"Now obviously, you've all heard about that nincompoop Fudge's execution," Lucius said to his fellow Death Eaters gathered around his dining table. He had invited them all to his home, Malfoy Manor, to discuss the Minister's death because the Dark Lord was off on a mission (hunting down his precious virgins, no doubt).
"Who did it?" Rodolphus Lestrange asked. "Was it one of us?"
"It would make sense that our Master had one of us kill the fool. It's the perfect ploy to throw the Ministry into chaos," Rabastan, his brother, said with pride.
"I'm the Dark Lord's best assassin. If any Death Eater did it, it would've been me," Bellatrix said arrogantly.
"Then perhaps the Dark Lord did it himself," offered Nott.
"No, he has been too preoccupied trying to obtain virgins," Bellatrix said. "It's clear to anyone with half a brain that someone other than our Master and his followers assassinated Fudge. It's imperative that we find out who did it."
"It doesn't matter who did it. Whoever it was did us a great favor and, more importantly, created an opportunity that we must seize," Lucius announced. "We must get the new Minister, whoever he will be, on our side."
"I still think that it is important to find out who the real culprit is," Bellatrix stated. "It could be another dark witch or wizard. We need to find out if they will join our ranks and properly serve the Dark Lord; such a person would be a valuable asset to the Master. And if this person is dumb enough not to wish to join us, then we will treat them as a threat and eliminate them."
"And let me guess, if this assassin happens to be a wizard and he does join our glorious organization, you'll sleep with him as part of initiation," Rodolphus, her husband, said with unveiled bitterness. "And if he doesn't join, you'll still shag him before you kill him."
"Don't be jealous, Rodolphus. I gave you a chance the night we were freed from Azkaban," Bellatrix said dispassionately. "If you were a real man and had been able to perform, I wouldn't have been forced to seek pleasure from another man."
"Well, excuse the hell out of me," Rodolphus snarled. "I had just spent a decade and some change having my mind and soul munched on by Dementors, so I refuse to be blamed if I couldn't get it up straight away. And let me correct you; it wasn't just another man that you sought pleasure from, it was men. As in plural. As in all of them! You hopped on anything that had a penis, save for me, your own husband. You even went so far as to cuckold me with Wormtail!"
"Can you two please discuss this some other time?!" Lucius ordered. "Perhaps away from me, so I don't have the image of my sister-in-law taking Wormtail's virginity."
"Yes, let's get back to the matter at hand," requested Nott (who was trying to quell the image of Bellatrix mounting Wormtail as well). "We need to gain control of the new Minister. And I, for one, believe that we should have him or her on our side before they are elected Minister."
"Why don't we just put one of our Death Eaters in office?" offered Rodolphus, still feeling quite upset (and a touch left out) by his wife's indiscretions. "We have enough of the Wizgamont in our pockets that we can elect anyone we want. So why don't we have one of our members who isn't openly known as a Death Eater become Minister?"
"Yes, that's a wonderful idea," echoed Rabastan. "Once our man is Minister, we can start enacting some decent Pure Blood laws."
"Brilliant, we can finally have Muggle Hunting Laws," cheered Bellatrix. "And we could even use the legal power of the Ministry to purge the Mudbloods from our world."
"Don't be dense," snapped Lucius. "Just because the Minister is dead, it doesn't mean that we can overthrow the government and alter society with such brute force. If we act too quickly or forcefully, we'll show our hand. The people at large would be able to figure out that we were in control."
"And why would that be bad?"
"Do you think the people of wizarding Britain will just stand by and let a Death Eater or an open sympathizer to the Death Eaters become Minister?" asked Lucius snidely. "Will they let us print up anti-Mudblood pamphlets? Will they sit back and let us round up Mudbloods in a Ministry-sanctioned Inquisition? No, they won't. The mudbloods, half-bloods, and blood traitors outnumber us by too large a magnitude. We must lull them into complacency first, and that takes time. Slowly and subtly, we can begin to enforce our way of life, but only after we have a grasp on the seat of power. We must remember that the people are cattle, and, being cattle, they will startle easily. But if we move slowly and take our time, they won't even know they have been overthrown."
"You do have a point, Lucius," Rodolphus said with a hint of apprehension. "But I believe that we should wait for our Master to tell us what to do. For all we know, he might like my idea better. He might want a Minister with the proper mindset to try to influence an outsider."
"The Wizgamont will vote for a new Minister in three days. We can't afford to delay," Nott informed.
"Perhaps we should prepare both scenarios then," offered Rabastan. "That way, when the Dark Lord returns from his errand, he can notify us of which option he desires us to take."
"Good idea," echoed Bellatrix. "Rodolphus and Lucius should each select the witch or wizard they think would be best for their proposed strategy."
"And in the meantime, Bellatrix and I can search for the assassin who killed Fudge," Nott said.
"My priority is to our Master. Therefore, I need to find him a virgin for the ritual," Bellatrix said with passionate conviction. "However, while I search for my Master's sacrifices, I will keep an ear out for the assassin."
"Tell me, Rodolphus, who did you have in mind for Minister?" Nott asked.
The wizard began to answer, "I was thinking Jamie-"
"OH, MY GOD! WHY DOES IT BURN?"
"What the hell was that?" Nott asked while looking up at the ceiling where the scream had come from.
"My son has been sick," Lucius lied. He was curious as to why his son had cried out like that; he had been told never to raise his voice in the house, especially when guests were present. "Some of the potions he's taking have odd side effects. Please go on, Rodolphus."
"As I was saying, I think Jami-"
"ARGH! NOW IT'S COMING OUT THICK AND CHUNKY! IT FEELS LIKE A KNOTTED HEMP ROPE IS BEING PULLED THROUGH MY PRECIOUS!"
"I'll be right back," Lucius said, excusing himself. He dashed up the stairs and found his wife, Narcissa, waiting outside Draco's closed door.
"What's wrong?" he demanded.
"I don't know," she snapped. "I just got here myself!"
Lucius pulled his wand and magically opened the door. Narcissa rushed in and was in Draco's bathroom before Lucius even entered his son's bedroom. A startled scream ripped from Narcissa's throat. Fearing the worst, Lucius bolted into Draco's bathroom.
"Good Lord! What is that?" he asked, pointing to his son's groin.
"I don't know, but it burns!" Draco sobbed.
"Harry, where are you going?" Hermione asked, while the wizard slipped on a pair of form-fitting black trousers. The witch was currently lying on her back on the floor with Luna strewn across the brunette's belly. Both witches had just gotten shagged silly and were utterly exhausted and spent from the experience. But neither had been happier in their lives.
"Correction, where are we going?" he replied, stuffing his monument in his pants. "We are going to get something to eat."
"Can't we just get something delivered?" asked Luna (who had no intention whatsoever of moving).
"I'm in complete agreement with Luna," Hermione moaned. She discovered that she was perfectly content to lie on the floor while various parts of her body continued to tingle from the shag.
"Nope, we need some fresh air," Harry said and buttoned up his black silk shirt.
"Open a window," Luna groaned. "We can get plenty of air that way."
"Get dressed, or I'll put you under the Imperius Curse and march you two around Knockturn Alley completely starkers," he threatened.
"Can I at least wash up first?" Hermione requested. "I'm a touch too messy to go out in public right now."
"Hell, I'm still dripping," commented Luna.
"I know. I can feel it dribbling on my thigh," added Hermione.
"Conluo Abluo," Harry incanted while waving his wand at the witches. With a soft "whoosh" sound, Luna and Hermione felt the various liquids that clung to their bodies vanish, leaving them with a pleasant and fresh aroma. "Now you're clean. Get dressed. I'm hungry."
After the witches got dressed (this didn't take long at all. Because Luna had been wearing her gossamer outfit the entire time, all she needed to do was slip on a pair of shoes. And Hermione only needed to pull the band up over her breasts and have Harry magically fix the tiny thong.) and threw on long cloaks. Hermione clutched the opening in front of her cloak, fearing that the slightest puff of air might reveal her state of "nearly naked." Whereas Luna let her hands dangle, as if she dared the wind to reveal her state of "nearly naked."
Walking very gingerly (because Hermione wasn't used to walking in her high platform stilettos while Luna's bottom was still quite a bit tender from the buggering), the two witches slowly followed Harry out of the flat.
"Can we go someplace close?" asked Hermione, stumbling for the fourth time in six steps.
"Sure, let's go there," Harry pointed at a restaurant across the street from the flat.
"Um, I think I can walk," the brunette said apprehensively (the restaurant had a painted sign showing a severed human head floating along with carrots and onions in a stewpot, which didn't bode well for the cuisine).
"Can we make it to the Leaky Cauldron?" Luna asked with the doubt evident in her eyes (and the way she lurched forward with each step).
"If you lean on me, I'll lean on you. That way, we'll help each other out," offered Hermione.
The two witches stumbled and bumbled for several feet (with Hermione's ankles twisting and tweaking, and Luna clutching her bottom with each step). It took them nearly ten minutes to walk a hundred yards.
"If you two keep this up, we'll die of starvation," Harry said snidely.
"Let's see how well you'd walk if you were wearing hooker-shoes-from-hell or had just gotten a summer sausage up your bum," challenged Hermione.
"A big, hot, throbbing summer sausage," corrected Luna.
"Fine," grumbled Harry as he scooped up Luna effortlessly, "I'll carry you two in turns."
He offered his shoulder for Hermione to lean on. Once everyone was set, they began walking (albeit slowly) again. The wizard easily carried the blonde witch.
"Thanks, Harry, we appreciate this," Hermione said, and kissed him on the cheek. Luna mirrored this action on his other cheek.
As he walked through Knockturn Alley, Harry admitted happily, "Actually, I planned this."
"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.
"Well, I had you wear those shoes knowing you couldn't walk very well in them yet, which meant I'd have to carry you at one point. And because of Luna's sore bum, I knew I'd have to carry her as well," he said.
"Why would you plan this?" the brunette asked.
"Because I feel noble helping you two out," he said.
"And also with his arm wrapping around from my back, his hand is in the perfect position to fondle my left tit in public," Luna informed. The blonde then added with a pleased grin, "which he's doing as we speak."
"Well, I planned this for the noble feeling and public tit fondling," corrected Harry. "It's a double whammy, so to speak."
"And you're getting off on this, I assume?" Hermione asked Harry.
"I know I am," answered Luna.
"Don't be jealous, Hermione. Once it's your turn to be carried, I'll play with your titty as well," Harry reassured.
-- Line Break --
"Have you seen three kids in here lately?" Remus asked a Diagon Alley shopkeeper. He and Tonks had been going from shop to shop, asking everyone if they had seen the wayward teens. Now, at the last shop before they entered Knockturn Alley, the two Order members were growing weary. They had spoken to dozens and dozens of witches and wizards, but to no avail. Hours of searching had not given them a single clue or hint as to Harry and the witches' whereabouts. Tired and frustrated, Remus forged ahead. "One's Harry Potter: black hair, glasses, and a scar. The other is Hermione Granger, fuzzy brown hair and a nice full figure. And the third's Luna Lovegood, a blonde with big blue eyes, and a skinny build."
The shopkeeper, who was standing behind the counter, thought for a moment before answering, "No, sorry. I haven't seen anyone like that around."
After the shopkeeper turned his attention to another customer, Tonks shot a scathing and disapproving look at the werewolf.
"What's the problem?" Remus asked the pink-haired Auror.
"Hermione's got a 'nice full figure'?" she asked in revulsion.
"There's nothing wrong with that," he retorted. "Hermione should be proud of her body."
"Oh, I agree with that. My problem is that you checked out a teenager's body," Tonks shot back. "She's literally young enough to be your daughter."
"I'm barely old enough to be her father," he corrected. "Besides, just because I'm older doesn't mean that I can't look."
"My God, you're like forty-five, and she's sixteen," Tonks said in disgust.
"Hey, I happen to be thirty-six," Remus defended.
"You're a perverted old man."
"First, I am not old," he said firmly. "And second, every man looks at a woman's breasts."
"But Hermione's not a woman, yet. She's still just a kid."
"Yeah, a kid with a really nice set of knockers."
"You disgust me."
If Remus and Tonks had not been so focused on their argument, they would have seen the three teens they were looking for walking just outside the shop. In fact, the two Order members had ample time to see their targets because Harry had decided that the front of that particular shop would be a good place to switch witches. He gently lowered Luna to the ground and scooped up Hermione. Then, after they were all settled (with one of Hermione's large and perky breasts being nicely stimulated by Harry's talented fingers), the three ever so slowly walked away. But, alas, Tonks was too busy informing Remus that she thought he was some sort of pedophile, and he was too busy defending his God-given ogling rights.
"Alright, let's just drop this," Remus ordered. "We're wasting time with your stupid attitude. Let's head into Knockturn Alley and continue the search."
Tonks' screeched, "My attitude? You're the old letch!" was heard the length of Diagon Alley.
-- Line Break --
"Oh, Arthur, he's waking up," Molly said with a mixture of joy and anxiety.
"Don't try to move too much, Ron," Arthur said, rushing up to his son's hospital bed.
Arthur's pleas to stay still fell on deaf ears because Ron hopped up on his bed and stood heroically with his fists on his hips just seconds after his eyes opened. With his chin held high in the air, he said arrogantly, "Ron the Magnificent wishes to know why Ron the Magnificent is in St. Mungo's?"
"Wha... what?" asked Arthur.
"Ah, yes, now Ron the Magnificent remembers what happened," Ron said and smiled broadly. "Ron the Magnificent had celebrated Ron the Magnificent's defeat over You Know Who too much, and Ron the Magnificent is recovering in the magical hospital."
"Healer Phelps, I think something is wrong," Molly called out frantically.
"Ron the Magnificent wants Ron the Magnificent's wives brought forth so that Ron the Magnificent may bed them," Ron said firmly. "Ron the Magnificent is aroused and needs to be satisfied."
"Seeing that Ron's awake, can I go look for Harry now?" asked Ginny peevishly (she wasted enough time watching over her unconscious brother, and now that he was conscious, Ginny had to find Harry so that she could woo her black-haired, firm-handed Prince).
"Yes, dear sister, all is well. You may leave Ron the Magnificent's presence," Ron said with a noble wave of his hand.
"You stay right where you are, young lady," ordered Molly.
"Ron's fine, and I have things to do," whined Ginny.
"He's 'fine'? Are you mad? He's referring to himself in the third person. How is that 'fine'?" demanded Molly.
"Ron, why are you talking that way?" Molly cried to her addled son. "What's wrong?"
"Wrong, mother? Why, nothing is wrong," Ron answered. "Ron the Magnificent now knows that this is the way a cultured and properly reared hero speaks. Ron the Magnificent is simply too marvelous ever to be referred to with anything other than Ron the Magnificent's earned title of excellence."
"Healer Phelps, something's wrong with our son," Arthur pleaded with the Healer as he approached.
"What seems to be the problem, Mr. Weasley?" asked Phelps kindly.
"Nothing is wrong, kind and noble Healer," Ron said, and placed a hand on Phelps' shoulder. "As Ron the Magnificent told Ron the Magnificent's dear sister, all is well. Ron the Magnificent gives Ron the Magnificent's blessing upon you, Healer." At this point, Ron removed his hand from Phelps' shoulder and touched it to the Healer's forehead in a sanctifying gesture. "Ron the Magnificent commands you to go forth and work your healing magics upon the sick and infirm."
"Oh, that's the problem," Phelps said, clearly unfazed by Ron's actions. "This was to be expected."
"What? We should've expected our son to give himself a title and only speak in the third person?" screeched Molly.
"Well, not that exactly, but there was a chance he would act strangely," corrected Phelps. "He was hit over the head several times with a frying pan, after all. That's bound to knock some bolts loose."
"Will this last long?" Arthur asked.
"Hard to tell, really," the Healer answered. "It may just be temporary."
"What if it isn't?" a nearly panicking Molly asked. "What if my Ronald stays like this?"
"Ron the Magnificent is now leaving," the young wizard in question announced at the top of his lungs to the rest of the ward as if he were a king addressing his subjects. "Ron the Magnificent wishes you all a speedy recovery. And you have Ron the Magnificent's permission to cheer for Ron the Magnificent as Ron the Magnificent leaves."
As Ron began walking out of the ward (while graciously waving at the other patients and Healers), Phelps answered Molly's question: "Well, if it's permanent, you'll have plenty of time to get used to it."
-- Line Break --
Voldemort stumbled out of the office supply cupboard with the receptionist (named Lola) following close behind.
"Next time, sweetie, warn me about any augmentations," Lola said in her deep and rough voice, readjusting her bra. "I was quite surprised when I went to cup your boys. But that would explain your girly voice."
"Believe me, it was necessary to make sacrifices," Voldemort said dismissively.
"Oh, I know, sweetie, I know. When I had the twins installed, I told the plastic surgeon they were necessary," Lola said and squeezed her artificial breasts. "But it would've been nice to know beforehand that you weren't carrying luggage. Not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just I had the rocket in my hand, and I was expecting an explosion, if you catch my drift."
Growing bored with the conversation, the Dark Lord commanded: "Show me where you keep the letters."
"Sure thing, sweetie," Lola said and walked down the hall, swinging her narrow hips back and forth.
She led him to a room with boxes and boxes full of posts. Quickly, Voldemort selected one box and, tossing the lid to the side, began scanning through the pages (some of these pages were difficult to separate because a number of them had odd stains that clung to other sheets). He was looking for specific keywords or descriptions. The ones that stood out were letters that claimed the writer had "enormous, gravity-defying double K breasts and a twenty-one inch waist" or "a cock so big that the head is the size of a ripe apple." After he had a large stack of these deluded and far-fetched posts, he waved his wand over them while chanting under his breath. A few moments later, the posts began to glow, clump together in a ball, and then reshape themselves into an arrow.
The arrow swung like a compass needle, pointing to the door. Voldemort headed to the door, and the arrow kept pace with the evil wizard, hovering a foot in front of him. His charm was working perfectly; the arrow would lead him directly to the people who wrote the selected letters.
As he walked toward the exit, Lola bid him goodbye.
"Anytime you want to stop by, sweetie, I'll be more than happy to fulfill your fantasy again. But next time, I'll be the one doing the 'Reach Around', okay, sweetie?"
Voldemort stopped and turned to look at the mannish receptionist. After a few seconds, he smiled and asked, "Why wait?" Hitching up the back of his robes, he led Lola back to the supply room.
-- Line Break --
"It looks like it might be Dragon Clap," Narcissa said as her complexion turned green.
"If it is, it's the worst case I've ever seen," Lucius added in disgust.
"Oh, seen many cases have you?" the blonde witch snapped angrily. "Did some of your hussies on the side have so many nasty diseases that you're now an expert?"
"Now is not the time, Narcissa," Lucius said with heat to his voice.
"Can it be cured?" Draco asked pathetically.
"Yes, but it'll take some expensive potions and salves," replied Lucius.
"Is something crawling there?" Narcissa asked while pointing at the rash (which was so bad that it looked like Draco's groin and genitals were encased in red scales).
"Oh, no, it's Troll Crabs," Lucius sighed (Troll Crabs are just like regular Crabs, but Troll Crabs carry tiny little sticks in their pincers - - much like how Mountain Trolls wield clubs).
Lucius stood up and ordered, "Take him to St. Mungo's and have him treated. I need to run an errand for the Dark Lord."
"That's just like you, isn't it?" snapped Narcissa. "Whenever something important pops up, you're always dashing out for some errand or meeting."
"This is important work, Narcissa," Lucius growled. "I have to try and get the potential new Minister in our pocket."
"I'm sure you have to. And I'm sure that this 'potential new Minister' is a curvaceous young witch who can cross her ankles behind her neck for ten galleons," the blonde witch said bitterly. "She'll make a fine Minister."
"Ah, this really hurts," whined Draco. "Can we go to St. Mungo's now, please?"
"Once, just once, I was unfaithful, and you continue to hold it over my head," Lucius barked at his wife.
"You mean that I caught you only once?" retorted Narcissa. "Who knows how many other times you've cheated behind my back?"
"The Troll Crabs are picking at the Dragon Clap scales," whimpered Draco. "It really burns and hurts."
"And, just in case you've forgotten, that 'one time' I caught you, you happened to be in bed with two witches, one hag, a goblin, and a goat," lectured Narcissa. "And the hag was using a-"
"I wouldn't have needed to go behind your back if you were a little more open-minded!" interrupted Lucius, snarling.
"I think it's bleeding now," wailed Draco.
"I told you on our wedding night; I won't go down on you while you go down on a goat," Narcissa yelled.
"And I accepted your reticence that night," Lucius countered. "But you have continued to refuse my needs and desires!"
"Being blown while you're blowing a goat is not a 'need'!" the blonde witch snapped viciously.
"Prude!" shouted Lucius.
"Pervert!" hollered Narcissa.
Hopping up and down frantically, Draco screamed, "STOP IT! I NEED TO GO TO ST. MUNGO'S!"
Lucius leveled his eyes on his wife and said, "I have to run an errand for the Dark Lord, whether you believe me or not. Take the boy to the hospital."
The blonde witch bared her teeth at Lucius as she grabbed her son's arm. "We're not finished," she threatened and dragged Draco to the fireplace.
-- Line Break --
After conjuring a fluffy pillow for Luna to sit on, Harry sat in the booth across from the two witches in the Leaky Cauldron.
"Here's how we'll take over this world," Harry began after he ordered beef stew for everyone.
"Excuse me; 'how WE'LL take over'?" Hermione challenged.
"Oh, you want to rule the world, too. You just don't know it yet," Harry said dismissively.
"No, I don't," countered Hermione. "I happen to like the world as it is."
This statement not only got a snort of disapproval from Harry but a chuckle of condemnation from Luna.
"All right, fine, I don't like the way the world is," admitted Hermione. "But that doesn't mean I want to take over the world."
"Out of anyone in the world, I'd argue (next to me, of course) that you'd be the best person to run things," informed Harry.
"What about me?" asked Luna.
"You'd do a bang-up job, too," he said with a wink.
"Thank you for believing that I'm capable enough," Hermione said sincerely (after all, when a megalomaniac like this Harry says that you're good enough to rule the world, you should take it as a compliment). "But I've told you before; I believe people are smart enough to rule themselves."
"You honestly believe that?" he asked.
"Yes, I do," she answered firmly.
"What about Lucy Malfoy?" Harry began.
"Lucius Malfoy," corrected Luna.
"Yeah, her," agreed Harry. "Anyway, this Lucius Malfoy was a suspected Death Eater in the first war, right?"
"True," agreed Hermione.
"Yet you told me when you talked about Voldemort that Malfoy never spent any significant time in Azkaban," the black-haired wizard stated.
"He used the Imperius Curse as a defense," Hermione said. "He claimed that he was forced to do those evil acts."
"Wait, 'he'? Lucius Malfoy is a bloke?" he asked.
"Yes."
"With a name like 'Lucius'?" he asked, furrowing his brow. "Are you sure?"
"Just get back to your point," Hermione sighed.
"So, she, I mean, he got off scot-free, and this didn't arouse suspicion from the public," summarized Harry. "No one once bothered to feed her-- damn it, him Veritasum or the like. Just let him go on his merry way. Yet he still openly dabbled in politics; he was on the school board until he played his hand too heavy with the Chamber of Secrets doohickey you lot had, and he was very close to Fudge as well."
"Yes, that's true," said Hermione.
"A number of people also believed he was practicing Dark Arts," added Luna. "Some even claimed that he alluded to threatening them with Dark Magic."
"So, why didn't anyone remove him?" asked Harry. "He was a Death Eater who used a poor excuse to defend himself, was rumored to practice Dark Arts, and had a great amount of influence in key areas of government. Therefore, it would've been safer to assume that he was a threat and he should've been removed."
"Because not all of us are cold-blooded killers," Hermione said.
"Just because I said he needed to be removed doesn't mean killed," Harry said and added while looking directly into Hermione's brown eyes, "You sissy."
"If you didn't mean murder, what else did you mean by 'remove'?"
"Malfoy and his lot have money, but more, it's their entire world. They are nothing without it," Harry said with a smile. "You take away their money, and they'll lose everything: their families, respect, and influence."
"So instead of killing him, you're saying he should've been robbed blind," Hermione summed up. "You're just replacing one illegal and immoral activity with another."
"'Oh, no, the world's in a tight spot because of people like Voldemort, Malfoy, and their flunkies, but I can't do anything about it because I don't want to get my hands dirty,'" Harry mocked in a high voice.
"I don't sound like that," protested Hermione.
"She's right," Luna agreed. "She sounds more like this: 'Evil and corruption have seeped into every aspect of our world, yet I lack the moral conviction to do what is right.' She does use bigger words after all."
"Thanks for clarifying, Luna," Hermione said with a disapproving groan.
"You're welcome," Luna chirped, oblivious to the other witch's sarcasm.
"You don't honestly agree with what he's saying, do you?" the brunette asked Luna.
"Not entirely," she replied. "But I do think the world would be a better place if the likes of Malfoy had no power base."
"See, if someone took Malfoy's power base, his money, he'd have no control or influence," Harry smiled. "Of course, people like this Malfoy usually have large amounts of gold stashed away in other places besides their homes and Gringotts in case someone does steal from them. There's always a chance that even if you do steal the gold from their homes and bank vaults, they'll just dip into their secret stashes and become a threat again. That's why I prefer killing them. Easier, and there's no chance they'll get more money and become a threat again."
"That's wrong," complained Hermione.
"Good point, Malfoy has a family and associates that could use his gold to further his evil plans," Harry said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "It'd be for the best to steal their money and then kill them. That way, none of their family or associates can carry on their work. See, you do have the proper knack to control the world, Hermione. I hadn't spotted that flaw."
"Perhaps you can even make it look like a robbery gone wrong. Set it up so it appeared that the target stumbled upon a thief, and the target dies in the struggle," offered Luna.
"That's brilliant," Harry cheered.
"Don't help him, Luna," chastised Hermione. "It isn't right to kill someone."
"Why not?" asked Harry.
"Murder is immoral," she answered.
"Is killing in self-defense moral?" he asked. "Let's say a Death Eater has you pinned and is so powerful that he can block every one of your spells. He's inching toward you; he's just blocking your hexes and curses like they were nothing. He's toying with you. You know that in any second, he'll kill you. But you know that he can't block the Killing Curse; that the only way you can save yourself is to use the Unforgivable. Would you take the Death Eater's life to save your own?"
"I suppose."
"Alright, let's say you're a bystander and Luna is the one being attacked, would you kill to save her life?"
"Yes, but killing in self-defense isn't murder," argued Hermione.
"Let's table this conversation for another time," Harry said. "Right now, I'm a touch randy. So which one of you fine ladies is going to go down on me under the table?"
"What?" both Hermione and Luna asked in surprise.
"C'mon, I'll flip a galleon," offered Harry. "Hermione, you're heads and Luna is tails."
"I won't go down on you in public," protested Hermione.
"I have to admit that I'm a little too shy to try that," Luna said.
"Fine," Harry said with a frown. Slowly, he began lowering himself into his seat.
"What are you doing?" asked Hermione.
Harry wriggled his eyebrows and disappeared under the table. A second later, both Hermione and Luna fell slack in their seats as Harry began to work his tongue and fingers on their tender areas (at first, he used his tongue on Hermione and his fingers on Luna, but he swapped tactics every once in a while-- after all, it isn't fair to play favorites).
"Hello there, girls, where's Harry?" Tom, the barkeep, asked as he dropped off the three bowls of stew.
"HE'S IN THE LOO!" Luna said loudly, and Hermione nodded her head vigorously.
"If you don't mind me saying, it's not good to sit like that. You need to work on your posture," Tom commented. The witches (who were still sitting like they had no spines) nodded. Tom pointed to his hunchback, saying regretfully, "You two don't want to end up like me, do ya?"
Tom was about to head away when he asked a question: "Are you girls warm? Your faces are all red and sweaty."
"We're f-f-fine," stammered Hermione.
"R-right as r-rain," added Luna breathily.
"Are you sure? I can adjust the temperature charms a touch," offered Tom.
"W-w-we'll b-be fine in AH moment," answered Luna.
"Less-s-s than a moment for me," Hermione said, and her face began to scrunch up.
"Okay, you two. Hope you like the stew," Tom said and walked away.
"It's-s-s s s-s-o-o good!" cheered Luna.
"I'm glad you like it. Made it myself," Tom said as he headed to the bar. He asked Hermione, "Do you like it?"
With her eyes screwed shut, she cried out a very emphatic "OH GOD YES!"
"If it's that good, I guess I'll have to whip up some more stew," Tom said proudly. "Maybe even try my hand at some ice cream as well."
-- Line Break --
"No, Ginevra," snapped Molly. They had not been home for a full hour, and Ginny had asked to leave two dozen times already. "You have to stay here and help me with your brother."
"But Mum, he's okay," the youngest Weasley protested. "He's just got a knock on his head."
"You consider that okay?" Molly demanded and pointed to Ron (who was standing in his version of a heroic pose on the second step of the stairway, wearing only a small wash towel as a makeshift loincloth).
Ginny looked at her mostly naked brother for a moment before answering a firm "Yes."
"Ronald! Put on some clothes!" Molly hollered at her son.
"Please, Mum, I need to go find Harry," whined Ginny.
"Your father and the entire Order of the Phoenix are out doing that this very instant. They don't need your help," Molly said sternly. "You have to stay here and help me with Ron."
"It is quite all right, Mother," Ron said in a loud and confident voice. "Ron the Magnificent's sister can go chase her schoolgirl crush."
"It's not a crush!" Ginny screeched angrily. "You don't understand the fated love that Harry and I have! We complete each other!"
"Um... Ron the Magnificent is at a loss as to what Ron the Magnificent's sister is referring to," Ron said dramatically. "Ron the Magnificent can only recall two or three times that you, dear sister, exchanged more than two words with Harry."
With a cross between a whimper and a shout of frustration, Ginny dashed up the stairs, knocking Ron over with her wide child bearing hips (at least that's what she had convinced herself to think of them as - she was a stocky young thing and such generous terms helped her self image, whereas the more accurate term of "massive saddle bags" would not help her self image at all).
"Ronald, for the love of all that is holy, PLEASE PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!" shouted Molly. When Ron was knocked over by Ginny, the wash rag he was using as an impromptu loincloth flipped up and revealed his manhood (or more accurately, tiny almost-boyhood) to his shocked mother.
Unembarrassed by his naked state (because in his delusion, he believed he was significantly more endowed than human males – and most centaurs for that matter), Ron stood in a heroic stance. "Ron the Magnificent must inform Ron the Magnificent's dear and loving Mother that simple clothes are now beneath Ron the Magnificent."
"I will tan your naked hide if you don't put on some trousers," threatened Molly.
"Oh-ho, dear Mother, Ron the Magnificent vanquished You Know Who with one blow," Ron said with a playful and patronizing chuckle. "What hopes do you have of 'tanning' Ron the Magnificent's hide'?"
"All right," Molly said while rolling up her sleeves. "If it's a beating you want, it's a beating you'll get."
The entire time Molly was smacking a wooden spoon (not the one Hermione had broken over Ron's arm, this one was much more stout) against her son's bare backside, Ron laughed and laughed... well, in his deluded mind, he was laughing, but in reality, he was winching and crying in pain like the little bitch he is.
-- Line Break --
Voldemort put the finishing touch on his pentagram on the stony ground at the base of the hill that hosted his castle. His plan to acquire virgins had worked flawlessly (of which the Dark Lord had no doubt; anyone who claimed to have such proportions as "three outstretched hands tall and one wide" had to be a virgin). After nabbing three virgin Muggles, he rushed back to his castle and quickly performed the Virginitas Charm on them. He was so excited over the outcome of the charm that he killed one of the virgins and drained him of his blood on the spot (sending the other two virgins into a panic).
This time, Voldemort performed the Summoning Ritual without his minions watching (simply because if the ritual didn't work, he didn't want an audience-- the two virgin Muggles cowering in fear a few feet away didn't count). He placed the Summoning Stone at the very tip of one of the star's points and began to chant:
"Hear me, oh masters of time, space, and anything else that might be listening! Open up the gates between worlds so that I can call forth my brother from that realm unto this world!" The air crackled once more around the pentagram, and Voldemort completed his incantation. "Come forth from your world, my equal, and join me here in my world so that we can rule together!"
The pentagram shot pillars of smoke into the air. Voldemort smiled. The pentagram during the failed ritual had vanished in a puff, and he took the billowing pillars to mean that this time the ritual had worked. As the smoke started to clear, Voldemort saw a figure standing next to him.
"Welcome to this world, my brother," the Dark Lord greeted his peer.
"OOOH YEAH, BROTHER!!" the figure shouted in a deep and gravely voice and began posing to show off his overly muscular arms and chest. This mystery figure was wearing nothing more than knee-high lace-up boots, a small set of swimming trunks, and a full face mask (all three items appeared to have been made out of white snake skin). The unknown man had unusually small and pure white nipples with reddish skin stretched over massive muscles, and bulging veins popping out all over his arms and neck. The veins in his neck bulged even more as he shouted, "THE FLYING DEATH WILL TAKE ANY CHALLENGERS DOWN, BROTHER!!! WOOO!!"
"Who the hell are you?" demanded Voldemort. He had expected his double to appear before him, not this steroid freak.
"I AM THE FLYING DEATH, BROTHER!!!" the unknown man shouted. "I RAIN PAIN AND SUFFERING DOWN UPON MY OPPONENTS, OOH YEAH!!!!"
Voldemort was about to kill this fool when he saw familiar red eyes looking out from behind the white mask.
"Tell me, has your name always been 'Flying Death'?"
"NO, BROTHER!!! BEFORE I FOUND THIS MASK OF POWER," he bellowed, and pointed to the snake-skin material covering his face while simultaneously flexing his massive arms and chest. "I WAS JUST A PUNY MAN NAMED TOM RIDDLE. NOW, I AM THE FLYING DEATH!!!!"
"Ah, I see," the Dark Lord said, feeling slightly relieved that the ritual had not been fouled up completely. "And what do you do, Flying Death?"
"WOOO!!! I RAIN PAIN AND SUFFERING DOWN UPON MY OPPONENTS, BROTHER!!!"
"Yes, you said that. But what does that mean exactly?"
"I WRESTLE THEM!!"
"You're a wrestler?"
"CORRECTION, BROTHER, I'M THE BEST WRESTLER!!!! I'VE KILLED OVER FIFTY MEN IN MANY A CAGE MATCH!!!"
"I thought wrestling was fixed," stated Voldemort.
"NOT WHERE I COME FROM, BROTHER!!!! I'VE TORN HEADS FROM SHOULDERS AND THEN TOSSED THE BLOODIED REMAINS INTO THE CROWD!!! OOH YEAH!!!"
"Do you have to yell?"
"YES, BROTHER, I HAVE TO. IT'S THE FLYING DEATH'S STYLE!!!"
"Very well," groaned Voldemort. "I'm certain that you are wondering why you are here."
"TO KILL AND MAIM, BROTHER!! IT'S WHAT I DO BEST!!!"
"Excellent," Voldemort said with a smile on his snake-like lips (wait a tick... snakes don't have lips!). "What types of magic can you perform?"
"I CAN JUMP FROM THE ROPES HIGHER THAN ANYONE ELSE!!! AND AS I SAID BEFORE, BROTHER, I CAN RIP HEADS OFF!!! LITERALLY!! WOO!!"
"That's all well and good, but I was looking for a fellow magic user. You will do nicely, however, Flying Death; I could use your talents," Voldemort commented while his muscle-bound duplicate flexed various body parts theatrically. "Since I have two more virgins, I will perform the Summoning Ritual again in hopes of getting another magic user."
"WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO IN THE MEANTIME, BROTHER?" the Flying Death shouted.
"Why don't you entertain yourself with Wormtail. He's in the castle on the hill. But don't kill him," offered Voldemort. "He's a pudgy fellow with a silver hand. Also, just to let you know, he can turn into a rat."
"OOH YEAH!!! YOUR TIME OF PAIN AND SUFFERING IS COMING, LITTLE SILVER FISTED RAT-MAN!!! THE FLYING DEATH IS COMING FOR YA!!!" With that, the muscled man ran in search of Wormtail.
Voldemort pointed his wand at one of the remaining Muggle virgins. "Time to make another pentagram."
-- Line Break --
"Ah, good evening, Percy," Lucius Malfoy said courteously.
Percy Weasley spun around and stammered, "W-what are you doing in my office? You're supposed to be in Azkaban!"
"That was a terrible misunderstanding," Lucius explained convincingly. "I was following my wife's sister, Bellatrix Lestrange (who, as you know, was an escaped felon), in hopes of bringing her in for the public's safety. Alas, I was caught up in all the confusion of the attack in the Ministry and was wrongly accused of being a Death Eater."
"So, the Ministry realized their mistake?" Percy asked.
"Yes, they did," the blond wizard answered. "But seeing how much awful press the Ministry is getting lately, I thought it would be bad to announce the error of my incarceration. So, upon my suggestion, to save any unnecessary negative publicity, I was freed discreetly."
"That's golly good of you," cheered Percy. "News of such an error would be devastating for the Ministry right now."
"Exactly. I believe in the Ministry, and my only wish is to see it thrive," Lucius said persuasively. "That is why I'm here, to see the Ministry thrive. You want the government to succeed, don't you, Percy?"
"Of course I do," Percy said with pride. "I have sworn my life to the betterment of the Ministry."
"Very good," Lucius smiled. "Then might I suggest you throw your name in the running for Minister for Magic?"
"W-wh-what?" Percy nearly fainted.
"Become Minister, Percy," Lucius repeated. "I'd think you'd do a fine-- no wait, I know you'd do a wonderful job."
"Thank you for your confidence, Mr. Malfoy."
"Please, call me Lucius."
"Thank you, Lucius, but I think I'm too young to be Minister. And besides, I lack experience."
"Nonsense. There's a little-known law; I believe it is one of the amendments to the Goblin Truce of 1423 that states the Minister for Magic has to be at least seventeen to rule. And as to your so-called 'lack of experience', I believe that can work in your favor. You're new blood; you aren't tainted by the corruption in government. You'd breathe fresh air into the Ministry."
"I still don't know, Lucius," Percy said thoughtfully.
"All you need is confidence, my boy. And I know just the trick," the blond said with a grin. "Tomorrow, after your shift is done, I'll send over a little confidence booster."
"Lucius, that won't be necessary."
"I'll have none of that. Our future Minister can't be hesitant," Lucius said in a supportive manner. "Now, since my release from Azkaban is still a secret from the rest of the Wizarding society, I don't have to tell you that we should keep this meeting a secret."
"Oh, of course," Percy said. He was still doubtful that he could receive any votes, much less be a good Minister.
-- Line Break --
"No sign of them anywhere," Remus grumbled as he walked out of Knockturn Alley.
"Oh, I'm so terribly sorry that you didn't get a chance to look at some underage titties," Tonks said scornfully.
"Drop it, why don't you?" snapped Remus; he would never admit it, but his anger did come from not getting the chance to spy Hermione's full and firm mounds.
"I'll drop it the moment you say you're sorry for ogling Hermione."
"That's it, we're done as partners," snarled Remus. "Once we get back to Grimmauld Place, I'm telling Albus that you and I aren't working together."
"Fine by me," Tonks said in agreement, and the two vanished with a loud pop. This was unfortunate, because if they had stayed for just a few moments longer, Remus and Tonks would've not only spotted their teenage targets, but also one escaped Death Eater strolling through the streets of Diagon Alley.
-- Line Break --
Bellatrix stomped through Diagon Alley with her cloak's hood obscuring her face. She desperately needed to find her Master a virgin, but she was having a hell of a time doing it. The witch had figured that she had the perfect sacrifices with those two Muggles she had picked up at the Star Trek convention. But alas, they weren't pure. And her failure not only brought her pain under the Cruciatus Curse, but she had also let down the Dark Lord, a failure that pierced her soul.
Then, she saw salvation. Three teens were walking in front of her. And not just any three teens, but that foul Half-blood and two of his friends. Bellatrix was positive that wee baby Potter was a virgin; he was too much of a goodie-two-shoes to have bedded anyone. What's more, this sacrifice would be a double present for her Master. Not only could he use Potter's blood for the ritual, but he'd kill the Boy Who Lived, who had been a pest for the Dark Lord. And since the two witches, the blonde blood traitor and the Mudblood, were with Potter, Bellatrix knew for certain that they too had to be virgins (especially the blonde with the odd yet notable limp).
She was as stealthy and graceful as a cat as she trailed the three teens. Once her targets were out of view of any witnesses, Bellatrix was planning on hitting them with Stunning Hexes and then bringing them to her Master's castle.
But before she could spring into action, she overheard Potter telling the witches to go on without him. The three split up. Bellatrix chose to follow Potter, out of the three virgins, he would be the greater gift to her Dark Lord.
Potter, the fool, had no idea he was being followed. After a few minutes of walking through the crowds of Diagon Alley, he foolishly walked down a dark alley. That was when Bellatrix struck. She leapt at him, screaming "Stupefy!" The red bolt of magic hit his shoulder, and the black-haired wizard fell to the floor. Acting quickly, Bellatrix made a Portkey out of a loose piece of trash and carried her prize to her Master.
To Be Continued...
Author's Note:
I know I've been gone for a bit, so I'd really love to hear what you think—about this chapter, the fic as a whole, or anything that crossed your mind while reading. If you want to support the story, toss me some Stones, drop a Comment, or even leave a Review (if you're feeling extra generous.) Your feedback genuinely helps keep this story alive.
Author out!