Thundergod17
patreon
Animal Instinct
🕑 Added 2023-12-18 17:05:00 +0000 UTCAnimal Instinct
Salvation
Harry anxiously scanned the crowded hall, his eyes darting from one face to another in search of the elusive person Adrastia had mentioned in her letter. The clamor of voices and shuffling feet filled his ears, creating a cacophony. The air was thick with the smell of extravagant foreign dishes and the faint aroma of floral perfumes, a reminder of the Beauxbatons' presence.
As his eyes swept over the room, Harry couldn’t help but wonder where the rest of the Beauxbatons staff were. Surely they hadn’t come only with their towering headmistress?
His hand throbbed with pain, a constant reminder of the detentions he was forced to attend. Even the soft fabric of Lavender’s blouse against his arms failed to ease his anxiety.
Turning his head, he noticed Lavender and Parvati squeezed into the cramped space beside him, their presence a testament to the chaos that had ensued as everyone rushed into the Great Hall after welcoming the foreign guests.
His mood darkened further as he searched for Ron. There he was - flocked together with Dean and Seamus. Their focused gazes fixed on the Ravenclaw aisle. It became clear why they hadn't bothered to search for their girlfriends.
“Do you want me to feed you?” Lavender whispered seductively into his ear, her warm breath causing a tingle on his skin. “Let your hands rest for a while.”
The eager, pretty face of the blond girl reminded him of why he had been avoiding her and Parvati for the past week. Ron had become distant, barely speaking to him, and he had no interest in aggravating whatever grievance his best friend had with him.
Shaking his head, he turned away from their pouting expressions, his eyes landing on the reason for his current predicament. A wave of panic washed over him, causing his face to pale.
Professor McGonagall glared at him from the high table, her gaze piercing, her lips pressed together. The intensity of her stare sent a shiver down his spine. He winced, remembering the punishment that followed his ill-advised comment that day. The painful separation from Poppy followed by petrification and the consequences still lingering in his mind.
No student had ever been given a year-long detention, especially at the beginning of the school year. A fact that Professor McGonagall had reminded him repeatedly.
Just as he was fantasizing about having the school nurse attend to his needs for the rest of the year, his head of the house had to intervene and disrupt his plans.
Harry was certain that only the professor’s long-standing friendship with the school healer prevented her from reporting their misbehavior to the headmaster. He clung on to the hope of avoiding a visit to the Hospital Wing soon. Especially as Professor McGonagall had made sure that he wasn’t allowed to visit the hospital wing without her presence.
What went between Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall, anyway?
Harry had a feeling that he wouldn’t be privy to that discussion.
And there he was, hoping to drag Professor McGonagall into the debaucheries with her friend. Harry was still hopeful about that.
A consistent desire persisted in him, of seeing what made Madam Pomfrey declare the Transfiguration mistress the sexiest faculty here. Maybe the healer could help with that?
A sudden breathlessness around the vicinity made him frown. The reason for the silence became apparent rapidly.
“Do you ‘ant zhe Bouillabaisse?” The familiar voice floated in his ears, eyes widening to see the young woman who had witnessed his unfortunate (or perhaps fortunate) journey to France.
His dormmates shook their heads woodenly, eyes focused on the veela’s blue robes clinging to her otherworldly body.
His heartbeat skyrocketed, palms sweaty, as the thought of being recognized by the veela caused him to freeze.
No… Harry forcefully controlled his breathing, reminding himself that the blond hadn’t seen him in his human form.
The comforting thought had just taken root in his mind when the veela turned around with the bowlful of something and her eyes met his; emerald meeting with ocean-blue.
A shocked look crossed her face, mouth gaping in a large ‘O’. The bowl upended from her hand, spilling all the gravy over Ron’s wide open mouth before she gasped out,
“YOU!”
The entire hall turned toward the shout. The dignitaries and the teachers on the high table ceased their chattering, following the students.
Harry gulped. The crazy-looking eye of the blond, along with the inquisitive glances from the hundred of the hall-dwellers, fixated on him with unwavering focus.
Shit!
Why, oh why, didn’t Filch force him to clean another couple of bathrooms?
-oOo-
Harry tiptoed down the staircase, his invisibility cloak wrapped tightly around his body. His feet grounded to a halt as he saw a witch dozing beside the fireplace, a tome spread open over her knees.
Hermione…
The bushy hairs of his best friend created a halo around her head, the dull orange of the waning fire contrasting sharply against her pretty face. The desire to stumble there and caress her was overwhelming, but the weight of the letter in his pocket held him back, as if an invisible force had shackled his legs instead of his hands.
She had been avoiding him since the carriage journey, slipping in and out of classes and the welcoming hall like a slippery eel. The forced awkwardness between them was disheartening, but Harry was too busy for the last week to put any considerable effort into thawing the ice. Especially as Pansy had come back a couple more times since that night, stealing all of his attention.
I will try tomorrow. The consolation sounded hollow. Hollow, just like an empty shell. A friendless empty shell who had been dragging his feet for the entire week.
Feeling like a coward, Harry turned from Hermione’s sleeping form, heart heavy with regret.
At least he hoped to get some good news from Adrastia. Also, ask her how her granddaughter could have gained the knowledge of his identity.
Fleur Delacour might have simpered from all the attention by saying that she had just been surprised at seeing the legend of The Boy-Who-Lived, but Harry wasn’t blind. Neither was he a fool. There was pure recognition in her eyes when she pointed at him. With vehemence thick enough that Harry feared someone had to use the knives scattered across the hall to cut through the awkwardness. He dared not to think about what reasons she could have about her displeasure.
Surely she wasn’t aware that it was him who was with her mom and grandmother? In more ways than one. If so, did that mean she was also aware of his other self?
The statue of the humpbacked witch stared at him with her blank eyes, not offering any solace.
When did he get here?
Shaking his head, Harry climbed into the secret passage, a different anticipation building inside of him.
A meeting with the gorgeous veela and hopefully a viable solution of getting rid of his parasite; the only way the night could get even better was if she was in one of her moods.
Who was he kidding? She was always in the mood.
Almost sprinting inside the dark passageway, Harry Potter grinned rakishly.
Hehe… today he was so going to call her grandma while rearranging her guts.
The world’s hottest grandmother.
-oOo-
A relieved sigh escaped him, as the door of the three Broomsticks opened with a slight push. It would have been a pain in the ass to unlock it. But then again, he was probably naïve in thinking that a pub wouldn’t be open at night. Harry entered through the slight gap created by his push, making as little noise as possible. His invisibility cloak clutched tightly around him, along with a silencing charm.
Thankfully Madam Rosemerta was in the backend, serving a rowdy crowd. His heart stuttered as the busty barmaid swiveled in the door’s direction after his entrance.
“Hey Malcolm, you saw anyone coming?”
Harry stood shock-still, not even breathing.
A bald old man just a few feet away from his position shook his head, gulping his mead.
“No one, just my beater bat wanting to come inside you.” Some drunkards tittered as the old wizard slurred. “Wanna help with that, Rosie?”
“I don’t play with shriveled-up snitches.” A raucous laughter spread across the patrons at Madame Rosemerta’s comeback. “Show your two-incher to some cheap whore!”
Lips twitching, and barely swallowing the laugh, Harry crept away from the door and toward the staircase just to the left. The staying quarters should be on the second floor, even though he had never been there.
With a last glance at the buzzing inn, Harry went up, still under his trusty cloak’s protection. The staircase ended in a narrow corridor, with the rooms on one side. Harry counted four rooms, glancing behind once at the rising staircase. Strange. He wasn’t aware there was another floor above.
In normal circumstances, it would have been difficult to choose between the door, but there was almost a magical buzz emanating from the second door, as if Adrastia was emitting her allure, hoping to attract a wizard with a wish to sizzle in her beauty. Harry hoped that was for his benefit and not some fool who had come across the veela and became her victim.
The door opened after he rapped his knuckles on them and Harry was momentarily stuck dumb after glancing at the women gracing his presence.
Did he really have sex with her? Harry had trouble reconciling the fact that he had fucked the goddess standing in front of him, resplendent in a sheer turquoise nighty. Her eyes brightened at his presence before she lunged ahead and engulfed him in a tight hug, mashing her breasts.
“Harry! I missed you so much.” A flush appeared on his cheeks at her delighted crowing. Anyone knowing their age difference would have assumed a more familial reunion at her enthusiasm. Maybe not. Not when her hands slipped down and groped his arse.
Not one to back down, he reciprocated her action, kneading a fine piece of mature ass and almost lifting her in his embrace.
“I doubt you really missed me,” Harry whispered in her ear. “Maybe only certain part of my body.”
She hissed at his insinuation before glaring at him playfully, giving a chaste kiss on his lips.
“Lets take this inside,” a mischievous smile played across her face. “We have lots to talk about.”
Harry carried her inside, closing the door with his foot. The brightly lit room was quite a surprise, as he was expecting a more dour atmosphere. A small, old table at the corner overflowed with a few boxes and bags, which Harry assumed belonged to Adrastia. The enchanted candle burning over the corner flashed over a large, old-fashioned bed, which Harry took special notice of. Hopefully, it was sturdier than its appearance. He prayed the old wood still had enough strength to hold two grown people’s weight. Even if they were in vigorous motion.
A hand pinched his cheeks, making him wince as sharp nails dug into his skin. He dumped the blond in his arms on the floor, rubbing the spot, and glared at the smirking Veela.
“Already checking out the bed? I thought you will be more interested in knowing what I have discovered about your scar.”
“I wasn’t checking out anything!” Harry said, lying through his teeth. “It was just… it’s my first time seeing the inn above…”
A wave of her wand conjured two chairs from thin air, and she took one, snorting at his lame excuse. She waved at him to take the one opposite her, and the chair almost molded against his butt, the wood soft and comfortable, an immense showing of her skill in simultaneous transfiguration. Harry straightened, a sudden reminder of her prowess enough to drag him out of his lustful thought.
“Did you transform after our conversation?” she asked, going straight for the jugular.
Harry shook his head, remembering Molly begging him a few times inside Mr. Weasley’s workshop. It was certainly tempting to give in. The one time he almost did when she promised to take it up in her ass while he was in his other form. Thankfully, sanity prevailed. The following revenge that he took upon the temptress had made the redhead’s asshole gap for an entire week. That fucking slut… always giving him eyes and wanting his dick…
“Good. It would be a lot easier if you haven’t given into the urges yet.” She mumbled, summoning a few sheafs of paper from her bags. An intense look crossed her face, earlier flirtation taking a back seat. Harry almost gulped as her demeanor mirrored Professor McGonagall.
Well, they were of a similar age, weren’t they? Though he had trouble believing that his transfiguration professor could ever pull off the sexy teacher vibe, as much as Poppy swore about it.
Maybe he would change his mind if he just got a glance at her without her disguise?
“Well, just as I said, a soul-shard buried so deep into the psyche is bound to leave some of its influence. Only whatever protection your mother gave you had shielded the effect till now. But when you are transformed, the protection is at its weakest and the parasite, in all possibility, is at its strongest.” She peered at him. “You might have already started seeing the side-effects of its influence.”
Harry grimaced. The recent events highlighted the prophetic nature of her deduction. He wasn’t naïve enough to think the activities inside the potion classroom were coincidental. Neither the desire to fuck every woman with tits and ass—not caring about her relationship status or age. If a witch was sexy and was fertile, then that was enough to make him lust for her.
Even now, arousal smoldered beneath his skin. The glaring desire to toss the veela on the bed, tear her clothes off and pound away inside her tight, mature folds.
“The horcrux—” Harry raised his eyebrows, “—The name of the parasitic possession; had been the taboo topic amongst the scholars. The Goblins swear by even at the mention of these abominations.” She stopped, chewing her lips. “They destroy any object that even has the hint of such magic.”
“You are lucky they don’t check their customers with any of their stringent devices. I can’t even think of what they would do with a living Horcrux.”
“Does…does that mean I shouldn’t visit my vault?” Harry asked, having no intention of getting destroyed by those four-foot savages. Whatever that would have entailed.
“At least for the time being.” Adrastia smiled, not bothered by his impending financial crisis. “Not for long though, if I have my say.”
Harry leaned ahead, ears peeled for the good news that Adrastia was bubbling to announce.
“Generally, the only way to destroy a living Horcrux is by killing it—either by the killing curse or by fiendfyre—”
“What?” Harry was ready to bolt, not willing to sacrifice his life for bastard Voldemort’s mistake.
She hushed him, glaring with her bright blue eyes. “If you had only let me finish…” Harry winced. “If killing you was the only way, I wouldn’t have come to this cold, frigid country and neither would I have been contacting my friends from all around the world, searching for an alternate way to get rid of your scar.”
Harry hung his head. Shame wasn’t an emotion he was well acquainted with, but in this case, it might have been too early to judge the blond’s intention, especially when she had been nothing but helpful to him. Well, if he ignored her, tying him up and raping him while he was in his other form.
Her chest heaved as she breathed deeply. “Dumbledore might have planned you to die fighting against this dark lord that you kept yammering about, but I have no such intention. Where exactly will I find a pet hippogriff that will mount me at my every whim?”
Of course… Harry hoped that wasn’t her only reason. But it was difficult to judge with her straight face.
“Here, take this.” She thrusted a single parchment his way.
Harry took the offering, glancing at the filled page. A large diagram of a male was prominent on the page. But the seven different points marked on the body, starting from the tailbone to the top of the head, made little sense to him. Neither the foreign wiggles that were doodled all around the body, with lines upon lines of squiggles spanning the entire parchment.
“What is this?”
“This, Harry, is your way to freedom.”
“I can’t even read this thing!”
Harry surely hoped he didn’t have to perform some extraordinary spells to get rid of his scar. He was powerful, sure, diligent, and skillful when he applied himself. But learning an unfamiliar language, which didn’t even use the Latin alphabets, would surely take a lifetime. Add the complex structure he could just feel by the amount of information—Harry would like to be free before he reached Dumbledore’s age.
“It is a precursor of the Indo-European language that most of the modern Eurasians use today. And you should count your lucky stars that I am among the handful that know how to read it.” She said pridefully, and Harry grudgingly admitted that was indeed impressive. “And it’s not a spell. It is a ritual based on millennium old knowledge.”
“Ritual?” Harry wrinkled his nose. The obscure art wasn’t well-liked among the British magicals. “Don’t they require some sacrifice?”
“Yes, they do,” Anastasia replied, sitting up straight in her seat, her teacher-like demeanor returning. “The more one aspires to alter the nature of magic, the greater the sacrifice. To the uneducated masses, it may appear evil and dark, but any knowledgeable magical being knows that it is the oldest known form of magic in existence. The Egyptians, Sumerians, Meso-Americans, and the ancient civilizations of the East all embarked on their journey into the mysteries of magic through rituals. Even your ancestors, the druids and Celts of the isles, were masters of this ancient magic. If the Romans hadn’t been so determined to conquer Europe and the Empire hadn’t relentlessly hunted down ancient magical beings, you might still be learning those magics instead of this cheap imitation of wand waving.”
Harry kept his mouth shut. Passion was easily recognizable, and Harry could see the abundance of it from her voice. “What sacrifice does this one require?”
She gave an enigmatic smile. “Oh…believe me, you would have no problem with this one.”
“Really?”
She pointed at the seven specific points of the program. “Those are the nodal points of the body that every human being has.” She nodded, as if guessing his next question. “Even non-magicals. Every civilization has theorized their presence, calling them different names, but every single one of them agrees these nodes are the pathways that siphon magic from the environment and channel it to a magically compatible body. Muggles can’t perform magic because their body simply can’t access the ocean of natural energy that is present in abundance all around us.”
“Well, it’s quite interesting, I agree…But what does this thing have to do with my issue?”
“Tch…the impatience of youth. The ritual that you will undergo requires me to draw these runes.” Anastasia pointed at the particular squiggles beside the diagram. “Seven different clusters for seven different nodes.”
Harry narrowed his eyes, cursing himself for not taking ancient runes in the third year. Fucking around with Ron had finally come back to bite him in the arse.
“With every activated cluster, a small amount of magic will get diverted to your scar, slowly eroding its hold over your soul and finally expelling it for good.”
The confidence that Adrastia had over the procedure invoked his own, a small smile finally blooming between his lips. Though there was something that he couldn’t understand.
“That’s it?” Harry asked, a small suspicion forming. “It’s that simple? I mean…I could be free just like that?”
“Well, I will draw the runes now, so that will be over. But…” Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips, “You have to do the next steps all on your own.”
“What is that?”
“You need to have sex with seven magicals, with each cluster activating after finishing inside one partner.” She barely hesitated in spewing that.
Harry stared stupidly, waiting for her to burst out laughing. When more than a minute passed and she looked him straight in the eyes without blinking, Harry couldn’t help but blurt out. “Are you serious?”
The veela stared at him, disgruntled, as if Harry had questioned her integrity.
“Why won’t I be? Do you think I will joke like this?”
“But…but…sex…with so many…How the hell is this some kind of ritual?”
“Excuse me! I am pretty sure sex ritual is something that even most first years have heard about! Do you think those rumors are false?”
“Well yeah, Isn’t it? There really isn’t anything magical about having sex. I mean…” Harry quickly backpedaled, seeing the stillness that had entered the blond’s eyes. “I mean… of course, sex is magical. But I mean, not like it really is…”
Harry shut his gob, now totally screwed. Claiming sex wasn’t magical in front of a witch that was sex personified must be the dumbest thing that he had ever done.
“I shouldn’t have expected anything more from a plebeian teenager.” She whispered, her voice perfectly controlled.
Harry thought about defending his stand, but wisely refrained from doing so.
“Sex is most probably the most ancient and powerful kind of magic ever done by humans.” She glared at his skeptical look. “A magic so powerful that even muggles with their inferior bodies can perform that. And I am not talking about meaningless sex. The deed of mingling the magic of male and female bodies and creating something that no amount of power or skill could ever replicate. The magic of conception.”
Harry’s eyes widened, some comprehension dawning in him.
“Got that, did you? Yes. The ability to create a new life with nothing but conjoining two sexes was so mystical that magicals all over the world thought it was divine intervention. Some still do, actually. The ethereal energies enter our bodies when we are in the throes of lovemaking, channeled through the magical nodes. The truest expression of the lovemaking, with no conception charm or potion, culminates with the greatest expression that magic could express through us. By gifting a new life inside a womb.”
Harry swallowed, now doubly intimidated. Did that mean he had been debasing the most powerful magic for the last few months by his debauchery?
“It’s sad that the art of sex has become so perverted. I, myself, can’t really profess its sanctity, certainly not following the life that I have led.” She said, grimacing self-deprecatingly. “But never underestimate the magical potential of a sexual act.”
“So…I need to have sex with seven witches.” Harry repeated, more to give her the time to compose herself.
Harry cast his mind back to the witches inside the Hogwarts. Seven might have sounded daunting at first, but now that he thought about it… It was actually a lot more feasible than sacrificing a leg, an eye or Merlin forbid his dick.
Hermione was his first choice. Harry was sure she would be interested in the act. And if he told her the significance of the act and his situation—there might be a possibility that she could have arranged for the other six girls herself.
That would be his last resort. The two girls from dinner crossed his mind. Lavender and Parvati. Maybe even Parvati’s twin. That made it four.
Surely Madam Pomfrey would like to absolve her guilt and help him. And if she could somehow convince his head of the house. Again, going for the deputy headmistress would be his last resort.
Harry could sneak to Burrow easily. Molly lived for sex, so that would be easy. And with the blond sitting in front of him — the tally came to seven. The magical number.
This could be fucking easy!
With a little effort, he could be free from his nemesis’s soul by the end of the week.
Maybe he could study this ritualistic magic. It seemed a lot more enjoyable than memorizing hundreds of wand motions.
“About that…” Harry came back from his imaginary castle, surprised to see an embarrassed-looking Veela. “It’s not seven witches.”
“Hmmm?”
“It’s seven magical females. Not seven witches.”
“Yeah, seven females. Same thing.”
“Not really. The barmaid downstairs is a witch. I am a magical female.”
Harry’s eyes twitched. Surely, she realized, she sounded crazy.
“Harry, witches are magical humans. Sure, they are magical females, but just one type. There are others who are considered magical females.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“Maybe I could be of your help?”
A loud voice floated from the door. Harry, being too engrossed in the discussion, hadn’t even realized that someone had entered their room. The conjured chair skidded back as he sprang to his feet, a protest on his lips against the trespasser.
Though his protest died the moment his eyes fell on the woman standing there. With her head almost touching the low ceiling of the room, which must have been at least nine feet, the headmistress of the Beauxbatons blocked the door in all her glory.
“Olympe!” Adrastia squealed and jumped from her chair to give the giantess a hug.
Harry gulped the as the gigantic woman opened her arms wide and swallowed the tall, busty veela in her embrace. The recent growth of him, making him tower over everybody except Hagrid, had almost cemented his belief that he would never come across a woman that could make him feel physically inferior. That was before he met the Beauxbatons’ headmistress.
The way they spoke in rapid French, along with the warmth from their embrace, Harry realized they must be pretty close to each other.
‘My best friend…you know the one who couldn’t join me and my daughter that day — she will reach Hogwarts with the Beauxbatons delegation and help you in my absence.’ The line from the letter he got from the veela flashed before him.
But that will mean…
“YOU are Appoline’s godmother?” Harry shouted, pointing at the gigantic woman.
They separated from the embrace before turning toward him in unison. The masculine looking woman stepped forward, a smirk tugging at her fat lips.
Her black eyes devoured him, a long tongue flashing out.
“Harry Potter.” She purred and Harry found the sound disturbing with her rough tremor. “Believe me, you will know the difference between witches and magical females before stepping out of this room.”
What the Fuck!
