By Lord Wrackspurt

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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 13: Nobody expects the Ministry Inquisition

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Madam Erinyes Bartleby sat fuming as she looked out the floor to ceiling glass walls of her luxurious office in the Ministry of Magic building. She was the Inquisitor General, and she was being stonewalled by Kingsley. Who did he think she was? Some kind of stupid functionary that he just blow smoke up her arse and she’d sit still for it? Something important had happened in Godric’s Hollow, something involving Potter.

She knew about the Order of the Phoenix, and knew that Kingsley, Moody, and this Tonks girl were members. She had been looking high and low for Potter ever since he had disappeared that night from his Muggle relation’s house, now he turns up with a known member of the Order, in a room full of bodies. It was clear now that the Order had him, but what were they doing with him? Hiding him? Maybe, but Moody wasn’t the defensive sort, no, he had a plan of attack. That was the one thing she truly respected about the chauvinistic old bastard, he wouldn’t give up, he would fight to the death.

She looked over the preliminary report from Kingsley. Unicorn shit smelled sweeter than this. She had asked nicely to let some of her people interview Potter, but was told that he was under medical care for his injuries and unavailable. There was no such thing as that to her. Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, she knew who it was and bade them enter. Hooch entered and stretched out her long lean frame in her favorite chair, and accepted the offered Firewhiskey.

“How’s the new girl working out?” Erinyes asked.

“Unusually well,” came the answer, “she has the makings of a damned good agent.”

“And she is also one of Potter’s closest friends. She knows where the Order is hiding Potter, probably at Sirius Black’s old family home, I know the Order has it under a Fidelius Charm so that we can’t get in thee, but she would know how to get in there herself.”

“Erinyes,” said Hooch as she leaned forward, it wasn’t often she called her boss by her first name. “Hermione is naïve, but quite intelligent. I know you agreed to let me bring her in so we would have a friend of Potter’s in the agency, but if she suspects our intentions are dishonest we will lose a potential valuable asset. Let’s keep her out of this for now…”

“I want to know where Potter is!” shouted Bartleby. “I want to know what the fuck happened in Godric’s Hollow, and I want to know what Moody is up to, that is not a request, it is not negotiable, I will not be kept in the dark. Granger is an asset, an expendable asset if need be.”

“I understand,” answered Hooch. “But, I already know where Potter is and I’m on my way to see him, by invitation.” Rolanda laughed at bit at Erinyes look of astonishment.

“Apparently Potter really is badly injured, physically and mentally, Minerva McGonagal wants me to help him. The Order has him secreted in a room in Hogsmeade till he can begin classes.” Rolanda stood up to leave, and placed a folder on the IG’s desk. “Here is the final report on the 7-11 attack, including the confidential information our agents obtained from the Auror records.”

Erinyes thumbed through the thick sheaf of papers after Hooch had left, she already knew most of it. She paused as she looked over the dossiers of the dead Aurors, she knew most of them, but there was one special name in the list, Peter Spinnet. Dear little Peter!

Her mind drifted back to the first time her second oldest son, Albert, had brought his school chum Peter home to stay part of the summer. He was so handsome, such beautiful bright blue eyes, so well built, but incredibly shy around the opposite sex for such a fine specimen of manhood. He had always been so very respectful around her, and more than a little bit frightened. Then one day she came home unexpectedly and found handsome little Peter lying on the floor in her bedroom. Erinyes loved beautiful and sexy shoes and boots, and Peter had one of her very expensive Christian Louboutain strappy sandals to his nose smelling of it, while he was masturbating in the other shoe in the pair. When he realized she was standing there watching him the poor thing looked like he would die of shame, but all her eyes saw was the massive rock hard cock sliding between the leather straps of her shoes.

Erinyes loved her husband, and did her wifely duty to him, but she had carnal desires of her own that she frequently enjoyed in secret, primarily among them was sexually dominating handsome, well endowed men of the very young sort. She chuckled to herself when she thought that her common nickname was ‘the Dragon’ when ‘the Cougar’ would have been more appropriate. But she made sure her secret desires remained her private business, no one knew of her trysts with teenage school boys.

With a little female domination and a few threats to tell his family and friends of his fetish, a very docile and submissive Peter had accompanied her to her downtown apartment where she stayed in London. Her husband and children were never brought there, or even told of it. It was where she could be alone with her young lovers. She had enjoyed many pleasurable nights there with after the first night when she had taken his virginity from him. He had become her adoring pet after that night. Later she had secretly seen to it that his application to be an Auror had been accepted, intending him to be another set of eyes and ears for her within their ranks.

Now he was dead, the report said the bastards had tore out his pretty blue eyes, and emasculated him, then defiled his body. She wept as she thought of him and how much her little pet must have suffered in his last moments. There were other young men, before and after Peter, but he had always held a special place in her heart. This was personal, he would be avenged.

“I promise you, Peter, my darling, when I find the bastards responsible for this I will make them pay dearly.”

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Far away in the village of Hogsmeade, Harry sat on the edge of the bed in his room at the Three Broomsticks. He had previously felt Voldemort’s fury in his scar over the failure of Bellatrix to kill him. He had a better hold onto Voldemort’s feelings now, Moody had been right; his maturation over the summer was giving him a clearer insight to the connection he shared with the Dark Lord. Harry had even felt a wince of pain as Voldemort had killed Crabbe.

He wasn’t altogether sure how he knew that that was what had just happened, but he knew it with absolute certainty. Harry didn’t really care about Crabbe’s death, he knew Crabbe’s son, and despised the worthless turd. Crabbe Jr. was pretty much like a clone of his stupid fat cousin Dudley with a wand. Crabbe’s dad had probably helped with the killing of Harry’s parents, he definitely been a supporter of the one who did do it, so to hell with him and his whole family. Harry’s only concern was for not letting on to Crabbe Jr that he knew his dad was dead, and killed by his own tyrannical boss.

It would be hard tomorrow night at the welcoming ceremony in the great hall at Hogwarts to look at that stupid git and not laugh in his face. He wondered for a moment what Crabbe and Goyle were going to do now that Draco Malfoy wasn’t there to lead them around. An evil thought crept into Harry’s mind. Harry knew that Crabbe and Goyle had worked with Malfoy to fix the cabinet that let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts last year. That act had led to the death of Dumbledore. Crabbe and Goyle could both end up getting their fat arses kissed by a Dementor in the Ministry dungeons for what they had done.

Harry knew that Malfoy had never told those two stupid gits what he was about with the cabinet; Draco would never have trusted those two to keep their mouths shut. That was in large part why Harry had not already told the Ministry about them. That and the fact that Harry knew he now had them both by their sweaty little nutsacks now, and when he was ready he would squeeze them. They were the closest thing Malfoy had to a friend; they were also inside Slytherin House. Most of Voldemort’s supporters had their children in that house. Crabbe had now had his dad killed by Voldemort, and would find that out later. There is a chance he might want some revenge against Voldemort if he didn’t think it would be linked back to him. There was an opportunity here.

Voldemort had lost his inside man in Snape. He would want to know what was going on inside Hogwarts, so he needed a replacement. That replacement would be from Slytherin House, and Crabbe and Goyle would be involved with any actions taken against the school. If treated carefully with a proper mixture of reward and punishment, Crabbe and Goyle might make excellent double agents as long as they didn’t come in contact with Snape or Voldemort who would see into their feeble minds in a heartbeat. Malfoy would probably contact them, and if they were reluctant to help capture him then Harry would expose them as accomplices in Dumbledore’s murder. Harry could not only threaten to expose them to the Ministry for arrest, but offer absolution and Ministry protection if they worked for him. They knew he was considered the “Chosen One” by many, and he would play that he was actually working for them and could offer them protection. The situation bore promise.

Plotting always made Harry hungry and wanted to go downstairs to eat, to be around someone, anyone, for a little company, but he just wasn’t up to it physically or mentally yet. Physically he was still in considerable pain when he moved from his injured testicles. They were still very swollen and discolored. When Harry had first seen his cock he nearly fainted in shock. The toe of Bellatrix’s shoe had struck it at the base and had ruptured the tiny blood vessels. The mediwizards had referred to it as a penile fracture, Moody had said it was just a nice way of saying he had a broke dick. Harry’s entire groin was black from the bruising. It hurt like hell to piss; the thought of an erection was too painful to even think about. This had to be the ultimate irony, thought Harry, I own the biggest whorehouse in the country, and now my balls are nearly busted and my dick is broke.

Magical healing was far in advance of muggle technology. Harry had already begun to rapidly respond to the treatment that Madam Pomfrey had administered. Harry was told that his balls were left badly bruised by Bella’s kick, the tiny twists of tubules that made the sperm were filled with blood clots, and normal production of semen was stopped in both testicles. Harry was now sterile, for how long nobody could say, possibly permanently. The torn blood sacks in the penis had already been healed, but the bruising would take time to clear up. Professor McGonagall had told Harry on her last visit that she would try to get him a specialist healer in this area of injury to help him recover from his injuries.

The damage wasn’t just physical. Mentally and emotionally, Harry was a wreck. He kept seeing Tonks in his nightmares, along with his parents, Cedric, Sirius, and Dumbledore. They all accused him of getting them killed. That it was Harry that Voldemort had always wanted to destroy, not them. That those who befriended Harry, and intentionally or unintentionally got in Voldemort’s way because of it, had all died in his place.

The dreams caused him to wake screaming at night. Harry tried to put a silencing charm on the room, but he found he couldn’t even do mediocre magic like that now. Magically he was damn near a squib. The tavern keeper was a friend of McGonagall, and had done it for him. His physical pain and mental depression had drained his ability to perform magic. School was about to start and the ‘Chosen One’ who was believed to be the savior of witches and wizards everywhere was helpless; he couldn’t even save himself now.

“I don’t see how things could get any worse,” Harry muttered to himself in the gloom.

A tap on his door broke Harry’s depressing line of thought, hobbling over and opening the door he was amazed to see his old broomstick riding instructor, Madam Hooch, standing in the doorway smiling at him. “Hello Harry, how is my best student of all time doing?”

“Madam Hooch, I haven’t seen you in some time, it’s a surprise to see you here.”

“May I come in and talk to you a bit, Harry?” she asked. “Please.”

“Oh, yes, please do come in, there are a couple chairs by the table.”

“Thank you, darling.” she said sweetly. Harry noticed that she had a paper bag with her. “The barman said that you hadn’t eaten all day and I figured you must be hungry so I brought you a little something.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

Harry watched her as she walked to the chair. She wore common style robes, and her ever present lace-up thigh-high high heel boots. Harry felt a painful twinge in his still swollen crotch as he watched sit down and cross her lithe lean legs and gently start swinging her foot. The last thing his injured nuts needed was a reason to think about sex. He took his seat carefully so that his balls did not get into a bind.

“To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure, Professor?” asked Harry.

“Actually it’s a bit of a business call,” said Madam Hooch as she showed Harry the dragonskin wallet with her badge in it.

Harry stared at the Inquisitor’s badge and realized that it actually had just gotten worse. That’d teach him to ask the gods a stupid question.

“I ... I hadn’t expected a visit from the Inquisition,” Harry muttered.

“I guess nobody really expects the Inquisition to come to their door do they? I need to speak to you about the recent incident in Godric’s Hollow. You can understand that there are official concerns about what happened.”

“I thought Chief Auror Shacklebolt was going to submit a report based on his investigation of the scene.”

“Oh, he did submit his report, Harry. However, the Inquisition is a separate investigative body from the Aurors; our job is different from theirs. They were investigating the specific deaths and criminal acts that occurred in that room. The Inquisition is investigating the organized use of dark magic by the Death Eaters to terrorize the population. We’re more of a ‘big picture’ organization; we focus on strategic data acquisition and prosecution of criminal elements.”

Harry’s mind was racing, ‘strategic data acquisition,’ what a nice way of saying torture. Harry and his mates had all heard the stories about the Inquisition while at Hogwarts, how you were dragged in to the chambers bound and naked. How a wizard was always routinely kicked in his knackers several times in advance just to loosen his tongue, then crucio’d up and down his spine till he was nearly insane. You were always tortured to the point that your mind could not form a lie. Then there was the dreaded skull fuck, where they shredded your mind looking for evidence to convict you. It was said that the trip to Azkaban and being fed alive to the Dementors had been considered a relief by many poor bastards.

“But before we get to that, there is something I have to do first. I think you’ve already been told what it is, you won’t like it, it’s painful. But I have no choice, it has to be done.”

Harry felt fear well up in him, his balls were already nearly ruptured now, how would he survive even one kick from the wicked looking boots Madam Hooch had on? Harry just looked down at his hands in despair; all he could mutter over and over was “please no.”

“Harry, this must be done. However, if you will place your trust in me I can do this with least amount of force necessary. I need you to surrender to me. I’m going to place you under the Imperious curse, I know you’ve been trained to resist, but you must accept this. Will you accede to my control; it’s really for the best you know?”

“Yes Ma’am,” whispered Harry with a sigh of resignation to the inevitable.

DCI Hooch lifted Harry’s head till their eyes met. “IMPERIO!” she said, and Harry felt a warm wave come over him. His cares seemed to float away, there was a part of his soul that wanted to fight the loss of control, but the will to resist was weak. Harry went under.

“Harry, I want to get completely undressed and get on the bed with your legs spread wide open. As wide as possible.”

Harry no longer controlled his own movements; he did as told without hesitation. When he was in position, Madam Hooch made a lengthy study of his pubic area. Frequently her eyes would flicker up to meet Harry’s with a quizzical look.

“Bellatrix did quite a job on you,” she said. Pointing her wand at Harry’s crotch she then said with a sigh. “This isn’t going to feel nice at all for you, my boy.”

Harry expected her to use the cruciatus curse, but instead, she began slowly muttering an intonation Harry had never heard before. The pain in Harry’s balls did increase as it felt like pressure waves were lapping his groin, but the pain was not unbearable. This went on for about ten minutes and Madam Hooch called for a break. She gave Harry the paperbag containing a warm corned beef sandwich and an apple. With a wave of her wand two ice-cold butterbeers appeared, one of which she picked up for herself.

“We’ll take a break; you need to eat to get your strength up. So eat your food and enjoy your drink, I’m afraid the really painful part of the process isn’t done yet.”

Thoroughly confused now, Harry was glad he hadn’t been severely tortured, but was now unsure what the hell was going on. Still under the Imperious curse, Harry did as he was told. When the sandwich and apple had disappeared, and the butterbeers were drained, Madam Hooch started all over again on Harry’s scrotum.

After about another 15 minutes the pressure in Harry’s swollen balls began to increase. He could feel the pain steadily increasing, something was happening. Unable to move or talk Harry began to cry.

“Well, that’s enough for now I guess,” she said staring sadly into his face. “But we must still perform the last part or it’ll just settle back into place. This is the part that hurts the worse, Harry.”

Then Hooch took off her robes and set them across the chair back. After dimming the lights, she slid into bed next to an extremely surprised Harry. She put her left arm under Harry’s head and cradled it to her breast. After a few shushing words of comfort, Harry felt Madam Hooch’s firm fingers wrap around his swollen and bruised cock and begin to start wanking it very slowly.

Harry’s mind was already pretty badly confused, but to have his old broomstick riding teacher, now revealed to be a member of the Inquisition, get in bed with him and give him a handjob carried confused to a whole new level. Any other time Harry might have enjoyed the wank, but the tenderness of his balls made them hurt every time his injured cock was stroked. Madam Hooch maintained a hug on Harry holding him close to her body, her head touching his. Harry felt himself becoming delusional with the pain, his mind began to swim, and he saw visions of the past flying around in his mind. He relived everything that had happened since Dumbledore had died. He saw the memories progress through his mind like he was watching a program on television. The increase in pain brought him back around as he felt himself begin preparation to ejaculate, only then did he begin to panic. Harry was going to shoot his load from his injured balls through his damaged cock.

Harry had barely had time to try and fight the Imperious curse when he felt something that hurt like a motherfucker. It was almost as bad as when he got kicked in the balls. Harry had shot his load all over his belly; he could feel the warm seminal juices around his navel. Madam Hooch now switched her attention back to Harry’s balls; she began gently fondling them, as if giving them a massage.

“The remaining pain will die down in a bit and you should feel better by morning, Harry. That’s the best I can do in just one session for right now. Sorry about the pain, but there’s no real way to stop it all, although the Imperious spell allowed me to block a lot of it. If you hadn’t been under the Imperious spell you would have fainted when you came just then.”

With a wave of her wand Madam Hooch released Harry from the Imperious curse. It was like a shock of cold air hitting Harry; he really had been in a semi-conscious state of awareness the whole time. Looking down at his belly he could see the ejaculate on his torso. It was mostly a watery pink liquid, absent of the normally thick cloud sperm in a healthy ejaculation, and a large number of small red flecks. Harry realized the pink coloration in the semen was blood from his bruised testicles; the red specks must the blood clots. Apparently, Madam Hooch had loosened the clots and the ejaculation had forced them out of the injured testicles.

After a final look at the fluid Madam Hooch used her wand to make the fluid disappear. She then gave him a large bar of chocolate and had him eat it all. Chocolate was a sort of cure all in the wizarding world for those in physical or mental stress.

“Now, Harry, I want you to come into the bathroom with me.”

Harry followed her in and watched her draw a bath of warm water for Harry. The warm water felt good on Harry’s testicles. Madam Hooch rolled up her sleeve and reached in to continue massaging Harry’s balls. Harry lay back in the tub breathing deeply, trying to relax.

“Harry, you’ll need to do several things over the next few days for yourself. Take two warm baths every day, morning and evening, soak and massage your balls for at least half an hour each time. That restores the healthy blood flow to heal your balls. You need to wank once a day, only once a day. Preferably just before a bath. The wanking forces the loosened blood clots out with your man juices. It also forces the blood flow back into your cock to help it heal. Only wank it once a day, you need a proper volume of semen present to do any good, wanking too often means you don’t have the flow to push the clots out.”

“Now, you can tell Minerva I’ll be back by Hogwarts on Thursday about noon. We’ll do another treatment then to loosen any remaining clots and flush them out. How about that?”

“Yes Ma’am, thank you,” said a confused Harry. “Ma’am, did Professor McGonagall send you to do this?”

“Yes, she said you needed special medical help. I have some skills involving painful injuries of this sort, which include how to heal them. I had assumed she had told you I was coming to help with the clots. I didn’t know where you were at, so I asked Minerva and she told me your location. Then, I was asked by the Inquisitor General to make an independent investigation of the incident you were involved in regarding penetration of the leaders at Godric’s Hollow by Voldemort and the distress you were in. So I thought I could do both in a visit.”

“No, Ma’am, she didn’t tell me to expect you. Just that she’d send help,” said Harry.

“Oh, damn, Harry! No telling what you thought of me. Did you think I was going to torture you for information?” she asked with a laugh, then looked at Harry’s face and saw that she was right. Her face softened. “Oh, my goodness, Harry, you did, didn’t you?”

“Well … there are all kinds of stories that you hear…,” fumbled Harry.

“Look you can’t believe all those stories boys tell. Though considering that your only experience with us to date was that idiot Umbridge, I can see why you would. I promise you, we save the rough treatment for those who we know really need it. You’ve seen the types we have to deal with in your adventures to date. We’re not what many people think. All I need to do is just ask you some questions about the incident in Godric’s Hollow.”

For the next half hour, Harry soaked in the warm water and remembered the events in Godric’s Hollow, with the exception of the trip to the Golden Unicorn. Madam Hooch seemed to be satisfied with Harry’s account and only asked a few questions. When done she dried Harry off and handed Harry his clothes while she turned her back discretely as Harry redressed himself.

More ice cold butterbeers and a lengthy prognostication about the Quidditch league team standings followed before Madam Hooch announced that she must take her leave and get back to work. An exhausted Harry lay back down on the bed, hopefully the treatment would work. He already felt better, but that could be just from the wank and the hot bath. In minutes Harry was sound asleep.

Standing outside the Three Broomsticks, DCI Hooch felt that the afternoon’s journey had been a profitable one for two reasons. It was important to the Ministry that Harry Potter recovered from his injuries, that was why she had eagerly agreed to Minerva McGonagall’s request for help. However, there was an ulterior motive as well, under the guise of healing Harry; DCI Hooch had scanned his mind. She now knew about the illegal Auror training by Moody and Tonks at Grimmauld place, the Black Wand he was in possession of, and most importantly, she knew that Harry Potter was the true owner of the Golden Unicorn.

Apart from knowing what Harry knew, she was in possession of some things of which Harry was still ignorant. Harry did not realize how much power the Golden Unicorn conveyed to its controller, or how badly some in the Ministry craved control over it. He also didn’t know what kind of game his Auror friends were playing with his life. She wondered what Harry would think when he finally found out the truth.