Penthuisiast
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SD: CH32- New Day, New Plan
🕑 Added 2023-01-07 20:53:44 +0000 UTCIt hurt.
No, that was an understatement of what I was experiencing. Physically, I was fine, but magically, I was worse than Neville back in his first year. I’d be hard pressed to even cast a first-year charm without screaming myself hoarse. I knew Hermione would smell the dark enchantments on my person, if not the coppery stain of blood, so returning to my apartment was not an option. And after spending an entire morning with that cilice belt digging into my flesh, I didn’t want to spend another minute in that goddamned haunted-house.
Hence, Diagon Alley it was.
I got honked at a lot on the way to the Leaky Cauldron. I didn’t care. I considered it an achievement that I made it without crashing into anyone. Pulling my trusty limo over into the little parking lot next to the other side of the pub, I sauntered my way past the customers and the magical wall into the commercial district.
It had been over a month, and a half since the summer began. I know it’s been about sex lately, but let me assure you, I didn’t skive off my magical education. Like, maybe in the first couple of days of living in the new building with a hot werewolf, but I had developed a proper routine for my studies, most of which started after lunch and extended all the way until supper. The constant supply of sex from an increasing number of partners helped in boosting my magical affinity, which sped up picking up new spells.
But that wasn’t the only change that had happened to me.
As days passed by, I realised that Hermione’s perk, Natural Demon, was having a rather deep effect on me.
PERK — NATURAL DEMON
Hermione’s furry little problem grants her greatly improved physical characteristics with the small caveat of turning into an uncontrollable monster once a month.
EFFECTS
Passive increase in strength, speed, and reflexes. Upon activation, the User becomes on par with a fully grown werewolf under the full moon, without being affected by lycanthropy.
Shut up, Screen. Just because I’m thinking about it doesn’t mean I want you to flash it. Damn it.
Let’s get a couple of things straight. I’ve gotten strong. Not like Hulk strong, but stronger than someone built like me can be, and I’m not exactly a tiny guy. Trust me, you don’t want me to punch you either. The average person can manage about sixteen to twenty miles an hour over a quick sprint. Me? I can probably push it to thirty if I really give it my best, and can do it without slowing down for more or less as long as it is necessary. I didn’t know if this perk was granting me an inhuman stamina or it was magic that was augmenting my muscles, but it felt great.
Back to the present.
I don’t think I mentioned this before, but Diagon Alley is a dull, dim, drafty sort of place, not unlike the insides of a great many people who work there. It’s like a maze, a network of lanes crisscrossing itself, often without symmetry, and bustling with shops, their walls covered in carvings of mystic runes and sigils, of stylized and genuinely beautiful artistry. Something about the ambience always made it feel like stepping into the eighteen-hundreds with a grey-scale background.
“Harry Potter?” a female voice called out to me. Shaken from my reverie, I turned to look for the source of the noise. And it was not who I expected.
“Hannah,” I said, barely keeping the surprise and annoyance from my voice. The Black Family Magic was not exactly nice, and like all powerful magic, left traces. Hannah had gotten me two points at Magical Sensing, which made her the last person I wanted close to me right now.
Hannah walked up to me before stopping a few feet away.
“Well, how do I look?” she asked, holding out her arms. I couldn’t help but admire her. I had almost forgotten just how stunningly sexy her body was. She was wearing a tight crimson t-shirt, hugging her fit, mature frame. There was a picture of the Weird Sisters on the top, the logo stretched around her breasts and leaving part of her flat belly exposed. Trackers adorned her lower half, accentuating her long, firm legs. Her lips were curled in a smile as she flashed her teeth brilliantly, her hair hanging past her shoulders, looking full and sexy.
“...good,” I said, with a slight, confident smile.
“You’ve been ignoring me,” she said, jutting her lip out in a pout. “I tried sending you a letter, but you never responded. I’d have tried Floo-calling you, but I don’t have your Floo address.”
“Sorry, I’ve been distracted,” I replied. “What’s up?”
Hannah gave a half-shrug. “The usual. Susan and I met up for some ice-cream. Want to go meet her?”
“And make your friend angry at me?”
Hannah snorted. “Oh, drop it. You know Susan’s just being a bitch. Maybe if she’d get off her royal bitchiness, she’d have gotten something nice and hard in her..” She trailed off, hugging him, though it had less to do with the hug and more about smashing her breasts against my chest.
“You don’t want to make it seem too obvious that we’re being intimate, darling,” I said, as her hands crawled across my back. “It might hurt your chances with Neville.”
Annoyance flickered across her face, and she stepped back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Harry. We’re just friends that bumped into each other.”
As if to make her point, she jiggled a bit, causing her breasts to bounce.
Bumped, indeed.
Hannah was not wrong. Well, not completely. I was, in fact, subtly ignoring her. The boosts in magical affinities were nice and everything, but Hannah was a clingy creature, and such people could be dangerous. Her home-life and her ancestry presented a strange dichotomy that struck gold, but should things go south, end up horribly for me. Especially if she acted prematurely. Cynthia was a better bet in this case. The sexually submissive, buxom mother was my unofficial bitch, and she knew it. Both mother and daughter would come useful in my plans. And hopefully, things went right. It’d get them the fortune they deserved.
So long as they stayed my vassals, that is.
I looked at Florean’s parlour and saw Susan sitting there all by herself, occasionally looking around, probably looking for Hannah. As I steered across the parlour, I found Draco Malfoy and his goons saunter into the place, finding themselves a table. Seeing him reminded me of Narcissa. It had been some time since that day at Twilfitt. I had promised her I’d arrange something to ensure another meeting, but had yet to act on it. My gaze shifted to the waitress, a young woman, early twenties at most, dressed in a long skirt and turtlenecks, all in colours of grey. Her medium brown hair was held up into a bun, and she wore glasses. She looked less like a parlour waitress and more like a secretary in some paper-pusher’s office.
I knew her.
Penelope Clearwater. Ravenclaw. Head-girl, and unless I was wholly wrong in my assumptions, Percy Weasley’s ex-girlfriend.
A small smile formed on my face.
Maybe I’d end up keeping my word after all.
“—unless,” Hannah was saying, “you have plans for elsewhere?”
I turned to her. “No plans. Not anymore. Let’s go say hi to Susan.”
Hannah’s breasts jiggled.
…
…
“Back again, Potter?” asked Susan. “I thought you’d take a while before getting bored with my friend.”
Her forehead crinkled as she looked at me, her ‘resting bitch face’ set at tiger mode. If I was a smarter man, I’d probably have raced in the other direction. But I was a horny man, and I couldn’t help but feel how her breasts and her long legs would feel when spread apart in bed. There was also an ulterior motive for being here, but Susan fit in as a perfect excuse.
“I saw you looking around. Figured I’d see what’s going on.”
Susan gave me a look of intense disdain. “And Hannah just met you on the way?”
“She bumped into me. Yes.”
“It was a good bump,” said Hannah.
Her breasts jiggled. Again. I swear she was doing this on purpose.
The forehead crinkled again, this time accompanied by her knuckles on her hips. “I can’t believe this. You’ve been fooling around with Hannah and somehow you’ve got the guts to try hitting on me in front of her?”
“Would it help if I asked Hannah to stroll off somewhere?”
I‘ll be honest. The more her sharp nose and sharp eyebrows turned down, the more turned on I got. Maybe it’s the masochist in me, or maybe I just have a thing for angry, and dominating women. All I could think of now was her insulting me while we made out on top of the table in front of me.
It’s a weird kink. Deal with it.
And this is where Susan’s personality shines through. Honestly, I expected her to throw a fit and walk away, if not shove her wand tip at my face. Instead she stood up, planted her heels, swayed back on one hip, and frowned and smiled at the same time, as if even she couldn’t believe we still had a conversation going.
“No,” she said, “it’s fine. Hannah likes it, so I’ve no problems.”
“Right,” I said, taking a chair. Hannah took a seat between us to my right, her left hand slowly crawling over my jeans. Either the girl was simply that sex-starved or there was more to Devil’s Charm than what I knew. Alternatively, Hannah could have an ulterior motive I was oblivious to, in which case, I’d need to elevate her anchorage to cross the halfway mark and make her susceptible to my manipulations.
I blinked. Manipulations? That’s such a dirty way to put it. Suggestions? Yeah, much better.
“Just out of curiosity,” Susan asked, “what exactly is your relationship with her?” Her gaze flickered at Hannah for an idle second. “I’ve asked, but she isn’t willing to tell me.”
Damn. She doesn’t shy away from hitting hard.
“Susie, I told you—” Hannah began.
“We’re friends that just get along,” I said, interrupting whatever she was about to say. “Oh, and I get my daily meals from her mum’s eatery. Cynthia makes some really delicious stuff.”
“Just friends, huh?” Susan narrowed her eyes.
“Why?” I challenged her. “You don’t think she can be friends with me?”
“No. I thought you were fuck buddies.”
Yes. Probably shouldn’t say yes, though.
I shrugged and opened my hands in a gesture of conciliation. “I don’t know what to tell you…”
“Uh-huh,” Susan said, not buying my bullshit at all. “Hannah stayed at my house last week. She’s…” she turned towards her friend maliciously. “She’s been whispering your name in the bath. Quite vocally, I might add.”
“SUSIE—” Hannah began hotly, her face imitating a tomato. “We’re in public.”
“Don’t worry,” I pacified her. “There’s a privacy ward around this table.” I met Susan’s eyes. “Clearly, someone took precautions.”
Susan’s eyes flashed with interest. “You could tell?”
“Yes.”
“What gave it away?”
I gave her my most wizardly smile. “I have some skill at magical sensing.”
She bought it. Hook, line and sinker. One advantage of being a wizard is that people always attribute anything you do to magic, if no other immediate explanation leaps to mind. She would not think about how no one from the other tables so much as reacted to her scandalous statements or Hannah’s loud reaction, when she could assign my foreknowledge of her privacy ward to my mystical Boy-Who-Lived powers.
And yes, I know I recently gained some affinity for magical sensing. But it was patiently sitting for its turn. It might not look like it, but believe me, I lead a busy life. Conducting vampiric, dark rituals, while modelling around naked in front of Walburga Black, and let me tell you, my John Thomas does not discriminate between real buxom women and wraith ones. It makes for an interesting life.
And then there are meetings with business executives, corporate agencies and, of course, goblins, though I usually have Hestia to deal with that sort of stuff. There’s my own private education and daily sparring with Hermione, and honing my newly gaining physical strength. And finally, of course, fucking women. Sometimes for long hours.
“I see,” said Susan, her eyes scrutinising me, flipping her crimson curls. “I suppose there are other sides to the Boy-Who-Lived apart from being a playboy celebrity.”
Oh girl. You have no idea. Part of me resented the idea of being stereotyped like that, but it was Hestia’s suggestions, and I had learned the hard way not to challenge her ideas, especially when it came to public perception. So long as I wasn’t tying myself to any family through betrothal contracts, or didn’t end up breeding someone, I was free to explore the field to my liking.
“You’d know, if you tried being friends with me.”
Susan snorted. “Pass.”
I smirked and looked around. Malfoy and his cohorts were still sitting at their tables, sending odd glances in our direction. Harry’s memories of Draco painted the picture of a pureblood bigot drunk in his father’s wealth and influence. In Narcissa’s own words, Draco thought that Lucius’s power was his own and acted like he already had it. And after the incident on the train, it seemed really odd that he was sitting like that. I glanced across the parlour but found no one around. Was it Susan that was keeping him from acting out? Possible. Susan wasn’t just the last of the Noble and Most Ancient Family of Bones, she was also the niece of Amelia Bones, Head of Magical Law enforcement. He had already picked a fight with me earlier and lost it, both on the train and through that silly assault charge. Directly assaulting me in public with Susan present could backfire terribly for him.
My gaze fell on Penelope.
Perfect. I smiled.
Ever so subtly, I pointed my wand.
Irascor.
The colourless spell hit Crabbe in the back. Just as planned. Casting on Malfoy could be a problem just in case Lucius tried to check his son for potions or magical influence of any kind. Crabbe and Goyle were natural buffoons, and quick and easy to enrage. And this spell did exactly that. Enrage. Grindelwald’s right hand, Vina Rosier, was credited with inventing it, along with several other spells. The total package, in the hands of a skillful caster, could twist mob perception in whatever way the caster thought best. The ICW had banned the use of these spells, and redacted all information about them from the masses, shortly after Grindelwald’s fall.
Naturally, I found a copy of the book in the Black Family Library.
And with due reason.
Druella Rosier, Vina’s only daughter, had married Cygnus Black. They had three daughters, one of which was Narcissa Black. Now, Malfoy. That I was using her ancestor’s spell to fuck with her son’s life was a delicious irony. Knowing her, she’d probably get a kick out of it.
“Say,” I turned to the girls. “Why don’t we order something? My treat.”
I looked at Susan for objections, but she only shrugged.
I turned to Hannah. “Want to do the honours? Anything you can suggest?”
Hannah’s face lit up. “Well, there’s this awesome pistachio I tasted the other day…”
I smiled, idly listening to her. Things would shape up to be quite interesting. And soon.
