By Lord Wrackspurt

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This novel length story replaces the final book in the Harry Potter series. It is best enjoyed by those who have read the books of the series, but can be followed by those who have only seen the movies. This story is intended for reading only by adults. It contains depictions of torture, including genital abuse, castration and emasculation; rape; sexual assault; explicit sexual content including straight, gay, lesbian, bisexual, fantasy interspecies, & polyamorous sexual relationships; often with characters who are under 21, but above the UK age of consent (16).

This story is a work of fan-fiction based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling and her publishers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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Chapter 4: The Moment He Had Been Waiting For

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"I love you, Harry," Ginny Weasley said softly as she stood across the room from him. "This is a special gift I want to give to you to prove that love." As she advanced towards him, Harry could hear the clicking of her sexy high heels on the wooden floor. She was wearing a sheer black negligee shaped like her Gryffindor robes, and as she stopped directly in front of him she slipped off the negligee and her thong knickers. Other than her pretty strappy sandals, she stood naked before him in all her youthful glory.

Only now did Harry fully appreciate what a fine piece of arse Ginny Weasley was. Firm breast mounds in perfect handful size with erect rosebud nipples, slim waist, smooth skin, and that wonderful red mane gracing her nether regions. Harry’s cock throbbed wildly and the thought raced through his mind was that he was finally going to get a blowjob from Ginny. His nuts were bluer than a pixie’s arse, and his mind filled with embarrassing scenarios that left him terrified of screwing up the moment. What if he fainted? Worse, what if he shot his wad in Ginny's face. Oh my God, what if he shot his wad in Ginny’s face and then fainted (or vice versa)?

Ginny kneeled in front of him licking her lips as she eyed his throbbing ten-inch erection. "Ohhhh, Harry," she said so sensuously it made his balls hurt even worse, "if I had known your dick was this big I'd have done this years ago." With that, her lips parted and slowly slid towards the head of his massive cock, soon they were almost touching. The moment he had been waiting for was finally about to happen.

Through his heart's pounding, he could hear a different banging far off in the distance, and at the last moment Ginny looked up at him. In his Aunt Petunia's voice he heard Ginny say, "Harry, dear, your breakfast is ready. Would you like to come down or shall I bring it up to you?" Then Ginny smiled sweetly and disappeared, and Harry's bedroom at the Dursley's appeared around him with full sunlight streaming in.

"Goddamn it! I'm still at the fucking Dursley's," Harry said under his breath. He had drifted off again and the blowjob from Ginny had just been a wet dream. At least he was having better dreams now.

Gathering his wits, Harry yelled out, "I'll dress and come down, Aunt Petunia."

"As you wish dear; we have eggs, toast, and sausages waiting. Just the way you like them, dear," was the reply through the door.

The last thing Harry needed was for that hag to barge in the bedroom and see him with his own tiny little sausage sticking up in the air. Of course, with the ‘new attitude’ now in place at the Dursley's he wouldn't put past Aunt Petunia to offer to suck his cock. While at first the thought of squirting a hot load right in Auntie's ugly face had its pleasurable points, after a moment or two, thinking of the act had the desired effect, his cock went limp.

"Sod it!" thought Harry. "They’re so frightened of me now that Uncle Vernon might blow me if I told him to." That thought however, was too nauseating to think about.

Looking down at his cock, Harry was disappointed to see that the huge throbbing piece of man meat that had been there in his dream was now replaced with the tiny little nob that barely protruded above his balls. It was only about three and a half inches long when he was hard; he was barely able to keep a thumb and forefinger on it when he tried wanking. Harry was so embarrassed at his tiny cock that he always showered quickly at Hogwarts if someone else was around, especially that loud mouth Dean Thomas.

Dean was an arrogant kid in the same year as Harry, and was the outrageous liar about his sexual exploits. He was always eager to show the other boys how well endowed he was. He was always on about how black men were so much better endowed than white guys, and much better in bed. He made out as if he was such a sought after black stud, and many sexual conquests he had made, but everybody knew he was a lying sack of shit.

Harry did have to admit though that Dean was well hung. He was known for challenging other boys to a throwdown contest to see whose cock was the biggest when erect, and winning. Even against older boys. Dean had dated Ginny for a while last year, but she had eventually left him for Harry. Harry was infuriated when he found out that Dean had spent the rest of the year telling the other boys about how good Ginny had been in bed, but he had dumped her because, according to Dean, she wanted him to only have sex exclusively with her. Harry knew the git was lying, but it still hurt to hear it.

Harry, along with about every other boy at Hogwarts, had discreetly searched the library a number of times for a spell to swell his little pint-sized wanking nob into a full-sized stud-bull dick. The obvious choice would seem to be the Engorgio charm. It would make whole things bigger, but the really tricky part of using the charm was making parts of things bigger. The charm wasn’t designed for that. Harry could use Engorgio to give himself a 12-inch dick, provided he made his whole body 18 feet tall. That was no good.

The professors at Hogwarts knew what kinds of thoughts entered the minds of 13 year old wizards who looked disappointedly at their manhood. Professor Flitwick had let on to the boys that even if the Engorgio charm was used, the cock would only be good for showing off. To use a cock for sex required more than mere tissue swelling. The normal sized blood vessels from the un-Engorgioed part of your body feeding blood to the cock wouldn’t constrict correctly to provide an erection that could be maintained. All you would have is a big piece of limp meat hanging between your legs. The warning didn’t stop some young wizards from trying. Most ended up making a very embarrassed trip to Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts School nurse, for treatment.

Conventional wisdom held that you had to experience unnatural male enhancement. You needed a spell that caused your own body to naturally grow a huge, blue-veined, throbbing, stud bull dick. The kind that every young boy, who had just learned that his wee-wee was good for something else besides peeing, wanted down there. Harry had looked for such a spell, but never found anything on his own; and of course, you couldn't exactly ask Madam Pince, the librarian at Hogwarts, for a spell to give you a huge dick and try to claim it was just something for a class assignment. If anybody knew of such a spell it would have been Hermione, but asking her was out of the question too.

As it was, Harry was sure that if he dropped his trousers in front of Ginny, or Hermione, or any girl for that matter, all he was going to get was peals of laughter. Followed by the usual gossip that would spread the awful truth all over Hogwarts. He cringed when he thought of what Malfoy would have teased him with if he had known. At least that little cocksucker wouldn’t be a problem at Hogwarts this coming year. He was on the run from the Ministry for his part is killing Professor Dumbledore earlier that summer.

As bad as Harry desperately wanted, and needed, to get laid, it wasn't going to happen until he did something about his tiny dick. Maybe his odd acting friend, Luna Lovegood, would suck it, but up until now he hadn't been that desperate to ask her. Hell, he was beginning to wonder if Moaning Myrtle might be able to do it for him. Even though Myrtle was a ghost, she had acted pretty hot for him in the bathroom that time during the Tri-wizard tournament. “No, definitely not,” he thought. “She’d tell all the girls about it when they went to the bathroom to take a dump.”

Still, Harry could take heart that the biggest nightmare of his short life was nearly over. It was now 8:01AM on the morning of July 30th. At midnight tonight, it would be the 31st and Harry Potter would officially be 17 years old. Harry would become an adult wizard and the magic protection afforded him as a juvenile by living at the Dursley’s residence would be gone. It was Harry’s last day with his dreaded Aunt Petunia and vicious Uncle Vernon, and their shit-for-brains son, Dudley. After 16 years of hell, it would be over. He could leave and go where and when he pleased, do magic as he pleased, apparate wherever he chose. After 16 years, he only had to put up with 16 more hours of living with these muggle arseholes. His biggest concern was if he could stand it till midnight. His stuff was already packed. He would leave nothing here and he would never return to Privet Drive.

Harry quickly got dressed, came down the stairs and into the Dursley’s kitchen. They all glared at him with idiotic grins on their faces. With a saccharin smile, Aunt Petunia set a full plate on the table with Harry’s breakfast. There was more food in the plate now than Harry used to receive in a week before going to Hogwarts. Harry had found a very different attitude when he returned from Hogwarts for his last summer at the Dursleys. Dumbledore had visited them a year ago, and they were still shaken from what he had told them. First of all, they had discovered that at seventeen Harry would be considered a mature wizard and free from juvenile restrictions on using magic. Secondly, Dumbledore had let the Dursleys know that he was aware of their ill treatment of Harry, and was not amused. Harry had thought it best not to inform them that Dumbledore had been killed in June. Let the bastards stew in their fears of retribution.

Harry grinned at the thought of the conversations that must have hushedly taken place all last year of what might happen to them next summer. All summer long, whenever Dudley’s staring began to annoy Harry, he would look directly at Dudley, rolled his eyes back in his head and began to soundlessly word nonsense incantations. The first time he had done it back in June poor old Dudley had pissed himself, but now he was slowly catching on that maybe Harry was just bullshitting him. But he wasn’t absolutely sure just yet.

As he ate his breakfast, Aunt Petunia asked how his sausages were. “Are they cooked just the way you like them, dear?”

“Oh yes, Auntie,” Harry replied. “I love sausages just this way. It reminds me of how little I got them when I was younger as I only got any if everyone else had already had their fill, including the dog.” To the Dursley’s look of horror, Harry rambled on in his memories.

“Why I could never forget the mornings we’ve spent around the breakfast table. Uncle, do you remember the time I was so hungry that I knicked a sausage out of the pan before bringing it to the table. And how you screamed at me that I was denying Dudley his nutrition. Then you knocked me nearly senseless to the floor, breaking my glasses you had bought at the second hand shop. What a jolly laugh we all had that morning.

“My, my, how long ago was that?” pondered Harry. “Oh yes, I think that was about six months before I learned the truth that I was actually a powerful wizard, and that you had been purposefully starving and abusing me hoping my powers wouldn’t come to fruition.”

“Harry, dear….” began a trembling Aunt Petunia. Uncle Vernon and Dudley seemed unable to speak at all.

“Well that plan went fuck all didn’t it,” crowed Harry between mouthfuls of eggs. “Just think of it, my dear cousin Dudley. At the stroke of midnight I shall become an adult wizard. I’ll have full use of my magical powers, and no controls on using my years of training in sorcery.”

“Potions has always been my favorite course,” Harry lied with a wicked grin. “You know, stuff like poisons, or cursed elixirs that give you the pox, or those naughty incurable social diseases, ha, ha, hah.

“Oh, but that’s not all, dear cousin,” Harry continued. “I take full ownership of my parent’s and Godfather’s houses and estates. I’ll have more than enough gold and property to make me richer than a bleeding Lord. Of course, most of the nobles and royals are one of us. You did know that didn’t you, Uncle?”

“We always suspected something like that,” fumbled Uncle Vernon.

“Yeah, it makes us untouchable by the muggle law. We can do pretty much as we damned well please, except against one of our own, of course. Dear old Aunt Marge found that out didn’t she? What was a jolly time we had that day didn’t we?”

Uncle Vernon was now looking like a chipmunk his moustache was quivering so badly. He barely managed to nod and sputter, “Why yes, Harry my lad, we had quite the excitement that day.”

“Oh but that was nothing. Why I remember one of my mates at school telling me of how his dad, the Earl of . . . hmmm, best not give out specifics here,” mused Harry, now wondering just how gullible about magic these arseholes really were. “Anyway, his dad had a family of worthless muggles on his estate that pissed him off and he turned the lot of them into living turnips and fed them alive and kicking to the hogs. God how they squealed, he said! I’d have loved to have seen it. Ha, haw, haw.”

Aunt Petunia was nearing a faint as she muttered, “You mean he just murdered them, a whole family?”

“Oh no Auntie,” Harry reassured her. “He waited until the next day when they had passed through the hogs and turned the pigshit back into them. Set that lot right it did, and in a hurry. ‘Set the example’ that’s what you say, Uncle, and right you are too.”

Uncle Vernon’s mustache quivered uncontrollably as he listened to Harry’s story. Credulity had never been his strong point, so he was not altogether sure whether to believe it. “Well… erm, yes, Harry, but there is also a time and place for charity and forgiveness. Letting bygones be bygones. The milk of human kindness is sweet.”

Harry knew he had rattled his Uncle when Vernon had offered to clean up the breakfast dishes so that Harry could take his ease in the living room in front of the television. Harry made himself comfortable in the living room squarely in front of the television. He could hear whispers in the kitchen as the Dursleys tried to collect themselves.

Harry had actually given some thought to taking revenge on the Dursleys when he left for good, but never seriously. The last thing he needed was trouble with the Ministry of Magic and the new Minister now. Scrimgeour would absolutely love to have Harry in a jam and needing his assistance to get clear of it. Harry had no intent to perform any acts that would land his arse in trouble and under the Ministry’s thumb.

Besides, revenge on the Dursleys was mostly unnecessary. Harry had finally come to realize the wisdom of what Dumbledore and others had tried to tell him; that basically, the Dursleys were a bunch of dysfunctional muggle shitheads. They were doomed to a life of punching a time card, taking shit from everyone, and living their short unhappy lives day by day in drudgery and fear. Harry really couldn’t think of a curse that would put them in a greater hell on Earth than that they cast upon themselves every day. Meanwhile, he was a wizard. He had magical powers, and knowledge they couldn’t dream of, wealth and property, and long life span. He could still be servicing six girls a night while fat arse cousin Dudley was dying of heart disease.

Yes, the best revenge on the Dursleys was to live well, and that would start tonight. All his gear was together and ready to leave. He would go to London, to the house he had inherited from his godfather, Sirius Black, at 12 Grimmauld Place. Once there he would be safe from Voldemort and could settle in for a while and plan his strategy. He knew the only way for him to ultimately be safe to live his life was to finally destroy Voldemort.

However, there was a major obstacle, Voldemort couldn’t be killed and stay dead. Voldemort had used the darkest of black magic, and the act of murder, to slice off pieces of his soul and place them in inanimate objects. These were called Horcruxes; there were six of them and the remaining piece inside Voldemort’s body. As long as even one Horcrux remained it bound Voldemort to the earth, he couldn’t be killed. That was how he had survived after his death curse rebounded off Harry that night sixteen years earlier. Two of these Horcruxes had already been destroyed, but Harry had to destroy all the remaining Horcruxes before attacking Voldemort himself. To make matters worse, Harry just didn’t know where the rest were hidden, or how to destroy them if he found them.

Harry didn’t want to think on that just now; he wanted to get out of here. It’s funny how time can move so slowly when you want it to pass. The television was a bore. More news stories about inexplicable events. It was Voldemort’s work of course. The other bad thing about being at the Dursley’s house was that he was out of touch with the wizarding world. At first he had welcomed the disconnect. The pain of Dumbledore’s death had been too much to bear; Harry had been a witness to the murder. Privet Drive was such a distant opposite of Hogwarts that when he was here it made being there seem like a dream. This had helped a bit with dealing with the death of Cedric, Sirius, and now, Dumbledore. Now it was time to return and get some payback for those deaths, and the laundry list of those who had theirs coming was growing: Pettigrew, Bellatrix, Malfoy, Snape, & Voldemort.

While thinking about his plans for ultimate revenge, Harry’s mind was distracted by a commercial showing a bunch of half-naked dancing girls selling something or other. It reminded him that his knackers were still hurting and needed tending. Since the time he had turned thirteen Harry had become increasingly preoccupied with getting laid. He had always been afraid to wank in bed at school for fear that the other boys in the dorm would see or hear him playing with himself. Sometimes he hurt so badly at night he thought he would go insane. The summers back then hadn’t been much relief either, the damned Dursleys had normally kept such a close watch on him during the summer that it was very difficult to sneak off and bust a nut.

The first real break in relieving his intense sexual frustrations had come from Fred & George Weasley. Besides filling him up with loads of bullshit, they gave him something actually useful, an excellent masturbation charm. The charm could be used on a pair of soft cotton gloves. Once enchanted, the gloves crawled under the covers to the wizard's crotch and attend his needs.

After the deed was done, the gloves would crawl over to the dirty clothes hamper for the laundry elves to pickup in the morning. Best of all, if somebody came in the dorm room unexpectedly both of Harry’s hands were in plain sight on top of his covers at all times.

Harry had sometimes wondered if the laundry elves were ever puzzled as to how he managed to go through so many pairs of gloves as he did. Of course, it was possible that all the boys at Hogwarts knew about that old charm and half the laundry load from the boys dorms was cotton gloves. Now that he came to think of it, why did the school clothing supply store in Diagon Alley always have plenty of cotton gloves for sale in the boys section?

Regular use of the gloves had saved Harry's sanity during the time Professor Umbridge had been giving him hell. Just the thought of Umbridge still made Harry turn cold. Harry hated that ugly bitch with a passion. She had tried to kill Harry, and intended to torture him. Despite this, the Minister of Magic and the Inquisitor General were still protecting her. She deserved to be sitting in a cell in Azkaban prison, or snogging a Dementor.

The only redeeming news had come from Firenze, a centaur who taught Divination at Hogwarts. He had told Harry about what had happened to Umbridge in the Forbidden Forest when Harry and Hermione had led her there. He had said that the Centaur herd had spent a couple of days gang-banging her (frontdoor and backdoor it was said) before Dumbledore showed up and collected her. Harry figured the deliriously happy thought of a Centaur ramming his horsedick (Centaur's were reputed to have 16 inch cocks with a large "mare tickler" wart on the head) up Umbridge's bleeding arse would make an excellent patronus.

Curled up on the couch, Harry laughed at the thought that there was some justice in the world. With nothing else to do around here until nightfall Harry went upstairs to his room and dug out a pair of cotton gloves from his school trunks. He awoke from his nap at just before dusk. He decided to stretch his legs and wandered around the neighborhood one last time, mostly just for the exercise and to take his mind off sex. He passed the grade school where he had been teased by the others, the playground where bullies had shoved him around and stole from him. It seemed like an eternity ago he was there. How hopeless and helpless he had felt about the prospect of his life. His whole life made a complete turn about with the letter from Hogwarts. Harry was a wizard, he had power they could only dream of, and difficulties to face they couldn’t imagine. Either way he could only think of how good it was going to be to get out of this shithole.

As darkness fell, Harry headed back to the Dursley’s house. He’d learned his lesson two years before about wandering around in the dark. Supper was about as boring as breakfast had been. Aunt Petunia had made another tasteless pot roast as a going away dinner for Harry. Hardly a word passed between any of them as they chewed on the meat. Dudley looked like he desperately wanted to be elsewhere, but even his fear of Harry couldn’t resist the desire of feeding his fat face. Uncle Vernon never took his eyes off Harry unless Harry tried to meet his gaze, then he would look away.

When supper was done, Harry got up, it was a few more hours to go yet, but he could still get in one last bullshit session with the Dursleys. “Well, last minute preparations you know. I have a few details to complete before I leave.”

“Harry, dear,” said Petunia. “Will you be coming down before you go.”

“Yes, Aunt,” was Harry’s reply. “Wouldn’t want the neighbors to see me flying out the window on my broomstick would we?”

“Oh no, no dear, we wouldn’t want that.” Auntie replied. Dudley and Vernon nearly choked on the thought.

“Besides, there are predictions of fog and wind gusts all night,” said Harry. “Makes it hard to navigate and maintain control of a broom, even if I do have a fine touch with one myself. That would be a fine thing, fly into a church steeple or power lines. So I’ll be leaving out the front door.”

“One other thing, Harry, is your twinkle-toes friend coming to get you again?” asked Uncle Vernon.

“You mean Professor Dumbledore?”

“I mean the old sodomite in the funny dress and hat who came here last year to pick you up, is he coming back here again?”

“Oh, him, no, he’s dead,” answered Harry.

“Dumbledore’s dead!” exclaimed Aunt Petunia, “How did he die?”

“He was murdered by another teacher at Hogwarts, a Professor Snape.”

“Severus killed Dumbledore!” Petunia shouted, then quickly covered her mouth as she realized what she had let slip. All eyes were on her, especially Harry’s.

“You know Snape?” asked Harry.

“NO!” shouted Petunia quickly, a little too quickly thought Harry. “It’s just a name I heard my sister mention once when she was talking all that magic rubbish. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Quite so,” said Uncle Vernon, but his eyes betrayed his own interest in how his wife knew of this person.

“This is a good time to go upstairs,” thought Harry. Harry lay on his bed and thought about all that had transpired here over the last 16 years. Most of the thoughts were bad. However, not all of his thoughts of Hogwarts were good ones either. Still, it was better there than here. Somewhere in his thoughts, Harry drifted off again until he was awakened by the soft hooting of his pet snowy owl named Hedwig. It was 5 minutes to midnight. Time to get his stuff together and go downstairs.

Harry set Hedwig lose from the window to go hunt and told her to meet him at the Black house at dawn. He then wrapped his invisibility cloak around his waist for quick retrieval, and put his wand in his waistband and carried his gear downstairs. They were waiting for him, unsure of what would happen. Harry had no further time to prod them. Let them stew in their own bile of life; he was free of them, and good riddance.

“Well I guess this is goodbye. I do thank you for the things you did do for me. I hope you are able to get on better with your lives now without my interference.”

“We wish you all the best of luck in your career,” said Uncle Vernon in his insincere business like way as though Harry was an employee who was being downsized. “There were some rough spots for both, but that’s all bygones now I hope?”

“Yeah, yeah, water under the bridge and all that rubbish. Sod it, I’m off,” Harry said quickly as he opened the door and stepped out into the night. The Dursley’s had made sure the light bulb was unscrewed from the socket, so Harry left Privet Drive for the last time exactly as he had first arrived at it, in the darkness. He reached the street and paused to catch his first free breath. It was over, he was a man and free, but free to do what? It only now hit him that he was alone, on an open street, with no friends, and a host of enemies. Moreover, he no longer had the magical protection of his mother’s blood. He was an open target for any Death Eater lying in wait for him.

He dragged his trunk, broomstick, and Hedwig’s empty cage to the nearby street corner. What to do now? He could call for the Knight’s Bus, or try to disapparate, or get on his broom and to hell if anyone saw him flying off. In his moment of indecision he heard rushed clicking of high heels scrapping the concrete behind him. He drew his wand and turned to defend himself again the unseen opponent.

“EXPELLIARMIS!” came the harsh voice from a hooded figure. Harry’s wand went flying, he was now unarmed. He panicked and tried to back away from the figure, only to trip over Hedwig’s cage and go sprawling in the dew wet grass that bordered the sidewalk. Before he could move, the spiked high heel of a woman’s black boot was set across his throat pushing him down, and pinning him to the ground. Looking up, Harry now saw the face of his attacker, it was Bellatrix LeStrange. Bellatrix, or Bella to intimates, was an evil witch who served Voldemort. Bella was the one responsible for the death of Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black, a year earlier.

Harry saw Bella flash him a cruel smile of gleeful victory as she took her wand and jammed it painfully into the crotch of his trousers. “Happy birthday, Harry,” she purred sweetly. “The Dark Lord sent me with a present for you, a painful death.”

Harry could feel the tip of the wand prodding deep into his tender scrotum. He knew what was coming next, the Avada Kadavra, the killing curse; and Bella was going to give it to him right in the balls. Harry’s mind reeled with the injustice of his life. He was going to die screaming in agony, after all the shit he had been through, he was going to die, and worst of all to him at that moment, he would die a virgin.

“Bye, bye, little Harry,” she said in her sarcastically saccharin sweet voice. “AVADA....”

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Second posting will follow as soon as I can get it ready. -- LW