Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Hermione's Furry Little Problem	By : Gandalfs-Beard Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 242704 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 20
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its associated properties. They belong to JK Rowling. I make no money from the production of this work.

Chapter List
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Relief was written all over the muggle girl’s features, thrilled as she was to still be alive, and Bill Weasley was pleasantly surprised to find himself the recipient of a joyful kiss as rain began to fall again. The sound of his name being called interrupted Bill in mid-snog. Miriam watched with interest as he reached into his pocket for a mirror and saw an elderly man’s concerned features and clear blue eyes staring back at Bill.

“Ah good!” said the elderly man in the mirror, “I tried Harry, but he didn’t answer. I thought I’d try you first before interrupting any of the oth...”

“His mirror broke sir!” Bill replied before Dumbledore could finish his sentence. “But did you see what he and the others did?” he continued excitedly, “That was incredible! I’ve never seen...”

“Bill,” interjected Dumbledore, a hint of urgency in his voice, “it is imperative that Harry and his companions resume the shield spell immediately!”

“Of course, Professor Dumbledore... sir!” Bill gulped when it became apparent that it wasn’t over just yet; he looked up and was about to call out to Harry when he saw the glowing teenagers raise their wands at the sky again. “Er... looks like they’re already on it...”

~o0o~
Harry tried to slow his breathing as his heart continued racing. The billowing smoke and orange flame of the fireball from the last missile to strike the shield dissipated above, and he felt a drop of rain. He swallowed nervously when he realised that the Coven’s shield had only barely held off the attack. Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly at Hermione and Dora as more raindrops fell.
“Sh...should we do it again? Or d’you reckon that’s it?” he asked, afraid that he already knew the answer.

Hermione’s furry ears and soggy tail twitched uncertainly as she peered at the older girl. Dora sighed; her own experience with military tactics was quite limited despite her Auror training and being a few years older than the others, but she’d seen enough muggle war films to at least give her an inkling.

“I dunno if they’ll try again, but it’s better to be safe than sorry,” Dora muttered.

“Right!” Harry agreed. “Again it is then...”

The seven wet young witches all nodded at Harry and returned to formation. The Luminous Coven raised their wands at the sky and the rain stopped once more. They held their breaths when moments later more fiery explosions struck the invisible shield closer to the edge of town, coming from all sides. The building seemed to tremble slightly as the thunderous roar of the attack echoed throughout the small city.

“We’ll have to do it again!” barked Harry. “Before this one fails...”

The Coven kept their wands in the air and cast the spell again and again, wondering for how long they’d have to keep this up, and if they could manage to continue to ward off the heavy bombardment. They were briefly distracted by the sound of apparition cracks, but returned their focus to the Protego Horribilis Charm they were recasting every few seconds at Harry’s direction.

The deputy mayor of Puddleby and the secretaries jumped and gasped when they heard the cracking sounds and saw more odd looking people arriving out of thin air, but they were otherwise not particularly alarmed given everything else that they had borne witness to so far that evening. The city’s finance manager, however, shrieked with fright and passed out, sprawling face first in a shallow puddle.

After a quick glance at the Coven, surprised by the silvery bright luminescent glow surrounding them, Filius Flitwick immediately began organising the other wizards and witches who had arrived with him and Dumbledore, having managed to quickly assemble nearly twenty of the Order and the French wizards who were highly skilled with shield charms.

“Elphias, Dedalus, and the rest of you... do as the Potters and their friends are doing,” the diminutive Charms professor squeaked. “Backs to one another in a circle, Protego Horribilis on my mark... concentrate your efforts on projecting to the edges of the town...”

Confident that Flitwick and the other eighteen wizards had things well in hand to fortify the Coven’s own immensely formidable shield spells, Dumbledore strode over to the authoritative woman in business attire huddled nearby with several younger looking women.

The deputy mayor of Puddleby raised her eyebrows as she took in the long silvery hair and beard, the halfmoon spectacles, the gaudy wet robes, the slender stick in the man’s hand... She half expected him to pull out a long thin pipe, strike a flint, and begin blowing smoke rings.

She almost laughed when the irony of the situation struck her. The city overrun with zombies, the three young catgirls and the other five teenagers--two of them with bright pink hair and sparkling makeup--all of them waving wands, and now the old man who was one of several who had appeared out of thin air looking for all the world like they had just come from a casting call for the next Lord of the Rings or King Arthur film--and it would still be Halloween for another forty-five minutes.

“You lot really aren’t MI5, are you?” she said wryly, struggling to keep a straight face. “Do I have the honour of addressing Merlin or Gandalf?”

“Dear me, poor old Merlin is long since departed this mortal coil, and Gandalf is unfortunately still fictional,” chuckled the old wizard with twinkling blue eyes. “My name is Albus Dumbledore, and you might be...?”

“Barbara Spencer, deputy mayor of Puddleby... and whoever you lot really are--wizards or not--I can’t thank your youngsters enough for saving my town...”

“Well, we aren’t quite out of the woods just yet, Ms Spencer--not until the military decides they have wasted enough firepower and cease their bombardment,” sighed Dumbledore. “But yes, they are quite remarkable young people. They are very exceptional, even among wizardkind, and I couldn’t be prouder of them.”

“Are they all yours then?” Barbara couldn’t help asking. “Your grandchildren perhaps?”

“Oh no, I never had children myself,” Dumbledore replied, sounding slightly wistful. “I am merely the headmaster of the school they attend. I operate a school for those born with magical abilities--young wizards and witches--to prepare them to join the larger community of the wizarding world, and also to teach them how to control their powers when they are among those without such abilities, such as yourself. It is all kept quite secret as a general rule of course...”

“Of course!” Barbara nodded seriously, then she glanced at the finance manager who was still lying unconscious in a puddle and rolled her eyes. “Very sensible no doubt. Some people seem to have very little stomach for things which challenge their narrow views of the world.”

“Indeed!” agreed Dumbledore. “Unfortunately, there are those even among wizardkind who also harbour such narrow ideologies.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Barbara Spencer shook her head sadly. “No doubt there are some who think themselves better than all the rest of us lowly mortals.”

“Quite!” Dumbledore’s eyebrows popped up as he gazed admiringly at the sharp-witted muggle woman. “And that brings us to why I have introduced myself to you...”

“You’re going to wipe our memories, aren’t you?” Barbara interrupted, looking even sadder. “I must assume that you have some sort of spell then, to make non-wizards forget things in these sorts of situations!?”

“Well, this sort of situation is highly unusual.” Dumbledore gestured towards the exploding artillery shells in the near distance which were being launched by tanks, missile launchers and cannons. “Normally we do not have to contend with such large hordes of the Undead sweeping through non-magical communities and the military taking such extreme measures to suppress them with no regard for possible survivors.”

“And given the circumstances surrounding these events, when it comes to ‘wiping your memories,’ I rather think not!” Dumbledore continued pointedly. Then he glanced at the man lying in a puddle. “Though perhaps in his case it might be for the best if we did,” he sighed.

“You will need all your wits about you to piece your community back together when this is over, and Obliviation can be quite befuddling. And I have no doubt that you will also be calling into question the current government’s actions here tonight...”

“Damn right I will be!” the deputy mayor of Puddleby uttered vehemently. “We were working late tonight on the end of the month report for the city’s budget, when the mayor’s wife called and told me that the mayor had never made it home and that those bloody Walkers were swarming through their neighbourhood.

“That’s when I looked out the window, saw what was happening down below and heard the sirens... I have no idea what happened to the mayor--and I fear the worst. Then when I called London, I was told that troops and helicopters were on their way to evacuate as many as possible and that MI5 were sending their special teams to deal with the zombies... But that was clearly not what the PM had in mind...

“That is unfortunate, and unsurprising,” sighed Dumbledore, “...As I was saying, I believe that making you forget all about wizards would put you at a grave disadvantage should you call the Prime Minister to account.”

“As things stand, he is in collusion with the current Minister of Magic--and she is one of the sort you aptly described as thinking that certain wizards are better than non-magicals, and especially, superior to wizards born into otherwise non-magical families...”

“Are you joking?” squeaked one of the shocked looking secretaries as Deputy Mayor Spencer gasped, a horrified look on her face.

“Sadly, no!” Dumbledore shook his head. “The attack against Puddleby by Inferi--those to which you refer as either ‘zombies’ or ‘walking dead’--was in fact instigated and engineered by our Minister to put down with extreme prejudice a group of wizards who live among you, some born of non-magicals, and some born of mixed families.

“It is my grave displeasure to inform you that your town was targeted as part of an escalating civil war between a group of wizards who call themselves ‘Pureblood’--those who come from families of wizards whose magical lineage stretches back hundreds or even thousands of years--and wizards who are born into non-magical and mixed families.

“Currently, the Purebloods--the worst of them in any case, the Supremacists--run the Wizard Ministry. It is a bit more complicated than that of course--not all who belong to ‘Pureblood’ families are Supremacist, and many so-called ‘Halfbloods’ support the Supremacist Agenda...

“And even the current Prime Minister--completely non-magical though he is--is in league with the Pureblood Supremacists, no doubt in part to profit himself and his party, and to also improve and maintain the profits and privileges enjoyed by certain sectors of the non-magical Elite and the Wealthy. Judging from the non-magical papers which I read, his main constituency appears to be many leaders among the banking and corporate communities...”

“Unbelievable!” gasped the appalled deputy mayor of Puddleby. “The mayor and I never trusted the PM’s lot--but it’s still quite shocking to see how far he’s willing to go. Are... are the Royals involved too then?”

“To the best of my knowledge, no!” Dumbledore replied. “They are as unaware of wizards as are most other non-magical people. As a matter of law in the global governing body of wizards--an organisation similar to the United Nations--only a single point of contact is legally permissible between the heads of wizarding governments and heads of non-magical governments--preferably those belonging to elected and semi-elected bodies--Prime Ministers, Presidents, Premiers... etc.

“Only in nations with entirely non-elected governments are aristocrats or self-appointed leaders in contact with heads of wizarding governments. Thus, in the UK, only the Prime Minister is allowed to know of the existence of wizards without restriction... though legal exceptions are made for immediate non-magical blood relatives and those who are married to wizards.

“It is part of a law called the International Statute of Secrecy. And given its extreme narrowness of interpretation, it is a situation which I have come to believe is politically disastrous for all concerned,” concluded Dumbledore.

“Yes... yes! I think I quite agree with you Mr Dumbledore!” Deputy Mayor Spencer clapped a hand to her mouth, feeling more than a bit panicky. “Wha...what can I do? This is horrible! How can I possibly confront the PM over his decision to try and destroy Puddleby if he’s being backed by wizards and it’s all a big secret?”

“For the time-being, it would probably be best for you and your secretaries to maintain the illusion that you know nothing of our world. The PM would just use it against you,” said Dumbledore wisely. “Act as if you believe that MI5 and the military are solely responsible. That will put the onus upon the Prime Minister himself to come up with some sort of explanation to the non-magical media as to why the town largely survived the hordes of ‘Walkers’ and why it also survived his government’s decision to obliterate the town.

“He will not be able to deny that he took such a decision after tonight--no doubt the BBC and Sky TV are already broadcasting live accounts from beyond the military containment lines at this very moment--and they will no doubt be quite puzzled as to how Puddleby passed through the bombardment unscathed.

“I would be quite surprised if the Opposition in the Parliament did not at least begin an Inquiry into what has happened here and the Prime Minister’s role if you are careful in how you word your charges...”

“Yes... yes! That sounds a very sensible course of action...” the deputy mayor agreed, nodding.

“I will also be leaving a sizable contingent of wizards to look after you personally,” Dumbledore continued, “and to look after Puddleby, to prevent any attempt to send Ministry Wizards to take control of the town. It will stretch our forces a bit thin in terms of confronting the Ministry in other parts of the UK... but I believe it to be necessary, and our ranks are growing in any case as more wizards join our cause...”

“Ah, thank you! Very good! I cannot thank you enough Mr Dumbledore!” Deputy Mayor Spencer let out a sigh of relief. “Will... will I be able to speak with you again?”

“Absolutely!” Dumbledore smiled at Barbara Spencer warmly and handed her one of the Order’s communication mirrors. “This is a bit like your mobile phone. Simply touch it and say my name, and you shall either be able to speak with me, or leave a message. And I shall be able to call you back in much the same way.

“There is no question that we shall be speaking again, as you and your secretaries may possibly be called upon to provide testimony to the ICW--the wizarding ‘UN’ that I previously mentioned... I am doing my best to put an end to Supremacist control of the Ministry, and I am currently working with International Authorities to expose...”

At that moment Dumbledore was interrupted by one of the wizards who was helping to maintain the shield against the muggle military weapons. The man who shuffled over looked as ancient as Dumbledore himself, though he was shorter, paunchier, and jowlier. But his robes were just as brightly coloured and just as sparkly as Dumbledore’s.

“Albus, I do believe the muggle military has spent themselves,” he proffered cheerfully.

“Ah, splendid news indeed Elphias!” beamed Dumbledore. “We should be able to finish cleanup operations and depart shortly then.”

“And by the way Albus, your young Mr Potter and his wife and friends, have you noticed their remarkable illumination?” Elphias shook his head in amazement as he peered at the exhausted teens who were finally putting their wands away at Flitwick’s insistence. “I’ve heard of such things in the Orient and in the Western world’s ancient past of course, but I thought them only myths. In all my years I’ve never seen anything like it...”

“Nor I, Elphias!” Dumbledore admitted with an intrigued expression. It crossed the headmaster’s mind that the visibility and intensity of the Coven’s auras was very likely related in some manner to the apparent increase in the power of their spells that they had displayed tonight, but he was very curious as to how it had come about.

“Potter?” The name rang a bell with the deputy mayor of Puddleby. Barbara Spencer frowned pensively, suddenly realising why the boy had looked vaguely familiar; she had been so wrapped up in the immediate situation that it hadn’t occurred to her until now. “Is that Harry Potter then? ...the fourteen year old boy who is Wanted in connection with the terrorist Sirius Black?”

“Indeed!” said Dumbledore with a sigh, half-smiling. “The PM ordered a warrant for the arrests of Sirius Black and Harry Potter at the behest of our Minister Umbridge. The charges are quite false, I can assure you.”

The young secretaries all gasped and peered at Harry Potter sympathetically, who was none the wiser as he and the teenage girls with him were now sitting on the wet roof, slumped against a low concrete wall surrounding a bank of air-vents and taking a well-deserved rest.

“It was a frame-up all along! I said it right from the start, didn’t I Veronica...?” said one of the secretaries to one of the others who nodded vigorously.

“And too right you were!” the one named Veronica responded. “Poor kid!”

“I knew there was something fishy about that warrant,” snapped Barbara indignantly, her motherly instincts getting the best of her. “That poor boy--after all he went through with that horrible uncle of his... to be hounded by the PM...”

“Wait, did you just say ‘e was married?” Veronica gasped, when it hit her what the old wizard named Elphias had just said. “He’s a bit young for that isn’e?”

“Oh... young love! It was frightfully romantic!” sighed Elphias wistfully as Dumbledore twinkled at him. “Mr Potter and his wife--the girl with the ginger cat-tail next to him--were both emancipated at a young age due to the harrowing circumstances in their lives.

“And at the time, they relied on each other heavily for the support which they weren’t receiving from their respective guardians, so they eloped--according to Xeno Lovegood’s publication in any case--and I’ve always been quite a fan of the Quibbler...”

“Ah, thank you for reminding me Elphias...” began Dumbledore, “Ms Spencer, this is my very dear friend, Elphias Doge, and as he has just reminded me, Mr Lovegood and his reporter Rita Skeeter are somewhere in the vicinity documenting the evening’s events... Would you mind giving a televised interview for a wizarding audience? ...”

AN: Just wanted to say thank you to the most recent reviewers. It appears that I have neglected to do so for a few months (going back to November it looks like). So, thank you all, and my apologies for not noting you at the time. :-)
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Hermione's Furry Little Problem