This work is a parody of J.K Rowling's Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and it is not endorsed by either J.K. Rowling or her publishers. As a parody, this work is protected under the Fair Use Doctrine.
The characterizations in this work deviate significantly from the original, and this does not imply these characterizations exist in the original work. The author received no financial compensation or endorsements for the production of this work.
All characters in this story are fictional. This story depicts sexual acts between consenting minor males. This story is meant for entertainment purposes only and in no way reflects reality. Please be aware of local laws or ordinances that may prohibit the reading of such material.
Comments regarding the story may be sent to dricshae(at)gmail(dot)com
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The fact Harry and his friends ran off with Diktor meant they did not see the fall-out from the champion selection. The school spent over an hour searching for Harry while Harry and the Gryffindors completed their bull run on Diktor Kum. He got dragged to the headmaster's office instead of turning in for the night to slumber away in bliss.
Harry got accused of all sorts of crimes by Professor Dumbledore. When he got to the point of naming Harry as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Fucked, all the other professors clamored in protest. Alastor "Goo-eye" Moody, an auror from the Ministry of Magic assigned to oversee the Bi-Wizard Tournament and teach the Dark Arts class, interrogated Harry for several hours before he determined Harry played no role in adding his name to the magical loo. The red welts on Harry's face from where Moody slapped him around with a strangely long but even more strangely thin penis with a weirdly bulbous head testified to what the boy wizard endured.
Even after that night rumors swirled around the campus that Harry performed some hitherto unknown feat of dark magic to get his name added as a contestant. His best friend got swayed by the rumors, and Ron grew surly toward Harry. Only Neville remained silent on the issue in the Gryffindor tower dorm room. As a result, Harry spent a week enduring all manner of gossip and slights. Even Hermione, who liked to slap him around, kept her distance for a while. Only Professor Snape seemed to want to talk to him, and even then to only whisper ever more insidious accusations. It left Harry feeling depressed. In the midst of the gloom, one small bright spot emerged.
"This thing I know you did not make happen," Diktor said to him after Harry put up with seven days of non-stop public shaming. "No boy who suck like you could go dark."
Diktor Kum going out of his way to talk to Harry made people pause and think. Every day the strapping Bulgarian would make a point of whispering words of encouragement. Sometimes Diktor said things so filthy Harry needed to run to the bathroom to relieve himself of the excitement. One small event, however, really began to change minds.
"Harry?" An unfamiliar voice called out to him following lunch almost two weeks after the champion selection.
Harry wheeled around and found himself face-to-face with Cedric Diggory, also known as Ass Cleft Digger but more often than not just Ass Cleft. The handsome, tall sixth-year Hufflepuff student gazed at him with a fairly lewd look. Harry felt his pants begin to tent outward because, like every other person in Snogwarts, he wanted at least thirty minutes alone with the young man to explore his baser wants. However, Ass Cleft's visage shifted.
"I, um... you really got a scar... no, no," Ass Cleft stammered. "Hagrid wanted me to tell you to go see him after classes. If he's gonna do what I think he wants, you won't sit down for a month."
"Nah," Harry said and waved away the suggestion. "We're close, but Hagrid only wants that from magical creatures. Did he say what he wanted?"
"No, just that you need to go see him. Have, you, ah, ever seen him naked?"
"Remember last year when that traveling zoo came though Snogsmeade, and remember that graphorn they had?"
Ass Cleft nodded his head and looked adorable in the process. Harry felt an immediate urge to rip the boy's clothing off and live out his current fantasies. After a few seconds that really made Harry's pants feel tighter, Diggory lightly shook his head.
"Remember how it got all relaxed from that spell and it's willy started sagging out?" Harry continued and fought against what he truly wanted to ask.
Ass Cleft Diggory's eyes grew wide and he said: "Are you saying Hagrid is hung like that?"
"Maybe not as long, but a lot like it," the younger student confirmed.
"Blimey," Ass Cleft mumbled. "Probably the half of `im that's giant."
"Ah, yes, I'd say so."
The two looked at one another with a mix of awe, a touch of disgust, and more than a hint of imagination. Harry refrained from telling Diggory he saw the half-giant in an excited state once and how it boggled his mind. It informed Harry exactly why Hagrid chose to consort with animals: no mere human would survive a sexual encounter with the enormous man.
"Right, right. So, ah, don't forget to go see him," Ass Cleft reminded him, and then his expression changed. "See you `round, Harry."
"Yeah, you, too, Ass Cleft, and thanks."
With that their little meeting ended. Cedric Diggory sashayed away, swinging his pert butt back and forth. Despite having already visited the loo once to toss off, Harry aimed for it again. Any time spent near Diggory tended to rev him up.
Following dinner and before curfew, Harry sneaked away from the Gryffindor table without anyone following him. A scrum broke out between the Hufflepuffs and the Spurmstungs when the visitors attempted to snag one of the house members. Clothes got torn, and then Fred Weasley threw an orgy gas bomb into the middle of the fray. Harry could easily guess it would take the headmaster and professors at least an hour to break up the foregone sexual melee in the dining hall. The ruckus provided perfect cover.
The cool October air brought a sense of peace to Harry after the hot, steamy environment that erupted in the great hall. He walked along pathway leading from the main castle to the hut Rubass Hagrid called home. It could easily house half of the Gryffindor boys, but Hagrid's size made it seem small. The fact he shared it with a Neapolitan mastiff that usually sat cowering in the corner and licking its behind only added to the cramped feeling. When Harry turned onto the switchback dug into the hill, he saw the yellow warm glow coming from the windows. He hoped his enormous friend made either coco or coffee for the cool night.
Once at the hut, Harry stood on as stool and glanced inside to see if he could spot Hagrid. The keeper of the grounds sometimes went lurking about the woods or some of the darker places surrounding Snogwarts. However, Harry easily spied the half-giant dressed in a leather jerkin and shorts no sane person would be caught wearing. The young wizard shook his head and jumped down, only to trot to the door and begin banging on it.
"Hagrid? You In? Ass Cleft told me to come see you!" He yelled while continuing to pound on the thick wooden slats of the door.
"Hold yer horses!" Hagrid shouted from inside.
Seconds later the door flew open revealing a man who stood just under eight feet tall. Harry glanced first at the enormous bulge in the front of the shorts, one that left very little to the imagination, before tilting his head up and smiling at the man. Hagrid beamed a smile in return. From the very first day Harry learned about his real nature as a wizard, Rubass Hagrid played a significant role as confidant, friend, and sometimes protector. Harry knew Hagrid wanted to sleep with him, but seeing the half-giant naked and aroused one time ruled it right out.
"Well, don't ya just stand there: come in!" His friend invited him.
Harry entered the hut filled with the various implements the man used in his daily duties, and more than a few he used on himself in private moments. Instead of gawking at some of the rather torture-like devices, Harry aimed straight for one of the huge overstuffed chairs sitting next to the fireplace. He plopped down into it, and it felt to him like being sucked into soft quicksand.
"Don't let yerself get too comfortable there, Harry. We've got to take a little stroll," the man told him.
"Where to, Hagrid?" He inquired.
"Back into a part of the forest ya never been to."
"What you got planned?"
"None of what yer thinking, not that I wouldn't mind a go at it," Hagrid said and sounded a bit glum. "No, got some'in very `portant to show ya. All the rest know, so I figured it's only fair if ya got a look for yerself."
Harry became more than a little curious and a lot more than cautious. Normally he and Hagrid would make bawdy sexual jokes at one another, and the fact his friend passed up the chance spoke volumes. Hagrid then went about putting on a pair of pants sans underwear. Harry got to see the half-giant's enormous fur-covered butt and a set of testicles the size of prime oranges hanging in what looked like a hairy grocery sack. After which the man slid his feet into shoes that could double as a canoe for house elves. Once Hagrid donned his voluminous moleskin coat, Harry followed his friend out of the house.
"What about Fang?" Harry asked as they circled around toward the back of the hut.
"He'd just shit hisself everywhere once we got to where we're goin'," Hagrid replied. "Ya might be wishin' ya brought another pair of skivvies with ya once ya see for yerself. Now keep quiet and stay close. We don't want to get caught now, do we?"
Harry silently shook his head from side to side and followed closely on the heels of the groundskeeper. No one could doubt anybody knew the surrounding area of Snogwarts better than Hagrid. Thus, as they entered the Perverted Forrest, Harry let a hand snag the edge of Hagrid's coat so they would not get separated. It proved a wise choice as the towering man led them along a twisting path. The air seemed to grow close and fetid the further they traveled. Just before Harry asked Hagrid if they could return to the castle, a roar rent the air. Harry all but dry-humped Hagrid's leg in fright.
"Ya'll be alright, Harry, long as ya keep close," Hagrid quietly told him. "And I better not find crusty spots where ya'd been hugging on me."
"Piss off, Hagrid," Harry replied in what he hoped sounded like their normal playful banter.
Before the man could answer, another roar tore through surrounding trees. Some ways off part of the woods lit up. Against what would seem advisable, Hagrid led them in the direction of flash. With each step the sound of a huge commotion grew. Light exploded from the same area time and time again. It did not help Harry much to begin to piece together what they find. He held a word in his head until Hagrid led them to hide behind a tree that offer little real protection. Roars and gusts of flame split the night.
"Dragons!" Harry exclaimed in loud whisper.
"Right in one, Harry," Hagrid drolly commented. "Ya'll be facing these on yer first test."
"Ron's brother..."
"Is right over there," the giant interjected. "Always got on a fair bit with Charlie, and he's the one what tipped me off `bout the others sneakin' down to get a look. Seems the Weasley boys are rather fond of ya, Harry."
Harry blushed but did not answer. Aside from Ron, Harry never got the chance to engage in a dalliance with the other Weasley males. Fred and George seemed rather preoccupied with one another at all time. Percy annoyed him Harry to no end, and he only met Charlie and Bill Weasley a single time during one winter holiday break. However, not a single Weasley boy escaped Harry's notice, and not even the prat Percy.
"Why dragons?" Harry half-yelled through a roar.
"Can't tell ya that, Harry, but least ways ya'll know what yer facing. Maybe half the fright will be out of ya by then," his friend informed him. "How `bout we go and toss one off for a while t'relax."
"In your dreams," the younger of the two replied. "But I do owe you one for this, Hagrid. Thanks."
"Nah. Ya don't be owing me anything. The rest of the champions got a look, so, like I said, fair is fair."
Harry nodded while craning his neck so he could see around the tree. Four dragons, each monstrously huge and of different species, seemed angered beyond measure. He watched as the wranglers, one he thought might be Charlie, kept the dragons from breaking loose. Harry could not imagine what enraged the beasts. However, it made him frightful of what the first challenge might entail. At the same time, the words of Professor Dumbledore, the threat to do in the participants, took on a heightened importance. It no longer seemed like simple fun and games.
They did not linger long behind the tree as the dragon wranglers ran around putting out fires. Sooner or later he knew they would be discovered, and it appeared Hagrid felt the same. The half-giant gingerly led him back through the forest. It amazed Harry the enormous man could move as quiet as a mouse. Hagrid never once broke a branch or twig as he wound their way back to his hut. Despite knowing the temptation it would place on his friend, Harry changed his mind and decided to stay for a single cup of tea. In the case of his host, it meant a bucketful.
"Why dragons?" Harry asked.
"Can't rightly say, Harry, but I'll tell ya this: chuffed me a bit when they didn't ask for my help. I know dragons just as good as the rest of that lot. `Member Norbert?" Hagrid replied as he stoked the fire under the kettle.
During Harry's first year at the school, Hagrid got tricked into revealing secret information by supposedly winning a dragon egg in a game of cards. Lord Holdequart's disembodied spirit took up residence in the late Professor Quirrel's anus as a large anal wart. The dark wizard attempted to steal a unique magical object coveted by bisexuals known as The Philanderer's Stone. Through sheer dumb luck and a magical resistance to Lord Holdequart, Harry managed to defeat both the Dork Lord and the professor and protect the stone. The dragon Norbert achieved a vaunted but short-lived career in Hagrid's cabin.
Although Hagrid would not admit as much, everyone seemed to know the man sent the small beast tunneling in his rectum. Word spread that when the Magical Creature Enforcement Bureau arrived to confiscate Norbert, they found the dragonling covered in feces. Aside from that, they discovered the baby dragon in very good health and quite attached -- figuratively and not literally at the time -- to the half-giant. Hagrid sobbed for weeks after the removal of the dragon.
"Hagrid, who could forget Norbert?" Harry replied as the memories whipped through him.
"I could'a showed them half a dozen better places to hide the dragons where they wouldn't be riling up t'other magical creatures in the forest. Took me days to calm the centaurs down. They wanted to go on the war path and kill the dragons. Centaurs could do it, too!"
Harry nodded while his friend talked. The tea, nearly as strong as an espresso, made the younger wizard slightly dizzy, a little giddy, and more than a bit edgy. His legs bounced up and down in an uncontrollable fashion as the tea began to affect him.
"Doin' alright there, Harry? More tea?" His host inquired.
"Nope, nope, nope, nope," Harry said like a machine gun. "I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine."
Hagrid reached over and grabbed the basin-sized cup in front of Harry. The man held it under his nose and gave it a good sniff. His bushy eyebrows flew up his forehead almost to his low hairline.
"Think I'll just set this aside and give ya some water," Hagrid mumbled.
"So the dragons, Hagrid. Dragons. Big, bloated, scaly, evil tempered..."
"Give it rest, Harry. Dragons just do what comes natural to them. Not their fault their as mean as a basilisk jumped up on fairy dust."
Each year at the start of term the students of Snogwarts got a lecture about the illicit and illegal drugs available on the magical black market. One of the more notorious concoctions got called fairy dust. Some insane magic user figured out a way to mix muggle cocaine with old, ground up wands. It resulted in powder with highly addictive and often lethal properties. Any witch or wizard high on fairy dust got an incredible boost in their magical abilities. Stories, and more than few urban legends, regarding duels between witches or wizard cranked on fairy dust both entertained and frightened. A magic user who expended all of his his or her magic while high would begin to fold in upon him- or herself like a piece of intricate origami. Then that person would explode in a shower of burning glitter. It seemed even a half-wit would know better than to touch the stuff.
"You know which species they are, so can you tell me what kind I might be facing?" Harry asked, and his voice sounded like someone quickly pulling a long zipper.
Hagrid eyed him again and said: "Well, they weren't expecting ya as a champion, Harry, and that gummed up their plans. They planned on four dragon with three people so it would add an element of chance. Now, ye're looking at facing either a Swedish Short-sack, a Cumming Welsh Green, a Chinese Fiery Balls, or a Hungarian Horny-tail."
"Which would you pick to face?"
"Me? To fight? None of `em. They're each pretty wicked in their own way. But the one I'd least like to confront would be the Hungarian Horny-tail. Smartest of the lot. Not the fastest. Not the hottest fire or the spikiest tail, but smart as a whip."
Harry blinked at the man's dire tone.
"Most dragons can understand what a human says, but not all can speak. The Chinese might be able to, but I'd wager my last galleon a Hungarian can. No, Harry, if you're facing a dragon, better the t'other three than the Hungarian," Hagrid concluded in a grim manner.
Harry could feel a worm of fear wiggling through his mind and chest. He never wanted to enter the tournament, and he privately damned the person who managed to sneak his name into the loo. Hermione advised him time and again to read the history of the contest, and he decided it might work in his favor if he did. Knowing he would face a dragon in his first challenge helped only a little bit since no one would likely tell them what the task actually entailed. He swallowed hard and stood up.
"Hagrid, thanks... for the tea and all, and telling me `bout the dragons," he said and tried to sound more confident than he felt. "Maybe we can snuggle sometime soon... as a repayment for all the information you gave me."
"Ah, that'd be sweet of ya, Harry," the half-giant cooed while he petted the mastiff that shied away from him.
"No pokey-pokey, but just some togetherness."
Hagrid rolled his eyes, but he smiled all the same. Harry glanced down at the distension in Hagrid's pants. It looked like someone hid an automobile tire behind the fabric. The sight reinforced the notion it might be better facing a dragon than taking it up the bum from his friend. It would split him wide open like a baked apple. He cleared his throat to distract his thoughts.
"I think it's time I took some advice from Hermione and did a little reading," he confessed his immediate plan.
"It'd make her happy to hear ya say that. Might even save ya a few bruises to boot," Hagrid intoned.
"Maybe," Harry agreed. "Bye, Hagrid, and thanks a load."
"Well, better in yer mind than on yer face, I always say."
Harry chuckled at the perverse send off. He left the shack still completely and overly physically stimulated by the tea. His body vibrated as he walked toward the castle. Although the hour might be late, he believed he could get a book regarding the tournament history either from Madam Pince, the head librarian, or possibly from Hermione. His jittery condition begged him to jog, so he did. Never in his life did he ever travel the uphill path from Hagrid's to the castle in such a short amount of time. When he reached the front entrance, he shot through the door like comet.
"Mister... urp, Potter!" Professor Snape's voice called out.
A rock also hit Harry in the shoulder and he came to a screeching halt.
"And where were... were, ah, you at this house?" The greasy man growled in a sloshy manner.
"I was visiting with Hagrid," Harry Honestly replied while he kept his eyes focused on some distant point.
"Just visiting?"
"Think I'd be able to walk if it was more than that? I'd be in the infirmary!"
Snape circled around him like a slightly flamboyant viper or a completely inebriated drag queen. His black, stained robes billowed around him like smoke from an improperly laid fire. Harry realized too late his flippant answer would cost him. Snape came to a halt behind him.
"Aren't we the smart stu... stu... smart one this evening? You know what the punishment is for vio... vio... breaking..."
The clock tower rang eight bells.
"Violating what?" Harry sweetly inquired.
"You know the headmaster put a proscription on you traveling out of the castle at night. Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape warbled in the same sweet tone Harry used, except now he sounded completely angry and very sober.
Harry winced. Snape, however, lowered his head next to Harry's ear. An acrid aroma drifted into his nostrils, and he tried to keep from gagging. Harry focused instead on the granite blocks in the walls and the chipped flagstones of the entryway to stem his rising gorge. He made a mental note to ask Professor McGonagall why the Potions and Syrup master always smelled so repugnant and weird.
"Or perhaps you fancy yourself strong enough to face a Dungeater. They're still out there, Potter, and you know they have it in for you," Snape hissed in his ear and the vile breath nearly set his hair on fire.
"Yes, sir. I am aware of that, sir," Harry politely replied.
"Then is it you don't care at all about the measures people far more worthy than you are taking to keep you safe... and alive?"
"I wasn't aware of that, professor. Perhaps I should talk to Professor Dumbledore about it."
Snape growled in his ear. At one point in his second year the headmaster told Harry some of the instructors in the school used their exceptional skills to help protect him. However, Dumbledore warned him keep that knowledge private and act as though he did not know. Hence, Harry knew Snape erred in revealing confidential information. He kept his mouth from curling into a smile.
"I think it best if you forget this conversation, Potter," the offensive man rumbled.
"What do I say when they ask about the ten points that got deducted?" Harry calmly inquired.
Harry could swear he heard Snape's teeth grinding together before the man said: "Ten points to Gryffindor. Not be off! Leave me be!"
He did not wait. His legs started moving a fast clip and propelled him out of the entry courtyard. Harry could well imagine at some point over the next few days Snape would find a way to deduct points to make up for the bungled opportunity. Yet Harry could not help but smile at the fact he outmaneuvered the professor on at least one occasion. Between that and Hagrid's tea coursing through his veins, he felt buoyant as he traipsed up the moving stairs toward the library.
Fifteen minutes later he returned to the Gryffindor common room clutching an enormous, heavy tome. The spine bore the title Discourse and Words of Interest Concerning the History and Proceedings of the International and Inter-school Event Curiously Named the Bi-Wizard Tournament. Several of his house members stared in wonder as he lugged it toward an empty table and set it down with a loud thump.
"Blimey, Harry, what'choo got there?" Ron asked from his spot on the sofa where he all but inhaled Colin's face.
"As Hermione would say, just some light reading," he replied.
Most of the people in the room giggled at the comment. While prone to physical assaults and violent outbursts, Hermione also carried a reputation as a bookworm and one of the smartest students in all of Gryffindor. Moreover, her gift for spellcraft made her a formidable witch few liked to cross. The fact his fellow Gryffindors laughed at his remark meant Hermione secreted herself in some other location.
"It's some history on the tournament. Figured I should learn a little about it like she's always telling me to do," Harry added.
"She'll soak her panties when she hears you listened to her," Ron blurted.
Colin broke up laughing, and then Ron pushed the younger Gryffindor's head down into his lap. A gagging noise split the air for a moment. Harry shook his head. He knew all about Ron's issues in his relationship with Colin Creevey, but it seemed the two still planned to go forward. Ron leaned his head back with a broad smile on his face. Harry turned to his book.
In the muggle world Harry tended to enjoy reading. He spent hours locked in his room reading action and adventure stories to transport his mind out of the drudgery of his real life. Even his former muggle school texts could help distract him from the mistreatment he received from his aunt, uncle, their spouses, and especially his cousin. At Snogwarts, conversely, he did not find much time to read for pleasure. Harry sometimes found it difficult to slog through the strange phraseology and terms employed in the wizarding world. From what he could gather, they appeared stuck in the sixteenth century. Thus, his unfamiliarity tended to reduce his comprehension. All the texts often require several re-readings by him before he could glean the full meaning. Thus, he expected to take several days to garner even the basics from the history book.
It did not help when Ron and Colin began to shed clothes. No one else joined them, and they did not need the assistance. Colin, per usual, started to moan loudly as Ron began to feast on the slim form of the third-year student. The sounds of slurping and sucking filled the air. Harry knew exactly when they began to finger-bang each others bums when Ron let out with a long, sustained growl and Colin started to bark. He glanced over and saw the couple entwined in a tight sixty-nine position. The smell in the common room began to change as the two went at it with greater energy.
Harry managed to find out the Bi-Wizard Tournament did not begin as an effort to forge stronger bonds between the schools, but to see who might be active heterosexuals or bisexuals in their schools. Since the advent of laws regulating heterosexual sex, breeders and bisexuals seemed to all but disappear. However, the odd unplanned pregnancies that emerged in the schools told a different story. Thus, they devised the tournament as a means to uncover those they considered sexual deviants. It worked, but it also worked far better than they anticipated.
After the initial contest reportedly in 1288, although the author seemed uncertain as to the actual date, the Jizzengamot -- the high magical court -- got besieged with complaints and demands for reparations regarding the treatment of the suspected students, especially for those that got killed in the challenges. Thus, for thirty years the schools reworked the basic concept of the tournament, changed a number of rules, eliminated the clear and obvious deathtraps, and sought to make it slightly more egalitarian. It no longer centered on simply finding and eliminating the heterosexual and bisexual students. It became a real contest between the schools over ability and honor.
"Oh, Merlin, more, Ron! More!" Colin howled.
Ron held Colin's thin legs up in the air while he vigorously plowed the small bum. Harry could hear Ron's heavy balls slapping against Colin, and it distracted him from his reading. He also got fairly sexually aroused because he knew full well what the Creevey boy experienced. Some might wonder how Ron came from a family with ample bottoms and managed to arrive a highly trained top. The caterwauling rising up from the large couch gave testament to his youthful skill. Colin moaned and shrieked in ecstasy. Ron grunted like a horse pulling a heavy harrow behind him. It also made reading near nigh impossible.
"Ron! Ron! Ron!" Creevey howled in time with the older teen's thrusts. "AH! Ron!"
"Oh, for Oscar's sake, Colin, you came already?" Ron loudly complained in a husky voice. "When is it ever going to be my bleeding turn?"
"When you learn to go first," Harry replied without even looking up from his book.
"But he always begs for it. You know that," his best mate rejoined.
"I do not," Colin weakly retorted.
"You do, too, Colin. You always promise you're not going to spunk up, so Ron fucks you, and you shoot anyway. It's always the same. I've heard it dozens of times," Harry dryly informed the younger Gryffindor.
Several people heartily agreed with Harry. Sensing he would get no more reading done in the common room, Harry closed the book and stood up. He glanced at his roommate and the boyfriend, and slowly shook his head. The second act would commence where in they would sit together in one of the armchairs or cubbyholes and argue about how they could make their sex better. It would center on Colin being too willing of a bottom and Ron being too good of a top. They would not settle on a solution to their problems, Harry knew, and he would spend the rest of the next day listening to Ron complain about it. Hermione would halt the whinging with a powerful, swift blow to either Ron's shoulder or thigh. She learned where not to hit when both he and Ron spent far too many nights under the agony of Skel-i-grow potion repairing broken clavicles, ribs, and sometimes arms. Harry left with a myriad of thoughts buzzing in his head.
Harry lugged the heavy book up the stairs and to the dorm room. Inside he found Séamus fast asleep without the curtains drawn, and the bottle next to his bed informed him Madam Pomfrey gave him some assistance. During times when he experienced stress, Séamus would accidentally set fire to things in his sleep. He got replacement bedding at least seven times a year, and a new mattress at least once. Thus, the appeal to the school healer resulted in her prescribing a sleeping aid for Séamus. It knocked him out in such totality Harry privately worried Séamus would die if the room caught fire from other means. He eyed Séamus' creamy white bottom, upturned, and wonder if his friend would notice if he dropped in for a quickie. Harry shook his head and decided against it. He liked an interactive partner.
"Hey, Harry," Neville's voice softly called out to him.
Alone of all the dorm-mates, Neville preferred to sleep in pajamas. At the moment he sat up in his bed reading a book dressed in his favorite pink satin sleeping attire. Harry envied the comfort his friend appeared to take from the nightclothes. He, himself, almost always slept in the nude. It served multiple purposes aside from being comfortable. Harry crossed the room to his bed.
"Huge book you got there. What's it on?" The shy teenager inquired.
"Some of the history of the Bi-Wizard Tournament. Pretty strange affair, to be honest, and I'm surprised Dumbledore agreed to starting it up again," he replied while kicking off his shoes.
"I overheard Professor McGonagall say it was Minister Fudgepacker's idea. She thinks he trying to corner Dumbledore into getting fired by getting a couple of students killed. If it's one of the visiting students, Fudgepacker thinks it'd be even better."
"You and Dean hear the best gossip."
"Dean eavesdrops; teachers just forgot I'm there most of the time," Neville revealed his not-so-secret secret method of gathering intelligence. "They just start talking around me, and I just listen."
"Well, I don't forget you're there, mate," Harry rejoined with a wink. "I see what you're up to under your covers. Looks like fun."
Neville turned a bright scarlet color.
Harry tossed the book on the bed where it bounced five times before settling. He then started to strip off his clothing since he planned to do more reading before turning in for the night. It did not escape Harry's notice that while Neville bowed his head to make it seem as if he returned to his book, his eyes got locked looking upward. Harry decided to make a show of it. He slowly slipped out of his shirt and then his tee-shirt. Following which he unbuckled his belt with agonizing deliberateness. He used the same method when unbuttoning his pants and lowering the zipper. Harry wiggled his butt as he slid out of his jeans. He stood clad only in underwear and socks, and visibly aroused.
"Ugh," he heard Neville mutter.
A fast peek showed a tenting in Neville's pajama bottoms right at the fold of his crotch. It built a stronger case against Neville being a breeder. Harry slithered like a lewd snake after he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his underpants. These he dragged down and bent over as he did so. When the garment touched his ankles, Harry stood upright. His pecker also stood upright. Neville's eyebrows shifted even further north on his forehead. Without saying a word, Harry crawled into his bed. He made sure his roommate got a very good look at his ass. He also stretched forward to arrange his pillows, and cool air wafted against his sphincter. It meant Neville could clearly see it. Once he got everything arranged, he flipped around to sit on his bed.
Neville's head jerked downward.
"Everything all right there, Neville?" Harry sly asked.
"Fine. Fine," the boy mumbled, and the hard-on in Neville's crotch visibly trembled.
Harry smirked as he grabbed his book. He situated the heavy volume against his stomach. It left his throbbing member fully exposed. The tome veritably creaked as he flipped open the cover. He found the page where he stopped reading and began to peruse the text. Harry did not want a detailed, in-depth knowledge of the tournament. He simply wanted a basic understanding of what happened in the past so he might be able to predict the future. His mind, however, remained split. Thus, he reached down with his right hand and began to gently stroke his hard organ. His fingers brushed up and down the length of his shaft, and it made Harry shiver a few times.
When he carefully glanced over the edge of his book, Harry saw Neville freed his gorgeous member. It stood up straight, tapering from a slight bulge in the upper third of the shaft to the elegantly sloping head. Each time Harry saw it he thought he might lose control and race over to suck it. However, watching Neville masturbate proved very enticing. One hand encircled the middle of his scrotum and pulled down on it. Harry knew what that felt like and often did it himself. Neville's other hand glided along the length of his shaft. It seemed only a smidgen longer than Harry's with a girth somewhere between his and Ron's. Harry never failed to admit to himself how much he enjoy looking at Neville's erection.
Harry flipped a page to keep up the reading ruse. He got a better grip on his pole and worked it a little more. Periodically he would check on Neville. His friend's eyes remained fastened on him. Harry could not fully explain why he found it so erotic to let Neville watch him masturbate while he watched Neville do the same, but it often proved a high water mark of any day. He suspected Neville did not share himself in the same manner with the other roommates, so the act made it feel more special. The thoughts heightened his excitement. Harry pulled a little harder.
Neville kept pace with him. When Harry increased his stroking speed, the boy across the room followed suit. Although not a contest or race by any stretch of the imagination, it did presage the final outcome. It appeared Neville needed more of an excuse to toss off than Harry. After almost ten minutes of their escalating session, Neville's legs went stiff and his toes pointed outward. The glans of his penis flared as he pulled the foreskin down. His head with shaggy brown hair flopped backward with mouth open. A series of nearly inaudible grunts drifted toward Harry. Just as before, Neville's ejaculate came out like a spray instead of in tendrils. Drops of semen dappled his pajamas, creating dark peach spots on the pink satin. The long torso shook and shuddered as he came.
It proved too much for Harry, and his climax rocketed into existence. A thin rope of sperm vaulted from the slit in the head of his cock. He heard it land with a small drum-like sound on his embroidered duvet. A second shot followed, though only half the volume of the first. Harry's body also shook as desire and orgasm battered his mind. A final third tiny volley commenced. It dribbled down Harry's fingers. He leaned back, panting, smiling, and glad for the moment. Following half a minute of rest, Harry opened his eyes and looked around. Neville stared at him with somewhat dopey grin on his face.
"We've got to stop meeting like this," he said to his roommate.
Neville turned a brilliant shade of red and shrugged his shoulders.
"One of these days, Neville, you and me... you and me," Harry told him as a salacious smile spread across his lips.
The teenager lying in his bed across the room appeared stunned for a second. His face shifted from red to purple. Then Neville buried himself under his covers. Harry heard him recite the cleaning spell. Harry chuckled. He held out his hand.
"Accio wand."
His beloved wand sailed into his waiting appendage. He imitated Neville and performed the cleaning spell. All traces of his spent fluids disappeared from the bedspread. In the back of his mind he wondered where it went. He recalled muggle scientists saying matter could not be completely destroyed and only reverted to its energy form. It made him ponder the nature of magic, something Harry dearly loved. The puzzled seemed just out of reach, so he pushed the question further into the attic of his mind. His eyes returned to the book, and he flipped back to the last page he actually read.
"Night, Harry," he heard a small voice say.
Harry glanced over the edge of his book, spied his friend peeking at him from under the covers, and said: "Good night, Neville, and, ah, thanks. I needed that. Enjoyed it, too."
"Yeah, me, too," Neville squeaked and then his face disappeared under the covers.
Harry stared at the young man buried under his blankets. For reasons he could not quite explain to himself, Neville caught his eye. The teenager did not possess the body of Diktor Kum or even Ron, but it seemed pleasing fit. Neville did not project a forward personality like Hermione or half the witches and wizards he knew. He lacked the arrogance and pretense of Draco Malfoy; a facet anyone and everyone would find appealing. Neville just went quietly about his business in a polite manner and made trouble for no one. In some respects, the shy young man seemed like a calm spot in the unsteady sea of Snogwarts life. Then entire topic of Neville Longbottom fascinated Harry to some degree, and he set it aside for the time being as other concerns regarding dragons and tournaments took center stage.
"Me, too, Neville. Me, too," he repeated the final words of his friend as he submerged himself in the text.