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Magical Maturity	By : Jim_Ohki Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Het - Male/Female Views: 46418 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 16
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other series referenced within. Expanded disclaimer inside.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: I make no claims at ownership of any copyrighted characters, places or events used herein. The only thing I make a claim to is this fic, which originated in my head and any original characters created by me herein. The following was made for public consumption at zero profit, and is not for sale except to the owning companies. Yes, I dream big.

HEADS UP: The Whumping begins! As a warning, I seem to have lost some marbles somewhere so things are going to get strange . . .

Magical Maturity, Arc One Part Four

By: (Driver) Jim Ohki

0745 Monday August 15, 1994; Public Wizengamot Chambers

Word had spread rather quickly that the Public Session of the Wizengamot was not an event to miss. At all of quarter to eight the place was packed with more standing out in the halls, hoping for either random expansion of the room or somebody foolish enough to leave for the loo. To accommodate said public, these Chambers were designed differently from the Private Chambers in that the Lords and Ladies weren’t sitting around a bowl. Here it was more of a horseshoe similar to Court Room Ten down near the Department of Mysteries so that those in the gallery could see their governing body without having to twist their necks or outright turn around assisted by three giant crystal “sheets” hung from the ceiling in a triangular pattern. This device, once seen by a Half-Blood that had attended a Muggle sporting event, named it “The Jumbotron” for it mimicked the electronic device to a Tee. Upon every desk within every balcony was a Rune-inscribed audio/visual device –an older camera modified for such purposes- that fed into the giant screens.

As the session wasn’t called yet, the balconies that lined the horseshoe were all dark; each equipped with a privacy barrier for any last minute conversations that needed to take place.

None of that mattered to a quartet of Weasley’s.

It was not Molly Weasley’s day, and it just started. At promptly five in the morning the ghoul in the attic decided that silence was not golden as the saying went. While the effects weren’t nearly as bad for her as for Ron -whom had the room closest to the noise-maker- the entire Burrow had been awakened.

At five-oh-five, in an effort to have somebody do something about the noise from the ghoul, she’d jerked her door open with far too much force. The solid oak panel came off of the suddenly failing hinges, knocking her over as it crashed through the “Master” bedroom. She’d lost her dresser, mirror, two wardrobes and the exterior window. Arthur blinked owlishly from bed at the mayhem before rolling over to make the bad dream go away.

At ten after five, after collecting herself, Molly stepped out of her room to head upstairs. The stairs, it seemed, had a different idea as the entire set attic to ground floor spontaneously turned into a slide sending her skidding on her arse out the front door –without opening it.

By five thirty, a now hacked off Matriarch finished her preparations for battle in her own house. Giving a war-cry that echoed off of the surrounding hills she charged up the still-converted stair/slide with her wand in her right hand, the iron fire poker in her left, and a large pot that she didn’t place on her head as armor. She managed to get to the attic to deal with the ghoul –somehow without making it angrier than usual- before letting out a sigh of relief.

That battle had lasted half an hour, and thoroughly occupied her mind to the point that she completely forgot about the stairs’ recent rebellion and was thus sent skidding out of the house yet again at six.

Arthur, Fred and George ventured forth at that time, having given up on getting any extra sleep. The house appeared to sense when they were out and about as everything that wasn’t damaged returned to normal before they noticed anything off. Breakfast was a quiet affair for the bruised.

Then came having to use the ruddy Floo. Of course the three whom hadn’t done anything to Harry had smooth sailing. Molly was always the last to go through just in case she needed to divert to another grate as the occasional mishap was not out of the picture. Ron somehow managed to bungle his destination from the Ministry Atrium to the Romanian Dragon Preserve whilst Ginny wound up in South Africa of all places.

Rounding those two up was a hassle and a half, for they’d somehow bypassed international barriers to get where they ended up while she could not and thus had to pay each time to get them then pay for their unauthorized entry before finally getting to their destination at seven thirty.

Percy would tell any and all that this was not his day.

It’d been just over two weeks since the meeting at the Burrow he’d been forced into by his then girlfriend Penelope Clearwater. When he’d returned that night, in a snit but refusing to show more than a sneer as a proper Ministry Employee –read as: Pureblood- should, he’d found his stuff packed by the young woman and a notice of eviction. She’d been checking the mail and came across a notice from Gringott’s that his access to his Vault was suspended pending audit due to possible theft, fraud and tax evasion.

Penny had wasted no time showing him the door.

The occasional glimpse of Potter over the next week was all he’d get, even though it was strangely within the Ministry building to which as far as the ginger knew the cause of his sudden ousting from his now ex-girlfriend’s place had no reason to be within the Halls.

It was his salary that allowed him to get his own flat, he later learned, as the Goblins had reduced his Vault to almost nothing after assessing fines, refunds, interest, taxes and fees. The place made the crowded Burrow look like a Pureblood Manor for it was truly a dump.

Today had started like any at promptly six in the morning for routine was key to success within the Ministry. The first clue that something was wrong was when the rusted shower curtain rod gave up the ghost just as he was entering said shower, smacking heavily upon his head. Five minutes later the hot water charms on every single faucet failed. At six-fifteen his shaving charm went awry causing more than a few cuts to his face. Six thirty found his wood-fueled stove exploding for unknown reasons.

He’d finally gotten breakfast at the Alley, but not before three different awnings fell off their mounts in their attempts to crush him. That was before the animals in the Menagerie went on a rampage and nearly crushed him under paw, talon and whatnot. The last of his misadventures, just to get into the Ministry on time, was the Floo firing him out like a cannon at just the right angle to make a landing in the Magical Brethren Fountain.

It was not Ron’s day in the least.

Any that bothered to get to know the youngest son learned three obvious truths about the boy. First, he loved food; Second, he hated work of any kind; Third, he loved sleep -the last to the degree that if it was possible he’d go to sleep at age five and wake sometime in his fifties and be handed his due on a silver platter.

When the ghoul for all intents and purposes lost its mind at God’s Hour of the morning, Ron was jerked rudely from the land of Nirvana to reality. Then he fell out of bed, using his cranium to soften his landing. He could hear his mother go into Mount Molly mode that was unusually filled with vulgar language accompanied by the sounds of stuff being broken. Hoping to go back to sleep was a dead-man’s dream as he’d somehow misjudged his leap/flop onto his bed bouncing off the other side to impact the wall.

Then his dresser decided it was too old to stay standing and fell over on top of him. This was where a Fourth Truth about Ron Weasley came into being: he had a temper that rivaled Vernon Dursley –not that they’d enjoyed each other’s company long enough to compare notes. The pine dresser was not a light-weight item and being stuck under it with the noise of the ghoul was enough to ignite the powder keg.

Not that he’d know it, but it was now ten after five in the morning.

It took a bit but he’d managed to free himself from his prison to attempt returning to bed yet again. This failure was capped by bouncing off of the mattress yet again before the footboard found itself buried in his junk. Now thoroughly awake and mad as a Cerberus he decided to do something about the ghoul himself only to have his door fall in on his head. Recovering from that mishap he’d stepped out onto the landing just after his mother had two floors below.

On his way down he’d yet again hit his head on doors and walls. He managed to divert his path at the bottom by grabbing hold of the end of the railing so instead of the front door his destination was now the kitchen. His slide into home was halted by the table leg meeting the junction of his legs with enough velocity to bounce off on a tangent that took him into the cupboards. Said areas of storage lost structural integrity dumping their contents on him and sending one of the larger pots into the living room where it landed without notice on top of Molly’s head.

Ron lay there for the better part of an hour, writhing in pain –unintentionally flinging pots and pans about- listening to the battle in the attic. He’d not kept track of the time, but he knew when his mother succeeded for the ghoul had finally gone silent then he heard her yells as she slid outdoors yet again.

Things settled down when his father and brothers were present. The next dose of mayhem occurred when trying to use the Floo. He’d misjudged where to stand thus lighting his robes on fire just as he dropped the powder and his incoherent ramblings somehow got him into his second oldest brother’s workplace. He was greeted at wand-point too for his arrival wasn’t scheduled nor did he obtain clearance to be there from anybody. It was a twenty minute wait before Molly arrived to clear up the madness of the morning.

It was not Ginny’s day at all.

The youngest of the brood was entering the age where dreams occasionally transition over into reality. She was in the midst of one of those dreams involving Harry Potter and was almost to the Clouds before the Rain when the ghoul went berserk. The Prewitt blood in her lit on fire at the lost orgasm, igniting the second fiercest temper in the house.

Giving it up as a lost cause when she’d heard her mother attempting to handle the situation, she tried to go back to sleep when her bed frame came apart at the joints dropping her to the floor. The action had her spring mattress lose cohesion jamming one of the pieces of metal –fortunately for her covered in plastic, not that she’d know what that was- into her back door. After a pause in which she blinked owlishly this sent her flying into the ceiling from the unexpected/unwanted butt poke before she crashed to the floor thankfully missing the deathtrap her bed had become.

Getting dressed wasn’t nearly the adventure waking up had been, then the bottom fell out as the saying goes. Her door attempted to attack her, however being more aware of the goings-on she managed to avoid a headache. Then she met the stairs.

A yelp was all that was heard from her on her way down as she pin-balled between the railing and the walls. The last wall she hit at the base of the stairs sent her skidding into the back of the couch with enough force to flip it over backwards smashing her face into the floor. This actually provided a bit of a boon moments later when Ron made his dynamic entry into the kitchen sending cookware flying by providing her cover from the pot lids turned Frisbees.

Getting out of from underneath the overturned couch she took a look at the stairs and gave up the thought of trying to get to the loo up there. Entering the seldom used ‘guest’ loo on the ground floor she was greeted by a family of raccoons that had taken up residence fleeing for their lives between her legs. She groaned in aggravation at the condition of the room but stuck with it as nature called and would not be denied.

It turned out that hovering rather than sitting on that particular toilet was a good idea for when she finished her business and went to flush she found the thing was clogged. Knowing that because her home qualified as a ‘Magical Residence’ she could use her wand to fix the problem did nothing for the fact that her wand was upstairs in her room.

Deciding to let Ron take the fall for the problems here, she quietly fled into the living room only to get attacked by said brother chucking pots out of his way in an effort to stand up; either that or he was flailing about in pain. Neither mattered to her for she finally had somewhat of an outlet for her temper. Just as she was about to return fire the sounds of battle in the attic stopped before moments later Molly came screaming down the stairs/slide and out the front door.

After a quiet breakfast, which she noticed was that way due to the presence of his father and older brothers, the chaos resumed with all haste. Ginny had seen the disastrous attempt at using the Floo that was Ron and her survival instinct kicked into high gear, which was justified moments later when her mother’s shouting about her poor ‘Ronnikens’ somehow overrode her desired destination. Her stay in South Africa was just as productive as Ron’s visit to Romania as the on duty guards greeted heart wand-point shouting at her wanting answers to why she was there at all. It was near seven when Molly made her grandiose entrance, temper already frayed to the maximum with Ron in tow.

That was then, now it was seven forty-five and the Weasley’s –minus the out of country Bill and Charlie- were finally gathered within the Chambers.

“This day couldn’t possibly get any worse,” Molly grumbled after having to explain to Arthur the expenses encountered in retrieving their youngest children from abroad.

Said man was laid back by nature; a nice fellow who tolerated much and avoided conflict when he could. However, as was evidenced by the fight in the Alley prior to Second Year for Ron, the patriarch of the family had a nasty temper once he let his emotions rule his actions. Right now, he just wanted to hit something as hard as he could at the mayhem three of his family had caused within three hours this day. He’d yet to hear Percy’s rumbling about a conspiracy to commit bodily harm on his person which would just make the situation even worse.

Harry was having a great day so far.

He’d woken at five from a most pleasant dream involving his more constant companions of late. He couldn’t help but chuckle fiendishly at the things his imagination had cooked up while he slept. Having done his morning routine he experimented with his newfound ability to clone himself. He discovered that what they learned, he learned when they dispelled. The utility in such an ability was astronomical as he sent a platoon’s worth of himself into his library to get caught up on his reading on just about every subject while another half-dozen went to his office to read all of the correspondence that was there.

He knew that Hermione and Luna wouldn’t be by until later unless something came up. Downing an excellent breakfast he set about getting ready for his day before leaving for the Ministry at seven. By quarter after he was encased in his box, occasionally sending or receiving memos from the Allied Family’s.

One of those memo’s sent, duplicated to each Family, was a notice that he was going to leave the ‘lights’ of his box off once the session was called to order as a means of observing the goings-on when he wasn’t present. What he didn’t write down but many figured out was that Dumbledore was going to try something different from the norm if Harry made his presence known from the start.

By ten thirty, their suspicions were confirmed as the Chief Warlock kept pushing budget matters that were usually reserved for the Winter Session as a means of tying the money to the calendar.

Dumbledore had stalled as much as he dared and yet the candles in the Potter box were still unlit. He’d sent the occasional memo/plane in to see if the boy was in attendance as was rewarded with nothing which was what he wanted.

“Now for the Ministry Department reports,” he changed tracks after the lunch break at noon, surprising those that hadn’t figured out he was up to something. “We’ll start with Misuse of Muggle Artifacts and work our way up to the MLE crime statistics then to the Minister’s Office itself.”

Amelia Bones was in a foul mood now. The day had started out so well too, but now as it neared five the drone from Magical Creatures went into a soliloquy about Crups and Grindylows somehow crossbreeding –as if it wasn’t obvious some eccentric was doing it- she about lost her temper.

“Thank you,” Dumbledore shooed the man away from the podium, taking note that it was now five ‘til five and Bones would have to rush through her report or wait until tomorrow. He really didn’t want the findings of any investigation into one of his supporters brought to light, complete with evidence from the Goblins. While it was unavoidable, he knew, it was still within his power to delay the reports while he tried to work out a solution; translated as: a way to save his own bacon. “Right, seeing as it’s almost five motion to close for the day on the floor.” Keeping his jovial old man persona became a challenge at the evil eye from just about every corner after that.

0745 August 16, 1994 Public Wizengamot Chambers

“Kill me, please,” Molly Weasley begged to nobody in particular after a second morning of mayhem. While the stairs had done their slide trick again, gravity in the Burrow had apparently reversed itself as she’d been launched into the attic at a good clip, sending the ghoul into another berserker state waking the residents at five-thirty.

Ron drifted too far away from his father and the twins while they waited for the other shoe to drop from the DMLE, resulting in a piece of the balcony trim falling onto his head knocking him down. This had the effect of drawing said members of his family away from Ginny whom was treated to a similar occurrence almost instantly. That particular plank of wood rebounded from the impact angle into Percy’s gut, knocking the wind out of him and causing him to face-plant into his mothers bum right as she was hit with a case of gas.

Arthur was ready with an Evanesco as his third oldest lost his breakfast all over his mother’s back, grimacing throughout the process. Some things in life he could do without; that incident was one of them.

From the Potter box, Harry watched as a space opened up around the family of Gingers as falling debris, projectile vomit and a nasty smell from whatever the matriarch ate yesterday made it an absolute hazard to be close to them. He was thankful for the privacy ward that kept in his laughter at the chaos they wrought without any effort. As he looked on the scene as best he could, he noticed that Ron had drifted away again this time under a candelabra that came loose from the ceiling and crashed to the floor. The lanky red head had fit through the cast iron braces and was frozen in fear at the hundred kilo predecessor to the chandelier before he too succumbed to a gas attack.

Right next to open flame.

The fireball he produced was magnificent and managed to ignite Molly’s hair as she’d been making her way over to her youngest boy to ensure he was all right. It took her a moment to realize that, yes, her dome was on fire before she started running back and forth, arms flailing about in her blind panic.

Ginny, being the helpful person she was by nature when not dealing with Harry Potter or anything related to him, took aim with her wand for an Aguamenti that instead came out like a tsunami and promptly flooded the lower level by half a foot. For all that, she did manage to put her mother’s hair out and the candles that surrounded a still petrified Ron just before his arse rumbled again.

Harry couldn’t contain his laughter at the sheer silliness of the situation. It was Ginny’s action that got the Auror guards to do their jobs and ‘quarantine’ the family somewhere where they couldn’t possibly cause any more trouble within the Chambers.

It was now eight in the morning. It took the Weasley’s all of fifteen minutes to make complete fools of themselves as Bozo the Prophet cameraman snapped away at the chaos around him.

“I’m trying to save them why?” Dumbledore meant to mumble that to himself yet the audio charms that made it so that the entire room could hear without being shouted at picked it up. “Oh damn it, what’s that command phrase?! Mute, Off, Stop . . . ah bugger . . . !”

“Chief Warlock, if we could,” Amelia Bones’ voice came forth. Even though she was sitting behind the desk in her box the tone clearing indicated that if she wasn’t she’d have her hands on her hips with a foot tapping in impatience.

“Picking up from where we left off yesterday,” Dumbledore said after the opening ceremony in an effort to get back on track, “we’ll be hearing from the Minister’s Office about the mrph-mumble GAH!” What had stopped his speech was his beard migrating into his mouth and not a few people wondering how many times the Old Man had tried this diversionary tactic in previous meetings.

The Chambers heard the chime of attention before the Jumbotron switched from displaying the Chief Warlock fighting his facial hair –with little success to boot- to a display of the Crest of the family that was wanting the floor. A left-to-right diagonal wand, right-to-left diagonal sword behind a shield emblazoned with a P and an animated griffon.

Murmurs ran through the room at that particular Coat-of-Arms, to which those on the left side -opposite the Potter box- looked up only to find the candles and glow-stones snuffed. On the crystal, the rotating image shrunk and moved into the lower left hand corner revealing a dark background. A shadow moved, light reflected off of a pair of glasses, and the Chambers found themselves subject to a variation of the Pose of Death.

“Dumbledore, what are you trying to pull?” demanded Harry, ignoring the raised voices all around. “I gotta give a clue here now: I don’t want any more bullshit any time during this session; from anybody. I don’t want anybody yelling, sneering, farting or trying to dodge the subject. I get any more of that and the shit is gonna hit the fan. You,” here he paused for a bit, watching as the subject of his ire appeared from trying to wrestle his beard on the floor, falling over backwards while holding it at arm’s length from his face, “aren’t even listening. Right, where were we yesterday . . . ah, yes. Madam Bones I do believe the floor is yours when our Chief quits fighting his hair.”

It was fascinating to watch as Dumbledore reappeared from his tussle, physically punching his beard trying to force submission. The facial hair had a mind of its own, occasionally dodging a strike for the man to hit himself in the chest.

“Would somebody hit him with a Finite please?” Harry asked the room at large, still encased in darkness as he refused to turn the lights on in his box. While it was comical to see, it’d been half an hour already and the Old Man was making no progress forcing his rebellious beard into behaving itself. The request had more than a dozen answers as magic pelted the Chief Warlock’s box. “You gotta be kidding me, nobody has decent aim around here? Observe.”

Everybody in the Chambers felt a discharge of magic as a translucent yet colorless beam of energy left the Potter box with enough force to create a stiff breeze. When the magic hit Dumbledore, his beard fell limp like it’d never been alive in the first place just as said person took a head-high swing at it hitting himself in the face. This would’ve been enough if the Finite hadn’t had enough juice behind it to kill his garish shooting stars robes before the magic that made the stitches perfect failed and the cloth disintegrated from overload leaving the man butt naked.

“Argh, my eyes!” yelled just about everybody in attendance at seeing Albus Dumbledore in the buff, either directly or on the Jumbotron. “Please, make it go away! Obliviate me!”

“What’d I miss?” wondered the Chief Warlock before feeling the stiff breeze from the overpowered Finite wash over his box. “What the devil happened to my robes?!”

“Damn it man, just get dressed!” roared Fudge, red in the face at the mayhem befalling his precious building. Blast it all, especially that Potter boy as the Jumbotron had returned to the feed from his box.

“Well, not what I had in mind,” was the sheepish declaration, a shadow on what would be Harry’s left moving indicating that he was scratching the back of his head in nervousness. Coughing a few times as a means of distraction while Dumbledore got sorted out, he carried on. “Right then, now that we’re all under control . . . wait, somebody want to get the public some pails and do some cleaning of the floor? Okay, uh . . . Madam Bones, all yours.”

“Thank you,” she delivered with enough sarcasm that Ron picked up on it.

Harry sat back after turning the feed to the Jumbotron off, leaning back in his chair while rubbing his face with both hands. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, not at all! He knew it wasn’t anything he was doing that was causing the random chaos this day for he could feel that his magic was pretty well settled. Whatever this was might well be a problem in the future if it didn’t calm down; although he had no idea at the present time what was causing it let alone stopping it.

“ . . . Fletcher was found guilty of pick-pocketing again, the Goblins report several thefts from one of the Houses . . . wait a minute,” Bones had come across the very interesting findings of Gringott’s Bank. Her box, being above the public on the left side of the horseshoe gave her a view of the Potter box. She could see a shadow move –it looked like a nod but was actually Harry dozing off in boredom-, making her grimace for what was about to happen was going to ruin a few people. “Houses Weasley and Dumbledore, according to Gringott’s records, have been helping themselves to money from House Potter on top of what the Goblins deem an illegal Betrothal Contract . . .”

“For fuck’s sake,” Harry groaned to nobody, banging his head on his desk –although it did have the effect of waking him up-, “Just what are they doing?!”

“. . . Between Houses Weasley and Potter. The reason that they deem it illegal is the consignors: Molly Weasley née Prewitt and Albus P.W.B. Dumbledore; not to mention the rather outrageous Bride Price and other codicils totaling just under ten million Galleons standard signed November One, Nineteen Eighty-One. House Dumbledore by itself is accused of payments to the Muggle guardians of the then Heir of Potter in the amount of two hundred Galleons a month recovered from the Main Potter Vault at a rate of,” she trailed off, blinking at the figures before her, “fifty thousand Galleons per month, again from November of Eighty-One, pro bono as Albus Dumbledore claimed Magical Guardianship of said Heir when one of two Godparents wasn’t disqualified from those vows by any means.”

The image on the Jumbotron spilt, pushing Amelia to the left while the darkened background from the Potter box took up the right.

“Excuse me a minute here,” he growled, green eyes flaring with power making them visible on the crystals hanging from the center of the horseshoe, “but are you telling me that my . . . relatives . . . were indeed compensated for taking me in when in fact all they every did was whine, bitch, complain and take their frustrations out on me for an entire decade?!”

Amelia Bones wasn’t afraid of much, but for the briefest of moments she was reminded of Charlus –and on occasion Dorea- Potter whenever somebody made them mad enough to radiate their power without trying. She wasn’t the only one to have flashbacks to the results of a hacked off Potter; those in attendance that were old enough to remember the pair suffered a shiver in their spine.

“Uh, yes,” the head of the DMLE managed to say without squeaking like a First Year.

“We’re going to deal with this immediately,” Harry’s tone had gone flat, another sure sign of the apocalypse as far as some were concerned, “therefore Molly, Percival, Ronald and Ginevra Weasley; front and center,” he took note that they weren’t moving fast enough for his tastes, “NOW! Dumbledore, get your wrinkled arse down in the pit this instant! As for my oh-so-loving,” this was laced with enough sarcasm to make Umbridge envious, “relatives . . .” Again a shadow moved, this time highlighted by the ethereal glow from his eyes as his left arm waved down at the pit before the feed from his box was again turned off.

What appeared wasn’t quite what he was expecting. Apparently some things in life come back to haunt those who push too hard for whatever is their motivation.

One moment Petunia Dursley was getting ready to relieve some stress from getting her family’s life back in order; the next she found herself in a rather large room surrounded by people gawking at her. It took her a bit to remember that she’d taken her stress reducer in her right hand while her left held her summer-weight dress up after tugging her knickers down around her knees.

“Oh, this is rich. I’m the freak in the family am I?” Harry couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh or be ill at the sight –forget just a random passing thought- at his Aunt with her ten inch penis in hand that was just as real as -if shorter than- his. Objectively, he knew applying that label was wrong as some strange genetic quirk was going to pop up from nowhere that caused a person to be born with both sets of reproductive organs . . . but this was Petunia, Missus “I Am Normal, Hear Me Roar” Dursley née Evans that had said quirk. ‘Wait, where’d this come from?’ he wondered before face-palming. ‘Oh, right those clones in the Library.’

One moment Vernon Dursley was getting ready for some stress relief of his own after getting affairs, such as finally getting his house repaired, in order; the next he found himself –and his newly hired stress-relief slash secretary- in a room full of people looking at either his person or immediately to his right in surprise and . . . was that disgust/distaste showing through stoic façades? His stress reliever hadn’t gotten into a good rhythm –objectively, she hadn’t even started yet- before spontaneously disappearing from her position that had originally been under his desk, sky blue blouse wide open and bra removed.

“It gets better!” Harry sneered at his Uncle before another wave of his hand had the young woman, who appeared to still be a teenager, if barely, with her rather impressive breasts –rather than knowing the size, he based this on how firm they looked and how far they jutted out from her chest- swinging in the breeze, stuffed under his desk to be dealt with after the session. He knew he owned Grunnings and he’d be damned if some poor soul who needed the work was tossed out on the streets due to the actions of the greedy man now fighting his trousers under a blanket before noticing his wife and her extra appendage.

Indeed, as Vernon fought to get his girth –not so much what made him male as that had some of the Purebloods feeling better about themselves but his belly- back within his pants his face turned a lovely shade of puce at the sight of Petunia with a male tool in hand. It took a bit of visual inspection on his part to realize that yes, she not only had Rod A but also Slot B.

“What the devil is this nonsense?!” he demanded to the room at large as his eyes fell upon Albus Dumbledore. “Ooh, ruddy freaks! I oughta slaughter you all for what you’ve done to my wife!”

As chaos descended down in the pit, from Vernon trying to get up in a hurry and falling down twice to Petunia trying to land a rather nasty right hook on her husband’s face, Harry could only face-palm in annoyance before the head of the woman he’d just stuffed under his desk popped out to figure out where she was.

“Penny?” he couldn’t believe it, there was no way that chance and providence would allow Penelope Clearwater to be a lowly secretary for Vernon Dursley to use as he apparently was going to. “Right, we’ll chat later. Right now, do me a favor and stay down there as we’re in the Wizengamot Public Chambers and many of the Pureblood yokels will have a conniption if they see you. Oh, and before I do anything I’ll regret later, are you still dating Percy?”

“No,” she answered from her position between his legs, surprised into motionlessness from being in such close proximity to Harry Potter thus causing her to forget her exposure. “I’d tossed that git out almost three weeks ago when the Goblins sent notice of restrictions. Had to get work on the Muggle side as he ran off at the mouth about me, saying rather hurtful things and destroying any chance I had to get a good paying Magical job as I ‘threw away my patron’.”

“Well then, this may or may not be entertaining,” he said as he leaned back in his chair, unintentionally giving the recent Hogwarts graduate a hint that he wanted her to do something in return when he was in all actuality simply taking in the chaos.

“You misunderstand my intentions,” Dumbledore was pleading his case on the fly while Harry was distracted, trying to find a way to save at least his face. “While yes Mister and Missus Dursley here were paid for taking in young Mister Potter, as his Magical Guardian I had to OOH-OOH AAH-AAH!”

The Chambers paused in a perfectly timed act of stillness as what was once Albus Dumbledore the man became the chimpanzee. He, with far too many titles, starting jumping up and down in frustration at a speech of his being interrupted. It got even better when Lord Parkinson, in a rare display of humor –more than likely in an attempt to save his sanity- stifled a laugh with a cough.

Chimp-Albus was not amused to the point that his magic, still intact even if he was currently being made a monkey of, produced a pile of feces that the esteemed elder wasted no time in chucking at the laugher.

“Really Dumbledore,” Augusta Longbottom’s face took up the entirety of the Jumbotron as Amelia had fallen over laughing. “We’re used to your verbal pooh flinging but to have to physically do it? Have you lost what few marbles you had left?”

“OOH, AAH, OOH-OOH, AAH!” was the answer she got for even trying as the once most revered man in centuries lobbed a piece of dung at her box.

“Can we get on with this please?!” Bones had recovered from the sheer silliness of seeing Dumbledore make a fool of himself to try to get the Session back on track. Deciding to ignore the Amazing Bouncing Primate –under his own power to boot!- she carried on with her duty as Head of Magical Law Enforcement. “Right, where was I . . . oh, yes. Each of you in the pit, yes even you Dumbledore, are in significant trouble with not only the Goblins but also my Department; keep in mind this whole mess came to light after the wards at the Burrow fell from an overpowered Howler in retaliation to a Howler for being hexed within Gringott’s while attempting to access a vault illegally. The punishment from Gringott’s, and by extension Barclay’s for the former Guardians of Lord Potter, is deemed insufficient by the Magical Law Enforcement. Said punishments are as follows: House Dumbledore, reduced as it is to two members, was stripped of all holdings liquid and solid in the Isles including but not limited to the Family Library, Hog’s Head Inn, two houses in Hogsmeade, three properties in Godric’s Hollow, all contents of any Vaults under said House’s name and is henceforth barred from Goblin Territory for eternity. Vernon and Petunia Dursley, your accounts have been emptied in recompense of not using the funds provided for the care of Harry James Potter for the twelve years he was in residence.” She paused for a drink of water. “Now for the tricky part. House Weasley, some of your members have been involved in theft from Vault Six Eighty-Seven. As the actions began with Molly Weasley née Prewitt the punishments begin with her: the Goblins have refunded the two thousand Galleons taken from said Vault and the Bride Price for the illegal Marriage Contract from House Prewitt as the Head of House Weasley was not aware of the goings on –even if he should have been paying more attention to the members of his House by either blood or marriage. Furthermore, House Prewitt, akin to House Dumbledore, was stripped of all holdings in the British Isles to account for fines, taxes, etcetera, et al and is forevermore banned from Goblin Territory. As for House Weasley itself, Ministry records show that the only above-age member involved –even if he was a minor at the time- in the thefts has forsaken the name. The Wizard formerly known as Percival Ignatius Weasley ceased to exist just after graduating from Hogwarts; in accordance to paperwork filed with the Department of Inheritance he legally disowned himself and became Percival Weatherby. Gringott’s has drained the Vault of Weatherby and officially barred him, regardless of name, from their Territory ‘til the end of time.” Another pause for a drink of water; there were times when Amelia hated her job. “As noted earlier, this is insufficient in the eyes of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. For systematic, continuous abuse of a minor regardless of blood status: Vernon Dursley is sentenced to the Veil; Petunia Dursley is sentenced to twenty years in Azkaban while her minor son Dudley shall be placed with any living relatives and Obliviated of his parents’ existence; Albus P.W.B. Dumbledore is fined an additional five million Galleons for conspiracy to commit abuse of a minor and for attempted Line Theft House Dumbledore forfeits all seats in all governmental bodies be they local, national or global. Percival Weatherby, having no other holdings, is herby dismissed from Ministry service for life with no possibility of reinstatement. Arthur Weasley, in lieu of Ronald and Ginevra Weasley as they are underage, is hereby demoted to Clerk of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office with no possibility of promotion for his remaining tenure. Said underage Magicals are blacklisted for life from all governmental positions. Molly Weasley née Prewitt is fined an additional ten million Galleons for attempted Line Theft and is forever banned from the Ministry.”

While Amelia Bones was starting to dish out psychological pain to those in the Pit, whom were starting to scream about it all being Harry’s -or anybody else they could think of but their own- fault in some twisted way except for Chimp-Dumbledore, who was jumping up and down in frustration again, the target of their misplaced ire had a nifty distraction in the form of a very attractive witch driving him mad.

The young Miss Clearwater couldn’t explain what thought drove her actions; be it the fact that it was Harry Potter, that she was in the mood for what she did next or that she felt she had to as a ‘thank you’ for getting her away from that fat oaf Dursley. He had no way of knowing it but Penny had her wand on her, tucked into the waistband of her skirt at the last second so that the blubbering man that was currently in a wrestling match with a pair of Aurors wouldn’t see it. While Madam Bones was talking she’d drawn it an applied a Witches Only –well, it was intended to be just for female Purebloods but it got passed around Hogwarts one too many times- charm that made his robes, trousers and . . . ‘oh, naughty boy! Commando!’ . . . not just transparent but also intangible to the caster allowing for easy access. What she found caused a pair of reactions from her as her mind shut down and her libido rejoiced.

It’s been said that Harry Potter never does anything by half, and young Miss Clearwater was the first of the opposite sex –oddly, Matron Pomfrey was included in that list- to discover that saying carried over to what made him a man. It took the Ravenclaw part of her mind a minute to reboot before noticing that ‘he’ had a pouch and was strapped to his right thigh about halfway down to his knee.

Harry had noticed the magic of whatever charm the young woman had used as it washed over him but thought nothing of it at first. It took every bit of his self restraint to prevent screaming like a five year old when he suddenly felt a hand pull his tool out of its harness. Then her hot breath hit it and suddenly he discovered something new in the form of ‘feeling good’.

He was somewhat aware of the goings-on in what was supposed to be his trousers, having had similar problems from what he deemed to be a too-large penis. He wasn’t the type to sit around the dorm comparing notes or breaking out the measuring stick but from what he’d seen in the showers and overheard when the females of Gryffindor weren’t present, he was the largest in the House. It was laughable, really, that Ron thought being as long as his middle and ring fingers with being just as wide was Merlin’s Gift to women.

“How are you still a virgin with this?!” Penny hissed up at him, totally blown away that the last Potter might as well have been hiding a ruddy Basilisk in his pants. She was just as aware as everybody else to the year of his Maturity; due to both his size and the power at his command she figured somebody would’ve said something to him at the end of Second Year. If his reactions were anything to go by –from a wide, panicked look in his eyes to his jaw dropping in surprise- nobody had as he’d obviously never taken the matter in hand except for hygiene. As his blood-flow diverted to the wonderful piece of man in her hand she actually felt some relief that as it hardened it didn’t get much longer. That relief was short-lived as his thickness increased to about two-thirds the size of her wrist; her fingers could no longer fully envelope him as he became fully erect.

“What’re you-,” Harry tried to form coherent speech but found it most difficult. Penelope Clearwater was very attractive after all and while the view of her breasts was nice the feel of her soft hand on his tool combined with her increasingly ragged breathing was absolutely divine.

Then it got even better in his opinion.

She’d heard him start to ask a question before his mind went blank as she started to lick the head like a lollipop. Her hands weren’t idle either as her right gripped him firmly and starting stroking up and down while her left went between his legs to fondle his scrotum.

Harry lost track of the goings on outside his box for what the young witch under his desk was doing was feeling just so damn good. He was still skeptical and unsure of just what she was doing but a part of his mind started chanting ‘Don’t stop’. He didn’t notice when his breathing went shallow nor did he right care at the time.

Penny switched from treating the engorged flesh in front of her like a lollipop to a popsicle as she got close to a third of his length in her mouth before her gag reflex started acting up. Her right hand sped up in stroking as her grip tightened a little while her left took on a mind of its own and traveled underneath her skirt that had ridden up due to her position. There was something just . . . Harry . . . that was highly arousing, not to mention addicting, and if she didn’t know any better it had something to do with his magic that was starting to move like the ocean at the beach.

Being a first-timer in the regards of anything related to sexual gratification -be it masturbation, the situation he was in or anything else- it was understandable when he felt his end approach that he confused it for having to use the loo. Putting a voice to what he felt, however, turned out to be a challenge when his brain discovered the breathing issue which triggered a slight panic. He felt his magic react, even though it was not what he had in mind for it stuck him to his chair and the chair to the floor.

“Penny!” he gasped at last, forcing that one word out of his throat at the cost of the world going gray for a moment.

She heard him, and much to his surprise, started stroking even faster while tightening the pressure of her lips as her head bobbed on what she could take without coughing. She felt the tension in his shaft and thought she was ready for his climax.

She was mistaken.

When Harry reached the end of his control, he felt his penis stiffen the most it ever had before the first discharge was fired into the waiting mouth like a Howitzer. Her eyes widened in shock at that as the first shot filled her mouth even after backing off to just the crown. Swallowing fast she was just in time for the second shot when she noticed that his tool recoiled like a cannon. The second batch was larger than the first and caused her to lose her hold on him as her mouth overflowed. The third shot was just as much as the second and actually stung a bit when it hit her right cheek. By this point she’d forgotten her hands which were still busy at their tasks so it caught her off guard when the fourth shot brought the stinging sensation to her breasts.

Harry was suddenly very glad his magic had in effect locked him in place for he could feel a physical force trying to launch him across his box with each pulse. The noble part of his brain wondered if she was all right with what was going on but his eyes refused to look under the desk to find out. It was that revelation that spawned the truth to the matter in that his body was frozen in pleasure.

Penny’s orgasm arrived from nowhere when his fifth shot, as strong as the first yet signaling that he was nearing the end of his own, hit her left nipple then her right as her hand continued to adjust the aim of his weapon. It was this shot that signified just how much power was behind them as she felt not just the stinging sensation but also that her breasts moved when hit. From the way his chair was groaning in protest there was actually more force than that but she put it out of her mind to latch back onto the head to finish off his climax.

For all of that, Harry came back to reality just as Madam Bones completed the rather lengthy list of just what the DMLE and Ministry thought of people stealing from one of the Most Ancient and Most Noble Houses. He ignored the fact that Penny was in the process of literally finishing what she started and making certain he was clean before tending to the mess on her person and setting everything back to the way it was.

In a way, as said Director moved onto the Sirius Black issue after the crowd in the pit was shoved either out the door or back over into the Gallery, he was disappointed in himself for not being in a position to return the favor as it were. Then again, the logical side of his mind offered after resetting, this really isn’t the time or place for that.

“It was discovered last week,” Bones was saying while Harry was introspective, “that Black never had a trial before or after his incarceration in Azkaban. As a matter of course, once it was brought to my attention, I personally went through the evidence room and found absolutely nothing; no wand, no written statements, absolute zilch. In light of genuine, physical evidence from the Vaults of Houses Potter and Black I put forth the motion for the trial of Sirius Black.”

Just after she finished a memo came flying into the Chambers from outside. Normally this wasn’t allowed but as the memo was red signifying an emergency it was allowed. As she read the memo she had to withhold the urge to scream for it was obvious that after twelve years Mister Black had enough of waiting on the justice system.

“Damn it,” she grumbled, forgetting about the feed to the Jumbotron and catching more than a few by surprise, “that Warden is sacked, I don’t care how but when I get my hands on him . . .,” here she coughed, realizing that everybody was paying extra attention to her ramblings, “. . . it appears that Sirius Orion Black lost faith in us to do our jobs; the Warden of Azkaban has seen fit to tell my Department that some time last year he released himself from their care.”

“Madam Bones,” the voice of Harry Potter carried over the din that announcement caused, “was there anything found in his cell that could be a clue, a hint as to why he would escape?” Something was seriously foul here and he didn’t like it.

“Just this,” she replied as a picture from an old Daily Prophet appeared on the crystals. What got more attention than the fact it was the Weasley family in Egypt was the rat on Ron’s shoulder that was circled in . . . many hoped it was blood.

“There you are!” he breathed, eyes narrowing in realization that Pettigrew had been there the entire time. “Ronald Weasley, where is your rat Scabbers?”

When every eye in the Chambers fell on his person Ron lost the urge to have a temper tantrum as this was apparently very serious and could equal even more trouble than he was already in. “He ran off near the end of last term, never found his body. I thought it was that bint Granger’s half-Kneazle Crookshanks that got him but-,” he was rudely cut off by a wave of magic coming from the Potter box.

“Insult her again and it’ll be a Blood Feud,” his shadowy image leaned closer to the pickup for the Jumbotron which allowed the glow from his eyes to be more pronounced. “No narratives Weasley, just answers. Your rat is gone, and you’ve no idea where. That’s all I care about. Now; why did none of you ever think that a rat living over a decade, forget more than five years, wasn’t worth any scrutiny?”

That question stumped not only said Weasley’s but also Dumbledore. He’d seen that particular rodent not just when he was a student but after the fiasco of Eighty-One posing as a pet to Percy then Ron.

“Humph, and you say the Mundane have no common sense; really,” Harry grumbled, shaking his head in disappointment. It didn’t escape his notice that before his Maturity he didn’t bother to think on the matter of Scabbers age himself. “Right, well to get back on task: Sirius Black. My parents journals, along with the journal of Sirius himself, clearly state that Pettigrew was the Keeper not Black therefore he couldn’t have betrayed them to ‘That Guy’,” he paused, taking in the looks if incredulity before expounding on it. “Please, you are afraid to death of his moniker; don’t truly know his birth name and I prefer mocking the douche so I give you a new name for him: That Guy. You know, That Guy that couldn’t kill a toddler; That Guy that nobody really knows –or bothered to research- where he came from; That Guy that was nothing more than an overpowered bully that hates all life including his own; That Guy that was living, breathing proof that Mundane blood can reawaken and/or strengthen Magical Lines? Yeah, That Guy. Anyway, back on point; Sirius Black was not the Secret Keeper for my parents’ Fidelius Charm, therefore it is impossible that he let That Guy into the cottage where they were staying which coincidentally belonged to House Dumbledore at the time. As for killing Pettigrew, again the journals highlight the fact that Peter became an Animagus alongside both my father and godfather; Pettigrew had the rather fitting form of a rat. Notice, if you will, that rat on Weasley’s shoulder is missing a toe and that, no, it’s not dead.”

“Whatever,” Cornelius Fudge barked, having lost patience with the young Lord, “then all that’s left is a rather heavy breach of the Statute of Secrecy and murder of a dozen Muggles. For that alone I hereby order the Dementor’s Kiss for Sirius Orion Black should he be caught by the Aurors.”

“You can’t do that!” the Director of Magical Law Enforcement screamed as the Jumbotron now had three feeds going into it: Fudge on the left, the lack of light that was Potter in the center and Amelia on the right. “First and foremost; you are not in charge of my Department, I am! Second of all you’re dangerously close to setting a precedent in regards to Purebloods not getting trials yet for all intents and purposes getting killed guilty or not! We already need to get a new Chief installed, forget needing a new representative to the I.C.W and you want to play a game with the Houses?! Have you lost your mind?!”

“You must not like your job,” Harry’s voice carried all sorts of danger with it that was matched by the narrowing of his eyes. “To order such a thing on a person –forget Blood Status- that as far as anybody rightly cares is neither guilty or innocent due to lack of trial means you’ll gladly kill anybody that goes against your desires. Well I’ve got a reality check for you and the rest of the Ministry of Malcontents: it doesn’t work that way! You weren’t even Minister when everything happened, and by that alone you could be seen as a ‘True and Just’ leader. Instead, for gross negligence and abuse of power I put forth the motion for a Vote of No Confidence in the Fudge Administration.”

Penny, listening in from under his desk, nearly joined the cacophony of shouts being issued from not just the Gallery but also the other Boxes. It should be understood that the Vote of No Confidence against an entire Administration hadn’t been called for in close to three hundred years. While it was one thing to go after a sitting Minister by themselves it was entirely something else to, for all intents and purposes, call the entire Ministry to task. Thus, as the voices got louder in an attempt to convey their displeasure over everybody else’s, it was completely understandable that her own slight shriek was unheard.

“Wretched Halfblood!” roared Umbridge over the din with a face that resembled a tomato –not a good combination with her toad-like appearance. “This . . . this . . . farce has gone on more than long enough! You’re not even of age to be sitting in that chair boy; much less you’re not of the proper parentage! Aurors; take Mister Potter straight to Azkaban! Throw him in the Nest!”

“Hold that order!” Amelia’s voice raised even more than the Undersecretary. “What the hell is wrong with you people? First Cornelius and now you Dolores? Nobody runs the DMLE but me! Get it through your thick skulls that I’m in charge of the Aurors, Hit-Wizards, Azkaban, Dementors, and the Veil! Any and all matters of Justice go through my office, not yours!”

“Enough!” Harry’s voice wasn’t close to the loudest but the wave of magic that almost knocked everybody over got their attention. “You all heard Madam Umbridge, yes? It’s that kind of attitude that spawns Dark Lords you bumbling bunch of baboons! ‘Proper parentage’ my arse, Tom Marvolo Riddle –That Guy if you weren’t paying any attention- was beyond a shadow of a doubt the proof that your Pureblood ideals are garbage! Show of hands, how many people remember the Gaunt family?” Just about everybody from Augusta Longbottom’s generation and older, even those in the Gallery including the strangely still a chimpanzee Dumbledore, raised a hand. “Right, and I know you all remember just how bad-off that House was; the only magical talent they had left was the Parseltongue passed down from Salazar Slytherin himself. In mid to late nineteen twenty-six Merope Gaunt became enamored with a Mundane from a wealthy family in the area, one Tom Riddle Senior. She, borderline Mundane herself and not wanting to breed with her brother Morfin, wasted no time in dosing the young man with Love Potions when her father and brother were in a brief sojourn to Casa de Dementor. When she confirmed she was pregnant she stopped giving them to the father of her child whom promptly ran back to his family claiming ensnarement. Her father, Marvolo, showed her the door –ironically enough, days before his own death- after she refused to have the unborn child killed and left her to her fate in London in nineteen twenty-seven. Come June twenty-first of that year, Merope found her way to a Mundane Orphanage where she gave birth to and named her only child: Tom Marvolo Riddle, before her death. That Guy, born a Half-Blood, had almost every gift Slytherin had at the time of his death in nine ninety-eight as a result of a over-bred Pureblood having the child of a Mundane. So you, Umbridge, can take your ‘Proper Parentage’ verbal diarrhea and choke on it! Insult my parents again and I’ll challenge you to a duel to the death!”

Those listening were absolutely stunned. The most powerful and feared Dark Lord in centuries had the potential at his disposal due to his birth, and that was before he went through the empowering rituals forget his own Maturity.

“Now then, since one of two reasons I’ve bothered with this Session,” Harry began calmly even if still livid, “has absconded from the lovely vacation he was on; once we deal with appointing a new Minister, Ministry Staff, Chief of the Wizengamot and International Representative I’ll be enjoying what’s left of summer before the World Cup followed by the entertainment that is Hogwarts. Let’s get this done and over with for I have places to be, people to talk to, and maybe I can act my age for a bit without being made into a circus sideshow.”

1800 Same Day, Potter Battlements

“Hurray and huzzah,” Harry deadpanned over dinner to Hermione, Luna and Penny, “that didn’t go exactly as planned.”

The Vote of No Confidence was the only measure that failed to go through leaving Fudge McOstrich in charge. The man seemed smug in his victory even though seeds of doubt had been planted about his leadership skills. Then again, without the walking purse that was Lucius Malfoy he might turn out to be a decent Minister. To prove himself, since his margin of keeping his job was far smaller than he wanted, he declared that Sirius would get his trial after all. Harry took that with a grain of salt and privately tasked Madam Bones with insuring the man in the bowler hat didn’t feed his godfather to a Dementor when nobody was looking.

“Not to change the subject,” Penny did so anyway while trying to be nice about it, “but there’s a bit of a problem here. Nobody bothered to talk to Harry about . . .,” she trailed off with a blush while looking to her lower left, unable to finish the topic of conversation.

Hermione and Luna, surprised rather pleasantly at the appearance of the former Head Girl, shared a look of confusion as they tried to figure out just what said young woman was going on about. Their silent conversation didn’t yield much in the way of results until Harry opened his mouth.

“That reminds me,” he pointed at his newest dinner guest with the fork in his right hand, “to ask you: what the hell was that? I mean, you didn’t have to do that . . .,” his face turned red as he found the tabletop more interesting and he started spluttering, “that . . . whatever it’s called, not that I’m complaining mind you. I’m sorry I had to stuff you under my desk and all but like I’d said if those Extremists had seen you they would’ve thrown a right wobbler.”

“Something a little more practical then,” was her rebuttal as she gestured for him to stand before turning to the other two teenagers after dessert. “Right; you two pay attention here. I, just like every other Magical in Britain, know that he missed his entire Third Year due to circumstances outside his control. I,” again with the blush, this time looking down and to the right, “I made a rather . . . large, for lack of a better word, discovery earlier today. It’d just be easier to show you.” With that she performed the yet-to-be identified charm that made everything below the belt intangible and see-through.

“It did carry over,” Luna’s eyes crossed at the sudden show she was treated to before another equally juicy thought raced through her mind. “Either that or this is his . . . natural . . . oh my.”

Hermione’s first response was to shriek and turn around, not wanting to be exposed to something like that this early in her life. Hearing the blond venture off into dreamland -complete with half-lidded stare, tongue hanging out the left side of her mouth and a noise of want- bolstered her own courage. She slowly turned back around, eyes locked on target and nearly fainted from the sheer length alone.

“Penny!” Harry finally found his voice to protest the treatment, although after the first time his mind immediately made a comparison to the results which diverted blood-flow elsewhere. “Oh bloody hell; no damn it! What the devil am I supposed to do with this?!”

Now his closest friends/confidants were suffering from Blue Screens of Death as his tool lengthened just a bit before attempting to stand at attention; the only problem with that was that he was still contained in the harness on his leg which caused a bit of pain. The one he complained to was quick on the uptake, freeing him long before the pain got to be more than an annoyance. Once fully hard both Hermione and Luna had to find chairs quickly lest they meet the floor as the world for both of them went gray at the edges.

“Now then,” Penny failed to notice that her left hand had started stroking him as she stood to his right, “as you both can see he’s . . . well, he might as well be Merlin with this thing in his trousers. I don’t know what thought triggered it but once I used the same spell I just applied I couldn’t help myself; I wound up sucking him off. His reactions though where of one that had no idea as to what was happening and why. I know that Pomfrey usually gives out the Talk about Magicals in relation to sexual gratification at the end of Third Year but she’s got to have known about,” to emphasize her point she squeezed just a bit tighter earning a groan, “this and the fact that with a tool this big he’s lucky to have gotten away with the older witches not knowing or there’d be Potter sprogs all over the Castle right now.”

“At any rate,” she continued after a pause, “somebody needed to take the situation in hand as it were and since the two of you had no idea what you were really dealing with I think I’ll handle it.” A couple waves of her wand over her person and she was set. “Now then Harry, I’ve been turned on as all get since I discovered that monster you have. Myself, and hopefully these two when they snap out of their daydreams, will guide you through what you need to know later. Right now, I,” here she bent over the table lewdly, her skirt riding up revealing no knickers as her blouse fell open again, “really need you to fuck me.”

His response was to gap like a fish out of water, completely unsure of what exactly he was supposed to do. From the way Hermione and Luna were panting they were useless in helping him understand just what was going on. Not having had any talks about life, sex, men and women he was also lacking a bit of a moral dilemma as there was no reference within his mind to age being an issue or the like. Taking a proverbial leap of faith he stepped closer to her backside.

As soon as he came within range her body contorted to allow her right hand to grab a hold of him from between her legs as he neared, guiding him to the place that itched the most at the moment. Thoughts of the meat in hand buggering her flitted through her mind for later, right now she had a true virgin to guide.

“Push in slowly at first,” Penny whimpered as she shifted her stance a bit to accommodate his width, both hands holding her torso up once the head was in. “As a warning, some women can’t take a cock as large as yours all the way in; some can. It’s not a matter of trying or training, it just happens sometimes. I’m one of those few who believe can so once,” here she grimaced a bit as she felt her womb being penetrated, “your all the way in pull out gently until you’re almost out then just repeat. When I,” a gasp of pleasure interrupted her speech, “or any other female wants more we’ll tell you.”

Harry followed her directions to the tee as he lacked the confidence to do much more at the moment. Looking over at the blond and chestnut brunette revealed that they were enraptured with what they were seeing, both having shifted around for the best view. He also found something about clothes still be on to be far more sexy with what he was experiencing instead of purely naked flesh.

Penny was absolutely amazed that the third out-stroke generated an orgasm before her rational mind sent a ‘Duh, monster tool at work’ memo to her libido. From there she just let go.

“Oh sweet Merlin Harry, faster,” she breathed as her back arched from the pleasure.

He obliged, still not certain of what he should be feeling or if he was doing it right. It didn’t help that his hands were by his sides at first before his mind decided for him and put them on autopilot. First they roamed up her rather short skirt, pushing it to her waist before they began caressing her bum. The noises she made as he experimented were all the encouragement he needed as he kneaded her cheeks like fresh dough; pushing, pulling, squeezing and rolling. As he his hands worked they changed how firm of a grip they had repeatedly in an effort to generate more of those pleasant sounds she was making. Becoming consciously aware of the happenings he noticed that she was using the rocking motion in conjunction with her arms holding her up to let her nipples slide on the table. Wanting to feel those nice breasts that they were attached to he leaned forward enough to reach them.

Hermione and Luna were uncertain as to what they themselves should be feeling. Granted, the scene in front of them as Harry buried himself in Penny over and over again was, to their surprise, rather steamy. Both were rather stunned at first that the coupling going on right in front of them was happening at all, then more than put out that they weren’t getting the ‘Harry Treatment’ followed by feeling turned on like nobody’s business. When he reached for Penny’s breasts they looked at each other as her words of encouragement drove him on.

“Oh yes,” she moaned as another orgasm –or maybe even the first had never ended, her mind was too far gone to really care- wracked her body. “Harder . . . faster . . . Merlin yes!”

Making use of his current handholds Harry finally just went with it, rather surprised that the lewd slapping of flesh as his hips met her arse aroused him further. Still, being a first-timer in the sex department meant that he’d quite literally no control when he neared his end.

“Penny!” just like earlier in the day his gasped her name, only this time he was aware of the magic build-up in his groin.

“That’s it,” she continued her encouragement with what little voice she had left from moaning and groaning continuously, “keep . . . that feeling . . . in . . . mind, that . . . means . . . you’re about to . . . come.” Her speech, already choppy due to Harry not slowing his pace in the least was interrupted by another wave of pleasure overwhelming her temporarily. “If you’re . . . trying for . . . sprogs . . . or the . . . witch doesn’t . . . mind then . . . just let go. For . . . now, pull out . . . oh, Merlin!”

He did as she ordered, almost making it as he wasn’t quite fast enough which was the reason why she’d shouted. The first shot was in her womb, the second was just as the head was about to leave her warm canal, then the two observers were treated to the Howitzer his penis became as the ‘umph’ behind each subsequent burst bathed her bum, lower back, skirt, blouse, hair and the far wall in the thick, mother-of-pearl strands of male essence.

“Holy Nargles,” Luna felt for the first time in her life a sympathy-orgasm, the end brought about by ultra-high levels of arousal even though she’d not touched herself and if the sounds coming from her left were any indication she wasn’t alone in that department.

“Holy Mackerel,” Hermione had a little experience from self-stimulation but that was . . . brilliant. More than brilliant in fact, but she refused to let the proper, dirty language flow.

As they watched in paralyzed silence, Harry finally stopped twitching and attempting to coat every square inch of bared skin in front of him. From Penny they noticed that she was “boiling over”, a term used for leakage after sex. Again they shared a look, this time with wide eyes and not a bit of fear.

‘We’re supposed to take that later?!’

TBC

There’s as good a place as any to stop. Thank you readers and reviewers!
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Magical Maturity