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
Please support Nifty with donations if able. DONATE HERE
The next day Harry told his closest friends, Ron and Hermione, about the dragons and the unknown first task involving the creatures. With the first challenge looming over the upcoming weekend, it seemed better to share his worries than hide them. Hermione cracked her knuckles while she listened, a habit that annoyed both boys but one over which they dared not correct her. Her eyes narrowed.
"Maybe the goal is to keep your ass alive," she said in a gruff, but contemplative manner.
"Core, Hermione, it's got to be something more than that. Dumbledore could never get away with just tossing students to dragons and being done with it," Ron challenged.
Harry thought she might hit him, yet she refrained. Another of her knuckles gave a loud pop. Harry and Ron winced in unison.
"Could be an impossible challenge that'll get `em all eaten," she rejoined.
"You're not helping," Harry complained.
The trio walked through the cold, damp subterranean passage leading to the classrooms near the dungeon. Potions with Professor Snape awaited them. Almost since the first day when both Harry and Ron proved to sport larger penises than the dour professor they suffered in the class. Snape picked on every boy who even looked more endowed than him. It quickly made sense why Snape got chosen as the housemaster of Slytherin. It also proved that a single attribute could be the deciding factor for admission. Gryffindor, it appeared, valued versatile individuals; whereas Ravenclaw opted for smart masturbators and Hufflepuff selected pushy bottoms.
"What d'you think you'll have to do?" Ron asked once they passed by a small knot of Slytherin students who whispered about Spurmstung.
"Hagrid couldn't... wouldn't tell me. He said the other champions already got a look at them. I think your brother Charlie saw `em sneaking in and let Hagrid know," Harry said to his friends.
"He don't like cheaters, Charlie doesn't. He's on the up and up when it comes to that."
"Well, tell him I owe him one."
Ron smirked while Hermione said: "Might as well just drop your pants when you see him next, Harry."
Even though they wore long pants, shirts, ties, and sweaters underneath their robes, the damp chill of the lower halls still managed to seep through to their skin. It seemed a perfect setting for Professor Snape's arduous course. They approached the classroom and ceased their conversation when they got a good look at the professor. Snape wore a cold compress around his neck, a sure sign he nursed a horrendous hangover. Far and above being the potions master, well-substantiated rumor held the man could distill liquor better than anyone. Students often complained about the pungent and sometimes eye-watering vapors that seeped out from under a locked supply room door in the classroom.
"Take your seats. Now!" Professor Snape thundered at the students. "And don't -- hurrup -- drag your bloody feet. I can't stand that scraping sound."
The students tiptoed to their stations. The dim lighting made it difficult to see, and more than one person banged a knee or stubbed a foot. Each sound inspired a roar of irritation from Professor Snape. The long tabletops stood beecked with small cauldrons, decanters, stirring wands, and tiny stanchions of endlessly burning flame. No one dared drag a stool out from under the table, and all carefully and quietly lifted them out. It took a little longer than usual for everyone to get seated, but Snape did not seem to mind the waste of time. He appeared to like the quiet better.
"Today you'll be brew... brewing a stomach settling potion. Madame Pomfrey says she's out and is going to need a lot more in the come -- ahh... coming weeks. Find the recipe in your books and get to work," their instructor instructed. "And do it quietly! If I catch anyone whispering or gi.. gi... giggling, I'll deduct one hundred points from their house. Clear?"
Instead of answering with their voices, the young people all nodded their heads. They learned from experience Snape did not like to hear voices when tending to an alcohol-fueled headache. Their professor then leaned forward so his head rested on the surface of his desk. He then dragged his tatty robe over his head.
Hermione teamed with Susan Bones, despite Susan looking for another partner. Hermione perfected a method where she constantly bumped up against or nudged another girl's breasts all the time. It appeared accidental, bu it repeatedly happened. Hermione also liked to pat and pinch butts. Thus, Harry and Ron rolled their eyes at their friend for her blatant behavior. The teams of students attempted to work as quietly as they could manage.
The ability of the students to brew a potion without making a sound did not appear so miraculous when one considered they practiced for three years. Harry honestly believed he could whip up some of Corrigan's Cum Burping Syrup without anyone hearing a thing. One stage of brewing the potion involved adding frog burps, and those sounded like first years getting sick in a hallway. Thus, Harry and Ron diligently gathered their supplies and got to work. They divided the chore of preparing the ingredients. It proved a costly mistake.
"Blimey!" Ron yelled when he accidentally smashed his thumb with a pulping hammer.
From what appeared like out of nowhere a heavy vial made of leaded crystal flew across the room and smashed against Ron's forehead. Ron crumpled to the ground like an unsupported sack of tubers. Shards of glass could be heard hitting the flagstones several meters away.
"Fifty points to Gryff... indor if you don't tell What's-Her-Face," Professor Snape immediately intoned in a slushy voice while Ron lay supine and unconscious on the floor. "Potter, I'll give you... full marks for today if you can haul... Weasley to the infirmary without anyone noticing... and don't tell Madame Pomfrey how it happened."
Snape offered his usual bribe to buy the students' silence. He lowered his head to the desk, covered it once more, and acted as though everyone accepted the terms. Harry could see the members of Slytherin house muffling their faces with their robes. Instead of spewing invective at them, Harry tried to quietly carry his muscular and sturdy friend out of the classroom. The empty dungeon corridor into which he stepped echoed with the sound of Ron's shoe heels dragging on the stones. Once they made it to the stairs, Harry lay the burly redhead down and extracted his wand.
"Emaculo perfectus," he said while aiming his wand at Ron's head. A faint golden shower of sparks got ejaculated from Harry's wand and sprayed all over Ron's face and head.
Madame Pomfrey taught all first year students the powerful healing spell in order to keep her beds from filling with victims of either Dumbledore or Snape, or many of the other teachers for that matter. Ron's eyes gradually flickered opened and he bleerily gazed around the stairwell.
"Wha...?" He mumbled.
"Snape clipped you in the head with a crystal vial. Pretty good shot for a hungover man," Harry stated and begrudgingly complimented the professor's throw.
"Oh, right," his friend replied as if he just remembered what happened. "Mind giving me a hand to our room? Think I could use a bit of a lie down for a while."
Harry agreed by standing and holding out one hand. Ron took it and climbed unsteadily to his feet. He leaned against his thinner friend, sometimes threatening to topple them both, while they traversed hallways and stairs to reach the Gryffindor tower. Once past the fat lady who moaned with pleasure as they stepped through the portal, the two made their way to their dorm room. Inside five beds sat stationed around the circular room. Harry deposited Ron onto his bed.
"Sure you did the emaculo spell right?" Ron asked while rubbing his head.
"Please," Harry tersely rejoined.
Ron mumbled an apology while he started to strip of his clothes. Like all Weasley men, he hated to sleep or even rest with anything aside from a blanket covering his body. Harry appreciated the view when he Ron turned to stuff his clothing into his footlocker. The pale flesh of his quarter-globe buttocks spread to barely reveal the pink rosebud hidden in the dark crevice. Underneath that Ron's full and heavy sack dangled. Just as Harry licked his lips once, Ron turned and caught him staring.
"Like what you see, mate?" Ron teased him.
"One of the finest bums at Snogwarts," Harry returned without even a pause. "It's not fair all of you Weasleys got butts like a centaur."
"Jealous, huh?"
"Yeah, a little. Can't say I've got half the hams you do."
Ron laughed at the expression. Much to Harry's surprise, Ron then reached around, grabbed his left cheek, and pulled it to the side. Harry got a full view at his friend's privy hole, and it made his pecker puff up. Before he knew what to say, Ron began to run a finger around his wrinkled button and made a humming noise. It proved more than Harry could handle.
The famous young wizard of Snogwarts half flew across the room and dropped to his knees. Harry buried his face into Ron's crack, and his tongue greedily sought out the sphincter. Ron removed his hand and then let the other join in pulling his ass cheeks fully apart. Harry took it for the invitation he knew it to be. Within seconds his tongue jammed at and into Ron's hole. The taste flooded Harry's mouth while he drank in the scent. A wonderful delirium began to take over as he feasted on his friend's hairless ass. His tongue left a trail of spit wherever it touched.
"Sweet Blackstone, Harry, but you're good at that," Ron moaned out the words after several minutes. "You and Colin been swapping notes?."
"Mumph mmm erm bmmm," Harry tried to said, but it came out a muffled mess.
Five more minutes passed while Harry's tongue assaulted Ron's anus. It grew sopping wet and relaxed, and the wizard on his knees could stuff nearly the whole of his mouth muscle into the hole. Ron's bottom began to sway from the ministrations. He cooed and groaned as the boy nibbled at his ass. Harry, in the meanwhile, undid his pants and extracted his erect member. He started to tug on it while his face remain firmly planted in Weasley's crack. It seemed a long time since he last sucked on Ron's pucker hole, and he planned to make the most of it. Thus, he poured himself into every maneuver he could imagine.
"Crimey, mate, but -- ohh! -- you know how to get me started," Ron's exhaled in a husky voice. "Maybe you should stand for a bit."
"Why? I'm having a good time here," Harry protested.
"Just stand, would you, Harry?"
Even though the request frustrated him, Harry rose to his feet as asked and his pants slipped down to his knees. When standing, Ron's long-fingered and strong hand reached back. He took hold of Harry's rock hard cock, and then stroked it a few times. Harry felt his knees tremble. Ron then pulled forward with a goodly amount of force, and Harry stumbled forward. It took but a few blinks of his eyes behind the glasses to see what his best mate intended. The once or twice occurrence per school year looked ready to commence for the first time that year, if one excused the bull run on Diktor because Harry did not cum. He jutted his hips forward. Ron guided his cock.
"Take it slow, eh? Kind of out of practice with someone who can give me a good go," Ron warbled and seemed to forget what happened in the baths not long ago.
"Thought you and Colin..."
"Look, mate, Colin gets so excited he fires off like broken wand even before we get started. Didn't know how much I needed a good dicking `til you got your face down there. You're tongue's a beaut, Harry, but I need a bit more than that right now."
"Bit more of this, eh?" Harry replied and thrust his hips.
The head of his dick pressed against and partially into Ron's sphincter. Ron groaned and hissed at the same time. Harry held still for a moment until he felt his best friend's bottom wiggle a little. The young man at the back then edged forward, and the rest of cock head popped into Ron.
"Oh, blimey, mate! Hold it like that a second. Core!" The youngest Weasley male moaned out the words, and he did not sound in pain.
Harry waited and grinned. Only in their second year at Snogwarts did Ron appear to ready and really wanting to take it up the bum, the Diktor incident not included. The wizard with a lighting bolt shaped scar on the glans of his penis held still. Aside from wanting to enjoy it himself, he really wanted his best friend to get as much pleasure as he could. Whether he knew it or not, Ron would call the shots.
"Right, right. Okay, start working it in slow like," Ron said after a minute of apparently enjoying the sensation of a hard willy lodged in the entrance his tunnel.
"Whatever you say, Ron," Harry quietly answered, and then began to slowly push inward.
A stream of gibberish fell out of Ronald's mouth while Harry inserted himself. Harry left enough spit pooled in Ron's crack that it acted as a decent lubricant. However and as requested, he entered slowly. Even at a slow rate it only took a minute before all fifteen and half centimeters got safely nestled inside Ron's bum. His hips pressed up again the firm mounds of Weasley butt. By instinct Harry took hold of the crease between Ron's thigh and hip.
"There you go, mate. All in," Harry announced
"Yeah, right, brilliant," Ron cooed. "Seems like forever since I felt this full."
"Well, it feels pretty great to me."
"Did I ever give you birthday present, Harry?"
"What? Why... you sent a card," Harry mumbled.
"Well, consider this a late birthday present," Ron stated.
"For me or for you, mate?"
"Um... well, both, I guess."
The two friends chuckled at the truth behind the joke. It served Ron just as much as it served Harry. In that moment Harry realized the tightness of his friend's ass. It clamped around his hard pecker with a surety of a first year. It made Harry wonder just how often Ron and Colin enjoyed one another, or rather if Colin got the most enjoyment out of it.
"Okay, Harry, start plugging away, but go a bit easy at first," Ron again requested.
"Sure thing, Ron," Harry agreed.
He hauled back on his hips and felt himself slide out of his friend. Before he became completely unplugged, Harry shifted direction. His dick disappeared into beefy butt. Ron's hips twitched back and forth as Harry repeated the motions. Experience told him to use a slow, steady pace. It would both acclimate Ron and also probably get the ginger-haired teenager even more excited. Thus, Harry plugged away with a gentle rhythm. All the while Ron mumbled a mix of obscenities and nonsense.
"Faster there, mate," Ron requested.
Harry increased the rate. Ron let out with long, low growl. Despite being graced with an average-sized cock, Harry knew how to use it. While he often got plowed and loved it, those times when he topped he liked to be good at it. Thus, Harry never charged ahead. He took his time. He listened to his partner. In the end, they would both enjoy it more. Thus, the boy wizard drilling his friend followed his own advice. He avoid simply ramming his dick in and out, and used smooth actions and strokes. Harry kept in mind he needed to glide through the tunnel, and to do that the natural lubricants of an ass needed to be coaxed.
"Bloody hell, Harry," Ron's now thick voice echoed around him. "Almost forgot you know a thing or two `bout this. If you want, a little harder would do me some good."
"Coming up," Harry replied and chuckled.
Once more Harry applied skill along with additional force. He stood up a little straighter so his pecker would penetrate further. More force only got added when his dick already lay half way in. It allowed him to give it a good thrust. Each time he did, Ron's grunt nearly turned into a bark. It became clear the youngest male Weasley got into the act. He gradually stood upright, and Harry speared into him. He could feel the head of his dick rubbing along the bottom side of of Ron's gut. One minute bled into another and another, and time became rather immaterial to the two friends. Harry got lost in the sensation of fucking his best friend, and Ron appeared to in the same condition.
"'Arry, Harry," Ron panted. "'Arry, give... give it... a tug."
Harry reacted on a subconscious level. His arm seemed to act on its own. His brain remained focused on how he repeatedly penetrated his friend. His right hand eventually let go of Ron's hip and slid toward the front. It did not take any real conscious effort to find his friend's thick tool. His fingers wrapped around it, but a sizable gap remained between Harry's thumb and middle finger. Harry did need to concentrate for a moment to set his hand to stroking in a rhythm that would complement the motion of his thrusts. After a few awkward attempts, he decided his hand needed to come downward while his hips shot upward. Ron apparently approved when he let loose with a long, sustained rumble of pleasure. The sound meant Harry needed to hang on for a wild ride.
In their second year during one of their sexual escapades, Ron let himself go. The two of them wound up nearly demolishing Harry's bed, and it required several repair spells to set aright. This time with the two of them standing, it seemed to herald something different. Ron thrust his ample posterior outward, causing Harry to drill him deeper. Then Ron thrust forward, making his cock slide through Harry's fist. Before he knew it, Harry simply became the means by which Ron pleasured himself. He grab onto the footboard of his best mate's bed as the young man went into overdrive. Ron literally fucked himself on Harry's cock while masturbating himself with Harry's hand. He growled like manticore on the hunt.
Nothing can last forever despite how good it feels at the moment. Harry felt his orgasm crest after many, many minutes of Ron turned into sex-driven machine. He blasted the insides of his friend's gut with a considerable load of semen. The added goo made his pecker slide in and out of Ron with less friction, and this made a difference. Roughly a minute later Ron shouted at the top of his lungs. His hard-on turned into a hot rod of steel in Harry's grip. Moreover, the teenager's anus tightened down on Harry's cock so hard Harry almost feared permanent damage. On the other side of Ron Harry heard the heavy volley of semen splatter against the bed. It sound like hail on plywood. Four times Ron ejaculated with extreme force, and each got accompanied by wild swearing. After the last shot, the two boys collapsed forward onto the bed with Harry lying on top.
"Ozymandias!" Ron heaved out the name half a minute later. "You okay, Harry?"
"Yeah, I think so, Ron," Harry panted.
"Someone needed to get his arse stuffed good," a familiar voice and scared the daylights out of the two panting teenagers.
Harry rolled off Ron in a start. His cock made a popping sound as it came free. Flecks of semen flew through the air. He nearly tripped on his pants than worked their way down to his ankles. When he looked up, Harry saw Dean and Séamus standing in the door, both with dicks in their hands and sprays of jizz on the floor before them. Ron also jumped up and spun his naked body around. His semi-rigid thick pecker slung even more sperm around the dorm room. Dean and Séamus giggled with delight.
"Get bent," Ron grumbled at them, but the red spots on his cheeks and smirk remove any sting from it. "Harry was just doing me a favor."
"Maybe you need something more than Colin, mate, `cause what we just saw was more than he ever did to you," Dean said.
"Purgo spermo," Séamus said through a laugh, and the small puddle of semen on the floor laying in front him and Dean disappeared. The spell did not, however, remove the heavy scent of sex from the air.
"You don't have any idea of what we do," Ron weakly contested while Harry used the same spell to clean up Ron's bed. "He just gets... too excited is all."
The two standing in the door started to pull up their pants as they waddled into the room. Both eyed the nude ginger-haired teenager with suspicious glances. Harry silently watched the silent exchange as he, too, began to pull up his pants. He glanced down and saw his penis remained fully erect: a tell-tale sign he more than enjoyed the sexual encounter. It would require further attention.
"Look, Ron, Harry just rode you like he would a wild hippogriff... and we was only here for the last seven minutes or so," Dean said and gave no indication he took Ron at his word. "Snape sent us out almost twenty minutes ago to make sure you weren't dead, so you two had a good long shag. From the looks of it, you needed it."
Ron's brow furled and he glanced at the ground.
"No shame in it, Ron," Séamus chimed it. "We all got needs, and it don't seem like Colin is doing right by you. I'll give you full marks on loyalty, but you need to find someone more your speed."
Harry's discovered his head bobbed in agreement, but he did not halt it in time. Ron frowned at him. However, Harry truly did agree with Séamus.
"You think he's right?" Ron finally asked him.
"Well, I know you say he's good for a buggering, but you don't seem really satisfied. You helped me out a few times, but it seems like you need it more than me," Harry confessed his honest thoughts.
"I like him..."
No one said a word when Ron tapered into silence.
"He's a good enough bloke, Ron, but... is Colin really enough?" Dean stated the only real question that needed to be asked.
Ron never answered. Even when Harry collected his book bag and headed for his next class, the question continued to hang in the air even though neither Dean nor Séamus pursued the topic. It made Harry feel both sad and uncomfortable. He knew his best friend truly wanted someone to love him, both emotionally and physically in the same robust manner he displayed. However, since the end of the last school year and through the beginning of the current, it became painfully obvious Colin could not meet the requirements. Ron, it seemed, would need to make a choice.
Ron avoided talking to him during the Defense of Dark Arts class. Goo-eye Moody ran a rough class, and it terrified most of the students. Harry grudgingly appreciated the reality Professor Moody injected into the sessions. It lent the classes a sense of importance about what they might face in the outside world. However, it also tended to produce nightmares in just about every student in their year, including the Slytherins, on a regular basis. Everyone knew complaints would fall on deaf ears if they raised their concerns to the headmaster. Thus, they endured the wholly frightening course.
The school began to buzz with excitement at the approach of first tournament challenge. Of course, students from all three schools would randomly disappear for a day or two only to return dazed and inexplicably happy. Nearly all of the Boobbeatons' girls passed through the Gryffindor tower at least once, but those who did not seemed to realize they got marked. An unspoken contest emerged between Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. The Spurmstung boys continued their reign of terror, although few saw it as such, on the Snogwarts houses with the exception of the Slytherin. It seemed Spurmstung possessed standard to which the house bedecked in emerald could not meet. It caused the Slytherin boys to become even more angry and snide.
"Did you hear the six and seventh years of Slytherin did a mosquito attack on Patrick Bagby last night?" Ron told Harry as they ate breakfast, although Harry did not feel much like eating.
"That never hurt anyone," Hermione quipped and scrapped a bit of porridge off her bosom where it fell.
"But for five hours?"
"It'd be like dropping toothpicks into washbasin."
"Look, Bagby probably barely noticed, but I've got other things to worry about right now," Harry snarled at his friends. "You know what I'm going up against in a little while."
"Well, it hardly seems worth it if Dumbledore is going to take out only two of students," Hermione shot back at him. "He might actually be playing this on the up and up."
"Not bleeding likely, Hermione. You know he'd love to see one of us get et by a dragon," Ron dangerously challenged the young woman.
"Did you get a chance to talk to Charlie?" Harry inquired before his best friend started fighting.
"Yeah, but he wouldn't tell me what they're planning with the dragons."
"Fat lot of good it does having him for a brother," Hermione sniped at him.
It spiraled down from there. Harry got up and left the table, and his friends never noticed. Since no classes would be held, he looked for a quiet corner where he could sit and think about his dilemma. Without paying attention, Harry found himself out near the greenhouses where herbology lessons got taught. It did not surprise him to find Neville quietly tending to the plants on the outside. The quietest of the fourth-year Gryffindor boys showed a genius-level aptitude with magical plants.
"Hi ya, Harry," Neville politely and sincerely greeted him. "Looks like you got a fair bit on your mind what with the challenge today."
"Yeah, and I found out what it's going to involve," he replied. "Not sure knowing did me any favors."
Neville nodded. Harry could not help but notice the growth spurt his schoolmate went through over the last three years. The pudgy first year got stretched into a teenager taller than Harry. Moreover, he dropped a lot of weight and, when Harry managed to see some part of him unclothed, he seemed to be fit. It dawned on the more famous of the two that Neville grew progressively more handsome with each succeeding year. He wondered how did not notice it until that moment.
"So what are you up against?" Neville naturally inquired while Harry's eyes ran up and down his form.
"Dragons."
"Ooh, tough one there. Never saw one too up close, but all the books say their really dangerous. What do you got to do with `em?"
"I don't have a single clue, Neville, but it'll be something nasty knowing Dumbledore," Harry replied.
Neville set down the trowel and took off his work gloves before saying: "Well, dragons breathe fire and most can fly. They're really good at guarding things. Ever see the one they got down in Gringotts?"
Harry shook his head from side to side. He heard rumors that the goblins used the terrifying beasts to guard some of the more valuable vaults, but his family's personal vault rested above that level. Despite the mounds of gold galleons his parents left him, along with a number of family heirlooms and keepsakes, it did not warrant such protection.
"They're fast and sneaky, too," his dorm mate opined.
"I, ah, kind of already knew that," Harry rejoined.
"Well, whatever they got planned, it'll probably play to the dragon's strengths and not yours. If you can figure out what the dragon is best at, you might find a way around it. There's a lot of books on dragons in the library. If you've got the time, you could read up on them and maybe figure out how to -- I don't know -- survive."
Harry blinked in utter astonishment at the wisdom in the Neville's statements and said: "That's brilliant, Neville. I owe you free shag whenever you want!"
"Never saw you charge anyone," his friend said and grinned.
"Well, when you want it, I'll be ready, anytime day or night."
"Right, thanks, Harry. I'll remember that."
Harry saw large rosy spots appear on the young man's face. He stopped wondering if Neville could be a breeder because some part of him deep down resisted the notion. It seemed as though Neville quietly followed his own path and few understood what it could be because they never inquired. Harry decided to change that.
"Neville, I know it's none of my business, but do you fancy anyone here at Snogwarts?" He asked.
Neville shrugged and looked away.
"You know I'd always be willing to put in a good word for you with anyone."
"Thanks, Harry, that's sporting of you," Neville said and faced him again. Anger appeared to ripple on his features. "Other than you and sometimes Ron and Hermione, no one really gives me the time of the day. The Slytherins are the worst."
"You're better than them, Neville."
"Right there, see? Only my Gran says things like that to me. Everyone else... they just treat me like they did in first year. That's why I keep to myself so much. Sort the opposite from you."
"Sometimes I look at you and I get envious..."
"Why?" Neville interjected before the statement got completed.
"'Cause everyone expects something from me... and I've got nothing for them," Harry explained. "I don't know how I did what I did with Holdequart..."
Neville winced.
"I don't even have any memories of it, and yet everyone expects me to be... who I was when I was a baby. Does that make any sense?"
The teenager wearing stained overalls nodded and said: "I've wondered about that before. I know you and some others think The Dork Lord is back..."
"He is back, Neville, and he's just looking for a body now," Harry sternly replied. "I don't know what he's really up to, but he's trying to come back and pick up where left off."
"That's as may be, Harry, and that's part of the reason why people expect so much from you!"
"Why is that?"
"'Cause if you-know-who is coming back, they think you'll be the one to stop him again. It's kind of exciting and scary at the same time," Neville told him. "Exciting `cause maybe we'll get to find out how you defeated him the first time, and scary `cause... well, it is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Fucked after all."
Harry consider what Neville said for a few seconds. It made sense, but it also seemed childish to him. Anyone wishing for Lord Holdequart's return either went soft in the head or might be a Dungeater. It seemed simply insane. He scowled.
"What?" Neville prodded him.
"It's daft, Neville, thinking it'd be exciting to have him back. Maybe it's because none of us were there and knew what it was like. Sometimes... sometimes I get a quick flash of some memory, but not enough to go on. I mostly remember being afraid to be honest."
"So what worries you most, Harry: The Dork Lord or a dragon?"
"Truthfully? Both. Right now probably the dragon more `cause I have to face it in a few hours."
"That makes sense," his housemate rejoined.
"But you did give me one good piece of advice, and I'm going to use it!"
"Glad I could help."
"And don't forget you can call on me whenever you need it... whatever it is."
Neville smiled at him and then retrieved his gloves. From past experience, Harry knew he would lose to the plants that never judged the quiet teenager, except for the opinionated pansies. More than ever it did not seem possible Neville could be a breeder: he simply started off shy and it only got worse over the past few years. Harry vowed to make a difference with his housemate.
Three years of being both popular and unpopular in equal measure but at opposite times taught Harry how to navigate through the castle in order to avoid running into people. He made his way to the library. When he stepped inside, an odd assortment of students gazed at him for a moment. Some he expected, but more than a few faces surprised him. He began to wonder if Hermione would make quick work inside the large chamber. She liked to read, and she read a lot.
"Um, excuse me, Madam Pince?" He said when he approached the lending counter.
The thin woman with sallow skin like parchment and dark, piercing eyes set behind glasses looked up at him with an expectant look. Harry tried a smile, but did not get one in return. He cleared his throat, adjust his practice fappitch jersey, and readied himself.
"I don't have a lot of time before the challenge, but could you tell me where to find a book that covers as many species of dragons as possible... with pictures?"
"And you would need this volume because...?" Madam Pince's slightly reedy voice inquired.
Harry lowered his voice even more and leaned toward the woman before saying: "Because I have to face one in little more than three hours."
The librarian appeared surprised.
"It's the fist challenge for the Bi-Wizard Tournament."
"Non-fiction, section A... animals, subsection M for magical," she quickly rattled off the information. "Newt Scamander wrote a treatise on dragons later in his career, but it does not include pictures. It may also present slightly biased information."
"Thank you, Madam Pince!" Harry gushed at her.
"I hope you can find some useful details in the time allotted to you, Mr. Potter," the woman rejoined, and she sounded sincere. "Good luck."
Harry nodded his head to her, and then launched into a fast walking pace to reach the part of the library she indicated. In ten minutes Harry collected five volumes that looked promising, and all included illustrations or photos of dragons. It took another few minutes to find an alcove not occupied by students either studying or snogging or lying in wait for someone to make an unexpected sound. Since first finding out about the library Shushers in his first year, Harry thought them daft. Finally a lone table availed itself. Harry let the books land with a thump on it, and then slid into the chair. Several people shushed him for making a loud noise.
"Right," Harry whispered as he snagged what looked to be the most promising tome. "If you know its strengths, you might find its weaknesses."
With those words, he launched into his study of dragons. A habit born of his days locked in the cupboard under the stairs manifested without his even being aware of it. Harry began to fondle himself as he flipped pages and scanned the text. His organ became half-erect, but not from sexual excitement. As he read, Harry started to learn more about dragons that he ever wished to know. Each species seemed a vexing combination of anger, claws, flame, and teeth. Some possessed wings, others did not. The ones without wings tended to sport poisoned spikes or razor-sharp scales. However, what got him intellectually excited, and hence puffed up in the pants, came in the few lines and passages that stated the vulnerabilities of dragons. Harry applied himself with gusto, and he lost track of time.
"Mr. Potter?" Madam Pince called out his name.
Harry kept reading.
"Harry Potter!" The librarian said in voice that, while not a shout, still caused one to pay attention.
His head snapped up.
"They've been calling your name from the detention quarry for the last thirty minutes," Madam Pince informed him. "I believe you are running late."
"And I'm not allowed to miss a single event or..."
"I heard, Harry. Go! I'll put the books away for you."
"Thanks, Madam Pince. You're the best!" Harry said as he stood, his pants tenting outward somewhat, and started to trot away from the table.
The woman looked stunned, but Harry could not waste time on discovering why. He broke into a flat-out run when he got passed the doors. Not a single soul occupied the halls as he wended through them. Harry never before experienced an occasion when he could run willy-nilly through Snogwarts without a teacher or Mr. Felch yelling at him. As he neared the main entrance, he could hear the sounds of dragons in full ire. It made his mouth run dry.
"Which one will I get?" He asked himself in a pant as he pushed open and past the heavy main doors.
From the far left side of the castle, the spot where students once broke boulders into smaller rocks as a form of punishment, the calls and shrieks of spectators mingled with the roar of dragons. The running kept his nerves from acting up, and Harry began to speculate that arriving tired from a long sprint might work against him. He slowed and listened. His mind created images that started to scare the life out of him.