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Chapter 12: The Wrath of Voldemort

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“Ugh, ugh …ugh …UGH,” Peter Pettigrew, better known to many as Wormtail, grunted as he knelt on a hard mattress in the backroom. He was grunting because standing behind him, and fucking him up the arse, was his old schoolmate Severus Snape.

The Dark Lord had ordered Wormtail to serve Snape over a year earlier. Wormtail had tried initially to act as though he were a peer wizard to Snape, but Snape had quickly quashed that thought and dictated in no uncertain terms who was master, and who was servant. It was also quickly established that serving Snape also meant servicing his homosexual lust. Normally, Snape preferred young muggle boys who he could put under the Imperious curse and have a night of fun with; but Snape was forced to lower his standards after the death of Dumbledore at his hands drove him into hiding.

Wormtail knew that Snape had other prey he desired that was of a more dangerous to acquire nature. One evening Wormtail had been carrying cleaned laundry to Snape’s trunk; by mistake he turned the key wrongly and opened a section of the expanding trunk that he was never supposed to see. It contained pictures of the Malfoy boy, Draco, as well as mementos of Severus’ secret love back in their old school days. Peter chuckled as the old memories of that cold morning crept back into his mind, when fifteen year old Severus Snape had proclaimed his love for his friend publicly, and had been humiliated and scorned. He had never forgiven his best friend for not returning his love, and part of his revenge against his old love had been to bring Peter into the service of the Dark Lord.

Now Severus appeared to have a new love. He was chuckling to himself over the thought of Snape wanking while looking at Draco’s picture. That stopped abruptly when Snape walked in on him. The look of rage on Snape’s face terrified Wormtail; he thought Snape would surely kill him. As it was, he endured one of the worst beatings he had ever received.

Snape had promised him a very unpleasant death if he ever dared breathe a word about Draco to anyone. After that Snape had been a particularly rough arse master, or as rough as a thumb dick like Snape could be with anyone. Wormtail hadn’t really measured it, but he doubted Snape could have presented his protégé’s tight little puckered arsehole with a full four inches of cock. Snape had tried his best to get the Dark Lord to assign Draco to be his personal ‘apprentice,’ to be taught the ways of the dark arts by Snape for the purpose of future service the Dark Lord. Bellatrix had been furious at the idea. She knew all about Snape, and what he had planned for her nephew. She was the one who had trained Draco to close his mind to outside control, presumably against the Order, but actually to safeguard him against mind control from Snape.

Bellatrix implored the Dark Lord to assign Draco to his family, meaning her, for additional training in the Dark Lord’s service. Voldemort had agreed with her and denied Draco to Snape for the moment, but he knew perfectly well of Snape’s desire for Draco’s tight young arse. He also knew that Draco could be dangled as a future reward before a lustful Snape to insure continued success in his assigned missions. Draco had not been told that Snape was serving as his father’s jailor and torturer, Bella having been forbidden to tell by the Dark Lord. Severus Snape knew that once he had Draco under his power, Draco could be convinced to cooperate by use of his father. Draco would do as told if he knew what would befall his father otherwise.

As for Wormtail, he wasn’t as stupid as the other Death Eaters thought he was, but it suited his purposes to let them think that way. Wormtail had grown used to the verbal abuse, and taking Snape’s little thumb dick up his arse practically every day. He knew that his time would come. Patience had always been his greatest virtue, that, and the willingness to fuck over anybody if it was advantageous to him to do so. His moment would come, he only had to endure.

James Potter had treated him like a peasant all through school, making fun of him. He had allowed Wormtail to tag along just to provide amusement for the gang. James and Sirius would play cruel tricks on Peter; supposedly, all in good fun; and poor stupid little Peter had always been a good sport and laughed along with them. At least he had until he had seen his moment to get even and took it. How delicious it had been to betray James to his death, then get it all blamed on Sirius to earn that bastard a life sentence in Azkaban, and let the Dementors have him for lunch. His only regret in whole affair was that Lily had died too.

Wormtail had coveted the beautiful Lily since he had first seen her at school. After they had finished school, Wormtail only stayed around James so that he could be around Lily too. However, the regret he felt over her death wasn’t all that upsetting as Lily had treated him like shit too. She had known exactly what she was doing to him all those times she wore that damned perfume and fawned all over James. She knew that every time Peter wanked he was thinking of her, that every night he wished he was James and in bed having sex with her. Then James would show up at the pub using innuendo to brag to Sirius and Remus about how satisfying the sex with Lily had been. They had all done it just to hurt him, to have their laughs at poor Wormtail’s expense.

Sometimes Peter Pettigrew wondered if they had known that that was why he had done it. The scorn and humiliation they had heaped on him, the frustrations he had been made to live with. Such emotions are the bread and butter of the Dark Lord. Wormtail’s reward for betraying Potter was to have had Lily Potter placed under the Imperious curse and given to Wormtail as his sex slave. James would die and Lily would be his whenever it pleased him to have her. James’ git would perish as well, but Lily would soon have a replacement family named Pettigrew. James’ house and wealth would be his, and he would live in comfort, respect, and sexual satisfaction for the remainder of his days, courtesy of the Dark Lord. All he had to do was betray his dear old friend to his death. It was a classic no-brainer decision to him.

Wormtail knew now that Voldemort’s promises had always been just a lie. He had never intended to treat Peter with the respect a pureblood wizard deserved by right of bloodline as he had claimed he would. Not that it mattered any more. The plan had gone bugger-all that night. Voldemort had killed Lily despite his promise to spare her for Wormtail’s lust. The silly git could have placed her under the Imperious curse first, and then ordered her to stand aside, but no. He got pissed off at her defiance and killed her, and then nearly destroyed himself trying to kill the boy. The frame-up planned against Sirius nearly failed, and only quick action by Wormtail allowed him to save himself while still getting Sirius blamed for Potter’s death. No, he knew he wasn’t as dumb as they thought him to be, but he was still no better off than he had been back then. Just lonelier.

Though Peter despised Snape as much as anyone, he was glad to still be assigned to him for the time being. Snape had killed Dumbledore, and now he was the second wanted wizard after the Dark Lord himself. A reward that would keep Mr. Peter Pettigrew in a comfortable lifestyle awaited the person who gave up Snape to the Ministry’s Aurors. Failing that, delivering Snape’s dead body to the Ministry should at least keep him out of Azkaban if the Dark Lord’s schemes fell apart like before. Last time, Peter hadn’t planned on the possibility that the great almighty Dark Lord just might fuck up, and leave him having to create an escape plan on the spur of the moment. That had resulted in his having to live literally in his animagus rat form for ten years with those bloody poverty stricken Weasleys. Peter had had enough of eating garbage.

This time he would have an escape plan ready so he could switch sides if it became necessary. He knew things of value to the Ministry. He knew who the informants were inside the Ministry that had passed the information on how to enter Azkaban. He knew other secrets as well. Most of the Death Eaters did not know that Peter was an animagus who could become a rat. Many of the Death Eater hideouts were abandoned places that naturally had rats, so Peter could change and move unnoticed through the walls, listening through holes to his colleague’s indiscretions when they thought themselves secure. He had enough on practically every Death Eater to get them killed for treason. He even had dirt on Snape.

Of course, he couldn’t do anything against Snape right now. Snape was the Dark Lord’s right hand man since killing Dumbledore for him. Any hint of treachery against Snape and the Dark Lord would know it in an instant; and that would be the end of Wormtail.

As it was, Peter Pettigrew knew his existence was precarious in any circumstance. Yes, he had helped kill the Potters. Yes, he returned to the Dark Lord and helped him recover his body. Yes, he had served the Dark Lord as manservant while he was adapting to regaining corporeal form again. But Wormtail knew that there was not a single grain of loyalty to others in the Dark Lord. Loyalty was a one-way street to Voldemort, and all roads led only to him. If you had no future service to offer, and retaining you proved any form of liability, or worse yet, discarding you had advantage, what services you had performed in the past meant nothing. That was your arse.

The though of his arse drew Wormtail back to the present as Snape was huffing and puffing through his short strokes. A few seconds later Wormtail felt a warm liquid in his rectum as Snape grunted loudly. “Thank the gods that’s over with for today,” he thought to himself. He had been kneeling on that hard bed for so long now it was really getting uncomfortable.

Every time he came, Snape acted as if he was shooting a quart of cum up Wormtail’s arse; usually it was little more than two quick squirts of watery jizzm. Snape was damn near impotent. But he acting like he was a well hung bull stud who could stay in the saddle all night; actually he was just so sexually inept that it took him forever of pumping and fantasizing to get his nuts off.

“That will do for now, Wormtail,” said Snape with a sneer. “I’ll let you know when I require your services again. For now clean yourself up and meet me in the infirmary.”

Snape went out the door and crossed the hallway. Ever since killing Dumbledore, Snape had been in hiding. Going to his home in Spinner’s End would be a death sentence; it was under constant observation by Ministry Aurors. As was any other place that the Ministry knew of that he might go. Snape had killed Dumbledore as planned, but he had fucked up royally by leaving the Potter brat alive to tell the tale to the Ministry. It had also put Draco’s mother in a very tight bind. She damn near ended up with a his-and-her dungeon cell in Azkaban with Lucius after Draco’s part in the affair came out. She had only just barely talked her way out of it by claiming that Draco must have been put under an Imperious spell by Snape. Given the family history of Lucius and Auntie Bellatrix being known Death Eaters, it was a thin alibi. The only reason she wasn’t sent up was because the Ministry wanted her free to observe and follow hoping she’d lead them to Draco and Snape.

The Dark Lord had placed Snape and Wormtail in a ‘safe house’ to await his future orders. Though it could hardly be called a house they stayed in, it was the underground dungeons beneath the collapsed remains of a small monastery that had fallen into neglect and ruin hundreds of years ago. Well off the traveled path, the only passersby were a few muggle hikers and tourists who ventured by in their travels. Those who got too nosy or acted as they were going to stay the night in the ruins received a quick spell that sent them on their way. Harming them was too dangerous as the Ministry was monitoring the muggle news for items such as this.

They remained there in the subterranean labyrinth of passages and cells where monks had done penance and heretics had suffered. They lived in the remains of the tiny cells and interrogation rooms. It was dark, dirty, and reminded Peter of being in his animagus rat form again. Still it had magical protection second only to Hogwarts to prevent its discovery. It was as safe as any place for now.

The Dark Lord, and other Death Eaters on the move, apparated in and out as needed. The Dark Lord never stayed in the same place for very long. He moved constantly, telling few of his next movement, or his timetable to return. Only a handful even knew how to communicate with him, Wormtail did not, but Snape knew. Snape knew damn near everything. Snape had achieved the closest thing to trust as the Dark Lord was willing to give. Severus knew that the Dark Lord had feared Dumbledore more than he was willing to admit to anyone, even himself. He had seen Voldemort work himself into a tizzy worrying constantly about what fantastic plots Dumbledore might be up to foil him. The Dark Lord would even take random snippets of news and weave them into elaborate schemes that Dumbledore was behind to destroy him. Snape never understood the Dark Lord’s fixation and hatred of Dumbledore, it was almost as if there was an old grudge between them, but Snape had never found its source.

The Dark Lord had wanted Dumbledore dead, but had been afraid to do it himself after the disaster in the ministry building over a year ago. Snape had fixed all that by killed his most feared enemy for him, only after Dumbledore’s dead was officially announced by the Ministry did the Dark Lord talk again of going on the offensive.

Wormtail wiped the cum out of his arsecrack and pulled his trousers on. Going into the next room where Snape was standing, he saw him looking down at a figure lying prone on an operating table. It was evident by the figure’s agonized gesticulations that the person lying there was in a great deal of pain.

“Shit, shit, SHIT! That bitch!” Snape exclaimed throwing the contents of a small cauldron at the back wall. The figure on the table was Crabbe. He had been sent to assist Bellatrix on a quickly conceived operation to seize Harry Potter after he was positively identified in Godric’s Hollow. Potter no longer had any residual protection from his mother’s blood, and only had one known security escort who had already been compromised by one of the Dark Lord’s moles in the administration there. It should have been a quick in and out hit with Potter as either a living prisoner or a corpse.

“The healing potion isn’t working on him I take it?” asked Wormtail.

Snape glared at him with rage that always surged in Snape when someone else’s magic was besting him. Crabbe’s side and leg had been split open to the bone. The pain was terrible, and no effort by Snape to close the wound or even alleviate the pain had worked. The Silencio spell was the only thing kept them from hearing Crabbe’s pitiable screams. Snape had placed his most powerful healing potion on the leg prior to requiring Wormtail’s carnal services to calm him down. Now he saw that his best potions had failed against Tonks’ cursed blade.

“No it isn’t you stupid troll cunt,” he said. “Whatever made that cut was a cursed blade. Only knowing the proper countercurse will allow it to be healed. That could take weeks to find. The wound is already suppurating. He’ll be dead in 24 hours of the infection unless I can break the curse or get him into St. Mungo’s.”

There was the sound of two cracks as Voldemort and Bellatrix apparated into the room. Snape and Wormtail bowed low as their Master approached the table. Bellatrix was now dressed in a clean robe, but there were still a few flecks of bloody tissue left clinging to her hair from the encounter with Tonks and Potter. She had a frightened look to her, she had failed her master. Wormtail noted that she was walking with a pronounced limp.

“Severus, old friend, how goes it with our servant Crabbe?” Voldemort rasped. Voldemort had already heard the results of the raid from Bellatrix. She had related how the sortie on Godric’s Hollow had failed, and Potter had survived. Now the Death Eater mole in the local administration there was dead, killed by Potter, and the Auror Nymphadora Tonks was dead.

The only two things that seemed to draw any real reaction from Voldemort when he was told this was that Potter was still alive and that Potter had successfully performed the killing curse. His face had twisted into a mask of fury at what had happened. Then he had assumed the cool demeanor that told his servants that he was truly angry to the point that someone might well be about to die for the mistakes made. Snape explained to Voldemort that none of his healing potions worked against the cursed wounds inflicted upon Crabbe. That he would require intensive care from St. Mungo’s to have any chance of survival.

“So, our servant who has failed us needs stronger medicine does he?” he said. “Then let us see to our incompetent servant’s welfare. We know just the proper cure to free him of his pain, and us of his idiocy.” Without any hesitation, or hint of remorse, Voldemort drew his wand, pointed it at the center of Crabbe’s chest and uttered the killing curse. Crabbe lurched and then went perfectly still. Wormtail was relieved, Crabbe was better off, and the Dark Lord had hopefully gotten killing out of his system, for the time being, anyway.

For her part Bellatrix was not relieved, she knew she might be the next to die. Turning away from Crabbe’s corpse, Voldemort looked angrily at Bella.

“My dear Bella, again you have failed us,” he said softly, almost whispering with a cold indifference. “This time there’s no Lucius Malfoy to blame it on, you were in charge. You were three fully trained dark wizards against one young witch and an adolescent boy. You achieved complete surprise over them in a moment of profound indiscretion that was bound to slow and confuse their response to your attack. You had every advantage, yet you were beaten. In fact, you were damned near massacred! The great question in our mind at this moment is this; HOW DID YOU FUCK THAT UP?”

With that, Voldemort viciously backhanded Bellatrix across the face. She went down hard on to the floor with blood on her face. Voldemort then pointed his wand at her spine and uttered the torture curse. “CRUCIO!” Bellatrix screamed in pain as the curse convulsed her body. She writhed on the floor in agony as Voldemort’s fury held her under the curse. After about 15 seconds of torture, Bella began a plaintive babbling that sounded like a crude plea for mercy.

From a few feet away, Snape watched with little empathy as Bella took her punishment for failure. Snape had also failed the Dark Lord in earlier days, and had suffered while Bella stood by and watched with glee. Now the tables were turned. When he had started as a Death Eater the two great powers had been Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix LeStrange. Now one was his prisoner in a nearby cell, and the other wiggling on the floor in pain like a worm placed on a hot rock.

Finally, Voldemort released Bella from the curse. She showed the typical symptoms of Cruciatus, she trembled uncontrollably, she appeared nauseous, and was mentally disoriented. The worst effects of a long bout of Cruciatus might linger for days, or weeks, with joint pain, muscle cramps, inability to sleep or hold down food. Depending upon where on the body the curse was focused the victim might have irregular heartbeat, piss blood, become impotent, be unable to concentrate; the list went on and on. Snape marveled at what an effectively debilitating curse it was, with so many uses. He made a mental note that once the Dark Lord was finally set in absolute power that he was going to do some scientific studies on prisoners using the curse. Perhaps write the definitive treatise on the use of the torture curse. There would be plenty of unwilling volunteers then to choose from.

Long ago, Snape had worked up a potion that alleviated most residual effects of the torture curse. He had made it a priority after his first personal encounter with the curse. The version he had now worked fairly well, it reduced the recovery time to only a few hours instead of days. Knowing how easy it was for the Dark Lord to be angered he always kept a vial of the potion secreted on his person, just in case. If he gave some to Bella she would be pretty much back to normal by morning. However, giving in to a silent laugh, he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Bella would have to deal with it the old-fashioned way, suffer.

Bellatrix managed to pull herself into a somewhat sitting position, she looked like she was trying to form words, to say something to Voldemort. That was quelled in a split second by Voldemort stepping up and touching the tip of his wand to her forehead. Even through her pain-fogged mind Bella realized that she was only a hairsbreadth away from death.

“Now listen carefully to us, dear Bellatrix,” the Dark Lord started as though talking to a misbehaving child. “You should have killed that bitch and the Potter brat the moment you entered the room. But no, you wanted to savor your little victory, to revel in your own cleverness at having caught little Potter with his dick hanging out. The cost of your failure to act was dear. Potter still lives, and thus he gives our enemies renewed hope of resisting us and surviving. In fact, Potter has grown stronger now that he’s actually killed one of our servants. He has proven to himself the ability and will to kill. We’ve lost our inside contact in Godric’s Hollow so we are blind to the goings on there, and we’ve lost two valuable wands in the fight to come. It’s only because we will need you in that struggle that we are forgiving your ineptitude this time, but let us give you this warning in all earnestness – DON’T FUCK UP AGAIN! If you do, we assure you the result will be fatal for you.”

Strictly to himself, Wormtail remembered that when the Dark Lord had first risen in the Riddle graveyard three years ago he’d had plenty of opportunity to kill Potter too, but he decided to show off his own cleverness to his followers by engaging Potter in a stupid wizard’s duel. The result was that the Dark Lord himself, supported by nearly a dozen dark wizards, was fought to a draw by Potter. Of course, Wormtail knew that to point out this little hypocritical inconsistency to the Dark Lord at this particular moment would produce fatal results, fatal to himself.

“Severus, we are getting tired of this bullshit!” Voldemort said as he turned away from a very frightened Bellatrix. “Potter will already be in a place of safety now, and then on his way to Hogwarts soon. Even without Dumbledore its ancient magic makes it a formidable keep to try to enter by force or stealth. Potter has thwarted us too many times, it makes us look bad. His resilience to us raises hope in others of defying us as well, and living to brag about it. There are those who call him the chosen one. We need to kill that little git.”

“Yes, my Lord,” said Snape. “Do you have a plan?”

“Yes we do, Severus,” Voldemort said. “We have been contemplating how to get Potter out of the way since Dumbledore was killed. We have already reached into our past and know a point of weakness in Hogwarts’ defenses that may be used to our advantage. From this we have developed our plan of attack, and events have already been set in motion to accomplish this. The opportunity to strike in Godric’s Hollow was an unanticipated boon, and was an excellent opportunity wasted.”

In a more hushed tone Voldemort continued, “We know that you dismiss the boy as unintelligent and of no particular skill, but there are things about him which we have chosen not to reveal to you as of yet. There is something of which we learned long ago about him and his family that does makes him dangerous to us, but only if he learns of it too. That was the reason we wanted to know what the prophesy said in full; we needed to learn if it revealed this secret to him. Now we must move soon to finish him, and to destroy the line once and for all.”

“The ‘line,’ my Lord?” asked Snape.

“Never mind for now, Severus. All will come in good time.”

“Is there work for me here, my Lord?” asked Snape. “I know that we must move fast as Potter will soon be inside Hogwarts.”

“Hogwarts is exactly where we want Harry Potter to be for now, Severus. The security of Hogwarts is both an impediment and an opportunity. The best place to attack an opponent is where he feels safest. Potter will feel safe once he’s inside the walls of Hogwarts, so that is where we will strike him down. First, we must complete the preparations. We cannot afford to have another half-arse amateurish attempt blowup in our face. We are still cultivating and training our replacements for Draco and yourself at Hogwarts. They will keep us informed of Potter’s movements while there and allow us to make the arrangements to lay a proper deathtrap for Potter. When all is ready to begin the final act, we will inform you of the details, for the moment we will need you to act as a handler for the operation. To be the liaison between ourself and our people in Hogwarts.”

“I am at your service, my Lord,” said Snape. “However, Draco having been their schoolmate would be a valuable assistant for me to use in making contact. If you could reassign him to me as my ward I believe it would facilitate the operation.”

Voldemort stepped back to the still kneeling Bellatrix and pointed his wand at her forehead. “This seems a reasonable request, Severus,” said Voldemort. ”We entrusted his training to his Auntie Bellatrix here, but if her current level of performance is any indication of his future value to us he’ll be about as worthless as tits on a boar. Draco is yours, Severus. Do you have any complaints, Bella?”

Bellatrix knew better than to say anything. She slowly shook her head side to side. She’d lost Draco to Snape as punishment for her failure in Godric’s Hollow. How would she explain this to her sister? She began to sob quietly.

“Now, now, Bella,” said Voldemort condescendingly. “There is no need to cry over failing to serve your Lord and Master properly. Tears will not correct the mistakes you have made. Anyway, we are a generous Lord. We are allowing you a last opportunity to continue in our service. When our trap is eventually sprung you will lead part of the attack. We hope you will learn from past mistakes and not repeat them. Just think Bella, if you kill Potter you might partially redeem yourself in our eyes.”

“I thank you, my Lord, for this opportunity to show my loyalty and worth,” said Bella.

“Whatever. However, we will not trust ourselves to only one plan of attack. Phingarbang said that Potter was in Godric’s Hollow only to settle his parent’s estate. That was an obvious lie; he could have arrived and departed in safety within the day if that was all he was about there. No, he was there for some other purpose. We shall have our agents investigate what his real purpose was there.”

With a motion of his hand Voldemort called Snape to his side; they went into the next room to speak without Bellatrix listening in on them. “There are two matters of importance we would discuss with you. We have assigned you the boy Draco as your apprentice, but for the moment you are only to tutor him in the dark arts. He is not to be made your consort for the satisfaction of your lust. When the time is right he will be yours to do with as you please, but not yet. Second, we will have use for Lucius in our plan of attack. We want you to retain him in his cell, but you will cease further punishment, including the Dementors. See to it that he has sufficient diet and exercise to be available for our use. Do you understand all that we have said to you?”

“Yes, my Lord,” said a disappointed Snape. “I will do as you command.”

With that he disapparated. Returning to other room, Snape looked down at the still kneeling Bellatrix and grinned. He had his own little plans for Bellatrix’s future, but the events of today might speed them up a bit. Best of all he now had Draco at his command. Just the thought of seeing that sweet tight little arse flexing as he practiced his wand movements gave Snape the beginnings of an erection. As for Lucius, he had already grown bored with him.

Wormtail looked at the grin on Snape’s face with despair. He knew what that look meant, he’d be taking it up the arse again tonight.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Harry regained consciousness in a bed in St. Mungo’s hospital. Standing around the bed were Kingsley Shacklebolt, Moody, and Professor McGonagall. He was relived to see them for about a second or so until he tried to move to tell them about the crazy dream he’d just had. The body movement informed Harry’s body that he was awake and the pain returned. Harry groaned loudly and clutched his lower abdomen. It had been real. What about Tonks, was she all right?

“Harry, don’t try to move,” said Moody. “Who did this to you? Speak to me, Harry.”

“Tonks…” said Harry. “Tonks — is she all right? Tell me if Tonks is all right.”

“Harry, Tonks is dead,” said Moody. “Everybody in the room where we found you was dead except you. We could see from the blood and the footprints that at least two others were in there with you. Who were they? Where did they go?”

Tonks was dead. That was all Harry really heard, that Tonks was dead. Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, and now Tonks. All were dead, killed by Death Eaters on Voldemort’s orders, because of their proximity to him.

Moody looked down at him and said, “Harry, I know you’re in pain, I know you’re upset about Tonks, we all are, but we urgently need to know what happened in that room. Rita Skeeter is putting all kinds of rumors into the morning edition of the Daily Prophet to sell their damn papers. If we can’t give the Minister the truth very soon he’s going to turn you over to the Inquisition for a probe and scan. That’s not good news for you or us, a lot of things will come out we don’t want known. So please, Harry, tell us everything that happened, exactly as it happened, we can’t protect you unless we know everything.”

Harry began telling the story, he tried to gloss over the sexual activity that he and Tonks were engaged in, but Professor McGonagall broke in with a tired look. “Mr. Potter, we found you with your trousers and underpants around your ankles, Tonks’ knickers were on the couch by the table, and her crotch was covered in semen. I think we already know what the two of you were doing on the table when it all started.”

The frankness of the statement shocked Harry, but the next exchange nearly had his head spinning. “Minerva, please,” Moody started, “Harry, it’s understandable you are sensitive about that part, but we need the whole truth right now.”

“What I don’t understand is if Tonks was planning to give Harry some pussy in an unprotected place like that why didn’t she perform a privacy charm so intruders couldn’t just pop into the room in mid stroke?” said Professor McGonagall. “You said you had trained that girl in proper security procedures.”

Harry couldn’t believe he was hearing his straight-laced teacher talking that way about sex. “We didn’t plan to do it,” he blurted out. “It just sort of happened. We were planning on leaving and going back to Grimmauld Place right after.”

“She lowered her guard,” sighed Moody. “I told that girl a thousand times ‘eternal vigilance’ is necessary. Never assume it’s safe in a public area. They can be on you in a second. I bet she had just removed the security charms from the room so they could checkout.”

So it had been Harry’s fault that Tonks died. If he could have just kept his dick in his trousers for a few more hours, she might still be alive. Moody saw the look of despair and guilt on Harry’s face and knew his thoughts.

“Tonks’ death wasn’t your fault, Harry,” he said. “The attack was obviously already planned to catch you two as you were preparing to leave. Tonks would have had to remove the charm anyway when you left. They were already in place and just waiting for the charm’s protection to dissipate enough to ambush you going out the door. Whether it was intended to kill or capture you, Tonks was already marked for death. Maybe it was planned to kill you both immediately to prevent a fight, but catching you two having a screw caused them to hold off to enjoy the moment. That gave Tonks a fighting chance to save you, and maybe herself. Sometimes a fighting chance is the best you can hope for, a lot people don’t even get that when they die. She died well, Harry, she would have appreciated that. There are too many unknowable things in life to assume one change would have made the outcome different.”

“I talked her into doing it one more time,” said a sobbing Harry. “It is my fault she’s dead. I got them all killed, my parents, Cedric, Sirius, Professor Dumbledore, and now her. It was me they were always after. I was the one who was supposed to die, not them.”

“That’s not true, Harry; they were already targeted for death because they stood for the same things you stood for. Maybe they would have faced Voldemort at a different time, under different circumstances, but it would have happened eventually. Voldemort has only one creed: Submit or die.”

“What do I do now?” Harry asked.

“You need to heal up, Mr. Potter,” said Professor McGonagall. “The new term starts on Monday.”

“I’m not going back to Hogwarts,” said Harry remembering the silly dream he had awoken to the month before. “I need to leave, to draw Voldemort off after me. I can’t let others keep dying in my place any more. I’ll go live in the woods, in a tent, and look for the horcruxes ….”

“Bullshit, Potter!” said Professor McGonagall vehemently. “Now is the time when you have to stay. There are a lot of magi out there who are holding on to one slim hope, and you’re it! The only thing left that Voldemort seems to fear is you because of the prophesy. He’s uncertain what to do, he made a move once and it backfired on him. He tried to take you himself three times and every time you bested him. You overpowered him when your wands connected in the cemetery and escaped, and then you actually threw him off when he possessed you in the Ministry. You damn near killed him when he attacked you as a baby. People have escaped from Voldemort’s Death Eaters before, but nobody has ever actually bested Voldemort head to head even once, you’ve done it three times.”

“She’s right, Harry,” said Moody. “We need you trained and ready. We need to carry you to the next level, and that can only happen at Hogwarts. You will be safe there while you train. Minerva has arranged for a special tutor to help you there, and special training for you. I’ll be around to help out too, but I’ve got field work to try and do for Kingsley as well. Now finish telling us what really happened in that room.”

Harry completed the story of what had happened. He noticed the looks that came over their faces when he said that he had killed Phingarbang, and then when his missed spell caused the chair to explode in flaming splinters.

“Harry, this is important,” said Shacklebolt. “Don’t tell anyone about the killing curses you performed. We need to keep that secret. If you are asked then say that Tonks killed them all and you ducked under cover. I know it makes you seem cowardly, but don’t let it get around what you did, even to your friends at school.”

“All right, what do I do in the meantime?” asked Harry. “I don’t want to go to Grimmauld Place; I can’t stand to be there now.” If Harry had his choice he would have gone to the Golden Unicorn, but Harry felt that it was best to hide his ownership of the Unicorn from everyone who didn’t already know about it.

“I understand, Harry,” said Moody. “I know the barman at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. Very few people are there now. That’s a good place to hide out a few days and heal if you stay low. You’ll already be close to Hogwarts when school starts on Monday. It’s the best thing I can think of right now. I’ve already started taking care of the clean up details, getting all your things back to Grimmauld Place, and I saw to it that Tonk’s kit got sent to her family.“

“We need to get Harry out of here as soon as possible,” said Professor McGonagall. “It’s too open a place. People have been assassinated in here before now. I’ll send someone around I know to help with your healing. She’s an expert with these sort of injuries.”

That night Harry was whisked out of St. Mungo’s under his invisibility cloak. There were several different apparition jumps with different escorts until Harry found himself in an upstairs room at the Three Broomsticks pub in Hogsmeade. Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts school nurse, was already waiting to get Harry in bed quickly and pour nasty tasting healing potions down his throat. Professor McGonagall and Moody arrived separately to cast powerful security charms on the room and the door. When everything was ready, Madam Pomfrey took out her wand and gently touched it to Harry’s forehead.

“Dorme Pacum,” she lightly incanted, and Harry instantly fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Percy Weasley sat on the edge of the bed in his small Ministry employee flat near the Ministry building in London. There wasn’t much to it, just two rooms and a bath. He could only afford it because of his employee supplement. He only wearing his underclothes in the apartment to save wear and tear on his good clothes that he wore to work. Sitting there in his undershirt and pants he watched the Sun sink below the horizon. He had heard the news about the attack on Harry Potter in Godric’s Hollow, and that several people were dead. No word if Harry was one of them. Percy knew that his sister was in love with Harry, she had already been hard hit by Bill’s death, now this.

Percy was terrified, he knew what he should do, but he didn’t have the guts to do it. And what if he did confess, would it make any difference now? No. What would his family think of him if it ever came out? They would never forgive him, and if he were ever caught … that nightmare was too frightening to think about. Now Percy sat there in the evening gloom wondering how everything had become as messed up as it was. His thoughts always kept coming back to Penelope Clearwater.

Percy had met Penelope the first day he was at Hogwarts. Penelope had been the most beautiful girl that Percy had ever seen. His eyes had followed her as she went through the sorting ceremony; he was heartbroken when she went to Ravenclaw. Percy knew that he would go with Gryffindor like his brothers. For four years he had been tongue-tied around her. He never missed an opportunity to do her a service; she was always ready with a thank you and a wink. She came from an old wizarding family same as he, she was an over achiever like he was, and she didn’t have a lot of money. In Percy’s case, everybody knew the Weasley’s were dead poor; they had little but a name.

Percy wasn’t all that magically adept. He kept his grades by studying intently and learning to be a sycophant to the professors. They consistently over rated his abilities, mostly as a kindness. In their fifth year, Percy and Penelope had both been named prefects. Their class was now at the point where the hormones were really kicking in; some of the boys were already getting laid. Percy was mostly ignored by the girls; they thought him gawky and unattractive. A few ugly girls, like Margie Edgecombe, had spent a little time with him, but Percy was so dull and boring to be around that even they had quickly moved on. Finally, in his seventh year, Percy thought he saw his chance with Penelope. He was made the Head Boy of the school, and she was a Ravenclaw girl’s prefect. Surely she would not turn him down if the Head Boy asked her to be his girlfriend. Percy’s confidence uncharacteristically soared. He even became nervous as to how he should handle it the first time they had sex and started trying discreetly to find reading material on it in the library.

That was never to be his problem though. When Percy had asked her out she had said no to him. Instead, Penelope had started going out with the Gryffindor Quidditch team captain, Oliver Wood. Wood’s family was pureblood too; an old Scottish wizarding line going back to the Druids, and they had loads of money. Percy saw them snogging after the Quidditch matches and his balls would ache so bad he couldn’t stand it. One night he caught them making out in a side corridor near the library. He saw the couple there fumbling in the dark. He used the Lumos spell to cast a light on them and it was his darling Penelope with Wood’s erect cock in her hand; and Oliver’s was at least twice as big as his own.

Percy had been so startled that he just went back to his quarters and lay on the bed crying. Later in the library he had asked her why she preferred Wood to him. The answer had been predictable. Penelope had come from an old wizarding gentry family, but she wasn’t descended from the inheriting line of the family. Her parents had little in the way of an inheritance to leave her, and as far as she was concerned poverty sucked. She knew she was beautiful, had a sexy body, and could make pretty babies. She was a pureblood witch with a noble pedigree, and any wizarding family would welcome her as a daughter-in-law. Marriage to a wealthy pureblood was her ticket to a better life. She told Percy that he had nothing to offer her; he was poor, he was ugly, and every boy that had had a PE shower with a Weasley said that they had the shortest dicks in the whole school.

Wood’s family was loaded, he was decently hung, athletic, and he was only so-so handsome; therefore getting a hot looking witch like Penelope was a prize to him. She would marry well; become a trophy witch, and a Quidditch mum to the little Woods. As far as she was concerned, Percy could go fuck himself cause she sure wasn’t going to.

The worst time that seventh year had been when they could leave the school grounds for weekends. Percy would go into Hogsmeade to mostly just look around the shops. He had no money to buy anything other than trinkets. In the ladies clothing shop he had seen Penelope trying on sexy shoes while Wood knelt there helping her. Percy had felt his small cock begin to grow stiff as he watched Wood playfully run his hand up her smooth legs and into her crotch when he thought the clerk wasn’t looking. Penelope would simply smile and blow him little kisses to encourage his explorations. Then Percy watched as Wood handed her a gorgeous little Teddy in Ravenclaw colors to try on. He caught a peek as Penelope opened the dressing room door for a few seconds and flashed a view at Wood while she did a very suggestive little dance in her skimpy lingerie and heels. Wood did a quick thumbs up, paid for the clothing; and then went to the apothecary shop next door and bought a full vial of very expensive Viagradus aphrodisiac potion. Finally, the two of them headed for the Three Broomsticks where Wood had rented the best room in the house for the whole weekend.

That Friday and Saturday night, Percy lay alone in the Head Boy’s quarters wanking himself sore while thinking of Oliver Wood in bed with Penelope. Finally, Monday morning arrived and Oliver had sat near him at the breakfast table in the great hall. One of the other boys had asked him about Quidditch practice for that afternoon and Oliver had said that he might have to cancel it. When asked why, Wood had said that after the weekend he’d just had with Penelope his dick was so sore he couldn’t bear to sit on a feather pillow much less a broom. This had caused a ring of cheers and high-fives from the surrounding boys.

On that day Percy had resolved to make something of himself. He couldn’t change his face, he couldn’t make his dick longer, but he could make himself rich. He would be wealthy and powerful. If he couldn’t do it himself, then he would ride the coat tails of those who could. That had brought him to Cornelius Fudge. Fudge had promised him position and power. Percy had even turned away from his family to seek his own way. Then came the downfall of Fudge because of Dumbledore and Harry Potter.

Fudge wanted to be the Minister again, and he let Percy know that his own future now hung with Fudge getting what he wanted. He had spied for him; he had used his own family. Fudge had wanted to know where Harry lived when he was with his muggle relations. Dumbledore had kept this location secret from the Ministry for years, but Ron knew where it was. He’d been there because Harry had told him where he lived. Percy had gotten the information casually from Ron and given it to Fudge with Madam Umbridge in the room with him. A few days later Harry and his muggle cousin had been attacked by Dementors. Only much later did Percy find that the Dementors had been sent by Umbridge on Fudge’s orders.

He should have quit then, but by then he was afraid of what Fudge might do to him. He was also afraid of what Fudge would tell about the other thing he made Percy do for him, the shameful thing Percy was required to endure for Fudge’s favor.

Then another order had come in from Fudge. He wanted all available information on Azkaban. Who was there, work schedules, entry codes, everything. It had taken a bit of work to get it all and not have it easily traceable to him that he had accessed those files. Fudge said it was a security test of the prison, to embarrass the current Minister. The files were being turned over to a member of the press.

It was all a lie. Two days after Percy turned the last of the files over to Fudge’s contact came the 7-11 attack. Percy’s own brother was dead. Tortured horribly over a period of hours. Percy’s family was devastated, but none more than him. The realization that Fudge was working with Lord Voldemort, and that Percy’s information leak enabled Voldemort to attack Azkaban was killing him. He had learned the next day after the attack that he had killed his own brother; Bill wasn’t supposed to have been on active duty, his name wasn’t on the official duty rosters, but he was there in secret.

When he had confronted Fudge the truth had come out, Fudge was working with Voldemort to achieve a ‘peaceful settlement’ of the current war, a settlement that would result with Fudge restored to his rightful place of power as the Minister. Percy was trapped; to admit what he had done would mean a trip to the Black Room. To do nothing meant that Fudge could continue to black mail him into performing Voldemort’s will.

Now Fudge had another request for information, he was interested in knowing if Harry had any interest in a particular girl at Hogwarts. Who were his closest friends? What sort of things did they like to do? Percy knew the answers, but it meant targeting his own younger brother, and his only sister. Mum had nearly died when she lost Bill, losing Ron, or especially Ginny, would probably kill her. Refusal might mean his death.

How could it have gotten to this point? He only wanted to stop being a poor Weasley, to be somebody. To have friends, to have girls like him, to want to be with him. For god’s sake, he was 23 years old and he’d never even seen a naked girl’s tit, much less ever touched a girl. For all his scheming, for all his kissing arse, for all his work, it looked like the only kiss he would ever get was from a Dementor. How had things gotten this fucked up?