“Yes! Bind me! Make me your bitch! Make me your slave! Harder! Fuck me harder, Master!”

 

… Well, that was easy. Even Harry had to admit, despite knowing Aurora’s true disposition from his future knowledge, that he hadn’t expected her to cave THIS easily.

 

And yet, here they were, the very next Hogsmeade Weekend, with him plunging into Aurora Sinistra’s cunt, fucking the naked, dark-skinned Astronomy Professor in the middle of a familiar glowing ritual circle. He’d already asked her all of the relevant questions. Was she ready, was she willing, was she eager? And she’d gone ahead and answered yes to all of them.

 

So now he was inside of her. Buried in her hungering twat, fucking her hard and fast at the proper pace for the ritual’s magic to take hold, Harry finds himself shaking his head in mild bemusement at Aurora’s attitude. He hadn’t realized she would break for him quite so easily. Sure, he’d been toying with her for weeks beforehand, but even then… she hadn’t even asked any questions!

 

Then again, she clearly hadn’t needed to. She’d had some knowledge of ritual magic ahead of time, given her initial recalcitrance. But once he’d reassured her that no one would be able to identify her new role as his magically bound sex slave, she had leapt into this with both feet, no questions asked. It was… honestly a little baffling.

 

Reaching up, he grabs one of Aurora’s tits, giving it a good hard squeeze and rubbing his palm against her pierced nipple in a way that makes her squeal and gush even harder around his dick. Staring down at her as her eyes roll back in her head, Harry is forced to come to terms with a simple truth… Aurora Sinistra is an unrepentant slut.

 

Maybe in his time, in the future, after everything that had happened she’d found a bit more inner strength. But THIS Aurora hadn’t gone through the same experiences her future self would have gone through in the time that never would be. She was all too easy to put under his thumb, and all too easy to bring into his power. She was succumbing to him with record speed, and Harry, as surprised as he was… wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

 

As he plunges into her depths again and again, causing Aurora to moan and cry out in ecstasy, Harry grunts, feeling the ritual of empowerment and binding going to work. More and more of the runes beneath Aurora’s flexing, writhing body are lighting up. And he can sense her magic. He can feel it within his reach… so he reaches out and grasps hold of it with brutal, domineering force.

 

He’s not quite expecting Aurora to reach a truly mind-blowing orgasm as he does so. Clearly she can feel at least part of what he’s doing, but rather than be scared or simply resigned, the submissive beauty is all for it. In fact, as he takes her magic and binds it to his own, using the power he gained from Bellatrix to speed up the process, Aurora’s cries reach a new level of volume.

 

Luckily for them, they’re not in danger of being discovered. After all, what are some more shrieks from the Shrieking Shack, right? As far as places where privacy could be guaranteed went, it wasn’t half-bad. Technically, they could have gotten a room at one of the inns located in Hogsmeade such as the Three Broomsticks maybe, but there were a couple of issues with that. One, while some mild privacy charms were allowed in such locations, the kind of heavy duty warding that Harry preferred to have up before performing this ritual… was not.

 

After all, if he was interrupted mid-ritual, the consequences of such a thing could wind up being disastrous. He always made sure to take precautions, but his idea of precautions was the kind of thing that most innkeepers and tavern owners balked at. Their establishments were theirs after all, and anything more than basic privacy spells was considered an attempt to put a claim on their territory.

 

Of course… Harry supposed he COULD go ahead and seduce Rosmerta one of these days. It wouldn’t even be particularly hard to bring her on-side. He knew exactly what the proprietor of the Three Broomsticks liked, after all. Convincing her to go through with the binding ritual would be a little harder but convincing her to work with and for him… that would be child’s play.

 

For now though, the Shrieking Shack was a perfectly workable option. Especially since Harry had warded it so that Aurora’s shrieks, squeals, and cries of pleasure, as well as her begging for him to take her harder and make her his slave… all of it was translated by the ward into ghastly, horrific shrieking that would scare away even the most hardened Hogwarts Student.

 

In the end, there was no one to disturb them, as Harry tightly bound Aurora to himself, melding her magic with his own and claiming her power for himself. As he lets out a grunt and thrusts forward one final time, filling the Astronomy Professor with his seed and finalizing the ritual, he feels how happy she is, both from the delirious smile on her lips and the way her cunt walls spasm around his cumming cock in one last squirting orgasm.

 

Of course, it should be said that not every Witch is created equal. Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black was an example of a very powerful Witch. Aurora, by comparison, was distinctly average. In terms of ‘battery size’ so to speak, Bellatrix had a good double the power that Aurora did. Still, every bit helped, and Harry basks in the feeling of his strength growing now that he’s bound the magic of two witches. His foundation is growing stronger as well, meaning that he’ll soon be able to go after younger women with less settled magic.

 

For now though… Harry smiles and reaches up, brushing his knuckles across Aurora’s cheek as she shudders and spasms in ecstasy beneath him. Her eyes flutter open, rolling forward in her head again and looking at him knowingly.

 

“Master…”

 

Harry smiles and shrugs.

 

“If you like. The ritual is complete. I don’t own you directly Aurora… I just own your magic.”

 

That gets a blink from the Astronomy Professor, even as he pulls out of her cunt and snaps his fingers. In an impressive display of wandless magic that uses quite a bit of borrowed power from Aurora herself, he transforms the room, turning it from a ritual chamber into a bedroom in an instant. Gone is the ritual circle and floor beneath them, and in its place is a bed that the dark-skinned witch finds herself laying back on as she stares at him in confusion.

 

“My… magic. All you wanted was… my magic?”

 

Amused, Harry tilts his head to the side. Right, someone as gung-ho as her WOULD be upset if that was all he cared about, wouldn’t she? Shaking his head with a chuckle, Harry leans forward again, sliding back into place on top of her. Pinching one of her star-like piercings between his fingers, he gives both it and the nipple its attached to a harsh tug, making her yelp and gasp from the pain and pleasure.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re mine as well. But I’m not going to dominate your soul or mind. That was never the purpose of the ritual. Your Free Will is still your own, Aurora. You still have the ability to choose. If you wanted to rat me out, you could. If you wanted to betray me, you could. Well… so long as the betrayal didn’t involve your magic. Because that? That belongs to me now.”

 

Aurora looks… conflicted. She bites her lower lip, only to moan when he tweaks her nipple again. Recognizing a certain… need in her, Harry rolls his eyes and decides to go a step further. Reaching up with his free hand, he taps a finger upon the hollow of her throat, a spark of magic alighting upon her flesh as she gasps and arches her back.

 

White runes of power blaze to life around her neck, hovering in the air mere millimeters from her flesh for a moment before constricting. Aurora chokes for a brief second before they relax their hold… but they still remain, a magical collar around her throat. Harry conjures up a floating mirror in the air next to his head so Aurora can see what he’s adorned her with for a moment before letting them fade from view.

 

“There. A collar marking you as my property. Try and speak against me, and it will stop you. Is that better? Are you happy now that I’ve properly made you my slave and acknowledged that I am your Master.”

 

Blushing profusely, the dark-skinned witch hesitates for only a moment before nodding her head enthusiastically. Snorting in amusement, Harry decides to plunge his cock back into her, fucking her on the bed as she moans throatily. He might as well make use of his fuck toy. After all, they still had plenty of time left before the Hogsmeade Weekend was over.

 

-x-X-x-

 

The Wand Weighing Ceremony. Honestly, Harry had almost forgotten about this event entirely, amid the hustle and bustle of everything else going on. He remembered that the First Task would happen on November Twenty-Fourth in just a week and a half, but this had managed to slip his mind. Perhaps because it was just so… pointless.

 

“I still do not understand why we are expected to compete with this… leetle boy. Surely he iz not expected to win!”

 

And of course, it opened Harry up to more abuse by his fellow Champions. Not that he really cared all that much. Not about them, nor about the opinions of others around the school. People were upset that he was the fourth Triwizard Champion, but Harry had much more important things on his mind. Unfortunately, in forgetting about this event, he hadn’t managed to avoid it. Though they probably wouldn’t have let him even if he’d tried. They’d simply have postponed it and done their best to track him down, just as they were currently trying to track down Barty Crouch Sr. so the Ministry Official could preside over the ceremony.

 

Well, in the meantime… Harry might as well have a LITTLE bit of fun. With Fleur’s latest haughty comment still hanging in the air, he looks over at the beautiful blonde French Witch and smirks. She immediately stiffens at having his gaze on her, sniffing arrogantly and lifting her nose at him as she crosses her arms over her chest.

 

No doubt she thinks that her allure is affecting him in some way, making him stare. But truth be told, Harry finds it easy enough to ignore as he makes his way over to her, forcing her to look at him as he comes to a stop right in front of her.

 

“This ‘leetle’ boy is more capable than you know, Ms. Delacour. Perhaps you’d like to put your money where your mouth is and make a wager with me.”

 

See, Harry knew Fleur. Maybe even better than she knew herself. He knew, for instance, that the part veela was INCREDIBLY competitive. But more than that, she also had a minor gambling habit. Nothing too serious. She didn’t let it turn into a problem. But having been an adopted part of the Weasley Family right up until the end, Harry had seen from afar all the little wagers and bets that Fleur would make with her husband Bill.

 

This Fleur was much younger than that Fleur. And she wasn’t married either. She had yet to meet her future spouse. But… she still had a competitive streak a mile wide and hated losing. But she LOVED being challenged.

 

Eyes widening at Harry’s confident words, Fleur’s nostrils flare and she straightens up for a moment before giving him a considering look. Finally, she scoffs… but the next words out of her mouth are not a dismissal or a rejection.

 

“Oh? And what does the leetle boy have in mind, exactly?”

 

Smiling wickedly in a way that makes Fleur blush, Harry just shrugs.

 

“Nothing too big. A favor to the winner from the loser? As for the wager… I bet you I’ll do better than you in the First Task.”

 

Fleur’s eyes narrow at that. She’s considering it, but at the same time…

 

“A favor from me to you iz not equivalent to a favor from you to me. I see no reason to risk debasing myself for leetle gain.”

 

From her perspective, it’s a fair critique of the situation. After all, she has no clue what he’s really capable of. Though, even back in the original timeline Harry would have argued that he had just as much clout and fame going for him as Fleur Delacour, if not more so. He was Harry motherfucking Potter after all, the Boy-Who-Lived and Three-Times Defeater of Voldemort by this point in his first life.

 

He doesn’t say that though, of course. Instead he just shrugs and gives her a simple smirk.

 

“Since you seem so convinced that I’m not cut out for this competition, it should be an easy win for you. But if you’re scared of losing, I understand not taking the wager.”

 

Fleur’s eyes narrow at that. It’s obvious she knows what he’s doing… and equally obvious that that doesn’t stop it from working on her.

 

“Fine. We have a deal.”

With that, the beautiful blonde whirls around and stalks away from him, moving to the other side of the room. Harry watches her go, only to blink when the doors suddenly open. However, it’s not the Ministry Official they were waiting for… but someone else he’d completely forgotten from last time.

 

Rita Skeeter comes buzzing in the room like the annoying fly she’s always been, flitting this way and that without a care in the world. A patently fake smile rests on her face, her ruby red lips stretched into a polite grin as her eyes sweep across the room.

 

“My oh my, what a plethora of interesting individuals!”

 

And then her gaze lands on Harry in particular, causing him to stiffen a little bit as her smile finally becomes real… in a distinctly predatory, hungry way. Making a beeline for him, the sensationalist reporter positively zips across the room. Harry’s nostrils flare as he contemplates how to handle Rita in the split second he has before she tries to drag him off to the broom closet for a one-on-one interview.

 

On the one hand, he knows he can shut her down in an instant with his foreknowledge. On the other hand, playing along might get him somewhere. Still, Rita was like a poisoned dagger with no hilt. Trying to utilize her in any meaningful way might very well come back to bite him in the ass.

 

Then again… the same could be said for Bella, and look where he was with her…