Chapter Text
The blood thrummed in his ears. Distant screams cut through the air and faint heat licked at his skin from a blazing tent nearby. It was pure chaos, plain and simple. Harry didn’t know exactly what was happening. He, Hermione, and Ron had run from the Weasley family tent in a panic.
They tried to stay together, but they’d been separated in the commotion. Merlin, I hope they’re alright. Ron doesn’t even have a wand to protect himself. It’d gone missing sometime during the World Cup Final match. Ron was worried sick about finding it. His ginger friend didn’t think his parents would be willing to get him a second new one in as many years.
But Harry didn’t really have the time to worry about his friends at that moment. He needed to ensure his own safety first and find out about them when the dust settled.
Harry’s own holly wand rested against his forearm, safely secure in a holster that Sirius sent him for his birthday. It was one of a few gifts. Fifteen years is a long time to make up for and having learned about Harry’s penchant for getting himself into trouble, he’d sent a collection of tomes as well. And in no uncertain terms, Sirius insisted he study them. I doubt that Sirius expected I would get myself into trouble again so soon, though. I haven’t even had the opportunity to practice any of the new spells yet.
When this all started, Mr. Weasley urged them to make their way to the forest so that’s what he’d done. Currently, he was near the edge of the encampment, about twenty meters from the forest He didn’t know where the lamp-lit path through the wood that led to the stadium was, but he could see the massive structure over the trees.
There was a shrill cry that drew his attention as he passed, he ran further into the encampment toward the noise. There were two Death Eaters, all in black with their skull masks, tormenting a family of four. They had a boy, probably no more than seven, under a curse that had him writhing on the ground. His sandy hair stuck to his sweat soaked brow. His mother and father dangled above, crying and cursing helplessly in a language Harry didn’t understand, completely unable to help their son. The boy’s older brother lay unconscious, nose broken and bleeding.
A familiar warmth effused his arm as his wand shot into his hand. There was a voice in his head that sounded oddly like Hermione that told him this was stupid. You have no chance against two adult wizards. Keep yourself safe. It was a fair point, and he wasn’t confident he’d win in a fair fight. Luckily, he didn’t intend to fight fair. And he didn’t have it in him to just leave people in danger when he could help them.
Neither of the Death Eaters noticed his presence. They were enjoying themselves far too much to worry about anything else. And nobody’s shown up yet to put an end to this shite. If the Ministry couldn’t be relied upon to help these people, then Harry would.
This would be easier if I just had my invisibility cloak. But he didn’t, so there was no use dwelling on it. Quietly as he could manage, he approached the bastards. He wanted to be close enough that there was no chance of missing.
“Expelliarmus.” He whispered the incantation once, and then twice in quick succession. His aim was true, and both Death Eaters found their wands ripped from their hands as they were knocked forcefully into the ground.
“Fucker! I’ll rip you apart!” One of the men shouted, as they both tried to rise from the ground. It was an empty threat though, as they were too busy searching in the grass for their wands. Another spell came to his lips. Most nearly-fourth years wouldn’t know it, but his enjoyment of dueling pushed him ahead a fair bit in his studies, “Stupefy.”
A red light shot from his wand, once and then again. Both men fell to the ground with a dull thud, completely still. It was over easier than he could have hoped. Never underestimate the element of surprise.
The parents dangling in the air fell to the ground heavily, with the caster unconscious the spell’s effects wore off. Pureblood bastards aren’t as strong as they like to think. A sufficiently powerful magician would have had their spell last. Harry didn’t have the time to catch them, but they stood unharmed. They hurried toward their children and cradled each of them in their arms. They turned grateful eyes toward him.
Harry just gave them a slight nod of his head, but otherwise paid them little attention. He had something else on his mind. He approached the two unconscious men and removed their masks. Neither face was familiar to him. He half-hoped he’d get lucky and find Lucius Malfoy beneath one of them. Instead, it was just two more nameless bigots who reveled in tormenting those they thought as lesser than themselves.
Their wands were easy enough to find. And with the adrenaline pumping in his veins, he didn’t give his next actions a second thought. He snapped each one and burned the broken remains. He left the charred wood sitting on the chest of each man.
It was only then that he looked to the family he rescued, “Get to safety… if you can.”
“Thank you.” The father told him, with an Eastern European accent he couldn’t identify.
As Harry left them, he couldn’t help but notice that the situation was still out of control. The Ministry should have set this right by now. But then again, Harry was fully aware how inept the Ministry could be in handling a situation. He couldn’t help but recall the Chamber incident in his second year. They arrested Hagrid and dismissed Dumbledore all on the word of bloody Malfoy just to be seen doing something… instead of actually doing something.
If help wasn’t coming, he’d just have to help himself. And as many others as I can manage along the way. He helped two more people as he tried to find safety. One was a woman he would think was in her seventies if she were a muggle. She’d been trapped in a burning tent right at the edge of the encampment, hands and hair singed. Her wand lost to her when the tent collapsed. He’d freed her using the Aguamenti Charm.
The last thing he did before finally entering the forest was help a little girl no more than four years of age. He returned her to her parents without much trouble. Her mother had been screaming her name at the forest’s edge while her father searched for her in the encampment.
Running aimlessly through the woods of Dartmoor for the next ten minutes, he eventually came to the stadium. The massive structure with its golden walls appeared undisturbed, the golden light that seemed to emanate from it lighting up the dark night. It should be safe in there. If the Death Eaters are just looking to terrorize people they’ll stay down by the camps.
As he entered the stadium, it seemed eerily quiet. The roars that resonated as thousands of witches and wizards cheered on their countries quidditch teams were long since quiet. Harry made his way toward the stands, though he had no intention of climbing all the way up to the top box where they watched the final from. It was as he entered the lower stands that he realized he wasn’t alone, and that the Death Eaters hadn’t reserved their actions to just the encampment. He hid himself behind the seats, praying that he hadn’t been seen.
Down on the field that still looked smooth as velvet, save for some obvious scorch marks, there were five figures. Right at the edge three Death Eaters stood above two unconscious women. But they weren’t just women, they were two of the Bulgarian mascots.
Harry was surprised the bastards managed to subdue them. He along with all the spectators saw how ferocious the ethereal beauties could be when angered. Though they do look worse for wear. Seems the Veela got in a few shots of their own. The Death Eaters’ robes looked torn in places and one of them had a nasty looking burn on their leg. Their defense clearly hadn’t been enough though.
The Death Eaters’ voices carried faintly over to him in the stands, but he couldn’t make out exactly what was being said. He watched as one of them pulled a potion vial from within their robes and uncorked it. The man limped over the ten meters to one of the unconscious women. Forcing her mouth open, he filled it with the vibrant red liquid. Still unmoving, but as if on instinct, the woman swallowed rather than drown.
Harry didn’t recognize the potion, but he doubted it could be anything good. He had no intention of finding out whatever it was they planned next, but he also knew he had little chance of getting all three at once.
Popping up from behind the stands, he brandished his wand. He forced his magic and will through it, “Confringo.” This spell was one he’d only read the theory on, but he needed to do something to hurt both at once. Luckily, I’ve always been better at practical than theory.
He aimed between the two men standing together a good distance from the two Veela. The spell impacted between them, nearer the one to his right than his left. The explosion that followed was massive, creating a small crater in the once pristine field and throwing dirt all around. Some of the wreckage even landed on the two Veela but they were otherwise unharmed by the spell. The same couldn’t be said for the Death Eaters as a pained scream echoed throughout the stadium.
Harry didn’t get the chance to be shocked at the results of his spell. Instead, he moved immediately, keeping low as a return spell demolished the area where he’d just been. He seemed to do a good job hiding as the next spell was nowhere near him. He stopped and looked around, trying to take stock of the situation, when he heard a pop come from behind him.
Dodging to his right, he avoided a sickly-looking orange spell that disintegrated the seat it struck. He jumped over the top of the stands to the ground four meters below. He resisted the urge to cry out as he landed awkwardly on his left ankle. He had more important things to worry about than a twisted ankle though. It won’t hurt if I’m dead. At least the adrenaline kept the pain at bay.
He could see one of the two Death Eaters he struck with the Blasting Curse struggling from the ground. The other was writhing in pain unable to stand. Half of their right leg was mangled, and the foot was missing entirely. That Death Eater stilled a few seconds later, passing out from either blood loss or shock. Harry couldn’t say for sure.
Knowing that he’d have little chance against two assailants by himself, Harry charged toward the injured Death Eaters. Spell fire from the stands destroyed bits of the field around him, but none of them hit their mark. When he was close enough that he trusted his aim, he fired off a stunner that struck the man still trying to rise. That’s two of them taken care of. There was another pop, and the third man was standing in front of him.
“Expelliarmus.” He resorted to his most trusted spell, but the more experienced wizard simply caught it with a shield.
The returning spell lit every nerve in his body up as though it were on fire, driving him down onto his knees, “Oh… this is too good.” Harry recognized the voice. Of course, now I find the bloody senior Malfoy.
The pain stopped as the bastard laughed. Trying to focus Harry pointed his wand behind Lucius, toward one of the Veela, and quietly whispered, “Reenervate.”
He hoped they were merely stunned. It did seem that the Death Eaters had other plans for them after all.
Lucius didn’t hear the spell, and took the time to gloat, “You need to work on your aim, Potter. Pity you won’t have the chance.” There was a spell on his lips as he pointed his wand, but whatever he intended, he never go the chance. From behind him, a very much awake and furious Veela hurled a fireball at the Death Eater.
The force of it knocked Lucius forward and his robes ignited. Panicking he dropped to the ground, trying to stifle the flame. The woman was charging toward him though avian wings flapping, beak snapping, and claws bared.
It was then that, high above in the clouds, something appeared. There was a massive glittering skull with a snake protruding from its mouth hanging menacingly in the sky. It distracted the Veela, and Harry fired off a stunner, knocking Lucius unconscious. He would love nothing more than to see the bastard torn to shreds, but he also knew the Minister couldn’t be trusted not to twist the story and somehow frame the foreign magical as the assailant when she was the victim. I wager he’d do anything to keep Malfoy’s money flowing into his coffers.
The distraction didn’t last though and with Lucius no longer a threat, the Veela’s attention turned toward Harry. Stalking toward him with a frightening grace and speed, he hurriedly raised his hands in surrender, wand pointed away from her, “You’re safe! I’m not going to hurt you!”
This brought the avian woman up short, just a few paces in front of him. She scrutinized him with black eyes, trying to find the truth of what he was saying. Whatever she found must have been in his favor. He watched as her eyes changed from black pools to electric blue. With that change, others followed; the wings retracted into her shoulder blades, claws became pale, dainty hands, and the beak morphed into an aristocratic nose and full lips.
From a distance, they’d been beautiful to Harry. Up close the woman in front of him was enthralling. The most gorgeous woman he’d seen in his eighteen years, she was captivating in a way that was hard to describe. But he could feel a presence trying to influence him to impress her, to fawn over her, to do everything in his power to gain her attention. He remembered how others in the stadium had almost thrown themselves over the railing to get to them earlier, how they’d distracted the referee. Now is not the time! With some effort, he controlled those impulses though he couldn’t stop the blush from coming to his cheeks.
“You should check on your friend.” He told her as calmly as he could manage. She stared at him appraisingly, before nodding her head and walking toward her companion. As she passed the unconscious bodies, she did spare a particularly precise and brutal kick toward each of them. Fortunately, physical pain alone wasn’t enough to wake someone from a stunner. Or at least sufficiently powerful stunners.
As she went to check on the other Veela, Harry retrieved the wands of the three Death Eaters. He didn’t’ know what would happen to them when the Ministry arrived but, if they weren’t going to be punished properly, this was the least he could do. He snapped each wand and took great pleasure in destroying Lucius’ in particular, he hadn’t forgotten that the bastard hurt Ginny, Hermione and every other person effected by the Chamber incident and got away with it. Harry snapped his leg back and struck Lucius right in the ribs as a parting shot.
Finally, he joined the Veela, “We should hurry. We don’t need to be here if the Ministry arrives.”
“I cannot wake her.” Her accent was heavy, but he could still understand her. So they have their own magic, but not wanded magics.
“I should be able to, but… I should tell you…they gave her a potion before I could stop them.”
“What?” Her eyes snapped to his.
“I didn’t recognize it. But it was red, bright red.”
She looked stricken, “No.”
“What is it?”
“It was Lust Potion. We are taught to avoid them from young age. The longer it is in her system, the vorse it’ll be.” She explained as she ran a concerned hand through her friend’s hair, “She’ll be out of control. Her allure vill draw men to her until she has satiated her desire. Your Ministry von’t take kindly to it. They’d didn’t vant us here anyway. If they are kind, they vill leave her unconscious… if not, they vill kill her.”
“Is there something we can do?” She didn’t deserve to die because somebody else made it where she couldn’t control her actions.
Appraising him once more, she seemed conflicted, “Maybe. Veela innately seek powerful partners. We can sense it in vizards and vitches alike. Someone of significant power vould draw all her attention when she vakes. Her allure vould not be dangerous then. And together they could… burn it out of her system.”
“We’ll be hard pressed to find someone.”
She snorted, and even that had a surprising grace to it, “I’m looking at someone who could do it.”
He stared at her wide-eyed, “Me?”
“You are like beacon of magic compared to most,” she told him, much to his surprise. Harry knew he was above average amongst those his age for pure magical ability, but he didn’t think of himself as exceptional.
“You’re having me on!”
“I’m not. Most men vouldn’t be sitting here having this conversation with me. My allure seems to roll around you like nothing. It is because you are powerful. If she wakes, she vill focus everything on you to draw you in.”
Reaching a hand to his, her eyes were wide and pleading, “She is my closest friend. I vouldn’t even suggest it if I thought there was another vay. I know you already saved us once. But please, help her.”
Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He could save this ethereal, beautiful being by… sleeping with her, by letting her ravage him. Most men would kill to be in his position. And worse yet, it played straight into his desire to help people.
“I… I…” he took a steadying breath, “Where would we even go? Can’t exactly just do it here in the middle of the field. The Ministry will arrive eventually.” Probably.
She smiled triumphantly at him, “Of course not. They didn’t catch us at the stadium, they chased us here. We were celebrating with our countrymen. We came here because our changing room was varded so that only Veela could enter, unless we invited them.” It makes sense with their allure. Wouldn’t want any unwanted visitors forcing their way into the changing room because they couldn’t control themselves.
“Grab her and follow me. I’ll show you.” She commanded. Harry didn’t question her, picking up the woman bridal style and following the swaying hips of the other Veela. He allowed himself a second to appreciate the stunning beauty in front him.
She stood about four inches shorter than his own six foot one. Her pale-gold hair hung down to the middle of her back, her slim waist widened out to womanly hips and a firm, shapely bum. Could probably bounce a galleon coin off that.
There were gorgeous girls at Hogwarts. Susan Bones, Daphne Greengrass, Katie Bell. Merlin Ginny and Hermione too and that’s not anywhere near all of them. But they weren’t built by nature to be desired.
Outside the stadium, the screaming died down, the chaos finally at its end. But Harry wasn’t worried about what was happening outside of the stadium. There was a tense silence as they walked down through a tunnel toward the changing rooms of the Bulgarian mascots. Even this part of the stadium was lavish. The floor was covered in purple carpet, the walls were shining gold.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but he couldn’t help but feel awkward knowing what was coming. He broke the silence, “What’s your name?”
“Orina.” She answered.
“Harry,” He returned as they came to a door with no handle but that opened at her touch. She led him inside. The room was comfortable, with benches and couches for the Veela to lounge in before and during the game. The Ministry certainly didn’t spare any expense, even if they didn’t want the Veela here.
He placed the unconscious woman on one of the couches, “And…uh, her name?”
Orina gave him a sympathetic smile, trying to ease some of his discomfort, “Anya.” She rubbed his back, and he welcomed the gesture, “How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
“She is nineteen. We are creatures of desire but very discretionary about our partners,” he understood her meaning. “Vill this be your first time?” He swallowed thickly and nodded, “It vill be quite first time for you both then.”
“You’ll be staying and…watching?” This was surely the most surreal and incredible situation of his entire life, which was saying something all things considered.
“There is novhere else to go. And no one else to make sure she doesn’t hurt you.” Orina seemed skeptical that she’d be able to manage that either, but he’d rather some help than none if things went badly.
“Should I… strip?”
“If you vant to keep your clothes in one piece.” They shared a brief laugh at that, easing some of the tension in the room.
He pulled his shirt over his head without hesitation. Years of Quidditch and dueling and the physical training that went along with it left him with a toned physique. There was definition in his shoulders, pecks and abs and veins that popped in his arms. Muggles would call it a swimmers build, though his lower body was more powerfully built.
Finally tired of the anticipation and knowing full well there was no turning back now, he removed his trousers and pants in a fluid motion. He could feel Orina’s eyes taking him in intently. He resisted the urge to cover himself. She’s going to be seeing it all either way.
There was desire in those electric eyes when she spoke, voice seductive and low, “My friend is lucky girl for her first time. Seems it’s true what they say about powerful wizards.” Her words sent a jolt down his spine right to his groin. He’d never been one for wand measuring competitions, but he’d seen enough in the locker room to know he had nothing to be ashamed about.
He fought down his blush, as her attention turned to her friend, “The potion’s been in her system for almost half-hour now. When you vake her she will not hesitate.”
“No use putting it off.” Harry took a steadying breath and pointed his wand at Anya, “Reenervate.”
Sapphire blue eyes snapped open, but they darkened and focused in an instant. The room was filled with her allure, unbridled and unrelenting. It mixed and melded with her friend’s, and he felt it pushing at his mind. Despite his impressive fortitude against their magic, he felt himself harden instantly. Though that probably had just as much to do with the look directed his way.
A second wave hit him then, not of her allure but of her arousal. The smell of fresh treacle and the woodiness of broomstick handles permeated the room. His cock was harder than he could remember throbbing with need and Anya seemed ready to give it the attention he desired. She rose from the couch with inhuman grace. The black blouse and red skirt she wore burned away but did her no harm.
Transfixed, he watched as she approached in all her glory. Perky and full, her magnificent bosom bounced as she walked. Her pale nipples were crinkled and hardened nubs in obvious arousal. Her stomach was taut and firm, the lines of it leading down to her bare and visibly glistening womanhood. There was a small gap between her full thighs.
He had only seconds to take her in as she crossed the distance between them on long, elegant legs. Without a word she dropped to her knees, one dainty hand going to his prick. She licked greedily at a line of pre-cum leaking from his engorged, bulbous cockhead. She groaned happily as the taste hit her tongue and slapped his manhood against her smooth cheek softly once, before bringing it to her pillowy lips.
“Huhn… Merlin!” He couldn’t stop the groan that escaped his lips. Her eyes smiled up at him upon hearing his sounds of approval. As she increased her efforts, he had no intention of holding them back in the future either.
Full lips pushed down his length, inch after inch disappearing in her welcoming mouth until it reached her throat. Her hands weren’t idle, one working the stretch of length not in her mouth and the other fondling his testicles gently. And through all of it, her deep blue eyes stared up into his emerald ones.
Slurp. Slurp. Glurgh. She lavished his cock with attention. Her tongue flicked against the sensitive flesh as her lips formed a perfect seal. The lewd sound of her impassioned fellatio filled the room, and it was music to his ears.
I’ve died. Lucius killed me and this is heaven. Harry never experienced anything like it, having only ever gone as far as a snog with any of the girls in his life. It was taking everything in his power not to blow already. He doubted this alone would resolve the Lust Potion, but he still wanted to savor every moment of this experience.
It was a losing battle, though he put up a valiant effort. He was still a virgin, and her technique was spectacular. The pleasure took over his body and he began lightly thrusting his hips. She didn’t complain as he pushed himself deeper until he was in her throat and bulging her neck. No, she just took him until only an inch remained outside of her oral embrace. Her left hand slid down her stomach and stroked gently over her pink lower lips.
Shlick. Shlick. Every prod of her finger filled the air with the lewd sounds of her wetness. Her perfect pussy dripped juices to the ground as she humped the against her own digits. Harry doubted many men would ever be lucky enough to experience such an insanely enthusiastic blowjob in their lives.
Six minutes, that’s how long he lasted in the end. She moaned around his cock in her own pleasure. The vibrations did wonderful, sinful things to him. It caused his eyes to roll up, and when he refocused, he found himself looking to the couch. Sitting there skirt up and knickers to the side, Orina stared at them, mouth agape as her own fingers prodded wetly at her pristine pussy. The sight and the sensations together were too much.
“Cu… Cumming.” He expected this to deter her, he’d heard stories from some of the Weasley lads and even from Sirius. Most women don’t want to swallow. But no, instead she moaned happily around his cock and backed off until just the crown remained in her mouth.
The moan that escaped his lips came from deep in his soul, and his leg shaking. The first shot of cum that left his cock was intense, and bigger than anything he’d produced in his life. Her tongue danced on the underside of his cock, hitting a spot that made him buck. The second shot that followed was just as big as the first. And then the next. And the next. He lost track of how many ropes left his body, but she took them all happily. She lost only a little of the seed that she was so greedily devouring. It seeped from the seal of her lips and down to the rise of her chest.
When she pulled away from his cock, there were strands of spittle that she reached out and stroked into his flesh. Looking up adoringly, she opened her mouth briefly for him, before making a show of swallowing it. Then, one delicate finger ran from her pale nipple, up her smooth neck and collected all the seed she’d let escape. She popped that finger into her mouth and with a moan she swallowed the last of it. Bloody hell! His cock never softened, but that little display had it throbbing with need again as though he hadn’t just had the most incredible orgasm of his young life.
Anya stood, deliberately running her smooth skin against his prick. He exhaled involuntarily at the heat of it. She turned away from him and sauntered over to the couch. She paid her friend no mind, laying down and spreading her legs. Two fingers glided through her wetness, drawing a needy moan from her lips. She crooked those same two fingers and beckoned him over.
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