Chapter 17 (~8000 words):
– Draco –
They finally managed to melt that damn bloody ice! Draco hated that fucking ice! Not only was it the source of his humiliation—it had also been so freaking cold! It took over 24 hours for him to thaw out after that bitch Sona Sitri had frozen him.
The teachers all claimed it was accidental magic, or the Weasley Twins, but he knew it was her. Sona had frozen him on purpose.
She was lucky that she was beautiful. Draco had it in his noble pureblood heart to eventually forgive her. After she was properly disciplined by her future Lord Husband properly of course!
Originally, Draco had only planned on making Sona Sitri his mistress. She was gorgeous, and exotic—someone he would enjoy having in his bedroom but never truly considered as a match for a prestigious Malfoy heir like himself.
But that changed. His father pulled a few strings and managed to discover who had made that absurdly generous donation to Hogwarts a few days ago.
The gold all came from the new Sitri family!
That alone was surprising, but it got more interesting—no, more infuriating—when his father tried to push further. He went to Gringotts to have the little beasties give them more information on the new family.
The goblins outright snubbed him—refusing to reveal anything! Those little beasties had never said no to his father before!
The goblins would only act like that if they were dealing with someone whose power and wealth dwarfed even the Malfoys. Something Draco had thought impossible but the message was clear.
The Sitri family was on a whole other level!
For Draco, that changed everything. If the Sitris had that much power—and that much money—then Sona was no longer just some foreign witch to toy with…
She was an opportunity!
Draco's ambitions shifted, and he started imagining her not just as a mistress, but as a future Lady Malfoy. Of course, she would need to be properly broken in and disciplined to fit her role. But Draco was confident that, with the right motivation, he could mold her into exactly what he wanted.
Draco led the charge down the dungeon stairs. Behind him thundered a mob of over a hundred students, all ravenous for the hefty reward money promised to whoever captured Sona Sitri.
Draco did not give a single shit about the galleons. Let the rest of these desperate idiots squabble over scraps.
He was after something much more valuable than such a paltry amount of gold.
He had spent the last few days thinking about nothing but Sona—about her strange wandless power, her arrogance, her flawless body, and the way she had humiliated him in front of Slytherin house.
"MOVE!" He tightened his grip on his wand, shoving aside a Hufflepuff who was blocking the path!
He had it all planned out. Once Sona was captured, the scrying mirrors following her would stop recording. No one would be watching anymore.
She would be incapacitated, helpless, and utterly at his mercy.
Just the thought of it sent a delicious shiver down his spine. He could already picture her on her knees, defiant or begging, it didn't matter—either way, she would know who was in charge.
Whether Sona ended up as his wife or not, Draco was determined to at least get his sample of her first!
Draco hit the bottom step. He swept into the wide dungeon corridor with his army behind him. More than a hundred students spilled down the stairs in a noisy, jostling flood—shouting, whooping, some waving their wands in the air as if just showing up made them badass duellists.
All of them had the same feverish look in their eyes. Ten thousand galleons would make even the quietest Hufflepuff turn into a greedy lunatic.
A few eager idiots from Durmstrang and Gryffindor tried to sprint ahead, desperate to get a head start on the others and claim Sona's "bounty" for themselves.
Draco snarled, shoving a skinny Ravenclaw out of his way next and raising his voice above the chaos. "Oi! Back the fuck off! No one gets ahead of me, you hear me?" He glared daggers at the ones in front, daring anyone to ignore him.
Of course, none of them listened. The greed was too strong. A pack of fifth-years and a pair of Beauxbatons boys bolted past anyway, pounding down the corridor. Draco just sneered and slowed his pace, letting the fools run headlong into whatever trap Sona Sitri had prepared.
He was not stupid! Sona was a dangerous witch—she would not just sit pretty and wait for them to stroll in and collect her.
He got his answer a second later. The corridor suddenly lit up with an eerie blue and gold glow—runes igniting along the floors, walls, even the fucking ceiling.
For a split second, everything was silent. Then the dungeons exploded into chaos!
The first group of students set off a frost rune and were instantly flash-frozen up to their waists, shrieking as jagged ice raced up their legs and locked them in place. Another boy tried to jump back, only to trigger a column of flame that shot straight out of a nearby wall, roasting the edge of his robes and sending him running in circles, howling in pain.
A group of French witches screeched as a cloud of blinding white mist erupted in their faces, followed by a concussive blast that knocked them flat on their backs. Someone triggered a binding trap and got their arms yanked behind them by invisible magical chains.
The corridor turned into pure pandemonium. Students were slipping, shrieking, stumbling over each other as more and more of Sona's vicious traps went off.
"AAAGH! My fucking legs! Get it off me!" screamed a Beauxbatons boy, his feet frozen solid in a block of jagged ice.
Another Durmstrang brute howled, clutching his scorched sleeve. "Fuck! It burns! She's fucking insane!"
A Ravenclaw girl tumbled to the ground, tangled in invisible chains. "Help! I can't move! Somebody, get these off me!"
White mist exploded in another cluster, sending three French girls to their knees, hacking and coughing, eyes streaming. "Je ne peux pas voir! Merde—what did she do to us?"
On the far side, a Hufflepuff's robes caught fire. He shrieked, slapping desperately at his flaming sleeve. "I'm on fire! Water, someone—fuck, WATER!"
A Slytherin fifth-year crashed into the wall, stunned by a concussive blast. "This isn't worth it! Fuck the gold, I'm out!"
"Get back! Don't step there!"
"Watch the runes on the ceiling—shit, DUCK!"
"I can't feel my arms!"
"Someone hex her already! She's just one bloody girl!"
"Bloody hell, this is a warzone—"
"MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!"
Draco could not help the smug smile twisting his lips as he watched it all unfold.
Idiots! The lot of them!
He had let them rush ahead on purpose, or at least that's what he'd tell anyone later...
Pansy Parkinson pressed up beside him, her face twisted with disgust and fear. "I hate that Sitri bitch," she spat, "She's making us look like fools. What are we supposed to do…?"
Draco sneered. He raised his voice so that everyone could hear, his tone dripping with cold authority. "She could not have trapped the entire fucking dungeon. It's been, what, twenty minutes? No student has that kind of talent or magical reserves, not even her. These are just the first traps to scare us off. If we move together, carefully, we'll get through! We're wizards, not fucking children. And whoever finds her first, remember—a Malfoy always pays his debts! I can offer far more for her than a paltry 10,000 galleons!"
A few Slytherins cheered, emboldened by his confidence. Even some Durmstrangs started to look his way for leadership.
Someone nearby shouted, "Yeah, let's go! She's just a girl—there's hundreds of us!"
"Forward. No more rushing in like idiots. If you see a rune, don't touch it. Keep your wands up and shields ready. We're taking her down tonight." Draco shouted.
That roused the mob's courage, and the horde surged forward in a more cautious wave. But the traps only got worse—flames, ice, magical tripwires. Every few feet someone got caught, spells ricocheting and sending more students crashing into each other.
The corridor filled with smoke, the stink of burnt hair, the shrieks of students getting zapped or immobilized.
Draco stayed near the center, keeping his eyes peeled for Sona and letting the weaker idiots flush out the worst dangers first.
As the minutes dragged by and they ventured deeper, the number of students thinned out dramatically. The dungeons became eerily quiet, broken only by the distant echoes of shouts and the occasional blast from some unseen trap. Draco scoffed, watching as another group of Hufflepuffs blundered straight into a nasty-looking hex, dropping like stunned sheep.
Once again, idiots…
At least they were good for something—every one of them that got knocked out made Draco's own path safer. And there would be less "witnesses" he would eventually need to silence for what he planned next.
Draco kept his most loyal Slytherins close at his sides—Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott. None of them were as clever as him, but at least they knew to keep their mouths shut and their wands ready. They stuck together, staying smack in the center of the dwindling horde, letting the other reckless students serve as magical cannon fodder.
If a trap went off, someone else would get blasted, not them.
Room by room, corridor by corridor, the dungeons were methodically cleared out. The air grew colder, every step more treacherous, but Draco never lost his composure. Each new magical ward or booby-trap only confirmed what he already knew. Sona Sitri was dangerously talented—and utterly ruthless.
But so was he.
At the far end, just one obvious door remained. Draco checked his watch, smirking. Good. He still had ten minutes to spare before this first challenge ended.
He nodded at his companions once the crowd had thinned enough and all the obvious traps dealt with.
""""Stupify!""""
They all shouted at once, and stunned the remaining few other students in the backs.
Draco's pulse thundered with the thrill of victory as he strode up to the last heavy oak door at the far end of the dungeons. Only his loyal Slytherins—Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott—were still close behind him, faces pale, wands drawn, all of them eyeing the door like it might explode.
Crabbe hissed, "Draco, maybe we should slow down—she might have more traps—"
"Fuck that," Draco sneered, not even slowing his pace. "She's out of tricks." He could feel his cock twitch in anticipation. He wanted to be the one to do this—to claim her, to see the look on her face.
Pansy's voice was sharp and shrill. "Be careful! That bitch is dangerous, Draco—"
He ignored her, flashing a condescending smile at his friends. As if a Malfoy ever had need of such things.
"What's the matter, Parkinson? Afraid of one little foreign witch?" He scoffed. "A Malfoy never cowers behind a locked door. You want to be my wife, don't you? Then you need to start acting like a Malfoy as well!" he commanded her, not needing to tell her that he'd already been planning on replacing her.
Draco threw open the door and stormed inside, making sure to give the scene the drama it deserved. The hinges shrieked and the wood slammed against the stone.
There she was. Sona Sitri, standing alone at the far end of the unused classroom.
Draco drank in every detail. The way her dark silky hair clung to her damp cheeks, her chest rising and falling with ragged, exhausted breaths, her black robes clinging to her body, damp with sweat and tiredness from clearly casting WAY TOO MUCH MAGIC.
Even drained and desperate, she was gorgeous—maybe even more so. Her glasses were askew, her lips parted, her modest but perky breasts outlined perfectly under the clingy fabric.
He let his gaze rake over her, slow and deliberate, letting her feel every second of it. He grinned, wide and wolfish. "Well, well, well. Look at you, Ms Sitri. You put up a valiant fight, I'll give you that. You made hundreds of students piss themselves just to get here. I almost started to believe you were unbeatable." He stepped forward, his wand loose in his hand. His Slytherins hung back by the door, peeking in nervously, but Draco had eyes only for Sona. "But in the end, you're just one girl," he taunted, his voice low and full of venomous satisfaction. "All that power, all those clever little traps, and you still couldn't keep me out. You must be running on fumes by now. Even you don't have enough magic left to stop me, do you?"
He raised his wand, daring her to resist, already savoring the promise of her defeat!
"Stupefy!" The red jet of magic hit Sona full in the chest. She barely had the strength to gasp before she crumpled onto the stone floor, glasses slipping down her nose, her limbs limp and helpless. Draco let out a low laugh, every inch of his body thrumming with anticipation. "That's more like it," he breathed, eyes hungrily devouring the sight of her unconscious body. His trousers strained uncomfortably tight as he stepped closer. He turned to his fellow Slytherins and gestured impatiently. "Get in here, tie her up quickly. I don't want her moving around if she wakes up halfway through!"
Pansy hesitated, her face twisting into a reluctant pout. "Really, Draco? She's completely out cold already. Isn't tying her up a little much?"
He sneered at her. "Did I ask for your opinion, Parkinson? Just do it."
Crabbe and Goyle hovered at his side, eager and stupid, as Nott conjured magical ropes.
But then—a quiet, mocking chuckle echoed from the hallway behind them. "Well, well. I knew you were arrogant, Draco… Malfoy, but I didn't realize you were actually this stupid. And that expression on your face—it fucking disgusts me…"
Draco whipped around, wand at the ready, eyes wide with shock. His Slytherins spun with him, all staring at the doorway.
Sona stood there, looking perfectly composed. Not a hair out of place. She twirled a stolen wand between her fingers. "Checkmate…" she said softly.
Before Draco could even spit a curse, Sona snapped the wand forward. The heavy oak doors slammed shut with a bang, locking them all inside.
He barely had a second to register the trap before the fake Sona on the floor dissolved into thin air—just a clever illusion.
"FUCK!" Draco roared, shoving Crabbe out of his way as he lunged at the doors. "Open it! Open it now, you idiots! She's outside!"
Pansy shrieked, yanking at the handle. "It's locked! She locked us in!"
Goyle slammed his shoulder into the wood, grunting with effort. "Move! Move, damn it!"
All around them, the walls of the classroom lit up with an unholy blue glow. Runes blazed to life on the stone, on the ceiling, even under their feet.
"Oh, no. Not again—" Draco whimpered.
Then the freezing ice magic hit them. Draco screamed, his body seized by the bitter, bone-cracking cold, the memory of that humiliation coming back ten times worse. He watched his own breath crystallize as his limbs went numb and useless.
– Harry –
An hour earlier…
I was sprinting up the countless flights of stairs. Flying would have been so much easier, quicker too, but there was no way I could risk anyone seeing my devil wings.
As I raced upward, a bunch of students began to recognize me and blocked my path, shouting excitedly.
They thought they'd be heroes, stopping Harry Sitri, or maybe they were just greedy idiots hoping to cash in on the bounty. I didn't care why they got in my way—they weren't going to slow me down.
I swung my arm out, sending a wave of water magic at the nearest group, knocking them flat against the wall. Another boy lunged toward me from a side corridor with his wand raised and glowing, but he was too slow.
My fist connected sharply with his jaw, and he dropped like a stone, completely out cold.
"Stay down," I muttered, leaping over his limp body and continuing upward. More students rushed at me, wands firing spells wildly. They were persistent, I'll give them that, but none of them were anywhere close to my level.
Was this bullying? It kind of felt like it as I punched through them going higher and higher.
I burst onto the seventh floor landing, barely catching my breath, and was immediately hit with a wall of noise and heat.
The whole corridor was packed. At least thirty students jammed together, all jostling for a spot at the base of the spiral staircase that led up to the tower. Every single one of them had their eyes glued to the madness happening at the top. The blazing Veela fire that Fleur and Gabrielle were throwing down the stairs, and the Weasley twins standing front and center with shit-eating grins. In Fred's hands was a bright orange powder that glowed with magic.
Fred held up the little pouch. "One toss of our patented Weasley Wonder Powder—"
George finished with a dramatic sweep of his arm. "—and those flames are history. The stairs'll be cooler than a penguin's bollocks!"
At the top of the stairs. I could hear Fleur shouting in French, cursing the lot of them, and Gabrielle just hurling more fire.
The Weasleys were soaking in the attention.
"We'll have those Veela beauties stunned in minutes!" George declared. And then he turned his head and I caught George's eye. He blanched instantly and elbowed Fred. "Oh shit," he muttered.
"I think we're buggered," Fred said, finally noticing my glare.
The rest of the crowd caught on quickly. A Hufflepuff pointed and nearly screamed, "Oi! That's Harry Sitri! If we catch him, it's thirty thousand galleons total with the two Frenchies!"
I cracked my knuckles and called on more demonic power to subtly enhance myself.
…
The students below were groaning in pain, most of them clutching bruises after that absolute brawl on the stairs. I was a bit shaky, my limbs tingling from catching so many stunners and hexes as I fought my way through, but adrenaline (and stubbornness) kept me moving.
I stumbled up the last set of steps as I tried to shake it off.
At the top, Fleur and Gabrielle—my two gorgeous Veela lovers—were waiting for me. Both of them looked like they'd just run a marathon. Their tight blue Beauxbatons robes were soaked with sweat, clinging to every curve. Fleur's pale hair was plastered to her cheeks, her chest heaving as she spun around and saw me. Gabrielle's lips were parted, her bright eyes wide with relief.
They both broke into huge grins the instant they saw me. Fleur let out a shriek of pure happiness and rushed straight at me. She flung her arms around my neck, her breasts pressing hard into my chest as she crashed her lips against mine in a feverish, desperate kiss. I barely had time to catch my breath—her mouth was hot and demanding.
"Mon héros," Fleur gasped against my lips, her French accent thick and voice trembling with emotion. "You came for us! I knew you would, Harry."
I pulled her tight, breathing in her scent. "Of course I did," I managed, panting a little. "Like I'd ever let anyone hurt you two. Even if this is just a school challenge..."
Before I could say another word, Gabrielle was there, her smaller but equally intense body pressing in. She grabbed my face with both hands, pulling me down for her own kiss—softer than Fleur's, but just as needy. She whimpered into my mouth, then broke the kiss with a giggle, her cheeks flushed. "I told Fleur you would come."
Fleur laughed breathlessly, and even through my exhaustion, I felt a fierce surge of pride and love. The three of us held each other for a second, just panting and giggling like idiots.
"We should move," I said finally, glancing over my shoulder at the mess I'd left behind. "Pretty sure I just pissed off half the school on the way up here and we still have an hour to hide..." i pointed out.
Fleur smirked up at me first, her blue eyes sparkling mischievously as she pressed her palm firmly over my bulge, fingers tracing the outline through my trousers. She leaned in close, her lips grazing my ear as she whispered, "Don't you want your reward now, Harry? You earned it." The touch made my cock twitch, growing even harder under her hand, and I couldn't help the low groan that escaped me.
Gabrielle giggled behind her sister, her own hands sliding up my bare chest, fingertips dancing over my skin. She dragged her nails down slowly, just light enough to make me shiver, then pressed a soft kiss against my jaw. "You were amazing, Harry," she purred, her voice low and sweet. "Let us show you how much we appreciate our hero..."
"I appreciate it, girls," I said, trying not to sound too breathless. "But there's still a bunch of students right down those stairs that might recover soon. And, uh... everything you're both doing is being recorded on scrying mirrors. Everyone in the Great Hall can apparently see us right now..."
Fleur froze, her hand still halfway over my jeans. Her face went crimson, eyes wide with horror. She yanked her hand back so fast you'd think she'd touched a burning stove. "Mon Dieu! Are you serious? Everyone is... watching us?"
Gabrielle squeaked, turning just as red, her hands flying to her mouth. "Pourquoi personne ne nous a dit?! Why did no one tell us this! This is so embarrassing!"
Fleur smacked my arm lightly, glaring at me and then hissing under her breath in furious French. "Harry! You let us do that? In front of everyone?" She looked like she wanted to melt into the floor.
Gabrielle started ranting in a rapid-fire mix of French and English—half mortified, half indignant. "C'est pas juste! They could have warned us! Maintenant tout le monde va penser que je suis une... oh, merde!"
I couldn't help it. I just burst out laughing at their adorable, embarrassed reactions.
Fleur groaned, muffled by my shirt. "You are impossible, Harry. I am never showing my face in that stupid Hall again."
– Serafall –
Serafall's attention was glued to the scrying mirrors floating overhead, showing a perfect view of Harry and his two beautiful French lovers, both girls absolutely mortified and blushing furiously. There was no sound coming from the mirrors, but that didn't matter. Serafall was an expert lip reader, and she could practically hear the panic in Fleur's voice as she realized half the school was watching her fondle Harry's cock on live "magical television."
Serafall was laughing her ass off at the High Table, barely able to keep from falling right out of her ornate chair. The Great Hall was alive with shocked voices.
Oh, she was going to have so much fun with this. Those two gorgeous blondes were going to be absolutely delightful to tease for years to come. Serafall licked her lips.
Next to her, Sirzechs let out a few dry chuckles, managing to keep a straight face but unable to completely hide the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Your boy's got his hands full," he murmured.
Down the table, Madame Maxime was absolutely scandalized, ranting in rapid French about how shameless and improper her two champions were, declaring that she'd have words for them—oh, yes, very stern words. "C'est une honte! This is a disgrace! What are they thinking? In front of all of the judges and staff!" she huffed, practically turning purple with embarrassment.
The male students in the Hall, meanwhile, were almost foaming at the mouth. A crowd of Durmstrang and Hogwarts boys were pounding on the table, laughing, cheering, some cursing their rotten luck. "That Harry Sitri is a bloody legend!" one Gryffindor shouted.
Another, half-mad with jealousy, groaned, "Can't those damn mirrors zoom in just a bit more?!"
The rest of the tournament's first task wound down with far less excitement than the spectacle Serafall had just witnessed. As she'd fully expected of her brilliant little sister, Sona had holed up deep in the dungeons and held her ground, fending off every last desperate idiot who tried to get to her. It amused Serafall to no end to watch the scrying mirrors replay scenes of Sona's calculated defenses—frost runes, blinding smoke, fire traps—while the other champions got picked off like flies.
Harry, meanwhile, had disappeared entirely, dragging his two French beauties off to a quiet, hidden alcove on the seventh floor where not a single soul was able to find them for an hour. They knew they were still on "camera" though so they didn't get handsy again.
Lame...
In the end, all the champions except the Durmstrang idiots had managed to survive. Someone eventually stumbled over that unconscious Viktor Krum, still slumped in the hallway where Harry had dropped him like a sack of potatoes.
Serafall hadn't forgotten about Krum...
Someone had tried to use Krum as a disposable assassin against her precious son. That was not going to go unpunished. She'd be having a word with Dumbledore soon—preferably one involving threats and maybe a little magical torture once they have a suspect.
But tonight was for celebrating. Sona-tan and Harry-kun both had their victories and would be busy enjoying themselves. Let the political fallout wait for the morning.
Serafall and Sirzechs had no intention of getting bogged down either. As soon as the cheers erupted in the Hall, and everyone's attention was distracted, Serafall grabbed Sirzechs' hand, gave the crowd one last theatrical wink, and together they slipped away. A flick of magic, a flash of blue light, and they teleported straight back to the Underworld.
Serafall plopped her fantastic ass down onto the plush velvet couch in her private office, giving an exaggerated sigh of satisfaction as she stretched out luxuriously.
She flashed Sirzechs a grin and conjured a cocktail glass from thin air, swirling it as she channeled a bit of demonic magic. The drink sparkled with edible glitter, glowing pink and gold. It was her signature 'magical girl' cocktail. 90% alcohol and would kill most humans—barely got her tipsy.
She took a greedy sip and let herself melt into the couch, legs draped over the armrest.
"So," she said, raising her glass, "what did you think of Hogwarts? Honestly, that human magical school has really been growing on me." Her eyes danced with glee as she thought back to all the chaos and barely-restrained violence of the evening.
And that was only the first task! There was going to be so much more fun!
Sirzechs poured himself a dark, smoky whiskey with a wave of his hand. "It was chaotic. Completely insane. And, if I'm honest, it looked like a hell of a lot of fun," he admitted, relaxing for the first time all night. "If Rias-tan saw this mess, she'd beg to transfer out of her stuffy Japanese academy. Hogwarts is an absolute circus compared to Kuoh. I think she'd love it..." he admitted.
Serafall watched Sirzechs carefully, swirling her glittery cocktail and waiting for him to finally spit out whatever was gnawing at him. He didn't keep her waiting long. After downing a heroic gulp of whiskey, Sirzechs slumped back and met her eyes, looking suddenly far too much like a worried big brother instead of the so-called most powerful devil in existence.
"I really need to get my sister away from Riser," he muttered, his voice low and desperate. "If I don't, she might do something...extreme. And honestly, I can't blame her. That flaming chicken isn't worthy of her."
Serafall sighed in sympathy and took a long, thoughtful drink. Nobody wanted that outcome—least of all Sirzechs. Rias was precious to him, just like Sona and Harry-kun were to Serafall.
She knew exactly what Sirzechs was angling for. Pairing Harry with Rias.
Serafall was sure she didn't want to share Harry-kun with any other pureblood devils! Except for So-tan, of course.
Anyone else felt... complicated.
There was also the messy, fiery problem of the Phenex family. Those arrogant, money grubbing bastards would absolutely lose their shit if the Maou tried to interfere with their arranged match. In fact, the very thought of Sirzechs and Serafall joining forces to engage Harry and Rias to each other would set off a scandal in the Underworld like nothing seen in centuries.
Especially with Harry as a half-devil. Still, as Maou, they had the authority. They could make it happen if they really wanted to, and damn the political fallout. At the end of the non-existent days in the Underworld, power was everything. And the four Maou held ALL the power.
Serafall bit her lip. "Alright then... Fine," she whined. "Let's talk husband prices..."
Sirzechs let out a dry, almost relieved laugh. "Is that even a thing? Isn't it usually bride prices?"
"Not anymore it's not!"
– Rita Skeeter –
Sneaking in and out of Hogwarts was laughably easy for Rita Skeeter. Especially as a secret Animagus. There was simply no protection against insects. No matter how many times Dumbledore liked to bluster about Hogwarts being the safest place in the Wizarding World, he'd never bothered with wards that could keep out animals or bugs.
Sometimes Rita almost felt tempted to warn the old coot about his oversight. But where would be the fun in that? If she couldn't flit about as she pleased, she'd never get half the scoops that had made her the Daily Prophet's most infamous reporter!
And tonight? Oh, she'd got a scoop so massive it would send shockwaves through every magical home in Britain and probably far beyond.
At the Daily Prophet headquarters, chaos reigned. The staff room was packed, quills scratching, paper flying, magical cameras flashing as frantic editors barked orders:
"No, you idiot! Run that headline. The Boy–who–lived–TWICE!"
"The picture, give me the picture! Where's the one where he swats the Killing Curse?"
"We need a sidebar on Dumbledore. Get me a quote!"
"HOW am I supposed to get a quote this late!?"
"We need more paper! We need to print more copies!"
"Check the international wire. America will want this before sunrise and they are hours ahead of us!"
No one was going to care that Harry Sitri wasn't the son of James Potter anymore. That was now, literally, yesterday's news.
The Prophet's editors had nearly shit themselves when she showed them the footage she got sneakily. Quidditch champion Viktor Krum under the influence of the Imperious curse. Someone tried to use him to kill Harry Sitri.
And the very handsome young wizard just went and slapped the Killing curse aside like it was nothing. He did it wandlessly, with his bare hand.
Yeah, ICW countries were about to lose their minds when they saw tomorrow's headlines. The only downside to tonight was that Rita couldn't get a "more personal" interview with the soon to be even more famous champion.
But she would. She never fails to get any personal scoop after all.
– Harry –
I flopped down into one of the old armchairs in the Gryffindor common room. The rest of the House was still buzzing, voices bouncing off the stone walls as everyone rehashed the first task.
It was crazy. Half the school wanted to shake my hand, the other half glared at me like I'd just ruined their shot at the prize money. I honestly didn't give a shit.
We just came back from the Great Hall where the judges gave us our scores.
Sona and I both got perfect marks—ten out of ten. Sona looked smug as hell about it, but she earned it. She'd basically turned the dungeons into her own personal warzone and made everyone who came after her regret it.
I was bummed that I missed out on seeing all of that.
Fleur and Gabrielle both ended up with matching scores of eight. They lost a couple of points because I'd had to storm the stairwell and fight my way up to save them.
The Viktor Krum situation was a mess. Someone had hit him with the Imperius Curse. Krum barely even remembered what happened. I did not hold it against the guy. Obviously, there was going to be a lot of investigations into what happened.
I was already suspecting the culprit was in Gryffindor.
I'd need Lyra and Lyna to start investigating Ron's roommates as possible culprits. Something in my gut pointed at them even though Dean and Seamus "seemed" like decent blokes. Although like a lot of other single guys in Gryffindor, they did sometimes give off very jealous vibes when a lot of beautiful witches were surrounding me.
The judges gave Krum a pity of seven points just so Durmstrang wouldn't throw a fit. Nobody even argued.
The other Durmstrang contestant—whose name I still didn't know—got two points. He'd apparently locked himself in a bathroom for the entire first fifteen minutes and refused to come out. His schoolmates were glaring at him like he was a failure.
Which he was, no one really argued that point either.
Hermione was perched on the couch across from me, her arms folded and her foot bouncing in that familiar way that meant she was both relieved and about to start chewing me out. She looked like she'd been through hell emotionally, but her eyes were sharp and stubborn. She was clearly thrilled I was in one piece, but she wasn't going to let me off easy.
"Harry James Sitri, you absolute idiot. Do you even know how many spells you got hit with? What were you thinking, just charging up there?!"
Was it weird that technically my middle name was still James...? I thought so...
I tried to look innocent. "Most of them bounced off," I said with a cocky grin. "And the rest just stung a little..."
Or made me almost pass out, when I got hit by 10 stunners at once saving Fleur and Gabrielle. But I powered through.
She rolled her eyes so hard I thought they'd get stuck. "That's not the point. If you'd gotten hit with something worse—something dark—what then?"
"I'd probably have shaken it off," I said, mostly to wind her up, and she tossed a cushion at my head, missing by an inch. I caught it and just grinned wider, loving her for caring even when she was pissed at me.
Hermione hadn't joined in the hunting, of course. In fact, none of the girls I was close to—or even sort of close to—had joined in. Hermione, Jasmine, Ginny, Luna, Lavender, and Parvati had all stayed put in the Great Hall, safe and out of the madness. They were all cheering me on the whole time.
I turned to Jasmine, Lavender, and Parvati, who were all lounging nearby, giving them a crooked grin. "Thanks for cheering me on, and not trying to jump me for that reward money. That was pretty damn loyal."
Jasmine ducked her head, a shy smile lighting up her face as she blushed. Parvati just giggled, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief. Lavender, though—she was absolutely shameless. She ran her tongue over her lips, giving me a look that was downright filthy, and purred, "Money's nice, Harry, but I'd much rather have something else as my prize."
I rolled my eyes playfully. She meant sex, and there was no mistaking it.
I raised an eyebrow, grinning back at her, and Jasmine actually squeaked and swatted her arm, while Parvati just dissolved into laughter and gave Lavender a playful smack on the thigh. Lavender only smirked harder, stretching like a cat and winking at me, totally unbothered by the attention.
I shook my head, grinning wider. "You're trouble, Lavender. Dangerous trouble."
She just shrugged, completely unapologetic. "Guess you'll have to keep an eye on me, then."
"I'll be keeping both eyes on you!" Ginny called out as she strutted into the room, wand out and brow cocked in mock warning. She was levitating a gigantic, over-the-top cake in front of her—a towering monstrosity of chocolate and whipped cream. "CHAMPION HARRY SITRI!" spelled out in blue icing.
Right behind her were my two beautiful maids, Lyra and Lyna, both beaming at me.
"We made you a cake, young master!" Lyra announced.
"There's enough for everyone!" Lyna added.
Before I could even slice into the cake, Fred and George leapt up onto the nearest table like they were born for the stage. Fred whipped off his hat (since when did he wear a hat?) and George strummed the side of a broom like it was a guitar.
"Ladies and gents, and especially our amazing champion—who we are not mad at for beating us up earlier. We deserved it for targeting two of his sexy french girls—" Fred declared, giving me a wink, "—we present the official, totally unauthorized, just-invented Hogwarts Champion Song!"
They launched into a tune that was so off-key and ridiculous, half the room winced. George's lyrics were absolute trash.
"Oh Harry Sitri, you're a beast, You flattened Hufflepuffs at least, You saved the Veela—won their hearts, And broke some of the school's most famous parts! With water magic and Slytherin tears, you'll be a legend for years and years!"
Fred chimed in with an equally dreadful chorus. "He's the champion of the school, Didn't even need a wand to rule, He's got maids and girls and chocolate cake, A true Hogwarts headache!"
By the time they finished, everyone was either cheering, groaning, or doubled over laughing.
"You two are fucking hopeless," I called out, grinning at the twins. That song was whatever the wizarding world version of aids was, and I loved it.
Of course, the cake Lyra and Lyna specifically made was fucking incredible. I don't know what they put in it. Maybe I didn't want to know. But I couldn't stop eating it. I stuffed myself way past the point of comfort before everyone started clamoring for my version of the first task.
Suddenly I was surrounded by what felt like half the House, demanding the whole story.
I gave them the highlights of everything. Of course, I left out the bits about the mermaids thinking I was a demon and, most importantly, how I actually blocked the Killing Curse—by using demonic power, not any kind of wizard magic.
People were laughing, gasping, and hanging on every word.
And at some point, the girls just started cycling through my lap like it was some kind of throne. Ginny was first, plopping down and looping her arms around my neck. She kept whispering snarky commentary in my ear as I talked.
After Ginny, Lavender didn't even ask—she just plopped right down, facing me, straddling my knees with a wicked grin and pressing her assets up to me in a way that left nothing to the imagination. "You looked so hot without a shirt on for that whole task, Harry," she purred. I barely managed to keep talking as she ground herself against me for the length of the next story segment.
Parvati followed, perching sideways on my lap and trailing her nails across my chest through my new shirt, all innocent smiles with not-so-innocent hands. She even stole a bit of frosting off my lips with her finger, then licked it up slowly just to tease me in front of the others.
Finally, Jasmine waited until the others had their turn before slipping onto my lap, barely meeting my eyes behind her glasses. She was trembling just a bit, and I could feel how nervous she was with the whole common room watching. Her ass pressed into my already-rock-hard cock, and she froze, cheeks flushing bright red.
I slipped my arm around her waist and pulled her in tighter, whispering, "Relax, Jasmine, you're safe with me."
She managed a shaky little smile, hiding her face against my neck. I kept telling my story, but it was getting harder to focus—literally—after having so many gorgeous girls sit in my lap, one after another. I don't think anyone missed the fact I was hard by that point, least of all Jasmine, who was now squirming in my lap and making it ten times worse. But in a good way.
I just kept grinning, loving every second of it and not giving a single fuck who saw. I hadn't been at Hogwarts very long at this point, but Gryffindor was clearly getting used to girls pressing up against me in the common room.
In these last few months, I had definitely come a long way from the somewhat shy "Harry Potter" that I used to be.
Eventually, Hermione decided enough was enough and totally switched into her 'bossy' mode. Which I found sexy. She stood up, clapped her hands for attention, and announced, "Alright, it's past midnight! Everyone needs to go to bed now. You all have class in the morning—and Harry needs his rest too!"
The room instantly erupted in protests and groans.
"Oh, come on, Hermione! Just one more round of stories!" Lavender pouted. "I want to sit on his lap again!"
Ginny made a face and Parvati whined, "You're such a fun sucker!"
But Hermione wasn't backing down. She gave everyone her sternest glare, and started herding people toward the dorms. Sometimes it was weird to remember she wasn't even a prefect, yet. Jasmine was—who was embarrassingly climbing off of my lap.
"Goodnight, Jasmine."
"G-Goodnight, Harry..." she said with a small blush, then leaned forwards and kissed my cheek. She ran off to join Lavender and Parvati who were giggling as they headed up the girls' side of the stairs.
Honestly, part of me wondered if Hermione was just eager to get me to herself. As the last of the crowd dispersed, Hermione reached out, lacing her fingers with mine, her thumb drawing lazy circles against my skin. I could feel the possessiveness in her grip.
She shot me a look over her shoulder.
Lyra and Lyna didn't even pretend to leave—they fell in behind us, practically sashaying.
Hermione rolled her eyes, but squeezed my hand tighter. As she led me through the common room and down the quiet hallway to my private room, I glanced back at my two ridiculous maids. They followed like loyal puppies—except a hell of a lot sexier—making sure everyone could see exactly who I was going to bed with tonight.
If Hermione was jealous, she didn't show it. She just kept her chin up, acting like she'd already claimed the prize.
Hermione knew exactly how I liked to sleep—naked. As soon as our door shut, she shed her robes with a single graceful motion and let them fall to the floor, standing completely naked and absolutely unashamed in the soft light.
My eyes drank her in. Creamy, flawless skin, a petite, toned frame from years of climbing Hogwarts' endless stairs. Modest but perfect breasts tipped with soft pink nipples. Her hips curved just right down to those endless legs. Her bush was neatly trimmed, her body radiating both softness and confidence.
She caught me staring and flashed a teasing grin, her eyes warm and a little possessive. She stretched, giving me a slow twirl just to show off her gorgeous arse, then gathered up her wand and a towel. "I'm taking a shower before bed," she announced, but before she went, she turned to Lyra and Lyna, who were hovering just inside the door in their scandalous little maid outfits. Hermione fixed them with her best bossy glare. "No sex with Harry. I want him to get some sleep tonight. You two can spoil him a little, but that's it!"
Lyra pouted with her hands on her hips. "Fine... We were hoping to finally go all the way tonight…" she grumbled.
"We made a cake and everything..." Lyna added with her own exaggerated pout.
I mouthed the word "soon" to both of my maids and their faces lit up in delight!
Hermione rolled her eyes before turning her back to us and sashaying toward the bathroom, hips swaying, her bare arse was a hypnotic sight until the door closed behind her. The sound of water running started almost immediately.
Lyra and Lyna wasted no time. They turned to me in perfect sync, each hooking a thumb under the strap of their maid tops. With matching sultry grins, they tugged them down, letting those ridiculous low-cut uniforms drop to their waists and baring two perfect sets of large, round breasts. Their nipples stood out, pink and hard, and they pressed together, making the view even more outrageous.
"Sit down, young master," Lyra purred, leading me to the edge of my bed. "Let us take care of you."
Lyna was already kneeling between my legs, her delicate fingers at my belt, working it open with practiced skill. Lyra straddled my lap, her breasts inches from my mouth, her lips brushing my ear as she whispered, "You've had a stressful day, Harry. Just relax and let us give you what you deserve."
I leaned in and took Lyra's massive breast into my mouth, sucking hard and running my tongue over her nipple until she shivered with pleasure and pressed even closer. Her skin was warm, impossibly soft, and she let out a breathy little moan as I lavished attention on her chest.
Meanwhile, Lyna knelt between my legs, her lips sliding down over my cock and taking me deep into her throat. She started bobbing her head in a slow, steady rhythm, her tongue swirling around the head every time she came up for air. The wetness, the eager pressure of her mouth—it was pure fucking bliss!
I groaned, threading my fingers through her hair as she took me deeper, not holding anything back.
Lyra shifted in my lap, pressing her tits together and guiding my face from one to the other, encouraging me to suck and bite, to mark her. The girls' voices blended together—soft moans, whispered encouragements, and wicked little giggles.
Fuck, what a way to end the first day of the tournament!
– Draco –
Draco woke up the next morning in the Hogwarts infirmary, and the first thing he felt was cold—bone-deep, unnatural cold. His body was stiff, his skin tingled in weird ways, and his legs felt wrong. He groaned, eyes squinting against the sunlight, a pounding headache throbbing behind his eyes.
What the fuck happened?
Madam Pomfrey rushed over the moment she saw him stirring, waving her wand and pushing him gently back down. "Don't get up so fast, Mr. Malfoy! You've been under for a while."
He blinked in confusion, glancing around. "How long was I out?"
She pursed her lips. "Frozen solid all night long. Honestly, Mr. Malfoy, this is the second time you've needed to be thawed out in a week!" She sounded almost impressed, but mostly annoyed.
Draco grumbled. At least it hadn't been a full twenty-four hours again like last time.
Then he noticed Madam Pomfrey was giving him a very strange look—almost nervous, definitely apologetic. "What?" he snapped, only now realizing his voice sounded oddly high-pitched. He frowned, clearing his throat, but it was still too fucking squeaky. "Why do I sound like this~?"
"I'm afraid the ice magic you were trapped in was far more powerful than last time," Pomfrey explained quietly, her tone going grave. "It was colder. Much colder. There was… some necrosis. I'm sorry, Draco, but parts of your body needed to be...amputated."
Draco's blood went cold. He looked down, wiggled his fingers, his toes—everything seemed to be there. What the fuck was she talking about? "Amputated? Where?" he demanded, panic starting to bubble up.
She winced, looking away for a moment, then forced herself to meet his eyes. "There are… experimental magical treatments. They might be able to help you regain what was lost, but it will take time... I'm sorry. But everyone knew the risks of accidentally getting harmed when they agreed to participate in hunting the champions."
A horrible chill spread through Draco's gut. He yanked the sheets off his legs, his hands shaking in growing fear, and stared at his bare body in horror.
His dick and balls were both completely gone… Just—GONE!
Draco screamed.
XXX
Did Sona do that on purpose...?