Date: Sun, 31 Mar 2002 13:33:33 -0500
From: Jaime Legarson <jaime_legarson@hotmail.com>
Subject: Muggle Magic 6

The characters and places described in this story are the copyrighted and
trademarked property of author J.K. Rawlings and her publishers. This story
is certainly not part of the official Harry Potter series and is in no way
endorsed by the author. I simply wanted to take a set of characters that
have captured the imaginations of so many and try to spur those imaginations
in a different direction.


Muggle Magic 6

Harry Potter awoke with a start. It took a moment before his befuddled
senses could identify his surroundings. "Oh yeah," he remembered. "I'm at
the Weasley's." Then he began to remember the previous night's activities
with the three youngest Weasley brothers. The sheer sexual magnitude of what
had happened left him feeling like a hollow shell this morning but he didn't
care. He could barely wipe the smile from his face however exhausted he
felt.

He looked around his unfamiliar surroundings and saw his new sex partners
were all still asleep. Harry, always an early riser, got out of bed quietly
and made his way to the bathroom for his morning ablutions.

The shabby, run-down house was still. Arthur Weasley was a government
employee and, as such, did not have a very sizable salary. The burden of
having had seven children to provide for left them living a
subsistence-level existence. Some of the kids at Hogwart's teased the
Weasleys about their hand-me-down clothes and humble means.

Nevertheless, for all its dilapidated appearance and modest trappings, the
Weasley house was obviously filled with love. The care and compassion they
had for each other was clearly evident and was not confined to themselves
alone. They had taken poor young Harry under their wings and treated him as
if he were one of their own.

As he made his way down the creaking stairs he could hear the appetizing
sizzle of cooking come from the house's cozy kitchen, drawing him inexorably
to engorge his famished belly.

"Well, good morning Harry," Molly Weasley, the matriarch, positively beamed
at him. "You're up early. Sit down and let me bring you some breakfast."

Harry was used to doing most of the work around his aunt and uncle's house
so he asked Mrs. Weasley how he might help. She would have none of it. She
mildly scolded him, made him sit down, and proceeded to serve him joyfully
and selflessly. Harry had never been treated as kindly and concernedly. He
felt he could get rather used to it.

The two conversed easily while they were alone together in the room, Harry
busily consuming his breakfast while Mrs. Weasley scurried about cooking,
cleaning, and preparing breakfast for her large, cheery family. They could
hear sounds wafting down from upstairs as, one-by-one, the family stirred.

Mr. Weasley entered, dressed for work, and kissed his busy wife who shooed
him away, clucking at him and half-heartedly complaining about all the work
she had to do. He sat down next to Harry and pleasantly quizzed him about
how he was, how the boys were treating him, how was he enjoying his stay,
and so on. Next, the children began arriving at irregular intervals and
their mother served breakfast to each one in turn. They chatted with one
another jovially, treating Harry no differently than they treated each
other, until soon Harry began to feel so accepted, so much a part of the
close, happy family that it almost made him want to cry.

After they all were finished and Mr. Weasley left for work, light chores
were assigned to each child and they all began to depart casually to set
about upon the day's activities, leaving Mrs. Weasley to finish cleaning up
in the kitchen.

Harry, Ron, and the twins were given some light gardening duties and they
started in on them in a relaxed, disorganized way. Chores at the Dursley
house were serious business with no shirking or fun allowed until everything
was done. Here with the Weasleys, however, it almost seemed like there was
always more play than work accomplished.

"So, how'd you sleep last night, Harry?" asked George with a smug smile.

"Like a log," answered Harry.

"I'll bet," Ron chimed in. "I was a total wreck."

"Me too," said Fred.

"Me three," George exclaimed.

"Guys, I'm sorry I was so loud last night," Harry apologized. "I can usually
contain myself but what you guys were doing was so incredible, so
unbelievable,
I just lost control. Who knows what your parents thought."

"Hey, don't worry about it," said George. "We always put a sound dampening
spell around the room before we start playing around. You must have been
asleep when we did it."

"A sound dampening spell?" Harry thought he could definitely put something
like that to good use. "Will you teach it to me?"

"Sure, it's easy," replied Fred.

"One thing I've been wondering about," Harry continued. "Is there any other
kind of magic you can use in, you know, having sex and stuff."

The three Weasleys paused and looked at each other, totally serious now.

"Don't even think about doing stuff like that," said George.

"Yeah," Ron broke in. "You didn't have a chance for your father to have the
talk with you so maybe we better."

"The talk?" asked Harry. "You mean like the birds and the bees?"

"Well, yeah," Fred began, "but with wizards it's a bit more complicated."

"Complicated, how?" Harry was not sure where all this was going.

"Let's sit down a minute," counseled George.

After they were all sitting Fred started in. "You see Harry, sex is a very
powerful force in and of itself. Things can go really screwy if a witch or
wizard tries to interfere with that force by using magic." Essentially, sex
has magical properties all its own. In fact, in the magical community we
sometimes call it 'muggle magic' because even muggles can harness its power
and potential."

Harry had heard the term before but had assumed it was some sort of putdown
or sarcastic reference to non-magical people. Now, he nodded knowingly.
Certainly
his chubby cousin Dudley was adept at using the power of sex. He had
bewitched poor Harry almost immediately. Not that Harry minded, of course.
He was completely under the beautiful big boy's spell and didn't want it any
other way.

George continued. "Now you can use spells around the act like our sound
spell or your magic light last night but if a wizard tries to interfere with
the act itself... Well, there are stories."

"Stories?" Harry asked curiously.

The brothers looked at each other and Ron whispered,
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Voldemort? That was the name of the evil wizard that had tried to kill Harry
when he was an infant. The one who had killed his parents. The one who was
responsible for the lightning-shaped scar on Harry's forehead and for the
celebrity Harry enjoyed after the attack on him backfired and broke most of
Voldemort's power.

"What does Voldemort have to do with what we're talking about?" asked Harry,
seeing the brothers flinch, like everyone did, when he spoke the dreaded
name.

"Didn't you ever wonder why he turned to evil?" Ron inquired.

"I thought he was power-hungry; that he wanted to rule the world. You know,
all the normal stuff." Harry answered.

"Well," Ron continued. "It might have ended up as you said, normal stuff,
but supposedly it started real abnormally."

"Abnormal how?"

"Well they say that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had an extremely small peter."
Fred broke in.

Harry couldn't help a swift glance down at his crotch where his own
diminutive dick resided.

"Oh, I mean way smaller than even yours, which I think is pretty nice by the
way," continued Fred. It seemed weird to be talking so seriously about
someone's physical shortcomings this way, even if it was Voldemort. For boys
this age, teasing someone about their dick size was something to be
expected, something humorous or mean-spirited, not deadly serious. "The
story is that Volde... I mean HE tried a growing spell on his penis and he
went mad in the process. That's when he started to have delusions of being
some all-mighty, godlike being.
That's when he turned to evil and almost took over the magical community,
killing so many, like your parents, Harry. Sorry. He caused so much misery
and trouble all because he wanted a bigger dick. Anyway, that's the story. I
don't know for sure if its true or not."

Harry was dumbstruck. Could this be true? He had only one last question.
"Did it work?" he asked.

"Did what work?" George answered back.

"Did his dick get bigger?" Harry clarified his previous question.

"That's not the point," said George. "The point is you should never, NEVER,
mess around with magic where sex is involved. Nobody knows for sure if it
worked or not, but you can bet no one's tried it since." Lowering his voice
to a whisper he added, "the rumor is that it didn't. Some people say it made
it even smaller and that's what made him so mean."

Fred piped in. "They say he turned his attention to world-conquest to
compensate for his... inadequacies."

"Where can I find that spell," Harry said jokingly. The three redheads
looked at him with sudden concern and doubt, so he added, "I'm kidding." The
brothers continued to stare at him. "Really, don't worry, I'm reasonably
happy with my penis, I just wish it would hurry up and grow some. So
Voldemort had a teeny penis, I wonder if that's Draco's problem." He said,
referring to his
nemesis at Hogwart's.

"Don't even joke about stuff like that," Ron said worriedly. Then he smiled,
"But I bet Draco can't find his with a magnifying glass." He hated Draco
Malfoy even more than Harry did. Too many times he had been the butt of
Malfoy's malicious comments about his clothes and about how poor his family
was. One of these days he was just going to belt the smug little twerp.

The boys resumed their work and, in no time at all, had it finished and were
trying to decide what to do with their leisure time. Ron suggested they go
skinny-dipping and since they were all hot, dirty, and sweaty from working
in the dirt, they set off to the little pond in the woods behind their
house.

The boys assured Harry that nobody ever disturbed them there, besides, they
could always use the magic they possessed to hide themselves from prying
eyes or cloud the memories of anyone who chanced upon them. Harry, still a
bit of a prude, despite all his growing  familiarity with sex, finally
assented to the suggestion to swim nude.

Young and carefree, the four friends splashed about for a while, dunking
each other's heads in the water and wrestling in the shallows until, feeling
worn out
from their exertions last night, this morning, and this afternoon, they lay
naked on the bank, absorbing the sun's warming rays.

Harry was lying next to Fred and, tired though he was, he couldn't doze off
like the others. He was still fascinated by the older boy's fat, hairy
penis. It had
flopped over to one side and lay sideways along Fred's right hip, the
uncircumcised tip aimed directly at Harry.

Harry's eyes traveled up and down the stocky teen's almost-muscular form.
The skin all over his body was white and freckled. Like most redheads, the
Weasley
clan didn't get suntans; they only got sunburned and then their skin turned
back to white, barely darker than it had been before. His thick calves and
shins were lightly covered in delicate reddish-gold hairs that stopped below
his knees, leaving his stout white thighs completely bare. Fred was using
the arm closest to Harry as a makeshift pillow, his head resting in his palm
so Harry could see the red hairs of the young teen's armpit. They were
barely more than a reddish smear, about a half-inch wide and an inch long,
and were located more on the underside of Fred's arm than in the soft folds
where the arm joined his upper torso. However scanty they appeared, they
were hairs and Harry, forever conscious of his body's hairlessness was both
aroused and jealous at the sight.

How Harry wished he had hair. He wanted scads of it. He wanted a forest of
it growing under his arms, a full, bushy beard, and bear-like chest hair. He
wanted it to be so dense on his legs that you could barely see the skin. He
wouldn't even mind having some on his back but since he had only ever seen a
couple of pictures of his parents, he wasn't at all sure what his body's
genetic potential might be. He might never get the furry coat he desperately
desired. For right now he would settle for just a couple of skimpy hairs on
his bald groin.

Harry put forth his hand and gently felt the little red hairs under Fred's
arm with the tips of his fingers and then petted them, marveling at their
tender softness. Fred stirred at Harry's touch and, rolling over toward him,
he opened his eyes and smiled sleepily.

"I'm glad you came, Harry," he mumbled.

Harry continued to rub at the teen's armpit, then started to rub the backs
of his fingers along the sleepy boy's delicate cheek. The golden glow of
sunlight made visible the tiny golden hairs that would someday become a
manly beard. Some were already beginning to thicken and lengthen where his
sideburns and mustache would be and on his silky upper lip Harry could see
minute beads of perspiration clinging there.

The groggy teen lay over on his back and reaching up to take Harry's small
hand in his own, he squeezed and started to pull it down toward his still
flaccid penis.

Harry leaned over to whisper in Fred's ear, "Not so fast. I want to take my
time."

He pulled his hand from Fred's and began to trace circles on the broad chest
before him, widening each time until he reached one of the boy's nipples.
Harry rubbed the tip of his finger back and forth across the sensitive spot
before pinching it gently between his thumb and forefinger and pulling at
it.

Harry leaned forward now and started to tongue the now erect nub. He kissed
softly between the older boy's pecs and began kissing down toward his navel.
Fred had been lying out in the cloudless summer day for some time now and
Harry felt as if he were consuming the warmth and glow of the sun itself as
his lips caressed the sun-drenched skin. When he got to Fred's bellybutton
he plunged his busy tongue into it and sucked at it, making the slight
amount of fatty tissue beneath Fred's belly ripple in response.

He raised himself from his task and scooted down to explore Fred's feet and
toes. His jealousy returned as he massaged each toe and felt the three or
four thick hairs that grew on each knuckle. He began to lick and suck at the
wide, clean digits as Fred began to sigh with utter contentment. Harry began
to massage the redheaded teen's calves and shins, enjoying the feel of the
golden-red leg hairs beneath his hands.

He moved purposefully back up to Fred's midriff and turned his complete
attention to the small fluffy bush of pubic hairs. He was really jealous of
this feature of puberty. Jealous yes, but oh, so aroused and fascinated by
it. He patted it down with his palm, to watch it slowly spring back into
place. These hairs were curly and becoming wiry, not like the straighter,
softer hairs of Dudley and Ron's early pubescence. He ground them between
groin and palm and could swear he could hear them crackling as he felt them
tumble beneath his hand.

As he concentrate on playing with Fred's teen bush, his thumb wrapped
accidentally around the base of Fred's straining, erect prick. It was the
biggest erection Harry had ever seen this close. Hell, it was the biggest he
had seen, ever. He'd had a chance to hold it, or its twin, Harry wasn't
really sure which, last night but that was too brief and fleeting to really
count. Harry grabbed the hot, hard, 5 1/2 inch rod with both hands, one at
its base and the other at its apex, mesmerized that its entire length
completely filled both his smallish hands. It was thicker than he
remembered, too. Its girth filled his hands like it was something meant for
a man to play with, not a boy, especially not a slight boy like Harry.

Harry started pumping the enormous organ. At least it seemed enormous to
him. He felt utterly dominated by the humongous thing. Harry had a decision
to make. He really, really wanted to suck the titanic teen cock but he had
promised himself to save his mouth for Dudley. But oh, how he yearned to
wrap his little boy lips around this man-sized meat. How about the sperm
that this thing could spew? Ever since his first taste of Dudley's thin
semen, Harry knew that he wanted more, more, always more. How much could
Fred feed him, he wondered. How would it taste? Last night he had hoped to
see how thick teencum was but hadn't had the chance because it was all
gobbled up before he got a look.

Harry made up his mind. He whispered a small apology to Dudley under his
breath and dove right in, or rather on. He had to stretch his lips wide to
fit the huge head into his mouth but he made it. He worked the foreskin back
so he could taste the delicious slimy tip and taste it he did, sucking
strenuously as Fred's delighted moans made music to his ears. "Oh, it's so
good," Harry tried to groan around the flesh that filled his mouth and the
vibrations of his attempt to speak drove Fred wild. "I love it, I need it,"
Harry spoke again but his muffled voice sounded more like squeaks of delight
than real words. He worked the sensitive cockhead over like a pro but Harry
wanted more. "Do I dare?" he wondered. "Heck yeah," he thought to himself as
he began to laboriously work the big teen dick into his slurping orifice.
Halfway down he felt the iron-hard pole bump against the roof of his mouth.
He reoriented himself and was able to work even more of it in until he
stopped just short of his goal of burying his cute button nose into that
sexy red bush. One or two longer hairs tickled his nose and the erotic
thrill of that feeling spurred him on. He straightened out his neck and
pressed downward again. He felt the thick hardness start to enter his
throat. He relaxed his muscles and suddenly his nose was rubbing deliciously
against Fred's hair covered groin as the incredibly stiff prick plopped
fully into his throat.

Fred was aghast. "How can he do that?" he wondered. He couldn't believe that
this kid, this boy, so small in stature, so slight and diminutive could take
him fully. The sight itself was enough to make him shoot. Oh, but the
sensations! As his dick seemed to literally jump into the enclosing
tightness of Harry's throat Fred wanted to scream with delight. "Yeah," he
growled. "Suck it, Harry.
Suck it dry!" Fred reached down and grabbed Harry's head. The tightness of
Harry's throat had peeled back the foreskin of the fourteen-year old's dick
when it had entered and Fred felt his sensitive cockhead rubbing moistly
against the juicy membrane of Harry's alimentary canal. Fred was thrusting
as he pushed Harry's head down to meet his plunging hips. Harry quickly
learned to breathe through his nose or he would have been asphyxiated. They
weren't long thrusts, just enough to rub the sensitive tip of Fred's dick
along Harry's clasping gullet. The slimy friction was becoming too much for
poor Fred and his release was imminent. One more thrust, another, then
"AAARGHHHH." Teen jism spewed ferociously forth. One, two, three, four
violent spurts of sperm. Harry tried to yell, "Let me up. I want to taste
it," but to no avail. He struggled against the powerful boy's passionate
grasp, trying desperately to rise up enough to take the tasty teen cum upon
his tongue. He wanted to roll it around his mouth, to savor its musky
flavor, to check its viscosity and texture. He simply wasn't strong enough
to break the bigger boy's hold upon his head.

Fred simply thought the muffled grunts and writhings of the little boy were
an expression of his passion and excitement. He saw no reason to let little
Harry Potter go until his orgasm was complete, which it now was, incredibly
so.

Harry looked up to find that Ron and George were staring at him in
open-mouthed awe. "What?" Harry said in response to their continued stares.

They could only clear their throats and mumble. They must have enjoyed the
show because their torsos were spotted with little milky-white globules.
Harry eyed the teen sperm on George's abdomen greedily. He went over and
started to lick the rapidly cooling fluid. He didn't just want it; he needed
it. It was almost as good and plentiful as he'd imagined. Of course, he
would prefer to get it directly from the source, hot and fresh. "Oh well,
there'll be a next time," Harry thought.

Fred sank back upon the green grass in blazing sunlight. Sweat poured down
his forehead to trickle down and drip from the tip of his nose. His armpits
swam with perspiration and the paltry few red hairs that grew there looked a
darker shade of red. Beads of sweat dotted his body and they didn't come
from just being in the sun. Fred's muscular legs ached. He had so
strenuously clenched his delighted muscles that he felt as if he'd run a
mile or more. All in all, it was one of the most physically demanding
experiences he had ever endured. But he'd gladly endure it again for he knew
that Harry Potter, the world-renowned young boy that everyone thought would
grow up to be one of the most talented and
powerful wizards of his generation, already was a master of Muggle Magic.


I want to thank those who have taken the time to pen a few lines of
encouragement. As this is my first effort of this type, I have come to
realize just how necessary feedback and support is to spur one on. I urge
any of you who have enjoyed the stories of any online author to tell them
so. It well help them considerably.

J. Legarson
<jaime_legarson@hotmail.com>