded body part to water and reassemble it to a healed one. Now, as my studies of the phenomenon are a bit less than conclusive, the method is actually more successful at avoiding damage by allowing the damage to happen to a body of water. The water will allow any violence to just dissipate, and you can turn it back to a solid state without having it affected at all...”
Harry paused the memory and exited the Pensieve. He could only take one bottle of memories out of the bank at any one time, but there was so much to learn in each one. Some of his mother's guesses were more than a little off, but her explanations helped him understand the basic mechanics of his various traits, and he was already learning more than he even knew possible. He had learned that Hank, his Dragon shape, wasn't an Animagus shape at all, and neither were the two shapes he had learnt about from his mother. He could now turn into a fairly large, black wolf that he called Laddie, just because, and a huge brown bear, now called Bear --- which had sent Tonks into hysterics.
Sometimes he wondered about her.
He had an Animagus shape inside of him, he knew that, but to find it, he would have to go through the regular training.
The Sunday following the most eventful Saturday had been a lot of fun. He had learned that the sense of humour varied greatly between the species in Otherton. Goblins found surprising financial loss to be most entertaining, and if it was due to the individuals own stupidity, it was hilarious. The Huldr's idea of humour never rose above the waist, unless boobs were involved, and the Giants were more oriented towards body functions. Telling a Vampire that something sucked was a bad idea, as there were thousands of jokes with that as a punchline, and none of them were funny. Werewolves were like most people, but the enforced poverty had left most of them in lower-class social circles. There were some great stand-up comedians among them. All in all, he had met a lot of good people that day, and he had learned that they didn't, in fact, have any unrealistic expectations of him. He had given them a chance to live a normal-looking life, and they loved him for it, just because his name protected them and they were determined to make it worth his while. The “Anywere” worker's pool had apparently started without even Neville knowing about it, and were currently negotiating on taking over the manual labour in Azkaban, as the Werewolves were less affected by the presence of Dementors than humans. They were already employed by Abbott Industries, that operated in both worlds, as well as the Brocklehurst Trading Company. The BTC had suddenly gotten great contracts in India because of that as the Indians used Naga as loaders, and few humans were comfortable in the presence of the great snake people. The Werewolves didn't mind, and the Naga liked them. When word had gotten out about Harry's involvement with the Weres, the deals between BTC and its Indian counterpart suddenly became longer, to the satisfaction of all involved. The people in Otherton had made it rather clear to him that he had their loyalty. If they could help him, they would. Every time he thought of the financial power he had now, his head just spun. He tried to bring his thoughts back to today's objective.
He sat down in a conveniently materializing comfy chair and pondered the last lesson.
The most interesting thing this time was the whole touch telepathy thing. He had used it a few times, but it had been instinctive. With a bit of control, it could bypass the heaviest Occlumency shielding, and even be used to replace Obliviation. The problem was finding someone on which to practice, but he decided to try the mind-reading aspect out as soon as the opportunity presented itself. With almost narrative predictability, the door opened.
“Master?”
“Hello Daphne. What brings you here?”
“Tracey said you might like to shag someone to within an inch of their lives, so I thought I should volunteer. It sounds like fun, and I do know what to expect.”
The petite blonde entered. She didn't wear much under her robe, which she shed on the floor very quickly. Her flimsy excuse for a bra offered great support, but didn't hide anything, and the knickers had a convenient opening that made Harry wonder about the point of them until he realized that they turned him on, and that she might consider that a worthy reason for the vague piece of clothing. He could see as she strutted towards him that her knees bent slightly in the wrong direction, so he assumed that she had used that rubber potion Tracey had used last time.
She knelt before him and licked her lips.
Without hesitation, she unlaced his trousers and as soon as she had gotten his trousers off of him, she climbed on top of him with her feet on the armrests of the chair. From that elevated position, she crouched down onto his cock. He noticed that she had shaved completely, making the petite girl seem even younger, but the pheromones released by her flowing juices made him ignore the awkwardness of that. The sensation as her tiny, tight twat slowly extended to envelop his member was very nice, and her enraptured face as she slowly slid down his length was incredibly hot. She began to rock back and forth, and he felt her pulse surround him as she used her body to please him to the best of her abilities. She was working really hard, using both arms and legs to overcome the friction of his girth against her potion-enhanced walls, no matter how slippery she was. Her brand new necklace, adorned with the rune Dagaz in a braided silver strand, shone of sweat and power as he kept her in ecstasy as she fought for his. She was very energetic, and while his tension built slowly, it did feel very good indeed, and the room was lit by a fine blue mist of Passionfire. That was the state of the environment that Professor Aurora Sinistra stepped into.
To her, it was a shock to all senses. First of all, she knew Daphne. The girl was as clever as they came, and ambitious to boot, and to see the small girl working so hard to please a man when she obviously had had her fill was like a revelation. Tit for tat. The Professor concluded that Harry must have more than pleasure to offer to make Greengrass work so hard, especially as Aurora knew about the dynamics in Slytherin house, and Daphne had never been anyone's bitch. She was much too independent for that.
Secondly, it was the sight of the little girl in reverse cowgirl on top of such a monstrous cock. The outline, the bulge of the huge member moving inside her could be clearly seen on the outside, and such a thing just wasn't possible. The blue light in the room ambushed her senses and made her entire body tingle, and she was suddenly jealous of the little girl who had such a magnificent thing inside her, and without really thinking about it, the professor began to take off her clothes.
Harry smiled as he used his new skill in touch telepathy to examine the little vixens mind. Her motivation to come to him was, surprisingly enough, exactly what she had told him when she had bopped Snape on the head with that pitcher. He was her safeguard in Slytherin house, and she used this connection to him in order to ensure her safety. She didn't really take advantage of him, though. She knew that her secure position was due to her necklace, and that necklace was given to her as she gave herself to the Sorcerer from Gryffindor. That implied that she should be loyal to him, she would serve him and do her best to anticipate his needs. She would fuck his brains out as often as she could, and mind his best interest. In exchange for that, she had security and a future. To her, it was a great deal, and one she had volunteered for, and for him, he didn't give up anything he wouldn't have given her for the asking.
When he concluded that he knew all he needed to, he stood up with the small girl still speared on his member, turned around and began pounding her against the back of the chair. As he drove into her, pushing her higher with each stroke, he turned to the now naked professor. She looked great. Her breasts were full and supple, and her nipples looked hard enough to cut glass. Her bush had seen no razor, but the dense coat of hair was moist, and as most of Harry's girls were more or less shaved, it looked quite exotic to him. Her eyes were locked at his cock, and more precisely, at the point where it disappeared into the little girl. He reached out his hand towards her, and laced a bit of magic into his voice.
“Come. You want to have a better look, don't you?”
In a daze, she approached and knelt beside him. Hesitantly, she reached out with her hand and cupped the little girl's breast with one hand and the magnificent male's balls with the other. She moved that hand to the girl's clit as he slowly pulled out of her. The professor couldn't believe the sight of it. Inch after inch were pulled out, and it never seemed to end. As the head finally became visible, she couldn't help herself but to pounce and take it in her mouth. Harry smiled indulgently, and pushed his hand into Daphne's little pussy, enjoying the stretching feeling around his hand as well as she enjoyed the different kind of stimulation. Using the telepathic contact, he gave her a couple of orders, and he could feel her mental smile in response. Almost bonelessly, thanks to the potion, she slid out of the chair as Harry morphed himself even bigger and much more muscular. He grabbed the dazed professor, lifted her up and put her in the chair facing him. He leaned forward, allowing her to take his crown in her mouth, and her experience showed as she immediately followed with her hands, giving him a fantastic blow job. Daphne crawled in between his legs, and her Head of House made an interesting start as the little girl parted the Professor's bush with her tongue. When the older woman was close to coming, Harry pulled out of her mouth, trailing his cock down her body to her soaked pussy as Daphne, always prepared, poured her spare dose of the potion down her Professor's throat. When the interesting wobble that indicated a successful dosing had passed, Harry pushed into her, making her howl in a powerful, extended orgasm as the pressure of the giant member inside her refused to let her down again. With a vicious gleam in her eyes, Daphne licked the older woman's breasts for the full two minutes that Harry kept her going from peak to peak without rest. Finally, Harry couldn't hold it in any more, and he pulled out, letting his thick ropes coil over both women's faces, and Daphne's darting, pink tongue caught as much as she could. Professor Sinistra was utterly spent, completely tamed as the sixth-year girl licked her face and breasts clean of semen. She tried to stand again and again, but her body refused to obey. Harry, who had buckled to the floor as well managed to stand up before she could even move a muscle, and he helped her up with a strong grip with his powerful arms.
“So, Professor,” he said with a dazzling smile, “is there anything else I can do for you?”
He was quite impressed when the hot, sweaty, and still quite sticky Professor smiled and began questioning him. He decided that he liked her. That was play and this was business. She deserved to be Head of Slytherin House.
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She should have blown up by now, but with the Bond constantly reassuring her, she didn't. After Arching to the Burrow on Saturday, she told her mother about the latest development in her life, and predictably enough, her mother had gone completely off the scale. She had more or less expected that. What she hadn't expected was to be grounded. Of course, she could Arch out again, or Harry could break down the wards, and Stina could even carry her through the locked Home wards from the pond in the back, but Harry had suggested she try to endure it and find a more peaceful solution. She found it very easy to do, once her Master had told her what to do. Mrs Weasley was on the Floo again, trying to find yet another medical authority to tell her that the Bond couldn't be broken, and that it was no illness to be cured from. It was simply a fact. Ginny took it in stride, and took her time to revel in the sensation of the Bond. The other girls had known about Bonding like a fact of life, and only Stina hadn't expected something like that to happen, even if she, too, had known about it. She just hadn't expected it ever to happen to her. It was something the two of them had in common that the others couldn't understand whether they shared memories or not. Ginny and Gabrielle shared something else. They were both quite young, and their love was tinged with Hero-worship as their master had saved them both, even if Gabrielle hadn't really been in danger. Ginny had, and Harry had slain a real monster for her. That memory was very comforting to Jorunn, with whom she shared another thing. Ginny's experience with the diary was very close to Jorunn's fear of going fully feral, and with Ginny's memories of that time, Jorunn was reassured that Harry could deal with anything, whether he wanted to or not. Of course, Jorunn's worries were shrinking more and more, as feral Huldr did quite okay in Otherton. With Disa, Ginny shared a relaxed kind of love. With the bond had come a strange realisation. She understood why boys had hounded her since the onset of puberty. She, little Gin-Gin, was smoking hot. She was drop dead sexy and suddenly, Ginny understood all the annoying stares and occasional stalkers. With Harry, there was none of that. She, like Disa, was very happy with her inherent hotness, but Harry didn't keep them around for that alone. He liked, perhaps loved, them for themselves, and their sexiness was just a bonus. They were free to revel in his presence and affection, like by a fire on a cold day. Life as a Bonded Lady of Kilchurn was something she really could get used to. Now, however, she had something to do. She had to talk to her brother. He was currently laying on the floor with his feet on the couch, reading a book.
“Hello, Ron.”
He closed the book and looked up on her from the floor.
“Ginny.”
His tone was polite, possibly affectionate, even.
“What are you reading?”
“A book.”
“What's in the book?”
“Words.”
She smiled as she recognised a piece from a play they had been forced to read growing up.
“So, you're the Prince of Denmark, then?”
He smiled at her.
“Personally, I'd say Bottom. If there ever was a mule-headed bloke, it's got to be me, right?”
“It looks like you're doing better. The Ship out back looks almost complete.”
“Some Unspeakables have been helping me. They are very curious. In all senses of the word, frankly. I think Miss Blue wants to sleep with me, but that's probably the cuckoo talking.”
“The cuckoo?”
“Yeah. That's what I call the more bizarre impulses I get. As long as I'm aware of them, they can't do much damage. You've been here a while now. You arrived Saturday, and unless I'm off again, it's Wednesday now. What about classes?”
“I'm covered. This last Friday, Harry Bonded me, so I have access to the knowledge of all his Bonded. Some of my sisters are dead smart.”
“So, you discovered our little Family Secret, then?”
“You know about it?”
“Yes. Mr Green told me about it in their initial survey they made on me. I can't express it fully, just bits and pieces, but you just might. It's sort of funny. Me, the figurehead of the unthinking bigots, a part-human.”
“So, what are we, then?”
“You'll figure it out. After all, the whole thing might have been the Cuckoo talking again. Of course, some of the things it says makes sense. We're about to be attacked.”
He hadn't even stopped talking when the alarms went off and the sky outside went orange. That meant, according to the drills they made when they were kids, that the primary Wards had fallen.
Ginny's understanding of the situation had a very peculiar effect. The Bond flooded her mind with rage. Neither Huldr nor Lake Wardens were very big on law-suits. If someone attacked them, they killed, and those instincts poured into the young girl's mind and settled nicely. Jorunn's darker nature, and the bloodlust she tried so hard to control pushed many of the buttons that Riddle once had installed in Ginny's mind, and this time, he wouldn't like it.
The young redhead, her mind full of rage and fire, looked at her brother.
“Let's kill 'em.”
With a rather feral grin, he responded.
“Let's make all the little pieces regret the idea to attack us.”
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“Yo! Thumbs out of wherever, and combat ready two minutes ago. There's an attack in the making at the Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole in Devon. The latest Bonded is visiting her family there. Jocke, you're in charge.”
“Just pull your undies out of your ass-crack, Björn. If you run to the arch, you might beat us there. We're coming.”
The Einharjers assembled their combat gear with the swift and economical moves of the well-trained soldier, and within twenty seconds, thirty men and women were running for the Arch.
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It was easy with the support of the Bond. The first black-clad intruder had caved with his ribcage, as her blasting curse hit home. She had always been magically strong, but this was insane. They had told her she would be enhanced by the Bonding, but this was just unbelievable, she thought as she cast Alohomora at an attacker and watching his chest tear itself open. Ron was right beside her, mostly shielding but also casting piercing hexes with great accuracy. Ginny was beginning to feel hot, and she noticed through the Bond that the Einharjers were less than a minute out. In her battle-frenzied mind, that became a need to kill all of the attackers before others came and snatched them away from her, and she began using cutting curses, severing limbs and opening stomachs all over. Of the originally twenty attackers, less than half were on their feet, but the remaining ones weren't stupid. They used decoys, conjured birds and spiders to distract them, and an illusion of a great big snake made Ginny pause for a second. In a battle, a second is a very long time. It is definitely long enough for a quick and disillusioned attacker to flank a shielded front and bring his wand to bear. As Ginny got her composure back, she didn't see the faint ripple to her left, and it didn't make a single sound until it revealed itself and spoke.
“INCENDIO!”
Ginny saw the fire curse connect with her chest, and she could almost see how it burned through her light summer dress, hitting her white skin. To the sound of her brother's deranged laughter, her torso caught fire.
Author's Ramblings and unnecessary comments of self-serving delusions of grandeur:
If you've paid attention, it's not much of a cliffie, is it? From last chapter, Lav and Hermione were not in the pile, just nearby. I should have specified, I guess. They are not bonded, just very close friends with some serious benefits. As most of you wanted to keep Ginny alive, I did. Yes, I did. I just had to have something horrible happen to her, and I did that too. Ron is not all there, but he's not quite as insane as he thinks he is. Miss Blue does want to sleep with him. Heh. So, any guesses on who Sippa might be? Her new name means Wood Anemone, but she's a Canon character that I messed up a bit. Just like all the other Canon characters i've used. There are no heavy clues, I think, but it should be possible to work it out, I think. Before you say it, i'm aware of the meaning of Alohomora. Open wall. Ginny may not be, though. Intent is the key.
Ah well. Read, enjoy and review.
Vanir
The Carpenter said nothing but
"Cut us another slice:
On some level, she was aware that she must be richer that she had ever been, but the knowledge didn't really register with her. The conflicting feelings of loss and freedom balanced out, and together, they dominated her view of the world. She was walking through the beautiful forest, free of her chains but alone in the world. Other than two letters, one each from the ministry and the school, no one had contacted her. Not one person wanted to know how she was doing or how she would handle things. She knew, of course, that this was earned. Her family had been the cream of the cream, admired by some and feared by others, and never, ever making friends. No one in Wizarding Britain cared to know her fate, and right now she, the loneliest woman in Britain --- by her own standards anyway --- was crossing the pathless forest, heading towards Otherton. She had enough non-human blood to qualify, at least she hoped she did. Maybe she would be accepted. That would be nice.
Suddenly she froze. In a clearing ahead of her, two wolves were playing, and she did recognise Werewolves when she saw them. In spite of the broad day light and the fact that the full moon was several days away, the two wolf cubs, who were playing a rather violent game of tag in front of her, were unmistakably Werewolves. She sank down on her knees and watched them. If they sensed her, she was too close to get away anyway, but by presenting a non-threatening visage, she might just escape their notice. She watched the cubs play for a long time, seeing them raise and lower their tails as they won or lost the game, and old lessons in Care surfaced in her memory. She could recognise that the raised tail was the sign of the dominant, and that their relaxed postures and raised ears meant that they must be siblings in play, to exchange dominance so easily.
Their postures changed suddenly, from relaxed and playful to wary and cautious as they caught her scent. As they slowly approached her, she was grateful to see that they were cautious, but not threatening or threatened. She realised that she had been slightly mistaken about the age of the cubs when they snapped into human shape, revealing themselves as two girls, the older about seven years old and the younger about five. The wolves had worn leashes, but as the girls transformed, the leashes shimmered and became grey dresses with a runic pattern around the necks. The older girl had light brown hair and hazel eyes with a worried expression.
“Hello. We scare you? We think alone here now.”
The older woman smiled at the girls as soothingly as she could. She wasn't used to being nice to children, but she did her best. They were obviously not British, and she was impressed by the heavily accented English the girl used. She hadn't been anywhere near that proficient at another language at that age, even if she spoke several today. She waved her hand.
“It's all right. You were playing. Do you live in Otherton?”
The girl obviously understood her, and nodded vigorously.
“Yes. Father is religious cordonator and Mother is doctor in sickhouse.”
“Cordonator?”
“He not like word priest.”
Ah. Coordinator. Not a bad title to use in a place with so many cultures and religions, but it indicated less zeal than she was used to from a priest. A priest who recognized a validity in other faiths? Unthinkable. She nodded anyway.
“I see. What's your name?”
“Ylva. Little sister is Hilde. You?”
She was stumped by the seemingly easy question. What was her name? She wouldn't dream of using her slave name. It had been used as an insult too many times, and was heavily wrought by the expectations of her family, both her blood and her latter. Her husband had rarely used it, and it had few positive memories attached to it. No, she had decided to try and make herself anew, and a new name should be a part of that.
“I'm not sure. Can you tell me the name of a little white flower in your language?”
“Hmm. Vitsippa. Sippa. Is that your name?”
“It is now. It's nice to meet you, Ylva and Hilde. I'm Vitsippa. Call me Sippa.”
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“Mr Potter, I'm sorry, Lord Potter, I was very surprised to find your name on my Visitor's list.”
“Where else would I turn for advice on common sense, Mr Weasley?”
“A very good question, unfortunately. First, though, is it true that you have Bonded my sister and made her pregnant?”
“It is, but it was more of a mishap, frankly. I didn't think there was any risk of Bonding her as I thought she was a Human, and when she reached out and more or less Bonded me, I forgot about the risk of pregnancy altogether.”
“I confess that I find it disturbing on many levels, but I know my sister, and this had all the markings of her deepest desire granted. I may be disturbed, but I don't hold it against you in any way.”
“Thank you. Now, I have a bit of a sticky situation on my hands, and I need advice from someone who would tell me if I'm in the wrong. You know of the Longbottoms? There's a strong chance that one of my Consorts can heal them, but I desperately need Neville as an independent actor. If his father regained his health, would Neville stay head of his family?”
“He would, as the position has passed to him already, and he has proven himself competent in the position. Common sense dictates that I advise you that Neville would undoubtedly listen to his father, perhaps more than to you. It might put him in a bad position.”
“Truly. I believe you have a well working idea of my needs and wants here, what's your advice?”
“Hmm. Not an easy question. In your position, I would heal them, which would possibly strengthen Neville's devotion to you, if such a thing is possible. Then, I would send the older Longbottom's to recuperate somewhere, and let Neville visit as often as he'd like, but monitor them. That's what I'd do, but I'm not a very nice person. The so-called 'right' thing to do would be to heal them and let them play happy families for a while, but you really can't spare Neville, I understand.”
“Your suggestion has merit, and frankly, I have been given the same advice before. The difference is that while I know the first person to be incredibly intelligent, she may not tell me something I don't want to know. I don't think you have those scruples.”
“Speaking of scruples, are there any companies or trades left for you to get your hands on? I did a quick survey the other day, and I found more than thirty companies that operate out of Otherton. In the interest of common sense, do you know what would happen if someone put a stop to Otherton?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. You would have an economy in chaos. In the short time I've been operating the place, your tax income should have doubled, and most of the Death Eater controlled businesses are almost bankrupt. Otherton cleans your offices, makes your clothes, and cooks your food. If I didn't feel like helping you with the transition, you would have better part of a month of chaos. Without chocolate, I might add. The only major source of chocolate that I don't have deals with are Papua and Madagascar --- and only because I don't like their chocolate. I'd say that any obstacles thrown in our direction are contrary to common sense and the interests of the Wizarding world.”
“In the patois of the world, you have us by the scrotum.”
“Oh, no. I leave that for the Huldr.”
“Are they really so hot-blooded?”
“It's more like we get hungry, and in Otherton, they can get three square meals a day, instead of having to stuff themselves monthly. It's only when they stuff themselves that they become dangerous.”
“Lord Potter, I have had some conversations with Mr Mayweather, and he believes they might be somewhat more dangerous than you let on.”
“Perhaps. They are, after all, predators. They're fast and strong, and can pose quite a danger to an enemy. I do try not to be one.”
“So I've been told. I should tell you that there are some messages for you here in the Ministry, as all official diplomatic mail is redirected to the Ministry. Apparently, the Hopi Nation is looking for an alliance of sorts, as are the Aztec, and the tribes of Uluru and Zimbabwe recognises you as King of Britain. They have refused to recognise the Ministry for twenty years.”
“So you read my mail?”
“I did. However, I'm the only one who has, as I could classify them. I may not like it, but the foreign ministries have a lot more faith in you than they do in us. Given my choice to either fight you or help you, I go with common sense. The mail will be delivered to Kilchurn momentarily.”
“Thank you. Do come and visit sometime. I'm told that renting a room at the Tall Tails is an education in itself, and yours is already paid for.”
“I may just do that sometime. For educational purposes, of course.
“Of course. Have a good one, Mr Weasley.
He silently reached for the Bond and sent the go-ahead to Stina. She didn't waste any time, but brought Jorunn and Gabrielle with her to St. Mungo's for a check-up on Gabrielle's progressing pregnancy and to bring the two insensate Longbottoms back into active duty.
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Aurora Sinistra tried to glare at the two girls in front of her. As acting head of Slytherin, the Aurors had decided to allow her to interrogate her students in of a fashion, as they had failed to find any suspects. It was written off as a suicide, but Aurora couldn't believe someone like Draco Malfoy would have the guts to jump. These girls were recorded going up to her tower fifteen minutes after Malfoy, and they had said that they had found some planks, but nothing else out of the ordinary. She cursed again the decision to forego the real-time monitoring for large spells in favour of a system that recorded spells every half hour. As such, it was impossible to tell exactly when those planks had been conjured, and they had evaporated before anyone could take a wand-profile scan. It was quite unlike Minerva to be so slow, but there it was. The pink-haired Auror who had led the investigation had only smiled when Aurora pointed out the stains of sweat evident on a magnification scan of the floor, claiming that she might have left a couple of similar stains there during her last year in school.
Professor Sinistra had given up. Whatever had happened, it was now a suicide. This cross between an interrogation and a grief-counselling session was the only thing she had been allowed to do in order to find the truth.
“Miss Parkinson?”
“Yes, Professor?”
“Can you conjure a plank?”
“According to the potentiomantic scan taken when I was ten, that level of magic should be out of my reach.”
“That's not a 'no', is it?”
“Excuse me, Professor?”
“Have you ever done it?”
“Why should I attempt Magics that experts have said is impossible to me?”
“Why indeed. Tracey, your wand showed a lot of cleansing and elasticity charms. Several dozens, in fact. Why is that?”
“Professor, I believe my personal life is not in your jurisdiction.”
“Indulge me.”
“All right. You know my Master, Harry Potter? Well, to sum it up, he has a really large penis, and if I don't cast a couple of rubberskin charms, there's no way I could take him either in my ass or down my throat ...“
“Thank you, I think I understand now. Pansy, your charms were for the same reasons, I guess?”
“Basically yes, Professor.”
The interrogation continued for almost a full hour, and it had some pretty spectacular results. The two girls didn't give anything away, but they managed to sing their respective Masters' praises at every opportunity, especially sexually. While Draco was still the victim of a suicide, which apparently couldn't be questioned, the still beautiful but slightly stern professor had soaked through her panties and started to entertain ideas of giving Mr Potter a date ... err ... detention with her in the tower some night. The girls in front of her appeared to know that as well, and used every opportunity to boast. She decided to close her own investigation and have herself a nice calming draught. It wouldn't do for a calm and collected Professor to jump a sixth-year's magic broomstick, now, would it? As they stood up, she tossed out a final question without really expecting an answer.
“I wonder what could have driven Mr Malfoy to take such a step?”
The two voluntary slave girls stopped and looked at each other. Without looking at her, Tracey said.
“It was probably a mistake. He must have tried to balance on the ledge without really knowing how close to the edge he was.”
“There are so many ways to overstep, after all, and he didn't have much of a sense for boundaries.”
Pansy's contribution cleared it all up for the Professor. She knew what had happened, and she knew that she wouldn't do anything about it. Draco had insulted and harmed the boys who the girls saw as masters so many times, and somehow, he had gone too far. She didn't really want to know what he had done, and settled for a softer response.
“If Misters Potter and Longbotton knew the circumstances, do you think they would understand it?”
The girls nodded.
“That is all. Please tell your Masters that I would like to see them at their convenience.”
Tracey smiled, and it was a smile full of mischief.
“If you don't mind a rather personal situation, I believe my Master is studying in the Room of Requirement at the moment. I'm sure he won't mind if you drop in on him, and neither will his study partner.”
“And who might that be?”
“At this time? Probably Daphne, but it might be Granger. I've forgotten the schedule.”
With that, the girls were gone. Aurora Sinistra stood frozen by her desk, marvelling at the vision she had been granted. She could see her futures, two of them, stretch out before her. One was a long, dull progression of years behind her desk, gazing at the cold light of the stars, trying to decipher their meaning and their movements, trying to determine if there was a greater will controlling them, always wondering if the Greater Will, if it existed, cared about her. It was a safe future, with simple decisions and little risk. The other line she saw started with her walk to the legendary Room of Requirement. It would bring her closer to a legend. The Legend of Harry Potter would outlast the facts of his life. Whatever he did, there would be legends of more. Whoever he was, he was Pendragon in the minds of the people. Pritchard was definitely Merlin. It was one of the things that everybody knew and yet no one knew why. It was a life of adventure, of excitement. A life of answers to questions she barely dared to ask. It was a dangerous line to walk, one with the potential of utter darkness, but the darkness had blazing edges, and the voice of a younger Aurora reminded her that it might be preferable to the eternal twilight of a long life at the desk. Her hands rose, like they had a will of their own, and undid the prim bun that normally held her long hair in check. She shook it out, looking in the mirror for grey hairs and not finding any. She might be old enough to be Mr Potter's mother, but the margin was not wide. She set off to find the Room of Requirement.
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“... And that's how the touch telepathy should work. I believe you'll need some training in Occlumency to work it consciously, even if you should have a natural defence. The defence just holds people out who try to attack you, but the training incorporates techniques of organising your mind that might be very useful in controlling this ability. Your latent Empathy will be efficient as a way to know if people are lying to you, but by touching them, you'll know for sure, and you'll know what they were hiding. Oh, God. I don't know what I'm doing, sitting here talking to myself. I've worked out most of the permutations of the spell, but it's possible that I'm dead wrong, and you're sitting there, wondering what I'm on about. Ah well, on to the next chapter. You should have at least seven ways to heal yourself available, and quite frankly, if you master them all, I can't imagine how you could possibly be hurt. The first one, that I sincerely hope you already know, is the Water way. You can turn a wounded body part to water and reassemble it to a healed one. Now, as my studies of the phenomenon are a bit less than conclusive, the method is actually more successful at avoiding damage by allowing the damage to happen to a body of water. The water will allow any violence to just dissipate, and you can turn it back to a solid state without having it affected at all...”
Harry paused the memory and exited the Pensieve. He could only take one bottle of memories out of the bank at any one time, but there was so much to learn in each one. Some of his mother's guesses were more than a little off, but her explanations helped him understand the basic mechanics of his various traits, and he was already learning more than he even knew possible. He had learned that Hank, his Dragon shape, wasn't an Animagus shape at all, and neither were the two shapes he had learnt about from his mother. He could now turn into a fairly large, black wolf that he called Laddie, just because, and a huge brown bear, now called Bear --- which had sent Tonks into hysterics.
Sometimes he wondered about her.
He had an Animagus shape inside of him, he knew that, but to find it, he would have to go through the regular training.
The Sunday following the most eventful Saturday had been a lot of fun. He had learned that the sense of humour varied greatly between the species in Otherton. Goblins found surprising financial loss to be most entertaining, and if it was due to the individuals own stupidity, it was hilarious. The Huldr's idea of humour never rose above the waist, unless boobs were involved, and the Giants were more oriented towards body functions. Telling a Vampire that something sucked was a bad idea, as there were thousands of jokes with that as a punchline, and none of them were funny. Werewolves were like most people, but the enforced poverty had left most of them in lower-class social circles. There were some great stand-up comedians among them. All in all, he had met a lot of good people that day, and he had learned that they didn't, in fact, have any unrealistic expectations of him. He had given them a chance to live a normal-looking life, and they loved him for it, just because his name protected them and they were determined to make it worth his while. The “Anywere” worker's pool had apparently started without even Neville knowing about it, and were currently negotiating on taking over the manual labour in Azkaban, as the Werewolves were less affected by the presence of Dementors than humans. They were already employed by Abbott Industries, that operated in both worlds, as well as the Brocklehurst Trading Company. The BTC had suddenly gotten great contracts in India because of that as the Indians used Naga as loaders, and few humans were comfortable in the presence of the great snake people. The Werewolves didn't mind, and the Naga liked them. When word had gotten out about Harry's involvement with the Weres, the deals between BTC and its Indian counterpart suddenly became longer, to the satisfaction of all involved. The people in Otherton had made it rather clear to him that he had their loyalty. If they could help him, they would. Every time he thought of the financial power he had now, his head just spun. He tried to bring his thoughts back to today's objective.
He sat down in a conveniently materializing comfy chair and pondered the last lesson.
The most interesting thing this time was the whole touch telepathy thing. He had used it a few times, but it had been instinctive. With a bit of control, it could bypass the heaviest Occlumency shielding, and even be used to replace Obliviation. The problem was finding someone on which to practice, but he decided to try the mind-reading aspect out as soon as the opportunity presented itself. With almost narrative predictability, the door opened.
“Master?”
“Hello Daphne. What brings you here?”
“Tracey said you might like to shag someone to within an inch of their lives, so I thought I should volunteer. It sounds like fun, and I do know what to expect.”
The petite blonde entered. She didn't wear much under her robe, which she shed on the floor very quickly. Her flimsy excuse for a bra offered great support, but didn't hide anything, and the knickers had a convenient opening that made Harry wonder about the point of them until he realized that they turned him on, and that she might consider that a worthy reason for the vague piece of clothing. He could see as she strutted towards him that her knees bent slightly in the wrong direction, so he assumed that she had used that rubber potion Tracey had used last time.
She knelt before him and licked her lips.
Without hesitation, she unlaced his trousers and as soon as she had gotten his trousers off of him, she climbed on top of him with her feet on the armrests of the chair. From that elevated position, she crouched down onto his cock. He noticed that she had shaved completely, making the petite girl seem even younger, but the pheromones released by her flowing juices made him ignore the awkwardness of that. The sensation as her tiny, tight twat slowly extended to envelop his member was very nice, and her enraptured face as she slowly slid down his length was incredibly hot. She began to rock back and forth, and he felt her pulse surround him as she used her body to please him to the best of her abilities. She was working really hard, using both arms and legs to overcome the friction of his girth against her potion-enhanced walls, no matter how slippery she was. Her brand new necklace, adorned with the rune Dagaz in a braided silver strand, shone of sweat and power as he kept her in ecstasy as she fought for his. She was very energetic, and while his tension built slowly, it did feel very good indeed, and the room was lit by a fine blue mist of Passionfire. That was the state of the environment that Professor Aurora Sinistra stepped into.
To her, it was a shock to all senses. First of all, she knew Daphne. The girl was as clever as they came, and ambitious to boot, and to see the small girl working so hard to please a man when she obviously had had her fill was like a revelation. Tit for tat. The Professor concluded that Harry must have more than pleasure to offer to make Greengrass work so hard, especially as Aurora knew about the dynamics in Slytherin house, and Daphne had never been anyone's bitch. She was much too independent for that.
Secondly, it was the sight of the little girl in reverse cowgirl on top of such a monstrous cock. The outline, the bulge of the huge member moving inside her could be clearly seen on the outside, and such a thing just wasn't possible. The blue light in the room ambushed her senses and made her entire body tingle, and she was suddenly jealous of the little girl who had such a magnificent thing inside her, and without really thinking about it, the professor began to take off her clothes.
Harry smiled as he used his new skill in touch telepathy to examine the little vixens mind. Her motivation to come to him was, surprisingly enough, exactly what she had told him when she had bopped Snape on the head with that pitcher. He was her safeguard in Slytherin house, and she used this connection to him in order to ensure her safety. She didn't really take advantage of him, though. She knew that her secure position was due to her necklace, and that necklace was given to her as she gave herself to the Sorcerer from Gryffindor. That implied that she should be loyal to him, she would serve him and do her best to anticipate his needs. She would fuck his brains out as often as she could, and mind his best interest. In exchange for that, she had security and a future. To her, it was a great deal, and one she had volunteered for, and for him, he didn't give up anything he wouldn't have given her for the asking.
When he concluded that he knew all he needed to, he stood up with the small girl still speared on his member, turned around and began pounding her against the back of the chair. As he drove into her, pushing her higher with each stroke, he turned to the now naked professor. She looked great. Her breasts were full and supple, and her nipples looked hard enough to cut glass. Her bush had seen no razor, but the dense coat of hair was moist, and as most of Harry's girls were more or less shaved, it looked quite exotic to him. Her eyes were locked at his cock, and more precisely, at the point where it disappeared into the little girl. He reached out his hand towards her, and laced a bit of magic into his voice.
“Come. You want to have a better look, don't you?”
In a daze, she approached and knelt beside him. Hesitantly, she reached out with her hand and cupped the little girl's breast with one hand and the magnificent male's balls with the other. She moved that hand to the girl's clit as he slowly pulled out of her. The professor couldn't believe the sight of it. Inch after inch were pulled out, and it never seemed to end. As the head finally became visible, she couldn't help herself but to pounce and take it in her mouth. Harry smiled indulgently, and pushed his hand into Daphne's little pussy, enjoying the stretching feeling around his hand as well as she enjoyed the different kind of stimulation. Using the telepathic contact, he gave her a couple of orders, and he could feel her mental smile in response. Almost bonelessly, thanks to the potion, she slid out of the chair as Harry morphed himself even bigger and much more muscular. He grabbed the dazed professor, lifted her up and put her in the chair facing him. He leaned forward, allowing her to take his crown in her mouth, and her experience showed as she immediately followed with her hands, giving him a fantastic blow job. Daphne crawled in between his legs, and her Head of House made an interesting start as the little girl parted the Professor's bush with her tongue. When the older woman was close to coming, Harry pulled out of her mouth, trailing his cock down her body to her soaked pussy as Daphne, always prepared, poured her spare dose of the potion down her Professor's throat. When the interesting wobble that indicated a successful dosing had passed, Harry pushed into her, making her howl in a powerful, extended orgasm as the pressure of the giant member inside her refused to let her down again. With a vicious gleam in her eyes, Daphne licked the older woman's breasts for the full two minutes that Harry kept her going from peak to peak without rest. Finally, Harry couldn't hold it in any more, and he pulled out, letting his thick ropes coil over both women's faces, and Daphne's darting, pink tongue caught as much as she could. Professor Sinistra was utterly spent, completely tamed as the sixth-year girl licked her face and breasts clean of semen. She tried to stand again and again, but her body refused to obey. Harry, who had buckled to the floor as well managed to stand up before she could even move a muscle, and he helped her up with a strong grip with his powerful arms.
“So, Professor,” he said with a dazzling smile, “is there anything else I can do for you?”
He was quite impressed when the hot, sweaty, and still quite sticky Professor smiled and began questioning him. He decided that he liked her. That was play and this was business. She deserved to be Head of Slytherin House.
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She should have blown up by now, but with the Bond constantly reassuring her, she didn't. After Arching to the Burrow on Saturday, she told her mother about the latest development in her life, and predictably enough, her mother had gone completely off the scale. She had more or less expected that. What she hadn't expected was to be grounded. Of course, she could Arch out again, or Harry could break down the wards, and Stina could even carry her through the locked Home wards from the pond in the back, but Harry had suggested she try to endure it and find a more peaceful solution. She found it very easy to do, once her Master had told her what to do. Mrs Weasley was on the Floo again, trying to find yet another medical authority to tell her that the Bond couldn't be broken, and that it was no illness to be cured from. It was simply a fact. Ginny took it in stride, and took her time to revel in the sensation of the Bond. The other girls had known about Bonding like a fact of life, and only Stina hadn't expected something like that to happen, even if she, too, had known about it. She just hadn't expected it ever to happen to her. It was something the two of them had in common that the others couldn't understand whether they shared memories or not. Ginny and Gabrielle shared something else. They were both quite young, and their love was tinged with Hero-worship as their master had saved them both, even if Gabrielle hadn't really been in danger. Ginny had, and Harry had slain a real monster for her. That memory was very comforting to Jorunn, with whom she shared another thing. Ginny's experience with the diary was very close to Jorunn's fear of going fully feral, and with Ginny's memories of that time, Jorunn was reassured that Harry could deal with anything, whether he wanted to or not. Of course, Jorunn's worries were shrinking more and more, as feral Huldr did quite okay in Otherton. With Disa, Ginny shared a relaxed kind of love. With the bond had come a strange realisation. She understood why boys had hounded her since the onset of puberty. She, little Gin-Gin, was smoking hot. She was drop dead sexy and suddenly, Ginny understood all the annoying stares and occasional stalkers. With Harry, there was none of that. She, like Disa, was very happy with her inherent hotness, but Harry didn't keep them around for that alone. He liked, perhaps loved, them for themselves, and their sexiness was just a bonus. They were free to revel in his presence and affection, like by a fire on a cold day. Life as a Bonded Lady of Kilchurn was something she really could get used to. Now, however, she had something to do. She had to talk to her brother. He was currently laying on the floor with his feet on the couch, reading a book.
“Hello, Ron.”
He closed the book and looked up on her from the floor.
“Ginny.”
His tone was polite, possibly affectionate, even.
“What are you reading?”
“A book.”
“What's in the book?”
“Words.”
She smiled as she recognised a piece from a play they had been forced to read growing up.
“So, you're the Prince of Denmark, then?”
He smiled at her.
“Personally, I'd say Bottom. If there ever was a mule-headed bloke, it's got to be me, right?”
“It looks like you're doing better. The Ship out back looks almost complete.”
“Some Unspeakables have been helping me. They are very curious. In all senses of the word, frankly. I think Miss Blue wants to sleep with me, but that's probably the cuckoo talking.”
“The cuckoo?”
“Yeah. That's what I call the more bizarre impulses I get. As long as I'm aware of them, they can't do much damage. You've been here a while now. You arrived Saturday, and unless I'm off again, it's Wednesday now. What about classes?”
“I'm covered. This last Friday, Harry Bonded me, so I have access to the knowledge of all his Bonded. Some of my sisters are dead smart.”
“So, you discovered our little Family Secret, then?”
“You know about it?”
“Yes. Mr Green told me about it in their initial survey they made on me. I can't express it fully, just bits and pieces, but you just might. It's sort of funny. Me, the figurehead of the unthinking bigots, a part-human.”
“So, what are we, then?”
“You'll figure it out. After all, the whole thing might have been the Cuckoo talking again. Of course, some of the things it says makes sense. We're about to be attacked.”
He hadn't even stopped talking when the alarms went off and the sky outside went orange. That meant, according to the drills they made when they were kids, that the primary Wards had fallen.
Ginny's understanding of the situation had a very peculiar effect. The Bond flooded her mind with rage. Neither Huldr nor Lake Wardens were very big on law-suits. If someone attacked them, they killed, and those instincts poured into the young girl's mind and settled nicely. Jorunn's darker nature, and the bloodlust she tried so hard to control pushed many of the buttons that Riddle once had installed in Ginny's mind, and this time, he wouldn't like it.
The young redhead, her mind full of rage and fire, looked at her brother.
“Let's kill 'em.”
With a rather feral grin, he responded.
“Let's make all the little pieces regret the idea to attack us.”
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“Yo! Thumbs out of wherever, and combat ready two minutes ago. There's an attack in the making at the Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole in Devon. The latest Bonded is visiting her family there. Jocke, you're in charge.”
“Just pull your undies out of your ass-crack, Björn. If you run to the arch, you might beat us there. We're coming.”
The Einharjers assembled their combat gear with the swift and economical moves of the well-trained soldier, and within twenty seconds, thirty men and women were running for the Arch.
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It was easy with the support of the Bond. The first black-clad intruder had caved with his ribcage, as her blasting curse hit home. She had always been magically strong, but this was insane. They had told her she would be enhanced by the Bonding, but this was just unbelievable, she thought as she cast Alohomora at an attacker and watching his chest tear itself open. Ron was right beside her, mostly shielding but also casting piercing hexes with great accuracy. Ginny was beginning to feel hot, and she noticed through the Bond that the Einharjers were less than a minute out. In her battle-frenzied mind, that became a need to kill all of the attackers before others came and snatched them away from her, and she began using cutting curses, severing limbs and opening stomachs all over. Of the originally twenty attackers, less than half were on their feet, but the remaining ones weren't stupid. They used decoys, conjured birds and spiders to distract them, and an illusion of a great big snake made Ginny pause for a second. In a battle, a second is a very long time. It is definitely long enough for a quick and disillusioned attacker to flank a shielded front and bring his wand to bear. As Ginny got her composure back, she didn't see the faint ripple to her left, and it didn't make a single sound until it revealed itself and spoke.
“INCENDIO!”
Ginny saw the fire curse connect with her chest, and she could almost see how it burned through her light summer dress, hitting her white skin. To the sound of her brother's deranged laughter, her torso caught fire.
Author's Ramblings and unnecessary comments of self-serving delusions of grandeur:
If you've paid attention, it's not much of a cliffie, is it? From last chapter, Lav and Hermione were not in the pile, just nearby. I should have specified, I guess. They are not bonded, just very close friends with some serious benefits. As most of you wanted to keep Ginny alive, I did. Yes, I did. I just had to have something horrible happen to her, and I did that too. Ron is not all there, but he's not quite as insane as he thinks he is. Miss Blue does want to sleep with him. Heh. So, any guesses on who Sippa might be? Her new name means Wood Anemone, but she's a Canon character that I messed up a bit. Just like all the other Canon characters i've used. There are no heavy clues, I think, but it should be possible to work it out, I think. Before you say it, i'm aware of the meaning of Alohomora. Open wall. Ginny may not be, though. Intent is the key.
Ah well. Read, enjoy and review.
Vanir
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