Just as the morning sun peaked over the horizon, Pansy Parkinson gently untangled herself from the mass of limbs and naked bodies that covered and surrounded her. Now that her physical desires had been quenched (Potter's epic willy saw to that for the time being), Pansy set off to do the proper thing: sneak away, return to Malfoy Manor and inform the Dark Lord of Potter's whereabouts. There was no doubt in the Slytherin's mind that You Know Who would reward her loyalty and devoted service with Potter to use as her personal sex-toy. She couldn't conceive why the Dark Lord wouldn't reward her with the heroically endowed half blood. In a few hours, she would have Potter all to herself! Oh, the things she would let him do to her made her womanhood quiver with desire.
Perhaps, if Pansy had not been so focused on her task of stealthily sneaking out of the room, she might have noticed that one body was missing from the pile of naked forms she had just freed herself from.
The stairs proved a challenge for Pansy — after the rogering she had received the night before, she was still gloriously sore. Each step tested her. But the Slytherin Princess prevailed. As she slinked down the stairs, suppressing whimpers and whines with each blasted step, she silently conjured a simple, yet elegant, set of robes. She couldn't present herself to the Dark Lord in the nude, now could she?
Like a cat, Pansy silently slipped through the kitchen, along the way, picking up a wooden spoon to enchant into a portkey. However, just before she was within reach of the backdoor, a voice from behind caused her to stop in her tracks.
"Just where the hell do you think you're going, you inbred skank?" Hermione stood, in all her naked glory, just behind Pansy, with her fists on her shapely hips.
Now Pansy wasn't into girls (it's true that she had sucked warm seminal fluid out of Daphne's arse a few hours before, but that was only to slurp up Potter's tasty cum, so that didn't count as being into girls, per se), but the Slytherin was forced to admit that Granger had one hell of a body — even despite her filthy mudblood heritage. A low and simple part of Pansy wanted to nuzzle her face between the mudblood's titties and bask in their warm, soft beauty.
"I'm leaving, mudblood, and there's nothing you can do about it," Pansy said, smirking and pointing her wand at the naked, buxom brunette. The black-haired witch had the upper hand, or so she believed.
It should be noted that up until this moment Pansy had led a very pampered life. Instead of getting up and walking down the stairs to fetch an item left in another room, she would simply have her family's house-elf retrieve it for her. The same went if she needed to lug something heavy, such as a book or a quill and ink jar. Never before did she have to physically exert herself, even in the slightest. So when Hermione pounced on her and knocked the wand out of her hand, the black-haired witch didn't stand a chance. Having never truly toiled physically, Pansy was worthless in a physical fight. Therefore, her struggles were for naught as Hermione dragged her by the hair to the downstairs' loo.
Harry woke to sounds of a commotion in the kitchen. Unashamed and rightfully proud of his naked and swaying bits, the wizard did not bother to get dressed before marching downstairs to investigate the peculiar noises. He found Hermione and Pansy in the guest loo with the naked brunette forcibly shoving the black-haired girl's head into the open toilet.
"Good morning, Hermione," Harry said, leaning against the doorframe.
"Good morning, Harry," returned Hermione jovially over the sounds of Pansy gurgling under the water's surface. "How are you today?"
"Quite well," he said, enjoying the scene before him; Pansy's vain struggles made Hermione breasts and bottom jiggle nicely.
"This bint was trying to leave," Hermione informed, indicating the girl she was in the process of drowning.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure she wants to tell Voldemort where I am."
Hermione pulled Pansy's head out of the toilet. She tugged Pansy's hair, yanking the Slytherin's head up to her lips. Hermione screamed directly into Pansy's ear; "WERE YOU GOING TO SNITCH ON HARRY, YOU INBRED CUNT?"
Sputtering and gasping for air, Pansy returned defiantly, "Go to hell, mudblood!" Or at least she tried to. Halfway through the word "hell" Hermione dunked the Slytherin's head back into the water.
"I'll take that as a 'yes'," Hermione said, while holding Pansy down.
"You're pretty strong, Hermione," Harry noted. His manhood began to rise, displaying his enjoyment of watching Hermione's jiggling.
"Must be all those books I've lugged around Hogwarts for the past few years," she replied playfully. "That and I have leverage."
A moment or two later, Hermione tugged Pansy up, allowed one quick gulp of air before roughly shoving her back down into the water. The toilet wasn't dirty (which upset Hermione because this moment would have been so much better if it had – she so wanted to force the inbred slut to play a nasty game of "Bobbing for Floaters") but it was still very degrading for Pansy. Not only was her head shoved into a toilet, but this travesty had been performed by a mudblood.
"She also tried to hex me," Hermione said with a snarl. "I knocked her wand out of her hand and showed her how much of a bad idea it was to threaten me by introducing her to the Tidy Bowl Man.":
"We can't have that," Harry said. "You're the prime of my harem after all."
"I am? I'm your prime?" Hermione asked, looking back and over her shoulder with a happy twinkle in her eyes.
"Of course you are," he reaffirmed. "You're my prime and Luna's my second. I haven't figure out the pecking order after that."
Hermione pulled Pansy out of the water for a breath of air again and quickly shoved her head back into the porcelain bowl – her brown eyes twinkling with pride over her new status the entire time. As Prime, she just couldn't drown Pansy for this first offense. Not that Hermione was opposed to the notion of killing Pansy for her transgression (which surprised the brunette witch) but she had already made the decision to expand Harry's harem. It didn't make sense to kill an existing member (or even a potential member) when at the same time attempting to recruit more witches to trump dickless-Ron's harem. It would simply be a waste of a pussy and even the witch attached to said pussy.
"We can't have one of the lesser harem girls trying to assault the prime," continued Harry. He strolled into the kitchen, looking for Pansy's discarded wand. His organ, now hard from watching Hermione dominate Pansy, bobbed and swayed, like a large, meaty divining rod with each step. "I'll have to figure out a way to deter her from escaping. But in the meantime, she loses any and all wand privileges."
After finding and picking up Pansy's wand, Harry called out; "Ginny-Pig! Get your flabby cunt down here!"
Like someone had lit her arse on fire, Ginny-Pig awoke with a start, leapt off of the ground and bolted out of the room. The red-haired girl ran as quickly as she could. Her feet thundered on the stairs as she ran, full bore toward her Mistress' Master. When she turned the corner into the kitchen, Ginny-Pig squeezed her eyes shut, knowing that her Mistress had forbidden her from ever looking upon the glory that was her Master's naked form. The moment her feet touched the tiled kitchen floor, Ginny-Pig threw herself to her knees, sliding the last few feet to Harry. A high-pitch squeaked sounded as the flesh on her kneecaps skidded across the floor.
"That was almost acceptable, Ginny-Pig… if you were a hobbled flobberworm," Harry said with contempt. His erection threatened to falter – Ginny-Pig had that effect on him – but Harry had plans for his hard organ that involved Hermione. So he focused on the image of the buxom brunette jiggling to reinforce his erection as he continued to berate the ginger cowering before him. "Next time I call for you, you'd better move, you inbred cretin."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Now, I know you enjoyed Hermione's fist up your cunt," he said. Ginny-Pig felt her womanhood moisten just at the thought of the glorious pain her beautiful Mistress had shown her.
Meanwhile, in the guest loo, Hermione tugged Pansy out of the toilet and screamed in her ear "WOULD YOU LIKE IT IF I SHOVED BOTH MY FISTS IN YOUR CUNT, YOU FUCKING WHORE?" and promptly shoved her head back under the water.
"Even though it was fun to watch Hermione at work, I can't abide your flabby cunt" Harry said to the naked red-haired sub groveling on the floor before him. "It's nasty. I could hear your twat slapping together as you ran down the stairs."
"I'm sorry the sound of my loose cunny offends you, Master," Ginny-Pig said as tears of shame rolled down her cheeks. The sense of shame just added to the warm fluid building in her loins.
"And what about your poor Mistress, Ginny-Pig? Can you imagine how your sagging cunt hurts her feelings?" he reprimanded harshly. "The next time she wants to fist you, her hand will just slip into your flabby cunt without any effort on her part. It will roll around in your cavernous twat easily. It won't be fun for her!"
"I'm sorry!" wailed Ginny-Pig. The thought of displeasing her cruel Mistress tore at her. In her mind, she was the lowest of the low — a cretin unworthy of being spat on.
"I know of a way to tighten your cunt so that your Mistress can enjoy fisting you again," Harry spoke. "But it will be difficult."
"Please, tell me what to do!" cried Ginny-Pig. "I'll do anything to please my Mistress!" She finished with a frantic, tearful plea. "ANYTHING!"
"Stand up, turn around, and bend over to show me that nasty, drooping cunt of yours," he ordered. In the blink of an eye, Ginny-Pig was up and around, presenting her bits to Harry.
Slowly, Harry pushed Pansy's wand, tip first, into Ginny-Pig's sex until only two inches of the handle was jutting out. "Now hold onto this," he ordered. "I want you to run up and down the stairs without letting the wand slip an inch for the rest of the day. Do you hear me?"
Ginny-Pig nodded obediently.
"If you let the wand slip, even a fraction of an inch, Hermione will beat your arse bloody," he warned.
Ginny-Pig considered relaxing her muscles and letting the wand fall to the ground right then and there just to receive the magnificent punishment her Master promised. However, as if sensing Ginny-Pig's excitement, Harry added "But if you succeed and the wand doesn't budge, not only will Hermione beat your arse, but she'll let you clean the toilet with your tongue after she uses it later today."
The thought of such a demeaning and degrading task was all the motivation Ginny-Pig needed. Her vaginal muscles clamped down on the wand and held it firmly in place like a vise. Ginny-Pig charged out of the kitchen. With her eyes still shut in order not to see her naked Master, the red-head blindly tripped on one of the chairs and stumbled momentarily before righting herself and ran up the stairs. Once she reached the top, the red-head turned and sprinted back down and repeated the action of running back up. All the while her inner-muscles were squeezed as tight as she could.
As Ginny-Pig continued to rush up and down the stairs, Harry turned back to Hermione who was pulling Pansy's head out for another breath of air.
"You know, this is turning me on," he said as the brunette plunged the Slytherin back into the toilet yet again.
"What, sticking a wand up Ginny-Pig's cunt?" Hermione asked, conversationally.
"Good God, no," Harry replied, offended at such an implication. "That girl couldn't get me hard if she was wedged between you and Luna while one of the other girls sucked me off. No, watching you wriggle and jiggle as you dominate Pansy has turned me on."
Hermione smiled. While looking at his hard manhood, she asked "How do you want to take care of that?"
"This is what we'll do, I'll tie up Pansy, throw her on the kitchen table, then place you on top of her so that your cunt's right over her face and then I'll fuck you silly. We'll finish with you dribbling my cum and your cunny juice all over her face."
Hermione shivered. "I think I just had a little orgasm!"
"Oh, before we start, I have a present for you," Harry said.
"Harry, you don't have to give me a present," she returned. Before continuing, she pulled Pansy out of the water, allowed her to gulp down a breath of air, and shoved the Slytherin's head back into the toilet. "Well, if your present is stuffing that wonderful cock of yours deep into my cunny, I'll gladly accept it."
"You're going to get that anyway," Harry turned and called out. "Tracy! Bring down the present!"
"What present?" Tracy shouted from the master bedroom.
"The one I stuck up your bottom while you were asleep," Harry said, loudly.
"Oh, that's why my bum feels funny," she replied. "I'd hoped it was because you had buggered me while I was asleep."
"No, you'll know when I bum shag you."
"Yeah, it's a whole lot better than just 'funny'," Daphne added to the conversation, loud enough for the three people on the ground floor to overhear.
"Yes, think of the most pleasant soreness you've ever experienced, multiply it by twenty or so, and then imagine that sensation concentrated entirely on your bottom," Luna clarified further.
"Enough chitchat, get down here so I can give Hermione her present," Harry ordered.
A moment later, Tracy gingerly walked into the kitchen as if not to displace the mystery object hidden in her bum. Harry walked behind Tracy and, without warning or preamble, shoved his thumb and forefinger up her bottom. As Harry fished about for the hidden mystery present, Hermione tried to ease the awkward situation. "Good day, Tracy, how are you this morning?"
"Oh, just—err—grand," she replied. As Harry continued to seek out the present, Tracy pointed to Pansy and asked, "I take it she tried to escape—oh—and warn You Know Who—wow—about Harry?"
"Yes, I rather think she's deserving of this," the brunette replied casually as if it was perfectly normal to have one naked person ramming two fingers up another nude person's bum, looking for an object the former had placed in the latter's rectum, while she, the third person, held the only clothed person's head in the toilet. "Although I do wish someone had relieved themselves before hand. Dunking her head in shite-filled water would've been far more fitting."
"Got it!" exclaimed Harry. With a wet popping sound (and a breathy "o-oh" from Tracy), he withdrew a large ball from the strawberry-blonde witch's bottom. He presented it to Hermione and declared; "I killed Dumbledore for you!"
"Um, that's Mad-Eye Moody's eye," Hermione said.
"You mean Dumbledore doesn't have a magical eye like this?"
"No," Hermione said. "That belongs to Mad-Eye Moody."
"Well, belonged to," corrected Harry. "He's all shades of dead."
"Really? You killed Moody?" she asked in disbelief.
"Yeah, since he was walking out of Dumbledore's office and he was old, I just assumed he was Dumbledore. I wanted to kill him for what he did to you," stated Harry without remorse or guilt.
"I suppose that's romantic… in a way," Hermione said. She was surprised that she was not shocked or horrified by what Harry did. Perhaps it was because Moody had allowed, even by inaction, Dumbledore to manipulate and alter her mind. Or perhaps she was growing more and more like this darker version of Harry. "You killed someone you thought had wronged me. And that's as romantic as you are going to get, I suppose."
"And it's the thought that counts really." He carelessly tossed the magic eye over his shoulder where it smashed to a thousand pieces on the kitchen floor behind him. "All right then, let's get to shagging over Pansy's face, shall we?"
Hidden in the branches of a mulberry tree in the front garden of Number Five Privet Drive, someone watched the Dursely house. Brilliant green, almond shaped eyes narrowed on the window leading to the kitchen as peculiar, but muffled, sounds came from the house.
Meanwhile, in a small, dilapidated cottage, Remus Lupin was rudely wakened from a pleasant slumber filled with dreams of the memory of Hermione Granger's bared tit by Minerva shouting through the fireplace.
"Remus! He's dead!"
Remus shot out of bed and looked to his fireplace to see McGonagall's face floating in the green flames. "Who's dead?"
"Alastor! Someone killed Alastor Moody right here in Hogwarts!" she wailed. "He was hit by some spell that forced him to drink so much water that his bladder burst and he died of toxic shock!"
"I'll be right there!" the werewolf jumped out of bed, threw on a ratty set of robes, and rushed to the fireplace with every intention of flooing directly to the castle. Unfortunately, Remus had not fully woken yet, and stumbled as he approached the fireplace, slamming his head against the mantle. The former Marauder fell to the floor unconscious.
A very upset Draco Malfoy stomped out of his room. His sleep was plagued with the memory of what he had done with that freakish muggle – it looked like a woman but had a man's privates. Was Lola some sort of aberration common among muggles, he wondered – half-man, half-woman? A shiver raced through his body as he recalled, much to his horror, what Lola's balls felt like slapping against his chin.
The novice Death Eater suppressed the painful memory of the perverted actions he had been forced to perform (and swallow) the day before. Instead, he focused on his revenge against the coward who had murdered his father. Soon, Potter would pay for killing Draco's noble father. The coward would be overrun by the sheer power of The Dark Lord, his minions, and his duplicate. Even though the Dark Lord was only able to call one worthwhile duplicate from another dimension before the Summoning Stone and book went missing, Draco held high hopes for Lady Voldemort. The blond boy reasoned that with two Voldemorts, Potter wouldn't stand a chance.
As he trudged down the hall, Draco passed his mother and father's room. He paused, wondering if he should go into the room and console his mother as she undoubtedly grieved over her recently deceased husband.
Before Draco could make up his mind, a rapid series of loud squeaks came from behind the closed door. It sounded as if someone had stomped on a long row of mice, one right after the other.
He opened the door and rushed in. A surprised yelp escaped Draco's lips. There, tangled together beneath the sheets, were his mother and the buffoonish counterpart of the Dark Lord, Tommy the Clown. The clown's make-up was smeared all over his face just as it was over Narcissa's face. Much to Draco's horror, he could see some of the clown's makeup on the swell of his mother's right breast, further evidence of a foul act.
"Mother! What are you doing?" the blond Slytherin demanded.
"She's doing me," Tommy the Clown replied. "Several times in a row."
Draco stood next to the bed, aghast. "Mother, how could you? Father's corpse is barely cold! Well, I'm certain what's left of Father's corpse – wherever it may be – is barely cold! And yet here you are, defiling his memory and yourself with this… this clown!" he scolded, trying to ignore the almost overpowering smell of multiple lovemaking sessions. A young man should never know the aroma his mother gives off. Draco turned and scowled at the man who had clearly seduced his mother. "And you! You told the Dark Lord that your squeaker didn't work! But I heard it squeaking perfectly when I came in here, you liar!"
"Oh, that," the clown said with a saucy smile. Tommy slid his hand under the sheets, between Narcissa's legs, and moved his hand. Suddenly, Narcissa let out a loud, high pitched squeak, much like a mouse being stepped on. While Narcissa bushed wildly and grinned from ear to ear, Tommy bragged; "I know what buttons to push on your mum, boy-o."
The blond boy's blood boiled. His face burned and his fist shook. This lowly clown had just done something inappropriate to his mother, right in front of him! "I—will—kill—you!"
"Oh, just stop it, Draco," his mother snapped.
"But Mother—"
"But nothing young man!" she cut him off harshly. "I'm a woman, and as such, I have needs. Your Father, the perverted adulterer he was, never satisfied those needs. But Tommy has! He has satisfied me more than I thought possible!"
Just then, Tommy decided to confirm Narcissa's claim by giving the blonde woman another pinch – which elicited another high pitched stomped-mouse-like squeak of pleasure.
"MOTHER!"
"Just leave, Draco. Get out of my sight!" commanded Narcissa. "Tommy makes me glad I'm a woman. I'm going to show my appreciation by sucking the sweat off his scrotum. I don't think you'd like to see that, young man."
Before Draco could protest his mother's infidelity, Narcissa ducked under the covers and wriggled down the clown and came to rest between his legs. Tommy leaned back against the headrest with his hands comfortably behind his head and announced "It's good to be Tommy the Clown, boy-o. It's so very good."
The first wet sucking sound chased Draco out of the room.
Ever since her disastrous stint as Headmistress of Hogwarts, Dolores Umbridge's career had plummeted like a heavy rock. She was demoted from Senior Undersecretary for the Minister for Magic to Junior Undersecretary, to Tour Guide of the Ministry Building, to Assistant to the Chief of House-Elf Affairs in less than two months. The next stop on her downward spiral would surely be janitor. But she was an ambitious witch and saw the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel: Molly and Arthur Weasley.
Dolores devised a plan to get on the good side of the new Minister for Magic by befriending his parents. Certainly, Minister Weasley would treat his parents' friend properly and provide a good position for her. Perhaps he would even reinstate her as Senior Undersecretary.
With a box of chocolates and a bottle of the finest elf-wine from her private collection, Dolores apparated to the Burrow, intent on winning Molly and Arthur over with her charm. The former Grand Inquisitor was surprised to find the front door ajar. In this day and age with You Know Who and his minions running about, most sensible people kept their homes locked up tight as a drum. For a split second, Dolores was worried that the Weasley home had been attacked. She wasn't worried over the potential loss of life, but if either Molly or Arthur had died, Dolores' chances of getting on Minister Weasley's good side would diminish greatly. But the lack of a Dark Mark, the Death Eater calling card, hovering over the Burrow calmed Dolores' nerves. If the door had been ajar due to an attack, surely the villains would've left their ominous mark floating over the home.
A thought occurred to Dolores as she stood outside the musty, old, claptrap house with its mismatched floors; she could use her fleeting fear of an attack to befriend the Weasleys to her. She would barge in, overwrought with concern for the family's well being. And, with a little smooth chitchat, she could start to befriend the lowly Weasleys.
However, Dolores had to change her plan again once she entered the Burrow. There, slumped over the kitchen table, was the Weasley matriarch, drunk as a lord. Three empty bottles of firewhiskey lay discarded at the red-haired witch's feet while another half empty bottle was clutched in her hand.
Clearly Molly had imbued the excessive amount of alcohol over some form of emotional stress and not over the jubilant news of her son's new position, thought Dolores. She reached this assumption on the fact that no one else was in the house. If Molly had gotten drunk in some celebration for her son's achievement, there would be other people in the kitchen in similar states of inebriation. Since Molly was alone, Dolores deduced the witch had suffered some sort of trauma and had tried to drown her sorrows in firewhiskey. Dolores smiled. She could use this to her advantage. She could be a shoulder for the distraught Molly to cry upon.
Shuffling past the unconscious Weasley, Dolores began gathering various potion ingredients. She quickly brewed a mild Sobering Draught. After letting it cool, Dolores gently lifted Molly's head and carefully poured a dose in her mouth.
Molly's eye's fluttered open. The plump witch (well, the red-headed plump witch) let out a pitiful moan, rubbing her temples. The Sobering Draught Dolores made wasn't very powerful and Molly still had one hell of a hangover.
"Dolores, what in Heaven's name are you doing here?" she asked.
"I was in the neighborhood and I saw your door open a touch. I was frightened that something terrible had happened to you, such as a Death Eater attack, and rushed in here to see if I could help." Dolores was so good at manipulating the truth that this little half-lie was second nature to her.
"I wish I had been attacked by Death Eaters. A merciful death would've been better than this anguish I'm suffering!" wailed Molly. She brought the bottle of firewhiskey to her lips and drank a mouthful in one gulp.
"Oh, dear what's wrong?" asked Dolores with her best 'I'm earnestly compassionate and here to help you' voice. She generally used this voice whenever Minister Fudge complained about his work or social life (and seeing how much Fudge mucked things up both professionally and personally, Dolores used this particular voice quite often).
"Wrong? I'll tell you what's wrong!" she half-slurred, half-whimpered. "My husband, to whom I was loyal, supporting, and loving to for thirty-one years, just destroyed my entire life!"
"What did he do?" This time, Dolores switched to her 'I'm appalled and offended that such a thing could ever happen' voice. Again, this voice saw a lot of use under Fudge's term in office.
"I caught him with his John Thomas in some scarlet woman's cunny!" Molly threw herself into the other witch's arms and sobbed.
"Oh, you poor, poor dear." Rubbing the crying witch's back, Dolores said soothingly, "That ungrateful fool should be tied up by his thumbs for what he did to you."
Molly nodded her head in agreement.
"I hope you tossed the adulterer out on the streets," Dolores asked. This was a calculated risk on the toad-woman's part – if Molly was the forgiving type, she would've been offended by Umbridge's comment and her work to befriend the Minister's mother would be dashed to pieces. But Dolores had Molly pegged for a mean, bitter and vengeful woman.
"Of course I did! And if I ever see him again, I'll hex off his wizard's bits!" Apparently, Dolores' assessment as to Molly's character was spot on.
"If I still had a position of power, I'd gladly make that two-timing swine's life miserable," Dolores said. She began laying the groundwork for her plan, planting a seed in Molly's mind. If everything went according to plan, that simple suggestion would reach Minister Weasley's ear and Dolores would be promoted in no time at all.
"That's very sweet of you," Molly said looking up into Dolores' eyes.
"We witches have to stick together."
Molly's lip began to quiver as another sobbing fit threatened to seize her again.
"Don't worry, my dear, Arthur will pay for his transgressions," Dolores said.
"It's not that," sniffled Molly. "It's just that I'm afraid."
"Afraid of what, dear?"
"Of being alone. I've never been alone before. I've always had Arthur and now he's gone."
"I'm sure a witch like you can snap up another wizard in no time. Why, I say you go out there right now, find yourself a strapping man and bed him just to show that cheating husband of yours what for."
"Men, bah!" barked Molly. "All they think about is their penises and when they can use them next. They don't know what love is."
"No they don't," Dolores said, picking up on Molly's argument as if it were her own. "All they care about is whom or what they can cum in."
"Or on," added Molly. "The penis is a foul thing, don't you think?"
"Hideous."
"It lays there and then it gets stiff and then it vomits out its juices and then it goes soft."
"Soft and useless, just like men themselves."
"All they care about is cumming. Wizards know nothing of love – they say they love you just so they can get off."
"Not like us witches, eh? We know all about love," Dolores said.
"Yeah! I'm sure witches know how to really love one another. It's too bad I'm not into witches, then perhaps I wouldn't be such a frigid prude." With this comment, Molly's sobbing renewed.
As she looked into Molly's crying eyes, Dolores came to the conclusion that if the new Minister would treat his mother's friend well, perhaps, he'd treat his mother's special friend even better.
Leaning forward, Dolores placed her lips to Molly's, and pushed her probing tongue into her firewhiskey flavored mouth.
Edgar Melvin, a senior member of the Wizengamot and long time supporter of the Dark Lord, marched into Malfoy Manor. He was shocked to see the damage in the foyer – it looked as if a great battle had been fought in this room. Stepping over the broken floorboards and remnants of walls, Edgar made his way to the library.
"Ah, Edgar, welcome," the Dark Lord greeted.
Kneeling before his Master, Edgar spoke "I live to serve, my Lord."
"I'm a very busy man, Edgar, so I must cut the pleasantries," Voldemort said. "A new proposal is about to be passed that will increase the penalties against my loyal followers. It must not be allowed to pass into law. Luckily, we have an ace in the hole – Weasley, the new Minister."
"Really, Sire? That's wonderful news!" cheered Edgar. With the Minister on their side, wizarding Britain would finally head down the proper path.
"Weasley is nothing more than our unwitting dupe. Unfortunately, Lucius was his contact."
"Why is that unfortunate, Master?" asked Edgar. As far as he knew, Malfoy was a cunning wizard who was very skilled when it came to manipulating people.
"Lucius is dead," Voldemort said.
"Oh."
"I need you, Edgar, to sway Weasley and have him veto the new proposal without him realizing that you are following my demands," commanded Voldemort.
Edgar gulped and bowed. "I live to serve."
"Remus, Remus wake up, lad."
Groggily, Remus Lupin sat up. He was no longer in his shabby cottage but in a pristine grassy field. To his left, he saw a young man.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"It's me, Alastor Moody," the man gave Remus a bright smile.
"Alastor? But I thought you were dead?" He looked at the man who looked like a much younger, unscarred and two eyed Moody.
"That I am, lad," he said as if he couldn't be happier over the notion.
"Am I dead?" asked Remus, remembering the very hard knock to his head.
"No, but She brought you here." The manner in which Moody said 'She,' Remus knew he was referring to something divine.
"Who's 'She'?"
"The Creator of all things, our Lady and Goddess," Moody replied joyously, nearly singing. "She has chosen you to spread Her Word amongst Her children."
"Me?"
"Yes, you're to be Her Prophet."
"Erm, I don't think that's such a good idea," Remus said. "I'm a werewolf. People won't listen to a werewolf."
"That's exactly why She chose you, Remus, because She can show Her children Her true Power by healing you."
"What? I'm cured?"
"Yes, My son, you are cured," a voice from the Heavens sang.
Remus looked up and began to weep. There, floating in the clouds was the Divine Beauty. The Creator of All Life. Remus' heart soared – all of his grief and doubt vanished and he was overcome with a happiness that he did not know existed.
"Give unto me Your Word so that I, Your humble servant, may teach Your Children," pleaded Remus.
Meanwhile, in the master bedroom of Number Four, Harry and his witches were having a meeting.
"Okay, ladies, listen up, Hermione is my Prime Harem Witch," Harry announced to the witches collected on and around the bed as he finished dressing. "That means she's the head witch, and all of you have to listen to her."
"What?" Pansy screeched. Harry and Hermione's combined discharges had dried on her face and was now flaking off as her features twisted in rage. "I will not allow a mudblood to tell me what to do!"
"Mistress Hermione?" Daphne raised her hand.
Hermione's nipples suddenly hardened, seemingly threatening to poke holes in the fabric of her blouse. "I think I like being call that."
"Pardon Mistress, may I have the honor of punishing Pansy for her outburst?" asked Daphne.
"Be my guest," Hermione said, gesturing to the master bathroom.
"Don't you dare—" Pansy began to protest. However, her words were cut short when her fellow Slytherin grabbed a fistful of hair and dragged her into the bathroom.
As Daphne began to dunk Pansy's head in the toilet much like Hermione had done earlier in the day, Harry continued, "Luna's my second. After Hermione, what my little arse-girl says is law."
"Yeah!" Luna, the arse-girl in question, cheered.
"What about the rest of us, Master? What order are we in?" Tracy asked.
"We'll see. Maybe I'll have a contest or something to decide your pecking order. But for right now, Hermione has an announcement to make."
"We currently have five witches in our harem. We must add more witches," the brunette said firmly.
"Five? What about the Weasley girl?" asked Daphne from the bathroom.
"That slut? Bah!" Hermione turned and called out to the hall, "Ginny-Pig, get your fat arse in here!"
Ginny-Pig, who had been running up and down the stairs with Pansy's wand held in her sex just as Harry had ordered for well over an hour, dashed into the master bedroom and threw herself on her knees before her lovingly cruel Mistress. Hermione hawked up a great amount of saliva in her mouth and Ginny-Pig opened her jaw wide. Hermione spat a massive load of spit directly into Ginny-Pig's open mouth. The red-head's ensuing orgasm threatened to loosen her grip on the wand, but she defiantly held onto the foreign object in hopes of the beating and toilet cleaning she was promised.
"This little whore isn't worthy to be alive much less counted in Harry's harem," Hermione said with unadulterated disdain. Another orgasm rocked Ginny-Pig's body. "Get back to running, you skank!" she screamed at her submissive pet. Fulfilling her Mistress' order, Ginny-Pig bolted out of the room to continue running up and down the stairs.
"You see, Ginny-Pig doesn't count," Luna said to Tracy and Daphne as if Hermione's words and actions needed further clarification.
"We have Luna, Tracy, Pansy, Daphne, and myself," clarified Hermione. "We need more witches to better that dickless ponce Ron!"
Tracy, who didn't want to tell Hermione that the witches in Ron's harem were foul and ugly beasts because she rather liked the idea of adding more witches to Harry's harem, asked, "Pardon, Mistress Hermione, but should we really count Pansy as a full witch?"
"I agree, Mistress, because of her escape attempts and refusal to listen to your command, I feel that Pansy should only count as a half a witch in the harem," added Daphne.
Pansy voiced her disapproval of this statement by making loud gurgling noises in the toilet.
Hermione thought for a moment before saying, "Let's say she's a third of a member. So that makes Harry's harem four and one-third strong."
"We need to recruit two more witches," Luna said.
"At the very least," the brunette said.
"I think I have a way," said Harry. He retrieved the Summoning Stone and book he had stolen from Voldemort the night before and handed them to Hermione and Luna. "Voldemort's been using these to summon his duplicates from other dimensions. That's probably how I got here, but I figured you can use it to bring duplicates of yourselves to fill out my harem."
The Gryffindor and Ravenclaw began reading through the book rapidly. "Is there a section that mentions how we can bring this dimension's Harry back?" asked Hermione.
Harry gestured to his clad, yet noticeable bulge and asked "Do you really think you can handle another one of me?"
A shiver passed over each of the witches' bodies. Two Harrys. Two epic willys. And then they gulped realizing they had more than enough of a challenge satisfying just one Harry, much less two.
"You lot wouldn't be able to walk ever again," Harry chuckled.
"Two Harrys would probably kill us," commented Tracy as the image of her being sandwiched between the two overly endowed wizards played out in her mind.
"Yeah, but it'd be one hell of a way to go," Hermione said, wiping the drool from her lips.
"Let's focus on summoning more of you to add to my harem," Harry ordered, snapping his fingers to draw their attention. "Two birds that have Hermione's titties would be a good thing don't you think?"
All the witches looked at Hermione's bosom. Daphne, who had paused in her dunking of Pansy, took the time to gaze at the mounds. Even Pansy, who was still being held by her Housemate and was dripping wet, had to admire the mudblood's awe-inspiring breasts.
"Okay then, let's get cracking!" Luna said. She imagined what it would be like to be wedged between two sets of Hermione's magnificent breasts.
Over the next few minutes, Luna and Hermione read over the chapters concerning summoning.
"It says we need to sacrifice a virgin in order to summon a duplicate," announced Luna. "I really would like to play with four of Hermione's breasts, but I don't want to kill someone."
"Well, maybe we can use a Blood Magnifying Charm. That way we'd only take a little blood but magically increase it to make enough to complete the ritual," suggested Hermione, who was curious to play with her breasts but from a new angle.
"That may work, but we'd still need to find a virgin," Luna said.
"Good luck with that," Tracy commented.
"Yeah, virgins are a precious commodity," added Daphne. After a loud splash announced Daphne dunking Pansy's head back into the toilet, she added, "Especially after You Know Who was looking for them. Every father who was even remotely connected to Death Eaters scrambled to have his daughter deflowered in order to save them from being sacrifices, as our own fathers did."
"Actually, I think I can help with that," Harry said. He stood and walked out of the room.
Ginny-Pig, who was about to turn around and sprint down the stairs, squeezed her eyes shut in order not to see her Master's beautiful form in case he was naked.
Ignoring the sweating red-head, Harry opened the door to the smallest bedroom. The foul order of human waste billowed out into the hallway. The three people bound and gagged in the room whimpered pathetically.
"Have you lot learned manners?" asked Harry. The Dursleys barely nodded their heads, too weak from lack of food to do anything more. "Good then, I'll bring up some food after Donald here does a favor for me."
Harry grabbed Dudley around the shoulders and, with a grunt, lifted the mammoth boy to his feet. Carefully holding the obese boy so that his excrement encrusted pants did not touch him, Harry dragged his duplicate's cousin out of the room. He paused and directed Dudley's attention to Ginny-Pig, who had already reached the bottom of the stairs and was making her way up again.
"Ginny-Pig, open your eyes," he commanded. "Don't worry, this whale is blocking your view of me."
Ginny-Pig obeyed and gazed up at the corpulent boy dangling in her Master's arms.
"Show him the lumpy muffins you call tits," stated Harry.
Ginny-Pig paused and held out her arms wide, away from her bosom.
"Is the fat boy getting a hard-on?"
"Yes, Master, I believe he is," Ginny-Pig replied. "It's hard to tell, but I do see a bulge in his trousers."
"Just as I suspected," Harry said. He dragged Dudley into the master bedroom and dropped him on the floor.
"Merlin! What's that smell?" cried Hermione, her nose scrunching in disgust.
"I forgot I had the Durselys locked up in the spare bedroom," Harry explained. "Doug here shit himself."
"It's Dudley," corrected Hermione. "And why the hell did you bring him here?"
"I brought you a virgin," Harry said, pointing to Dudley.
"How can you be sure he's a virgin?"
"Simple, he got an erection looking at Ginny-Pig: only desperate virgins could get a woodie by looking at such a flat chested, hipless, bumless ginger like her."
"I always thought Dudley was into boys," Hermione mused.
"Well, Ginny-Pig is rather boyish, isn't she? With her broad shoulders, small yet already sagging titties, narrow hips and thick thighs," retorted Harry. "Maybe Dudley thought she was a boy and got a hard-on. Regardless, even if they mistake Ginny-Pig for a boy – which is easy to do – only desperate virgins are into that whore."
Ginny, overhearing the cruel and dismissive comments, had another orgasm, and continued to desperately hold on the wand with her cunny as she continued her running.
"Brilliant!" Luna said. "Now all we need to do is take some of his blood, magically amplify it and we can summon some of our duplicates here."
"There may be a problem," began Hermione. "The ritual may not work properly if we use magically amplified blood. It can have unforeseen results. To perform this ritual with magically magnified blood could have dire consequences," Hermione theorized. "If I were to perform the ritual, something bad might happen to me. I could be switched like you were, I could merge with my duplicate, or I could even die!"
"Fine then, we'll use a guinea pig to see if the modified ritual is dangerous." Harry smiled. He looked out the door to see Ginny-Pig reach the top of the stairs and spin around. "Or rather a Ginny-Pig."
The dreadful ghoul and hideous witches were asleep again. They had sated themselves and their foul desires upon his poor, tortured body, and the sheer excitement had drained them beyond weariness. Ron crawled across the floor to the attic opening. Slowly, he pulled himself down the stairs. The wands in his organ scraped against the ground, twisting and pulling his stunted manhood painfully. But Ron ignored the pain. He had to escape. He no longer cared about the shame of being naked, covered in filth with two wands jammed in his willy. He had to get away before the ghoul and witches woke up and violated him again. His legs were still numb from the ghoul's most recent attack, forcing him to crawl like an invalid. Using all of his Gryffindor courage, Ron crawled into the Burrow's kitchen.
He was just in time to see a very naked, sweat covered Dolores Umbridge do something inappropriate to his equally nude and glistening mother with an eggplant and potato masher.
"OH, MERLIN, DOLORES! YOU MAKE ME FEEL LIKE A WOMAN!" Molly screamed in rapture. The red-haired witch had so many short and curly hairs stuck between her teeth and on her glazed chin that she looked like she had just eaten a rather furry beaver (which, incidentally, she had). "DO IT AGAIN! AGAIN!"
Slowly, Ron turned around and crawled back up the stairs. Having a ghoul rape him while witches peed and shit on him while yet another witch beat his manhood was infinitely better than what he had just seen. With luck, he just may be able to convince his tormentors to be inspired to do something so vile and evil as to help erase the images and sounds currently burned into his memory. He could only pray that his next session could be just that depraved.
"Minister Weasley, Edgar Melvin is here to see you," Mandy announced.
"Mr. Melvin, how are you this fine day?" Percy asked, shaking the wizard's hand as the latter walked into the Minister's office.
"Fine, just fine, Sir. Congratulations on becoming Minister," Edgar returned.
"Thank you. Would you care for some tea?"
"Yes, thank you; that would be grand."
"Mandy, would you mind bringing some tea for us?"
"Of course, Minister," Mandy said and walked out of the office. Percy eyed Mandy's shapely bottom swaying back and forth with each step.
"Minister, I've come to discuss the pending Anderson Proposal," Edgar said, sitting on one of the office's many comfy chairs.
"Ah, yes, the one that will tack on five years in Azkaban to anyone bearing the Dark Mark," Percy said, sitting opposite the Wizengamot member.
"Don't you think that is too harsh a punishment, sir?"
"Not at all. Voldemort and his cronies must be stopped, Mr. Melvin, and this is a good start to that," Percy returned.
"People make mistakes, Minister. Should they pay such a heavy price for their mistakes?"
"I don't consider joining Voldemort's Death Eaters a mistake. A mistake is turning left when you meant right, having tea instead of coffee, and the like. Joining in league with Voldemort is much more than a mistake, Mr. Melvin."
Mandy returned carrying two cups of tea. As she handed the drinks to Edgar and Percy, Voldemort's minion argued, "What if someone joined his ranks when they were young and foolish? What about them, hmm? They would suffer if this proposal passes."
"That might be so," Percy said. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He recalled how Lucius Malfoy, a marked Death Eater, had proved beneficial by being a spy for the Ministry (or so he had been told). "Perhaps we can add an amendment to the proposal. If the person with the Dark Mark turns in fellow Death Eaters or their supporters, the five year punishment for bearing the Dark Mark will be lessened or waived, depending upon whom they turn in or what evidence they can provide."
"Bu-b-b-but that's outrageous sir!" stammered Edgar. This was not going the way he had hoped. Instead of getting Weasley to veto the proposal, the new Minister was going to add to it a rider that would entice Death Eaters to turn their compatriots in for a reduced sentence. If Weasley got his way, the weaker willed and dimmer Death Eaters would sacrifice their comrades. It could possibly have a disastrous domino effect.
"I think that's a grand idea," Percy said, giving words to Edgar's fears. "Thank you for suggesting it. With this new law, we'll be able to pick apart Voldemort and his Death Eaters bit by bit, We'll even rename the proposal to the Melvin-Anderson Act in honor of your fantastic idea."
"You can't do that!" Edgar said desperately. His desperation sprang from the utter fear the wizard felt. He knew that the Dark Lord would be upset. to say the least, if he failed to convince Weasley to veto the act. But Edgar had not just failed to persuade the new Minister to axe said act, but had actually planted the seeds in the Minister's mind to increase the penalties. And, adding more fear of what the Dark Lord would do to him, the idiot had even gone so far as to have the blasted thing named in Edgar's honor.
"Why can't I?" the Minister asked.
"Because you're not supposed to do it!" What little composure Edgar had left was slipping away rapidly.
"I'm the Minister for Magic. It's my duty to ensure the safety of my people."
Mandy, who was standing by Percy, felt her knickers dampen. Seeing her wizard in action aroused her. The power he held made her dizzy.
"Don't you see? If you do this, you Know Who will be very cross," Edgar said, hoping to reason with him.
"And how is that a bad thing?"
"Because someone will try and kill you."
"Ever since Minister Fudge's assassination, the Auror guard has been doubled. Surely you saw the four Aurors just outside my office as you entered. I'm very safe, Mr. Melvin."
"No, you're not. I was able to walk in here. What if I were to kill you? Huh?" Melvin was losing the last remnants of his self-control. The thought of failing, and more importantly the Dark Lord's punishment, was causing the Death Eater to show his hand.
"Are you threatening me, Mr. Melvin?"
"You damn fool! You don't know who you're messing with." Edgar stood.
"According to the Macintyre Law of 1801; a member of the Wizengamot cannot threaten the Minister for Magic, even through implication, sir!" barked Percy. With that, he shouted, "Guards!"
As the door to the office flew open and two Aurors charged in, Edgar knew he was done for. He whipped out his wand, intent on killing the new Minister as a last, desperate act.
But, before he could cast the Killing Curse, Percy shot up. His hand flew and struck Edgar in the jaw. The blow wasn't powerful enough to knock the Death Eater down, but it was enough to stun him until the Aurors tackled Edgar to the ground.
"Look, sir, he's a Death Eater," one of the Aurors announced, lifting up Edgar's left sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark.
"I suppose we'll just have to add another change to the Melvin-Anderson Proposal, won't we, Mr. Melvin?" Percy said in a haughty condescending tone. "One where members of the Wizengamot must expose their forearms in order to prove they aren't Death Eaters.
"In fact, I'll do more than that," Percy continued. He looked to one of the guards and said "Auror Clancy, assemble a team a.s.a.p. and examine every single member of the Wizengamot whether they're here, at their homes, or even abroad. If they have a Dark Mark, take them into custody."
Auror Clancy's eyes widened, struck with the simplicity of the Minister's orders. "Why didn't we think of doing that before?"
"And move as quickly as you can," Percy added to Clancy. "I don't want to give any hidden Death Eaters in the Wizengamot time to warn each other."
After the Aurors and their prisoner left, Mandy threw her arms around her lover.
"Wow, Percy, I didn't know there was even a Macintyre Law," Mandy said, impressed with her lover's power.
"Well, there was a famine in 1801 and Minister Macintyre had to instill some tough laws because the Wizengamot was too slow to act. A number of Wizengamot members threatened him for these laws so the Macintyre Law was created. It helps to be anal about the law and history," Percy said. The thrill of the confrontation had gotten his blood flowing. He slipped his hand under Mandy's skirt and cupped her firm bottom. "Speaking of anal."
"Oh, Mister Minister!"
After drawing a pint of blood from Dudley and using some simple charms to magnify the volume to create enough to complete three Summoning rituals, Luna and Hermione painted the necessary runes and symbols on the floor of the Dursely living room. Meanwhile, Pansy was being further punished for her escape attempts and defiance of Hermione by being forced, under Daphne's wand-point, to clean the Dursleys by hand. Petunia was not overly difficult because she had the shape and general build of a broomstick, but the excessive amounts of flesh and folds on Dudley and Vernon were very toilsome for the black-haired witch. Pansy discovered, much to her revulsion, that fecal waste and urine was difficult to clean out of folds of fat.
"Do you remember the incantation to the ritual, Ginny-Pig?" Luna asked the naked red-head.
Ginny-Pig nodded her head.
"That's good, because if you didn't I'd be force to literally shove my foot up your arse," the blonde said sweetly. Ginny-Pig was surprised to find that she wasn't responding to Luna's contempt. To her, it just proved the love of her Mistress and Master; only they truly loved her and could move her.
"Get in the center of the pentagram, whore," Hermione barked at her pet.
The ginger scampered into the diagram just as her Mistress commanded.
"Normally, we wouldn't want another copy of you," Hermione told Ginny-Pig. "Just one of you with that ugly face of yours hanging about is enough to make my stomach turn. I feel I'm about to vomit just at the thought of you having a double."
Ginny-Pig's sex flooded and nipples hardened.
"There is a risk," warned Hermione. "Well, a risk besides having another hideous inbred whore like you hanging about. We're trying to do an end run around the ritual by using a magically amplified volume blood. This means that the ritual might get severely mucked up. The person performing the ritual might get killed in the process. That's why we chose you – if you die, nobody would care."
These words brought Ginny-Pig to her knees as an earth shattering orgasm rocked her body. Her sticky moistness dribbled out of her nether-lips and around the wand still held firmly in her sex and onto the floor.
"Don't muck up the pentagram with your nasty cunny juice, you useless whore!" Hermione slapped Ginny-Pig with the back of her hand which just cause more said juice to leak out.
"Let's get this over with," Harry said. He looked at the trembling red-head and ordered "Start the ritual."
Placing the Summoning Sapphire on a random spot in the pentagram made out of Dudley's blood, Ginny-Pig began to chant the incantation.
"Hear me, oh masters of time, space, and anything else that might be listening! Open up the gates between worlds so that I can call forth my sister from that realm unto this world! Come forth from your world, my equal, and join me here in my world so that we may be subservient together!"
The pentagram erupted in thick pillars of smoke, obscuring everyone's view of Ginny-Pig. After a few moments, the strange smoke cleared revealing the red-head standing alone in the middle the room.
"Oh, drat, there isn't another Ginny from an alternate universe. The ritual didn't work," Luna pouted – not over the thought of the ritual failing to summon another Ginny, but rather over the lost opportunity to call forth Hermione's duplicate.
"Wait…" Hermione began hesitantly with uncertainty. "Look behind Ginny-Pig – there's someone hiding."
"No there isn't," said Tracy, scrutinizing the space directly behind the red-head.
"Oh my, there is someone," Luna said, her eyes growing wide…err… wider than normal that is.
"Yes there is, isn't there," added Harry.
"Where? I don't see anybody!" Tracy exclaimed, thinking the rest were taking the mickey out on her. To her, there was nothing to be seen behind Ginny-Pig, especially not a duplicate of the red-haired witch.
Harry walked up to the ginger witch and stood behind her. He bent down low so that his face was level with Ginny-Pig's shoulder and asked of the red-head hiding behind her, "Who might you be?"
"my name is ginny weasley," she said. This copy of Ginny's voice was barely even a whisper. "where am i?"
Ginny-Pig turned and looked down to see a trembling, cowering version of herself. A thought entered the masochistic girl's mind:" She looks exactly like I did before I started my fourth year! Now I can have someone to share with! Like a sister! I've always wanted a sister!" That happy thought of comradely love mutated in the span of a synapse sparking. Suddenly, the idea of sharing changed into jealousy and fear. The red-head wondered: "Will my cruel Mistress perform her glorious love on both me and my new sister equally? Or will my Mistress be swayed by this copy of me? Will she give more of her vicious affection to this new Ginny instead of me? Will I be tossed to the side like some piece of scrap rubbish and be forgotten?" Fearful of this competition and losing Hermione's less-than-tender love, Ginny-Pig lunged toward Hermione, throwing herself at the brunette's feet and cried out passionately; "Please Mistress, beat me! Whip me! Put out cigarettes on my bare breasts! Shove a rolling pin up my arse! Do anything you want to me! Just show me that you love me!"
Now that the witch she had been hiding behind was sobbing at Hermione's feet, the newcomer Ginny darted toward one of the chairs and hid behind it. Clearly, this Ginny was overly meek and shied away from any type of exposure.
"I guess this one's easily frightened," Hermione said, completely ignoring her universe's Ginny who was blubbering at her feet.
"To answer your question, you're in a different universe," Luna said to the meek Ginny.
"i am? why am i here?"
"Does anyone else hear a mouse?" asked Tracy who hadn't seen the parallel universe Ginny hiding behind the chair.
"You're here as a test. We performed a ritual that summons one's counterpart from another dimension. However, we cut a few corners and were fearful that because of these cuts, the ritual might have been dangerous," Hermione explained. She pointed at the witch cowering at her feet and added, "Hence the reason why we used this whore."
A wave of passion crashed down upon Ginny-Pig. Her Mistress still loved her enough to call her a foul name.
"Who are you talking to?" Tracy asked Hermione as she looked around the room in vain.
"The other version of this cunt," Hermione said. She punctuated this statement by kicking Ginny-Pig swiftly in the stomach. Ginny-Pig crashed to her side, moaning in total ecstasy.
"Where is she?" Tracy asked, this time looking in the direction of the new Ginny. For some unknown reason, Tracy could not see the overly meek version of Ginny.
More eager to see and play with another copy of Hermione than even remotely concerned or mildly interested in mousy-Ginny, Harry nudged Hermione toward the center of the living room. "Well then, now that we've proven the ritual works, how about you hop up there and summon your duplicate.,"
"Don't you want to 'initiate' the new Ginny first?" asked Luna knowingly.
Harry made a noise somewhere between a scoff of indignation and a dry heave of disgust.
"I take that as a 'no, I won't be shagging the new girl' then?" the blonde asked.
"I said it before; only desperate virgins are attracted to Ginny. That applies to all versions of that nasty ginger," he said with all the care and tenderness of a herd of stampeding hippogriffs. "Maybe I should offer her to Darrel—"
"Dudley," corrected Luna.
"—for donating the blood necessary for these rituals," Harry continued, not caring what his duplicate's cousin's correct name was. He turned to the demure red-head hiding behind the squashy chair and asked "How would you like to play a game of 'Try to find the willy under the flap of eighty pounds of pure fat'? Merlin knows Derek—"
"Dudley," Hermione supplied.
"—has never even seen his own John Thomas. So the game should be a hoot for him."
If she hadn't been obscured by the shadow of the chair, Harry might've noticed the mousy-Ginny turning pale at the mere suggestion. Of course, being a somewhat evil version of Harry, it's highly doubtful that he would've cared if he had seen the girl blanch. "i don't think i'd like to play that game with dudley."
"Okay, you two," he said to Luna and Hermione and ignoring – but more likely forgetting – mousy-Ginny in the process. "Get cracking on the pentagram. I want to play with two sets of Hermione's wonderful titties."
Even though it was crass, Hermione blushed at Harry's compliment. The blonde and brunette witch quickly painted a fresh diagram in Dudley's blood. Hermione picked up the Summoning Sapphire and took her place in the middle of the pentagram. After setting the Stone down on the tip of the upper-left point, she chanted; "Hear me, oh masters of time, space, and anything else that might be listening! Open up the gates between worlds so that I can call forth my sister from that realm unto this world! Come forth from your world, my equal, and join me here in my world so that we may rule together!"
Just as when Ginny-Pig had performed the ritual, thick plumes of smoke billowed out of the ground. Hermione held her breath, anxious to see her counterpart from a different reality. Would she be like her: an intelligent, compassionate, book loving witch? Or would she be as different as the new Harry was to this universe's Harry?
When the smoke cleared, everyone saw a second Hermione standing next to this universe's Hermione. The new one was dressed in heavy sweaters and appeared to be slightly older than her counterpart by about a year and a half or so. The new Hermione looked about in surprise and shock.
"Where am I? What's going on?"
"Don't worry; we're friends," Luna said while eyeing the new girl's sweater-fwoopers. Judging by their shape and size, this Hermione was just as endowed as her Hermione. If the blonde got her way, her face would soon be wedged between four perfect breasts.
"We've brought you from your dimension to ours," added Hermione who was just as transfixed by her duplicate's bosom. "This is an alternate reality to yours. You and I are the same person, but with some differences."
"Thank Merlin no noticeable differences in the chest area," commented Harry.
"I'm Hermione Jane Granger," she introduced herself to the newcomer.
"I'm Hermione Jean Granger," her double returned.
"As I said, a few slight differences," Hermione said.
"Well, originally, my middle name was 'Jane'," her double stated. "But I forgot how to spell it, so I changed it to 'Jean'. It's so much easier to remember this way."
"But… it's just the same four letters only shuffled," Hermione countered, feeling quite baffled. "That's no different than an author making a typographic error, and swearing that it's not a mistake and that's what he or she intended all along."
"This is all terribly fascinating and normally I'd be thrilled to discuss various theories about alternate universes and their histories, but I must go back to my world. Send me back right now," Hermione Jean demanded.
"Erm, we can't," admitted Hermione.
"You have to. I must… uh… help Harry!" she said.
"I'm sure your Harry can help himself," Harry said. "How about you make yourself comfortable and take off some of those heavy sweaters... and any restrictive underwear."
"But Harry needs help tracking down Voldemort's Hocruxes!"
"What's a Horcrux?" asked Luna.
"A Horcrux, huh? Well, that would explain why this world's Voldemort survived a Killing Curse," Harry said, deep in thought.
"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"Oh, I'll tell you later, it's a long, dull, drawn out and fairly silly story," he said dismissively. "What we need to do is make sure our new guest is comfortable. And I say we start by removing those pesky sweaters… and bra."
"No!" Hermione Jean said on the verge of tears. "I have to return to my universe! He may come back!"
"Who may come back?" asked Hermione.
The newcomer chewed her lip before answering in a small voice, "Ronald."
"RON?!" screeched Hermione.
"Yes, you see the Horcrux was twisting our emotions and Ron got mad and stormed off."
"Good riddance," Hermione said with a snort. "You're better off without him."
"No! He'll see the light and he'll return and then we can be together finally," Hermione Jean said with hope evident in her voice. "Well, together after an appropriate amount of time where I punish him for his childish action by being cold toward him and even pretending he doesn't exist, that is."
Hermione looked deep into her duplicate's eyes. "There's something off about her," she announced.
"You mean more than just being into Ronald?" asked Luna.
"Yes, like there's something wrong in her head," speculated Hermione.
"There's nothing wrong with me," Hermione Jean defended.
"Maybe it's some sort of spell damage. We should take her to St Mungo's and check her out," offered Luna.
"Wait, I know some Diagnostic Charms," Tracy said.
"Well, that's awfully convenient," commented Harry.
Tracy dashed up to Hermione Jean and waved her wand over the witch. "She was hit with an underpowered Organ Crusher Hex."
"That's the same curse Dolohov hit me with in the Department of Mysteries," Hermione said, recalling the purple, zigzagging hex that had rendered her unconscious.
"Yeah, but apparently this Hermione here had some of her oxygen supply to the brain cut off because of that hex. According to my Diagnostic Charm, she's slightly brain damaged."
"That would explain her attraction to Ronald," Luna said.
"And inability to spell," Tracy added.
"Excuse me, but Ronald is not as bad as you say he is," Hermione Jean snapped. "Yes, he's lazy, slow-witted, stubborn, impatient, childish, disloyal, and hurtful. But under all of that, he's a sweet, lovable boy! I just need the time to change his nature into something more appealing." Her voice grew softer as she waxed on about the wizard she was infatuated with. "But I have hope it can be done. Of course he's so old-fashioned and stubborn, he'll probably demand that I become a stay-at-home mother like Molly, but I shall persevere. I'll undoubtedly suffer years of disrespect and degradation, but I will shape him and mold him into a perfect wizard. Well, maybe a good wizard. And if not, I can always change myself and simply be happy with Ron and all of his short-comings."
"Oh, I've had enough of this!" Hermione said. "Harry, get up here and stuff that monster cock of yours down her throat."
In a flash, Harry was standing in front of Hermione Jean, pushing her onto her knees.
"HEY!" she protested.
Harry pulled out his meat.
"HEY!" repeated Hermione Jean. This time however, it wasn't a 'hey' of protest, but rather a 'hey' along the line of 'hey, that's a very large and impressive hunk of manhood dangling in front of my face.' She stared at the organ with her eyes and mouth wide open. The brunette seemed transfixed by the fleshy pink thing, with its many bumps, wrinkles and veins.
"What are you going to do with that?" asked Hermione Jean, dazed by the beauty of the uber-penis.
While she was distracted, Hermione cast the special charm to allow Hermione Jean to unhinge her jaw. Hermione knew that Harry would love it. And it was a feat that this Hermione Jean just had to experience.
"Well, I'm going to see how similar you are to this dimension's Hermione and try to shove the whole thing down your throat," he replied in a matter of fact tone.
Despite the hungry look in her brown eyes, Hermione Jean resisted. "That's too degrading of an act. Not only to me, but women in general. Fellatio subjugates women – making them kneel before the man as if in prayer. The act forces her to be subservient and dependent upon the man. And I won't do it."
"Wait, you won't suck his cock because it's degrading to women and yet you want to be with Ron – who you admit will treat you like an object or possession," this dimension's Hermione argued.
"If you were in love with Ron like I am, or even could understand the depths of our true and lasting love, you'd know he's worth the effort and time to correct his many less than desirable traits," Hermione Jean said in a dreamy tone. "In fact, our love is so important, I'm willing to change and become whatever my Ron needs. He is that special."
Before the other Hermione could point out that oral sex was a hoot (especially with Harry and his wonderful wedding tackle) and that being attracted to Ron must have been a side-effect of the damage caused by lack of oxygen to her brain, Harry decided to use Hermione Jean's mild mental disability to his advantage.
"You couldn't be further from the truth. You see, the man is the one who is dependent on the woman, not the other way around," he began. The words flowed effortlessly and naturally from his mouth. "It's not spoken of in public because of prudish outdated wizarding values, but when a man reaches a certain age, he must receive regular blow-jobs. If fellatio isn't performed frequently, the man's testicles will start to sag and droop. The act of oral sex strengthens the scrotum. In some cases, it gets so bad that the man's scrotum will actually drag on the ground. And I don't have to tell you the medical problems a sagging scrotum can cause."
Harry had lied so convincingly that even Tracy almost believed his tale of a medical necessity for oral sex.
Hermione Jean looked pensive. She gazed at Harry's gorgeous manhood and contemplated whether or not to submit. She had not known that men could face such dreadful difficulties. Perhaps she would perform oral sex on Harry; he needed it so that his testicles wouldn't droop after all. As she debated this decision, Harry's manhood began to grow and harden, silently asking Hermione Jean to help delay the condition of sagging testicles. But then her affection for Ron returned to the forefront of her mind. He was there, in the other dimension, waiting for her. Well, not actually waiting because he had gone off and abandoned her and Harry yet again. But eventually he would be waiting for her once he realized that he was being a stupid pillock (again). Even if this realization wouldn't dawn upon Ron for another year or two (which was a distinct possibility seeing how stubborn and stupid he was) Hermione Jean knew she had to wait for him.
"No, this is wrong. I should go back to my reality and wait for my beloved Ro– WGGHH—uh—RUFF!"
The new Hermione's statement was abruptly ended by Harry shoving his erect manhood into her mouth and down her throat until his testicles pressed against her chin and his pubic hairs tickled her nose.
Luna pointed to the bulge in Hermione Jean's throat caused by Harry's summer sausage, saying; "Hermione, your duplicate is a lot like you. She doesn't have a gag reflex."
"Maybe that's why she's attracted to Ron," Hermione said drolly. Her mood brighten as she asked, "Luna, did you want to summon your duplicate?"
"No, I don't want to tempt fate," the blonde said sagely. "There's a chance that I could accidentally summon an evil version of myself and wreak untold havoc upon this land. Conceivably, an evil Luna could be an infinitely powerful seer and could use her gift for wrong. Countless hundreds of people could be murdered by my duplicate. Entire cities could be leveled, for all I know. Even worse, I might summon a Luna that doesn't believe in the existence of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack." Luna shivered in fear over the dreadful thought.
It was at this point that Harry pulled out and allowed Hermione Jean to catch her breath. The eighteen year old brunette stared at the spit coated organ bobbing before her eyes and announced "That is one big – BEAUTIFUL – cock!"
"Now what do you think about Ron?" Hermione asked.
"Who the fuck cares about that insensitive, stupid arsehole?" replied Hermione Jean before passionately licking up a dollop of her own spit that was threatening to fall from Harry's fat shaft. Next, she opened her mouth wide and flung her face onto his rod, forcibly shoving it down her throat.
Groaning in pleasure, Harry said "Brain damaged or not, I say we keep this one."
Hermione pulled out her wand and tapped it to Hermione Jean's clothes, banishing them with a pop. The one witch looked upon the other with a twinkle in her eye. "My, I do have beautiful titties, don't I? Now I know why everyone is so transfixed by them!"
For the next two minutes, Harry continued to throat-shag Hermione Jean while Hermione sucked on her counterpart's breasts. Then Harry shoved Hermione Jean onto her back, lifted her legs up into the air, and placed his bulbous crown at her sex and pushed.
"HO—LEE FUCK!" she hollered.
"That's what I said," Hermione said. "Besides the whole slightly brain damaged bit, we two are still very similar."
While still holding her legs up by her ankles, Harry asked Hermione Jean, "Are you okay?" He may have been evil, but a gentleman does ask how a woman is doing while he deflowers her.
"Yeah," she breathed out. "Just give me a second to get used to it. You're really huge! I feel like you're splitting me up the middle!"
Hermione looked to where the witch and wizard were joined, smiled, and then looked into her duplicate's eyes. "Honey, that's just the tip."
"Just the tip? Just? Tip?" she exclaimed. "HO—LEE FUCK!"
"Hermione, Luna, why don't you help me ease our new friend into this," Harry said.
"That'll be brilliant," Luna announced, eager and willing to join in on the fun.
"I'll do one better," Hermione said. She shouted up the stairs "Daphne, tie up Pansy and the others so they can't escape and get down here!"
When Daphne entered the room, Hermione commanded "You and Tracy suck on Hermione Jean's titties while Luna and I take care of her toes."
Hermione Jean's toes and breasts were lovingly suckled, nipped and licked while Harry slowly pushed his length into her virgin sex. Over the next fifteen minutes, and while tongues rolled between toes, nipples were sucked and a monster willy was pumped in and out, Hermione Jean sputtered out twelve words between numerous shouts, yelps, moans, groans, and barks of passion. If anyone had strung these seemingly random words together, they would have formed a statement: "This is more fun than one person should be allowed to have!" Then, as the four witches and one wizard did wondrous things to her, Hermione Jean's eyes rolled up into her head and she began foaming at the mouth. Despite her near comatose state, Harry and his other witches continued to pleasure their new harem member beyond the heights of ecstasy.
If everyone's attention had not been so focused on the new Hermione and showing her the joys of the flesh, they might have noticed a strange figure pacing in front of Number Four, watching the house with a pair of familiar green eyes, framed by spectacles, under a mop of mussed up, black hair.