Chapter 16: The First Task
Chapter Text
A/N: In which Harry gives the audience a different sort of show this time around.
Also if you've enjoyed reading this story, please check out The Soul Engine for me! It would really mean a lot!
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The day of the First Task has arrived. More specifically, the hour of the First Task has arrived. Having just finished lunch, Harry departs from the Great Hall ahead of schedule, intending to make his way down to the Waiting Tent near the First Task Arena before anyone can come and get him.
However, the moment he leaves the Great Hall, a bundle of barely contained fuzzy brunette hair all but collides with his chest.
"H-Harry!"
Blinking, Harry grabs Hermione Granger by the shoulders in order to still her current frantic energy, looking her over and quickly deducing that she hasn't been sleeping well. In fact, the brunette book worm looks pale as a ghost… and quite sickened at that. Finally managing to calm down enough to look him in the eye, she all but blanches.
Her mouth opens and closes several times, but she can't quite get the words out. However, her demeanor alone is enough to tell him that she's done exactly what he asked of her. She's done her research. And in classic Hermione fashion, she's come to conclusions that no one else in the Wizarding World has managed to come to, despite the evidence staring them all right in the face. Finally, Hermione settles for letting out a shuddering breath and whimpering.
"We… w-we have to do something. A-Anything."
Surprised but not really that someone as brilliant as Hermione had managed to uncover enough to truly horrify her, Harry smiles softly and pulls Hermione into his chest, hugging his best friend close and running a hand through her incredibly frazzled hair. As he does so, he uses a very light application of magic to settle down her brunette locks… and also Hermione herself, easing the panic she's feeling momentarily. If he hadn't, he feels like she might have started hyperventilating on him.
Of course, he doesn't just use magic to calm her down. He also uses words.
"Don't worry, Hermione. We will."
He lets that sit in the air for a moment before continuing, murmuring directly into the top of her head.
"The Wizarding World has become complacent, Hermione. They've been stuck in their ways for far too long. Even those of us with a foot in the muggle world don't understand the danger… not truly. Half-bloods and Muggleborns alike have allowed themselves to be subsumed by the magical world's culture, leading to unconscionable ignorance of the muggle world… and just what they can do to both themselves and us."
Hermione shivers at that, knowing full well from her own research precisely the sort of things he's talking about. But she can only really imagine it. Harry… he's lived it. Feeling more confident than ever before that he's on the right path, he pulls back and looks Hermione in the eye again.
"We'll talk later, Hermione. But just know this. Today is the day we start shaking the Wizarding World free of its complacency. Whatever it takes."
She stares at him with wide, hopeful eyes for a moment before shakily jerking her head up and down in an approximation of a nod. Giving her one last smile and one last squeeze of her shoulders, Harry pulls away and heads down to the tent.
Admittedly, he's curious to see if anything will have changed from what he remembers. As he arrives at the Waiting Tent and is ushered in, he can't help but think that it SHOULD all be the same… right? The only real difference is that he blew Hagrid off when the half-giant tried to get Harry to use his Invisibility Cloak to follow him and Maxime into the Forbidden Forest. As far as Hagrid knew, Harry had gone ahead and done it… but he honestly hadn't bothered.
That shouldn't have change anything for anyone else though… right?
Except, as the rest of the Champions file in, Harry remembers something else that he's inadvertently changed. Looking at the poorly concealed knowledge on Viktor and Fleur's faces, and the complete lack of it on Cedric's, Harry realizes that HE was the one who told Cedric Diggory about the dragons in the first timeline. He'd done so out of a sense of fairness upon realizing that pretty much everyone else was cheating to find out what the First Task was.
He hadn't done so this time. Honestly, he'd barely been thinking about the Triwizard Tournament save for how he might use it to further all of his OTHER plans.
Before Harry can consider trying to get a message to Cedric now, it all kicks off. The officials come in, speak momentarily, and then have the four Champions pull the miniature dragons from the little pouch same as before. Also same as before, Cedric is first to pull and drags out the Swedish Short-Stout. And… he doesn't look remotely confident in how he's going to handle it. The flat-footed expression on his face as he's told he'll be battling the real life version of the miniature dragon and trying to claim a golden egg from its nest makes it clear nobody told Cedric anything in Harry's absence.
… Still, he's a Seventh Year, right? Harry figures it should be fine.
"ARRRRRRRRRRGH!!!"
Right up until the scream of pain that comes from outside a few minutes after Cedric leaves. Followed by lots of shouting and the roar of a dragon. Harry grimaces, even as both Krum and Fleur jolt in their spots. He can only hope he didn't get Cedric killed even earlier than the previous timeline. That said, Harry checks on his competitors. Krum settles back down and looks more determined than ever before… but Fleur looks shaken and terrified, her mask of poise and elegance torn away by whatever Cedric's fate might have been.
In that moment, even knowing that he and Fleur have a wager he very much wishes to win… Harry meets the beautiful young woman's eyes from across the tent and gives her an encouraging smile.
"Don't lose your nerve now, Delacour. We both know you're more than up to this task."
Fleur's eyes widen in shock at his kind words, but she's also visibly bolstered by them. She doesn't get the chance to respond before she's called up to go next, but she does leave the tent with a certain… swagger in her step. Harry, meanwhile, is quietly relieved. They probably wouldn't have continued the First Task if Cedric was outright KILLED by his dragon, right?
… Right?
Either way, he and Krum both hear the tell-tale signs of Fleur's singing soon enough, and judging by the clapping and cheering from the crowd that ensues a few minutes later, she's succeeded in her task. Though there's also an audible gasp at one point, which Harry remembers must be the moment when the dragon she's lulled to sleep accidentally sets her a little on fire with a snort from its flaring nostrils.
Either way, Krum goes next and from what Harry hears, does just as well and just as poorly with his strategy as last time. Meaning he succeeds in blinding the dragon in order to get his egg, but also ends up inadvertently causing his dragon to crush a few of its own eggs as a result of its blindness. Shame, that.
Finally… it's Harry's turn. Ignoring Ludo Bagman's desperate attempts to give Harry a last second peptalk, he steps out of the tent and into the sunlight, his eyes adjusting quickly as he walks into the arena. Hundreds of pairs of eyes fall upon him, but it's nothing Harry isn't used to. Admittedly, by his memory of things it's been a long time since he was last the center of THIS much attention, but to be fair, he HAD played Quidditch every year he was at Hogwarts.
Harry's own eyes are on the Hungarian Horntail, the real one rather than the miniature one he pulled from the bag. Everything has turned out pretty much the same so far, save for whatever happened to Cedric. The dragons each contestant had to contend with were the same if nothing else. Which of course meant Harry found himself up against the Hungarian Horntail, the worst of the lot.
Perfect.
Lifting his wand, Harry lets a small smile appear on his face for the audience's sake as he begins to cast a spell. Casting silently, he nevertheless moves his lips to give the impression to most of the onlookers that he's just saying the spells under his breath. However, anyone who knows better will be able to tell that's not the case. In this moment, he's giving those with a modicum of real power the ability to see more of him than he's let on. Everyone else… well, they'll just have to enjoy the show for what it is.
Out of the earth, Harry raises up over a dozen massive golems, surrounding himself in a circle of the creature, each one towering over him at around twelve feet tall. Made of rock and stone and dirt, they shake themselves as if they're alive for a brief moment… and then zero in on the resting Hungarian Horntail a few hundred feet away.
The dragon, curled up in its nest around it's eggs, huffs at the sight of Harry and his magic, looking completely unperturbed. But then to be fair, the unintelligent beast has a right to feel unworried. After all, dragons are notoriously resistant to magic. There's a reason that dragonhide is so expensive and so sought after for certain high-stakes magical professions, after all.
Even with the power of two witches stacked on top of his own incredibly robust magic, Harry isn't likely to be able to break through the Hungarian Horntail's hide without wasting a simply unacceptable amount of his strength.
But then, that's not what he's here to do. He's not here to kill a dragon. He's not here to pierce a dragon's hide. He's here to get a golden egg and win a bet… and that's exactly what he's going to do.
As his rock golems all charge forward, Harry walks with purpose in their wake, striding across the arena. Meanwhile, the Hungarian Horntail rises from her nest, uncurling that massive spike-ball tail of hers and throwing her head back with a roar of challenge that SHAKES the very air itself between them. Then… she begins to lumber forward, moving towards him and his golems.
The crowd gasps at her charge, but Harry just smiles and twirls his wand in a flourish. It's not necessary, truth be told. He doesn't need to do anything with his wand at this point, he has complete control over his magic and that includes the golems. After all… the golems aren't really golems at all.
What might appear at first glance to be a simple Animation Spell, is actually a far more complex Animation Spell, one that Harry knows those with any degree of knowledge will recognize. Everyone else will just be awed by the spectacle.
The end result is the same though. As the Hungarian Horntail reaches the first of his golems, she contemptuously tosses her head, intending to bash right through it. But rather than being slammed, smashed, and scattered to the winds, the golem… melts onto her face, immediately covering half of her sinuous head.
The Hungarian Horntail's remaining visible eye widens in disbelief and outrage, and her open nostril flares in anger as she tries to roar through a half-closed jaw. But before she can break free of the first melted golem, the other eleven all reach her and do exactly the same thing. Because as previously mentioned, they weren't golems at all… Harry had individually animated every rock, stone, and piece of dirt that made up their 'bodies'.
In an instant, the Hungarian Horntail is immobilized. From her head all the way to her spiky death ball of a tail. And though she struggles mightily… Harry's magic holds. Because while it might not be strong enough to pierce a dragon's hide without significant cost, his magic is MORE than strong enough to hold a dragon in place, regardless of just how physically powerful that dragon might be.
To really sell it, Harry doesn't ever even look the Hungarian Horntail in the eye. He makes sure she can breathe of course, but he makes a nice show of paying her absolutely no mind as he strides forward and snatches the golden egg right out from her nest.
Standing there amidst the other eggs, Harry turns and grins, thrusting the golden egg up into the air. The crowd goes absolutely WILD of course, and Harry lets them positively freak out for a few moments before striding right back out of the arena.
He lets the handlers for the Horntail get into place before finally releasing the Horntail from her prison of magically animated dirt, rock, and stone. At which point, they quickly get her under control in their own way. Harry, meanwhile, feels undeniably smug as he enters the Waiting Tent to find Professor McGonagall staring at him like he's grown a second head.
In the end, the Transfiguration Professor closes her agape mouth and swallows thickly before giving him a simple nod.
"Well done, Mister Potter."
"Thank you, Professor."
That's all the words they exchange before he finds himself called out before the judges once more. Harry is curious to see what scores they'll give him in this timeline. Was he flashy enough to make up for the fact that he hadn't led the Horntail on a death-defying flight around the Castle?
It certainly seems he was for Maxime's taste, because the woman gives him a Nine this time around when he's sure she gave him an eight last time. Crouch and Dumbledore also give him Nines, which just makes Harry wonder what the hell he would have had to do to make them give him Tens. Probably just not possible, considering Crouch was Crouch even under the Imperius Curse and Dumbledore didn't want to be accused of favoritism.
The last two judges, on the other hand, couldn't have cared less about being accused of favoritism. In Ludo's case, this works in Harry's favor. The man gives him a Ten because his life literally depends on Harry winning. Meanwhile, Karkaroff gives him a Three with a scowl on his face. One point less than the previous timeline, Harry wryly notes. All to make sure Harry got an even forty points, same as his precious Krum.
While it's absolutely ridiculous, Harry doesn't care in the slightest. Because even as his total point score is announced, he's made eye contact with Fleur Delacour and can see from one look at her face that he's already beaten her score this time around. And won their wager.
Well now, wasn't that fun? Heh… now all Harry needed to decide was whether it would be more fun to go and talk to her right now while the victory was fresh, or leave it be and make her sit and stew in her loss until eventually her own pride forced her to come and confront him later.
Ah. Such hard choices he found himself having to make in this new timeline, heh.
Chapter 17: Aftermath
Chapter Text
A/N: The aftermath of the First Task and unintended consequences~
Also if you've enjoyed reading this story, please check out The Soul Engine for me! It would really mean a lot!
-x-X-x-
The two of them make eye contact for a split second. Fleur looks at him, clearly expecting him to rub his victory in her face like the brat she thinks he is. But Harry… Harry offers her nothing but the smallest of smirks and a simple nod before turning away. He could have gone to Fleur right then and there and rubbed it in, but what would be the point? Harry knew Fleur Delacour quite well. If there was one thing that the beautiful French Witch could be described as, it was prideful.
And to be fair, she had every right to be proud of her beauty and her skill as a witch. Certainly, the beauty aspect came from her being part Veela, a species of magical creatures who, as far as Harry knew, literally couldn't BE ugly. But her skill as a witch was not in question. However the damnable Goblet of Fire worked, it didn't pull the worst or the weakest from its options. So at the very least, Fleur Delacour was the best choice that Beauxbatons had.
That all said, Harry wasn't going to be the one to confront her. He would let her come to him on her own time, because he knew Fleur's pride wouldn't allow her to discard their wager if he never brought it up again. No, the very idea that she'd loss and their bet hadn't been resolved would eat at her until she was forced to approach him all on her own. It might take her a few days, but Harry was confident she would come to him before the end of the week.
For the time being, he was happy to ignore her, to make her stew in her loss and leave her wondering why he wasn't rubbing it in. Frankly, Harry was more interested in finally finding out what had happened with Cedric Diggory.
As it turned out… going in blind against the Swedish Short-Snout had not served the Seventh Year Hufflepuff well. He'd done his best from what Harry was able to glean, but his best with zero preparation simply wasn't good enough. Cedric had been evacuated to St. Mungo's with burns caused by magical dragon fire across his entire body, and there were questions about whether he would be able to even show up to the Second and Third Tasks.
That led Harry to wonder how the Goblet of Fire's magical contract would treat such injuries. As far as he was aware, the magically binding contract that the Goblet enforced would only break upon death. And Cedric was not dead. Would they be forced to carry him to the last two tasks, making sure he satisfied the bare minimum requirements for participation? That sounded… rough to say the least.
Harry was sure that the doctors at St. Mungo's would do their best for Cedric, but dragon fire was no joke. Magical Healing was powerful, but then… magic of all forms was powerful. And it wasn't just dragonhide that was resistant to magic. Cedric might not ever fully recover. He might not ever fully heal either.
With that in mind, feeling a little guilty over his lapse in letting Cedric go into the First Task blind, Harry swore to himself that if it came down to it, he would surreptitiously go and make sure Cedric's contract was broken before the Goblet could try to punish him for his inability to compete. It was the least he could do, even if it would probably raise questions and might even spark an investigation.
In the meantime though… Harry found himself as Hogwarts' only remaining Triwizard Champion. Sure, Cedric wasn't technically dead or even fully out of the tournament by the Goblet's reckoning. And sure, also by the Goblet's reckoning, Harry was representing some fourth, nonexistent school in this damnable competition.
But as far as the student population of Hogwarts was concerned, Harry was it now. He was their last chance at winning and sticking it to Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. Of course, this didn't mean they were all suddenly unified behind him. In fact, the school was rather split upon somewhat odd lines. The Slytherins all still hated him on principle. And the Hufflepuffs, grieving over Cedric's injuries, had turned their grief into distaste and dislike for how well Harry did.
But it wasn't just the Gryffindors who were sickeningly proud of his performance and latching onto his success as if it was their own success. The Ravenclaws were overjoyed as well, mostly because Harry's showing had shown a competence for spellcasting that left many of the more knowledgeable ones in awe of him. If there were any students at Hogwarts who could understand exactly what he'd done to defeat the Hungarian Horntail, they would be Ravenclaws… and apparently that respect and amazement had spread through the house of blue like wildfire.
Regardless, Harry found himself bombarded more than ever before and this time around, forced to put up with it. They weren't willing to let him out of their sight for even a moment, and so Harry found himself dragged to the Great Hall for dinner where both Gryffindors and Ravenclaws vied for his time, and then dragged back to the Gryffindor Common Room for a frankly ludicrous celebration party that went on far too long.
He didn't need sleep as much anymore, not with the magic he had at his fingertips… but the rest of them were fools to stay up as late as they did. Well… fools and one particularly hunted witch.
Funnily enough, Ron didn't approach him throughout the night, despite Harry remembering the boy trying to make amends at the end of the First Task back in the original timeline. This time around, Ron hadn't seen just how dangerous the Hungarian Horntail really was. He hadn't seen Harry have to use every ounce of his skill in flying to secure the egg, only to STILL get hurt.
All he'd seen was Harry using magic in a confident, no-nonsense way and ultimately dominating the encounter with the Hungarian Horntail right there on the spot. And that, it would seem, kept Ron at bay, keeping him from approaching Harry to try to repair the bridge between them.
To be perfectly honest, Harry didn't mind. He didn't hate Ron, but he also didn't need Ron. Hermione on the other hand…
"Harry…"
Hermione breathes his name out in a sort of awe as she finally manages to get him alone. The party in the Gryffindor Common Room has died down at long last, with only a handful of people scattered here and there. Most have FINALLY gone to bed, which is good because Harry's pretty sure he sees the sun peeking through a window, showing that it's become so late it's starting to be early.
And yet, Hermione is still there, waiting. Clearly, whatever exhaustion she was feeling was entirely overwhelmed by the weight of the things she'd learned from the breadcrumbs he'd fed her. With a sigh, Harry reaches out and takes Hermione by the shoulder… and for lack of a better word, he refreshes her. A small surge of magic is actually all it takes, causing her eyes to widen, her back to straighten, and a healthy inhale as she stares at him in shock.
"Better?"
His cheery smile is met by a slight blush as Hermione hesitantly nods.
"Y-Yes… better."
He just hums in response and waits for her to turn things to the conversation he's expecting. But to his surprise, that's not where Hermione starts.
"Harry… you told me that you weren't going to try. That you were just going to show up and satisfy the Goblet's requirement to participate. You said… you said you'd figured out the loophole."
Harry chuckles at the look on Hermione's face. He'd recognized the disappointment in the brunette's brown eyes back then, when he'd put forward the idea of not actually trying and just participating by showing up so that the Goblet didn't take one's magic. Now there's more disappointment, but for the exact opposite.
He'd tease Hermione about being unable to make up her mind one way or the other, but truthfully, he understands her position perfectly. She hadn't understood the danger before. She hadn't thought the Triwizard Tournament would be THAT bad. But after seeing what happened to Cedric, Hermione clearly wished he'd stuck with his original plan of just participating, getting bad scores, and keeping his magic secure while also keeping himself safe at all costs.
Shaking his head, Harry's eyes twinkle with amusement.
"I never told you I wasn't going to try, Hermione. I simply told you that there WAS a loophole… not that I was planning to use it. As I'm sure you saw, I didn't need it. I was perfectly safe the entire time."
Hermione flushes at that, glancing off to the side for a moment before slowly nodding. Then, under her breath she lets it come out in a rush of air.
"… You were amazing out there, Harry."
Harry grins, knowing full well that she's not embellishing it remotely. In her eyes and the eyes of everyone else, he WAS amazing. Of course, for Harry's purposes, he was nowhere near ready to take on the world's greatest challenges just yet. Nobody was ready for what was to come. To that end…
"Let's talk about what you wanted to talk about earlier, Hermione. When you approached me before the First Task."
A jolt goes through Hermione at that, and she looks up at him with a pained, exhausted expression despite the boost of energy he's just given her. But this isn't physical exhaustion. No, this is mental.
"Harry… is it… is it really as dire as it looks?"
Nodding, Harry lets out a sigh.
"Yes. The Magical World, and not just here in Great Britain, is getting smaller and smaller. We're shrinking in real time… not because the Purebloods are backwards inbred hicks dressed in fancy clothing, though they are. And not because of all of these Dark Lords and their wars killing off our best every other generation, though that certainly doesn't help. No… magic itself is disintegrating right before our eyes, Hermione. And the rest of them are too blind to see it."
Hermione's breath hitches and she looks at him, fearful of what he has to say. Harry doesn't let that stop him. He continues on, solemn as the grave.
"The muggle world advances… and the wizarding world stays stagnant. We knew that already, you and me. It was rather obvious, wasn't it? But I don't think either of us fully understood it before. What does it mean when the Muggle World grows more and more expansive, more and more packed full of magicless people… and technology? It's funny how they all acknowledge that muggle technology doesn't work well in places like Hogwarts that are steeped in too much magic. It's criminal that they never thought to wonder if it could possibly go the other way though."
The brunette looks horrified.
"We have to… we have to tell someone, Harry. I looked into Japan, like you asked me to. Their magical community moved to Sapporo decades ago, but it hasn't helped. Even leaving the main island behind hasn't kept them from slowly decaying. And if you're right and its worldwide…"
Hermione trails off, unwilling to say it out loud. So, Harry says it for her.
"If things continue apace, magic won't exist within a hundred years, Hermione. But if things are accelerated for any reason… like for instance, a Nuclear War… then magic will die out all the faster."
It wasn't just Nuclear Radiation. It was muggle technology in general. All of those radio waves, all of those transmissions. In the past hundred years, Earth had become inundated by muggle accomplishments. There were thousands upon thousands of satellites surrounding the planet now too. Wizards and witches liked to claim that electricity didn't work in highly magical areas. But the truth was, magic was starting to feel the bite of non-magical areas more and more.
That said…
"The answer isn't to tell anyone, Hermione. They wouldn't listen to us if we tried. And even if they did listen to us, what do you think they would do? If we could convince the Wizengamot and then the ICW of the existential threat, do you think they would react responsibly or reasonably?"
Hermione looks stricken, but he can already see in her eyes that she's imagining the worst case scenarios. Or at least, she thinks she is. Harry knows from experience that Hermione can't even begin to comprehend how bad it could really get.
"We have a small window, 'Mione. A small window of time in which to find a solution. Those in charge right now, if they could even be convinced of the issue at hand, would burn it all down before they actually thought to find a way for us to properly coexist. I don't want that. I want to find a way to bring technology and magic together. I want to make it all work. And to do that… I need your help."
The wide-eyed look she gives him makes it clear she's shocked by his declaration. But Harry can tell that the little boost he gave her is already wearing off. She's dead on her feet and this conversation isn't helping. So, grabbing her by the shoulders, Harry pulls Hermione in and presses a kiss to her forehead, making her go still.
"… Get some rest, Hermione. We'll talk more soon, I promise. But don't despair. Don't give up hope. There IS a solution… and together, you and I are going to find it."
He gently pushes Hermione towards the stairs leading up to the girl's dormitory and watches as she silently makes her way up them. He watches her go for a moment before heading to bed himself. Even for him, that conversation had taken a lot of energy…
-x-X-x-
The next morning, Harry is in better spirits… especially when he sees the Daily Prophet's frontpage headline.
"KARKAROFF SORE LOSER?"
The article, penned by none other than Rita Skeeter herself, is a scathing indictment of Karkaroff's unwillingness to let Harry have a score higher than his own school champion. There's also mention of Cedric's injuries and the dangers of the Triwizard Tournament, with Rita making sure to get jabs at all Dumbledore and Maxima as well as the Ministry Officials behind the tournament's revival. But the majority of the article is lambasting Karkaroff for daring to give Harry such a low score when he'd clearly done the best of all three Champions and deserved TENS across the board.
Amusing to say the least, given Harry hadn't even asked Rita to write such a shining piece for him. More than that though, there was a small note tucked into his copy of the Daily Prophet. A note that Harry suspected he knew the origin of immediately.
Same place tonight? Make it worth your while.
Rita wanted another rendezvous at the Room of Requirement. And Harry was inclined to give it to her. The only decision he needed to make was whether she'd only be getting another story out of him in exchange for her body, or if he was going to… ramp things up a bit.
Chapter 18: Rita Skeeter Redux
Chapter Text
A/N: On to Harry handling Rita~
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Harry can't help but be amused when the first thing Rita does upon meeting with him in the Room of Requirement once more is grab him by his shirt and pull him into a long, tongue-filled kiss. His hands go to her hips as she makes out with him quite heatedly, and he easily turns the tables on her, dominating the kiss in his own way and making sure to rub soothing circles into her hips with his thumbs while also injecting small bursts of his magic into her.
Is she already so addicted to him that she has to get off before she can even chase her next story? No… that idea rings false to Harry, despite Rita's current actions. Even still, the blonde doesn't let up, not even as he takes over their kiss. Instead, seemingly sensing that she's losing control, she spins him around and walks him back towards the bed that she's summoned in the Room ahead of time.
Harry lets her do so, curious to see what her plans are. As she quickly begins stripping them both naked, he even helps her get out of her clothes and get him out of his own as well for good measure. Soon enough, she's pushing him back onto the bed… and climbing aboard, her pale body fully exposed and her nipples rock hard as she straddles his waist and takes his cock in her hands, giving it a good, long stroke.
"You were amazing today, Harry. Positively fantastic."
Her purring tone conveys how deeply impressed and in awe of him she is. But Harry still doesn't buy it. That said, he doesn't let her know that. Instead he just grins at her, emerald eyes twinkling as she fondles his balls and jerks his shaft.
"I saw your article this morning, Rita. You were in rare form yourself in that one. Making powerful enemies…"
Rita just smirks and leans in close, her tits dangling right in front of his face.
"Why should I worry about powerful enemies when I have such a powerful ally, Harry?"
She doesn't wait for a response, she just lifts herself up and sinks down onto his cock, moaning as she impales herself upon his member right then and there. Harry groans, enjoying her wet tightness… and enjoying grabbing her by the hips again, this time with direct contact with her flesh. It's much easier to push his magic into Rita through skin contact than it is through clothes.
Watching her shiver and shudder and feeling her pussy walls flex on his cock, Harry grins as the older witch has to quickly center herself before beginning to ride him. She starts off with just bouncing on his dick for a good little while before looking him in the eye, her breathing coming out in heavy pants.
"Watching you today was… spectacular, Harry. You were amazing out there. Penning this morning's headline article wasn't just my duty as a reporter… it was my pleasure. Karkaroff needs to be called to account by someone for his flagrant favoritism… and the Daily Prophet's readers have a right to know just how dangerous the Triwizard Tournament really is."
If those words were coming from anyone else, or if Harry had already bound Rita to him via his ritual, he might actually have believed her. Indeed, he certainly believed that she enjoyed their time together. She enjoyed having his cock inside of her. He was making sure of that, making her feel extra good whenever they fucked.
But… he didn't necessarily believe this whole charade she was putting on. She was trying to make it seem like his power had intoxicated her. However, Rita Skeeter had NEVER been a witch that was intoxicated by power. Rather, she had always been the kind of woman who went after those in power, who tried to tear down anyone with an ounce of fame or fortune that she didn't like.
Her scathing biographies were even more proof of this than her articles, really. But then, in this timeline she hadn't written half of her most vitriolic and scandalous biographies just yet. She hadn't written one for Dumbledore, or him, or Snape. The only biography that this younger version of Rita had under her belt was Armando Dippet's and given the previous Hogwarts Headmaster wasn't NEARLY as famous as his successor or Harry himself, that had sort of flown under the radar.
Regardless of all that, it was obvious that Rita was fishing. Her next words all but confirm it, even as she leans forward again, arching her back and running her hands down his chest as she moans them right into his face.
"How did you do it, Harry? Where did you learn such powerful magic?"
He can feel the greed wafting off of the older witch. He can tell the blonde thinks she has the scoop of an age here. Something about how he's clearly been trained by not just Dumbledore but all of the most skilled wizards and witches of the age behind closed doors. If only it had been like that. Maybe his first life wouldn't have been such a shitshow.
Then again, if Harry had actually been trained by Albus and others, he would also have been more indoctrinated into their way of thinking. It was safe to say that he attributed his current adaptability and even his willingness to do something as insane as trying to travel back in time, to the fact that he had one foot in both worlds. If he'd been All Wizard, All the Time in his first life… he probably wouldn't even be here right now.
Of course, he's not planning on telling Rita any of that. He's not planning on telling her anything TOO juicy, not this time. Rather, she's not ready yet… she's not quite ripe. Which is why he gives Rita a cheeky grin as he thrusts up into her from below, making her squeak from the sudden powerful and deep penetration.
"Why don't I tell you about the Thousand Year Old Basilisk I fought in my Second Year."
Rita's eyes widen at that, and she leans forward again, quickening her pace upon his cock almost like a dog wagging its tail. Amusing, to say the least.
"You can't be serious…"
Now her breathless excitement sounds more real. She's not faking it anymore. Harry just laughs at that, his hands moving from her hips to cup her ass, his fingers digging into her cheeks and continuing to intensify the experience for her through bursts of magic. She gasps as she cums on his cock, but she's good enough to hide it, to not react in any meaningful way as she stares into his eyes imploringly.
She's all but begging for him to tell her more… so Harry does. As Rita rides his dick and he fucks her from below, Harry begins telling the blonde all about his Second Year at Hogwarts. He tells her about Slytherin Salazar's Chamber of Secrets and how it was reopened. He also tells her about how it wasn't the first time… and that once again, Voldemort himself turned out to be behind everything. But not the actual Voldemort… rather, a shade of his younger self. Of the boy he'd once been.
That causes Rita to go still atop his cock.
"I… I never even considered the Dark Lord's past before. But he had to have one, didn't he?"
Smirking up at her, Harry bounces her on his cock for a second, to remind her of their current 'transaction'. Though if one did call this a transaction, Harry wasn't sure he was getting his 'money's worth'. Especially since Rita had already cum half a dozen times for him. Ah, but he wasn't complaining. Every orgasm took her one step closer to being thoroughly addicted to his magic, to his cock. No other man would ever satisfy her again at this rate and she simply wouldn't know why.
"Indeed he did. Once again, I'll leave it up to you to decide if you want to poke that particular hornet's nest Rita… but Voldemort's original name was Tom Marvolo Riddle."
Rita's brow furrows at that.
"Riddle… I don't recognize the name…"
Harry just smiles at that. He's not about to give Rita ALL the answers. Besides, she completely avoided mentioning Voldemort in her first article. He doesn't doubt she'll continue to do so here so why should he tell her anything more? He certainly wasn't going to mention horcruxes to the older witch. Not while she wasn't bound to him and thus under his control.
Instead, Harry just shakes his head and continues to dig his fingers into Rita's ass. It's not very plush, admittedly. In fact, her ass is a bit boney. But she's got a nice enough pair of tits at least, he supposes.
"We're getting off track. Where was I? Ah yes, Ginny had been possessed by the Dark Lord's shade and taken down to the Chamber. And so Ron and I went there… that's where I finally faced off against the Basilisk."
As he describes his battle with the Basilisk, the fact that he barely survived it, and how he used the fang to destroy the diary, Rita is actually surprisingly quiet. She even keeps her moans to a minimum as she listens to him intently. Finally, Harry falls quiet and Rita, with a look of consternation on her face, asks the most relevant question on her mind.
"How… how did I not hear anything about t-this? You're telling me that Albus Dumbledore was nearly deposed by the Hogwarts Board of Governors when a dozen children were petrified by catching glimpses of a Thousand Year Old Basilisk's reflection… and not a single word of it got out?!"
Harry chuckles at Rita's indignation. Of course THAT would be what she would be focused on. And to be fair, she was right. Even more than Harry's First Year, Harry's Second Year should have been the scandal of the century. There was no way that Dumbledore should have been able to keep his job, even if everything had turned out okay in the end. After all, it wasn't like the Headmaster had actually DONE anything besides make sure that all of the petrified students were unpetrified by the end of the year.
He'd wondered at times how the Headmaster got away with it… but in the end, had come to only one conclusion. And, magnanimous as he's feeling, he goes ahead and shares it with Rita.
"I'm pretty sure it has to do with how things ended with Lucius Malfoy, seeing as he was the one on the Board of Governors pushing most for Dumbledore's ousting."
Rita immediately zeroes in again, her gaze turning hungrier than ever.
"Oh?"
Grinning at her, Harry nods.
"Oh yes. After all… the book that Voldemort's shade came from, the diary that possessed Ginny Weasley? It was originally entrusted to Lucius Malfoy by Voldemort himself. It stands to reason that he didn't want that information getting out… and so even though it might have gotten Dumbledore removed, he helped to suppress the events of my Second Year to the best of his considerable political abilities."
Rita is damn near vibrating with excitement now upon his cock.
"… Show me. The Chamber. I need to see it for myself."
Harry tilts his head to the side at that and considers her request for a long moment. He almost wants to comment that she'd never needed to see anything for herself before publishing a bundle of lies, half-truths, and blatant misinformation before. But no, there was no reason to be antagonistic at this stage in his and Rita's relationship.
Instead, Harry looks down at where they're joined before lifting an eyebrow at the older witch. He doesn't have to say a word, funnily enough. Rita flushes… and then immediately hops off of his cock and kneels between his legs. The very eager and VERY enthusiastic blonde quickly takes him in her mouth and begins to really go to town on his cock. Her lips and tongue are going haywire, all while her hand fondles his balls.
Harry groans and after a few moments more, he cums in her mouth, letting her fellate him to completion. Her enthusiasm is second to none, though he knows it's not because she actually wants to drink down his seed, but rather because she wants to get a move on and see the Chamber of Secrets for herself.
That doesn't stop Harry from enriching his jizz in a big way, making sure that as Rita swallows down his cum, she gets another healthy dose of his magic. A wanton moan reverberates up the length of his cock as her eyes flutter in surprised appreciation for the taste and overall enjoyment she doesn't expect to get from guzzling down his load.
Then, it's over and she's pulling off of his cock with a pop, her eyes dancing with excitement.
"Show me. Please."
Well now… a 'please' from Rita Skeeter? If that's not substantial progress, Harry doesn't know what is. Chuckling, he rises from the bed and the two of them get dressed before he leads her out of the Room of Requirement and down through a quiet Hogwarts, all the way to a certain abandoned bathroom on the Second Floor…
-x-X-x-
The next day, there's no article about the Chamber of Harry's Second Year to be found in the Daily Prophet. Harry can't help but be a little bemused by that. He'd shown Rita the Chamber. The Basilisk itself was long gone, but its remnants in the form of shed skins and what not were actually still there, giving her an impression of just how big it had been. He could have shared a memory of his fight with it he supposed, but he didn't feel like him and Rita were quite there yet.
Still, she had plenty to write another article lambasting Dumbledore and raking Hogwarts in general through the mud if she wanted to. And yet… she hadn't published a thing. Could it be that Rita Skeeter of all people was actually sitting on a story? Could it be that she was taking her time with this one? Madness. Simply madness.
Of course, Harry doesn't have much time to contemplate Rita's current machinations, because as he's leaving the Great Hall after breakfast, he finds himself… accosted by someone he was expecting to approach him later. But then… Fleur Delacour was nothing if not swift, Harry supposed.
"Monsieur Potter. I wish to discuss our wager regarding the First Task."
She then glances around for a moment before pressing her lips tightly together.
"… In private."
Tilting his head to the side, Harry lifts an eyebrow and then gestures for Fleur to lead the way. She does so with such efficiency that it becomes obvious she'd picked out a location ahead of time. Entering the abandoned classroom Fleur has led him to, Harry watches as she quickly spells the door shut behind him, locking it with magic and then crossing her arms over her chest.
The look that Fleur Delacour gives him is… assessing rather than mulish like Harry is expecting. She's staring at him like he's far from what she originally thought.
"Well? You 'ave won our wager against all odds, 'Arry Potter. What iz this favor you wish to ask of me?"
Harry takes slight issue with the 'against all odds' bit. He would have won this wager even if he was his original Fourth Year self, after all. But… he doesn't say that. Instead, he considers just what it is he's going to ask of Fleur Delacour…