The First Spark
The Hogwarts Express sped through the countryside, its steam billowing against the gray sky. Inside the train, Harry Potter sat with his two best friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, discussing the sinister events that had unfolded over the summer.
Rumors of strange disappearances had been circulating among the students since they arrived at Platform 9 ¾. Students whispered in hushed tones about neighbors who had vanished without a trace, family members that had been found dead, and rumors about the growing army that was flocking to the Dark Lord’s banner. The air was thick with fear and unease, a palpable tension that tightened its grip on the school.
The war was escalating, and Voldemort's threat loomed larger than ever.
From his earliest memories, the specter of Voldemort had loomed over him, a relentless hunter doggedly pursuing his prey. The malicious Dark wizard had marked Harry as his equal while he was still in his crib, unknowingly setting the stage for their inevitable clash.
Harry's life had been punctuated with narrow escapes from death's clutches, each encounter with Voldemort more perilous than the last. His first year at Hogwarts saw him face off against Quirrell, possessed by Voldemort, In a relentless pursuit to claim the Philosopher's Stone, he found himself confronted with an ancient basilisk in the echoing depths of the Chamber of Secrets. Two years later, he found himself in a lethal duel with a resurrected Voldemort in Little Hangleton graveyard.
However, it was the catastrophe at the Ministry of Magic that weighed most heavily on Harry’s heart. Only a year ago, they'd been lured into an ambush by Death Eaters within its labyrinthine corridors. The battle that ensued was fierce and brutal - Sirius Black, Harry’s godfather and last link to his parents, was murdered before his eyes.
Moreover, several of his friends were left scarred — physically and emotionally — from the encounter. Ron bore teeth marks from savage brains; Hermione still woke up screaming from the phantom pain of Dolohov’s curse; and Neville Longbottom was haunted by Bellatrix Lestrange’s sadistic laughter echoing in his ears.
Harry felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility for them all; after all, it was he who Voldemort wanted. It was he who'd led them into danger time and again.
And it was only going to get worse.
"Harry, you really need to be more careful," Hermione admonished, her brown eyes filled with worry. "You know V-Voldemort is going to try coming after you again. He’s stronger now."
"Ease up, Hermione," Ron chided playfully, "He's made it this far, hasn't he?"
"No." Harry said. "She's right. We're at war. War doesn't forgive childish mistakes. We grow up, or we die."
Hermione reached over to squeeze his hand as Harry stared out the window, lost in thought.
"We aren't children any more, Harry." She said. "We're with you, and we're ready."
Ron hummed to himself as his eyes raked over Hermione's figure. He saw Harry's eyes drift from the passing landscape to their friend's reflection in the glass - her bright eyes, plump lips, and the neckline of her blouse.
"Growing up isn't all bad." He joked.
Harry gave him a shadow of a smile.
It was impossible not to notice the changes that had taken place since they had left Hogwarts. Hermione, once an awkward young girl, had blossomed into stunning young women. Their time spent at the Burrow over the summer had given her friends ample opportunity to appreciate the transformation.
Hermione's petite frame had filled out deliciously, her full, round breasts and ample rear endowing her with a newfound sensuality. She moved with a grace that was both elegant and assertive, her every gesture radiating an air of sophistication that commanded respect - a civilized facade that challenged something ancient within every man to shatter it.
Ginny too had blossomed into womanhood. Her fiery red hair seemed to ignite the athletic contours of her body, while her perky backside attracted more than its fair share of glances. Her strong-willed demeanor only added to the magnetic pull she had on those around her.
Luna Lovegood, with her dreamy eyes and blonde hair, stood out in a different way. Her small but pert breasts and toned physique were accentuated by an ethereal quality that made her uniquely captivating.
The sight of the girls in swimsuits or shorts as they tried to cope with the hot summer air had been a visual feast for every wizard present - countless members of the Order would swing by on ‘official business’ just to catch a glimpse of Hermione in a tank top or Ginny’s tight tush - even Arthur had gotten an earful when Molly had caught him sneaking glances at Hermione whenever she bent over.
Harry’s summer had been a lustful daze of tenting pants and sleepless nights as he and Ron tried to resist the primal lust that was ever-burning in their veins.
The girls' metamorphosis was matched by the boys'.
Harry had grown taller and more muscular, standing at an impressive 6'1" with broad shoulders and a well-defined chest. A messy mop of black hair framed his handsome face, his green eyes intense and focused.
Ron had experienced a growth spurt as well, though not quite as dramatic as Harry's. He was taller than any of his friends, at 6’3, but remained somewhat lanky. However he had gained some muscle over the summer, adding to his gangly charm.
The dynamic between the friends had shifted subtly, charged with an undercurrent of unspoken desire and tension. Glances lingered just a moment too long, and touches seemed to carry more weight than before.
As they sat in the cramped train compartment, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation for what the coming year would bring.
The train compartment's air crackled with unspoken tension as Hermione shifted in her seat, the delicate curve of her hips catching Harry's eye for a fleeting moment. She had noticed the changes in Harry and Ron too. It seemed impossible not to, considering the way they now towered over her, their bodies hardened by newfound muscle.
"Blimey, Harry," Ron said, his eyes trailing after a group of girls who passed by their compartment, "everyone seems so much... fitter this year, don't they?" The hunger in his voice was unmistakable.
"Ron!" Hermione chided, her cheeks flushing pink in indignation. Yet, beneath her disapproval, she couldn't help but silently agree with him.
Harry merely nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips, his thoughts wandering once again to the image of Hermione and Ginny in their swimsuits.
Ginny entered the compartment then, her playful grin lighting up her face. "I see you boys have been busy over the summer," she teased, her gaze lingering on Harry's broad shoulders and well-defined chest. "Did every guy at Howarts decide to hit the gym or something?"
Ron felt a twinge of jealousy at her words, aware that his own transformation paled in comparison to Harry's.
"Considering there's a war on, they might have," Hermione mused, although she couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was at play…
As the Hogwarts Express continued its journey, the students' excitement grew, their voices echoing up and down the train's halls. The atmosphere buzzed with anticipation, fueled by the changes they had all undergone and the secrets they struggled to contain.
The train cars swayed, casting shadows that danced and contorted with each bend in the tracks. The whispers of older students cut through the air like sharpened knives, their gazes lingering on one another's bodies, hungry and predatory.
"Damn, have you seen Eliza Hawkins' new curves? I swear she was flat as a board last year," one boy muttered to his friend, his eyes greedily scanning her figure as she walked by.
"Shut up, man," his friend replied, trying to keep his voice low. "You don't want her to hear you."
Eliza, however, was well aware of the attention and reveled in it, the newfound power over her peers intoxicating. The pretty Slytherin tossed her hair over her shoulder and flashed a knowing smile, sending shivers down their spines.
As the older boys bulked up with muscle and rugged features, the girls seemed to blossom into seductive sirens, their every movement calculated and alluring. It was as if they were all conduits of some dark force that drove each of them to obsession and perversion.
Back in their compartment, Hermione cleared her throat nervously, interrupting the charged atmosphere. "Ginny and I need to change into our robes. Would you two mind stepping out for a moment?"
"Sure, Hermione," Harry agreed, rising to his feet.
Ron, however, smirked devilishly. "Come on, Harry, we're practically obligated to try and sneak a peek."
"Ron!" Hermione scolded, her face flushing with indignation.
"Relax, Hermione," Harry said, although he couldn't deny the idea had piqued his interest. "Besides, Ron, your little sister is changing too, remember?"
"Right," Ron mumbled, the realization dawning on him.
“Perv,” Ginny shot at him.
Ron made a rude hand gesture as he walked out of the compartment. His sister slammed the door behind him.
“You deserved that.” Harry said idly.
Ron sighed.
"It’s not like I meant anything by it… I mean, I've seen Ginny naked loads of times growing up, you know? She's my sister - I don't think of her like that." He paused, a troubled look crossing his face. "But it's going to be hard keeping the boys off her now, isn't it?"
Harry nodded in silent agreement, his mind betraying him as it played back images of Ginny's freckled skin and curvaceous figure.
"Seeing Hermione, though..." Ron trailed off, licking his lips hungrily. "That would be worth pissing her off a bit, wouldn't it?" The words hung heavily in the small compartment, charged with unspoken desires.
"Ron!" Harry admonished, though his own thoughts mirrored those of his best friend.
"I get it," Ron said meaningfully, his voice low and conspiratorial. "You think of Hermione as a sister, right? Not as a proper girl. So, logically, you'd only be interested in seeing Ginny naked."
Harry's heart raced at the insinuation, his mind reflecting on his growing attraction to Hermione. She was his best friend, and yet... There was something more brewing beneath the surface. He had been drawn to her from the moment they first met - her bushy brown hair and bossy demeanor an ever present fixture in his life. First as an annoyance, then as a friend, now... a necessity.
She had stood by him when no one else had - her warm smile and gentle touch had soothed him through his darkest moments. He trusted her implicitly, as his right hand woman, his lieutenant, his closest friend. Everyone else seemed to think they were an item - Krum, Cho, even Ron, behind the veil of this obvious feeler. Everyone who wanted Harry or Hermione had been suspicious of their bond, envious of their obvious rival. That suspicion had driven him and Cho apart, and despite his infatuation with the pretty Asian girl, Harry found that he didn't particularly care.
The split second by the Veil when she fell, when he couldn't find her heart beat, when that pitiful "Oh!" left her lips and she tumbled to the ground, had been the worst moment of his life. Even the agony of losing Sirius paled in comparison to the nightmares where Hermione never got back up.
Harry was certain that he loved her, but he'd never paid much attention to how. He cared for her, and, with the surge of hormones and the summer fantasies that filled his mind, he wouldn't dare pretend that he saw her as a sister - she was a woman, and he desired her as any man would. He had woken up countless nights with her name on his lips, dreaming of Hermione warming his bed, on her knees, on her back, in his arms.
But that was true of every pretty witch he came across.
Hermione, Luna, Ginny, Cho, Fleur, Tonks, Angelina, Alicia, Katie, Susan, Hannah, Lavender, Parvati, Padma, even Madam Rosmerta - every chance encounter, every lurid memory of bared skin or knowing smiles, flashed before him as a parade of prizes to be claimed and conquered. After his fixation on Cho, his new scattershot sexuality disturbed him - the intense desire to pump his cum into every willing whore, to bend over and break and breed them, haunted his every waking hour. Hermione stood proudly with the greatest of his temptations.
That lust was a far cry from love, though - Hermione might have been his crown jewel, but his body regarded hers as a treasure, an object, to be seized and enjoyed and abandoned once it had served its purpose. She deserved better than that.
That all-consuming lust was tempered with an affection deeper and more sincere - he needed now more than ever. Not as a cheap fling or an outlet for his adolescent desire, but for her brilliant mind, kind heart and ever-steady hand. Even if he wasn't in the grip of some dark passion, his history with romance left much to be desired, and the last thing he wanted was to ruin their friendship.
Especially when it was obvious that Ron was crazy about her.
Before Harry could even open his mouth to respond, the coach door slid open with a loud bang. Draco Malfoy stood there, smirking, his silvery-gray eyes gleaming with malicious intent.
"Ah, Potter," Draco drawled, leaning against the doorway.
“What do you want?” Harry asked tersely.
"I heard some boys talking about how hot the Weaslette had gotten over the summer. I decided I’d come see for myself." He sneered. "Is she still slumming it with that mudblood Thomas?"
"Shut your mouth, Malfoy," Ron snapped, his face turning an angry shade of red. His hands clenched into fists at his side.
Draco ignored Ron and continued, his voice dripping with disdain. "And what about you two? Still playing house with your precious pet mudblood?" he asked. "Does she at least put out?"
"SHUT UP!" Ron shouted, lunging forward. Harry grabbed him just in time, holding him back before any punches could be thrown.
"Careful, Weasley," Draco sneered, his eyes narrowing. "Wouldn't want to get blood on those antique robes of yours."
Harry's jaw tightened as he tried to keep his cool.
‘Be careful’ Hermione’s voice echoed in his head. ‘No unnecessary risks.’
"Get out, Malfoy," Harry said coldly. "We don't have time for pathetic ponces."
"Pathetic?" Draco scoffed. "You're so full of yourself, Potter. Just like your godfather.”
Harry clenched his fists, the cold rage within him simmering as he eyed Draco's smug form. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more sinister behind Draco's newfound confidence.
Draco's family was deeply entrenched in Voldemort's camp - his father Lucius and several other relatives were part of the Dark Lord's inner circle. Although Harry had no concrete evidence, his gut told him that Draco had followed in their footsteps, becoming a Death Eater himself. This made him far more dangerous than ever before, and Harry knew they would need to be on high alert.
The compartment door slid open abruptly, revealing Hermione and Ginny dressed in their school robes, wands drawn. Their eyes were filled with fury, having heard the commotion just moments earlier.
"Wow, Granger, Weasley," Draco drawled, eyeing them up and down with a smirk, as if he could sense their curves underneath the unflattering robes. "You two clean up nicely," he said, turning to Hermione almost without malice. “If only you were a pureblood…”
"Shut up, Malfoy!" Ginny snapped, her wand pointed directly at him.
"Such a shame," Draco continued, unfazed by Ginny's anger. "A pretty face like yours, Weasley, wasted on a blood traitor. You should come to Slytherin sometime; I could show you what a real man feels like."
"Go to hell, Malfoy!" Ginny spat, her wand arm shaking with rage as she cast a hex in his direction. With a casual flick of his own wand, Draco deflected it, his sneer never leaving his face.
"Pathetic," he muttered. "But what else can I expect from the likes of you?"
The boys drew their wands, curses on their lips.
"Enough!" Hermione shouted, stepping between Harry and Draco, her wand still raised. "Don't be stupid, Malfoy, it's four on one!"
"Make that five," came a voice from behind Draco. Neville had appeared, wand drawn, his round face set with determination.
Draco's eyes darted between Harry and Neville, calculating the odds. He sneered, lowering his wand.
"Fine," he spat, looking down his nose at them. "I have better things to do than waste time stepping on filth like you."
With a flourish of his robes, Draco stalked away, leaving the group standing in tense silence. The hatred and contempt that radiated from Malfoy was palpable, but so too was the sense of danger that clung to him like a second skin.
"Thanks for the backup, Neville," Harry muttered, keeping his gaze fixed on the spot where Draco had disappeared. He knew that they would need all the help they could get in the coming months, especially if his suspicions about Draco's new allegiances were correct.
"Anytime, Harry," Neville replied, his voice wavering slightly. He glanced at Hermione, who was still visibly shaken by their encounter. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she insisted, though her hands trembled as she lowered her wand. She looked at each of them in turn, her brown eyes filled with concern. "Thanks for stepping in, Neville," Hermione said, her voice still tense from the confrontation.
"Ah, well," Neville stammered, scratching the back of his head. "I was looking for you lot and just happened to stumble by at the right moment."
The summer had been kind to Neville as well. Gone was the pudgy, clumsy boy they'd known since their first year; in his stead stood a taller, more poised young man whose movements seemed deliberate and purposeful.
Ginny smirked as she looked him up and down. "When did you turn into such a tall glass of water, Longbottom?" she teased, causing Neville's cheeks to flush crimson. This kind of attention from a girl – especially someone as attractive as Ginny – was entirely new territory for him, and it was evident that he didn't quite know how to handle it.
"Er, thanks, I guess," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. The others exchanged amused glances, but didn't press the matter further. Instead, they focused on the task at hand: preparing for the challenges that awaited them in the coming year at Hogwarts.
“You three should get changed.” Hermione said. “We’ll be at Hogwarts before you know it.”
The door of the compartment shut, leaving Harry, Ron, and Neville alone to change into their robes. As they stripped down, it became impossible not to notice the significant changes in their bodies - especially Harry and Neville's.
"Fuckin' hell," Ron muttered under his breath, casting furtive glances at his two friends. Harry's cock swung heavily between his legs, thick and imposing and as petrifying as any basilisk, even when flaccid. Neville's transformation had equipped him with an equally impressive member, long and fat and veiny. Both were now muscular, broad-shouldered, and exuded power from every pore. The air seemed to crackle faintly around every inch of corded muscle and exposed skin - raw, ambient magic = a testament to the overwhelming force that marked their rise to manhood.
"Growing up fast, aren't we?" Harry joked, sensing Ron's unease.
"Seems that way," Neville replied, a hint of embarrassment in his voice.
Ron couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by inadequacy as he compared himself to them. His own growth spurt hadn't been as kind - his friend’s ‘wands’ were more than twice his size. Soft.
"Right, time to get dressed," Harry said, breaking the silence.
After they pulled on their robes, Hermione and Ginny returned. "Ready for patrol, Ron?" Hermione asked, her voice betraying concern for the sudden shift in mood.
"Uh, yeah, let's go," Ron muttered, trying to mask his insecurity. Harry was his best mate and Neville was, well… Neville. Hermione was an innocent virgin, and she was going to be his — she’d never lay eyes on the monsters he was competing with.
"Harry, want to help me find Luna?" Ginny asked, her eyes flicking between him and Neville.
"Sure, I'll come too," Neville volunteered, eager to escape the stifling atmosphere.
"Great, meet back here in ten minutes," Ginny instructed.
The trio dispersed, each taking a different route in search of their loony friend. The train shuddered around them, mirroring the turmoil brewing within.
The train's rhythmic clatter sliced through the uneasy silence as Harry stalked the narrow corridor, fists clenched, jaw set. Ginny and Neville had gone the other way, leaving him to scour every nook and cranny on this side of the train.
"Where the fuck is she?" he muttered under his breath, frustration mounting with each passing moment.
Harry's eyes narrowed as he turned the bend, catching sight of Luna. She was pressed against the back of a compartment, its door jarred open, her petite frame dwarfed by two imposing Hufflepuff boys. They were older, their bodies already thickened by the strange magic that had swept through Britain. One was tall and lanky with an unsettling gawkiness about him. His face was peppered with acne scars, making his smirk all the more grotesque as it twisted his features. The other was shorter but stockier, built like a troll with bulging muscles straining against his uniform.
"Look at that," the taller boy sneered, running a hand down Luna's arm in a slow predatory manner. "Such soft skin... Can you believe this is Loony Lovegood? I bet she feels even better out of these robes."
The shorter one laughed, a harsh sound echoing off the stone walls. His hand roamed over Luna's waist before dipping lower to squeeze her buttocks. "Bet you're right," he grunted out, his fingers digging into her flesh through her skirt.
Their laughter echoed around them as they continued their disgusting exploration of Luna's body, their hands moving over her like she was a toy to be played with.
Luna stood rigidly between them, her wide eyes staring blankly ahead as if she had retreated somewhere far away from this scene. Her lips were pressed together in a thin line and Harry could see her chest rising and falling rapidly… signs of distress, clearly.
Rage boiled within him like molten lava. Rage and a dark twisted envy.
"Get your filthy fucking hands off her!" he roared, his wand slicing through the air, curses spitting from its tip.
The two assailants howled in pain as they were thrown back, their bodies wrenched from the compartment before slamming into the opposite wall. "You'll pay for this, Potter!" one spat, venom dripping from his words as they stumbled away.
"Thank you, Harry," Luna whispered, her voice even but filled with gratitude. Her eyes - calm pools of bluish grey- locked onto his. “I’m afraid my new friends were making me a tad uncomfortable.”
Harry's heart softened as he took in Luna's appearance. Gone was the strange girl he'd met just a year prior; in her place stood an enchanting young woman who seemed to float above the world's cruelty. He marveled at the transformation, recalling how she'd shown unwavering loyalty and keen intellect in the face of adversity. Luna understood him in a way few others did, with her uncanny intuition it sometimes felt like it she could see right through him - it was a strange sort of intimacy, one he was still getting used to.
"Are you alright, Luna?" he asked, concern etching itself across his face. The lingering scent of danger hung heavy in the air, igniting something primal within him - a need to shield her from harm.
Luna nodded with a faint smile. "I am now."
"Let's get you back to the others," Harry said, determination blazing in his emerald eyes. He swore to himself that he would do whatever it took to keep Luna - and all those he cared for - safe from the darkness that threatened to consume them. He would not fail her.
Not like Cedric.
Not like Sirius.
The tension in the air was palpable as Harry studied Luna's face. She seemed totally serene — totally Luna but also totally disconnected from what had just happened.
"Tell me something, Luna," Harry said, his voice low and deliberate. "Why didn't you fight those bastards off?" He had seen her trade jinxes with Death Eaters without batting an eye - he knew what she was capable of.
Luna blinked slowly, her gaze distant. "Well, Harry," she began, her voice taking on its characteristic dreamy quality, " I’ve noticed that my magic has been getting weaker, while the boys... it seems your magic has grown rather stronger."
"Stronger?" Harry echoed, furrowing his brow.
“Something to do with the Nargles, I suspect.” Her voice oddly thoughtful. “Though it is rather… brutish for them.”
“Nargles?” Harry repeated skeptically.
"Indeed," Luna murmured, her mismatched earrings swaying gently as she tilted her head. "It started a few days before... well, before I first caught you glancing at my breasts."
Harry's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but Luna appeared completely unperturbed. She continued, her tone matter-of-fact: "I don't blame you, Harry. It's only natural."
"Is it?" Harry mused, wondering if this was simply another one of Luna's eccentricities or if she genuinely didn't mind his wandering eyes.
"Of course," Luna replied, her eyes regaining some of their usual sparkle. "You’re a man, aren’t you?"
Those words stoked a fire inside of him, vicious and all consuming. ‘She knows her place’ It hissed. ‘You can do whatever you want to her. You can. You can. You can…’
“Do you know their names?” He asked tightly, changing the subject.
Luna hummed. “No - they weren’t particularly forthcoming with those.”
“Well, we’ll have to line up all the Seventh Years, then. Or at least ask around.” He said bitterly. They were probably friends of Smith’s, that prat. “Sprout will be livid when she hears that two of her-”
“-Don’t waste your time, Harry,” Luna cut in. “These things have a way of sorting themselves out.”
Harry looked at her, incredulous. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but we can’t let them get away with this. What if they try this again? What if they attack someone else-”
"Harry," she said softly, her hand brushing against his. "Nothing can stop that now.”
"Luna-" Harry replied, stunned, before he understood. There was an otherworldly look in her eyes - the same look that had been in Professor’s Trelawney’s eyes when she’d foreseen The Dark Lord’s fall and his inevitable return.
This was prophecy - and the voice he was talking to wasn’t Luna’s.
…Or at least… It wasn’t just Luna’s.
“Brilliant,” he muttered wearily. “Bloody brilliant.”
Luna blinked, as the otherworldly glow started to fade. "What's brilliant?"
He stared at the door where the bastards had disappeared one last time before grabbing his friend and dragging her far away from here.
As Harry's hand enveloped Luna's, a shiver of electricity ran up his arm. Luna voiced no objections to his manhandling and obediently followed him. He led her back to the compartment, where Neville, Ginny, and her boyfriend Dean Thomas were already waiting.
"Ah, there you are," Ginny said, her eyes flickering between Harry and Luna. "We were just discussing Dumbledore's Army."
"Right," Harry replied, keenly aware of Luna's warm presence at his side. "I'm... I'm not sure if we should continue it this year."
"What?" Neville exclaimed, his newfound confidence faltering. "Why not? You're the best teacher we've ever had, Harry!"
"Absolutely," Luna chimed in, her gaze never leaving Harry's face. "You have a gift for teaching. It would be a shame to waste it."
"Thanks," Harry muttered.
"Come on, Harry," Ginny urged, her voice softening as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "We need you. And besides, you'll always have us to help you, right?"
"Right," Harry agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn't let them down, not when they believed in him so fiercely.
"Good," Dean said, wrapping an arm around Ginny and pulling her close. She giggled, leaning into his embrace, but her eyes remained locked on Harry. "Now that we've settled that, let’s talk about Quidditch. You’re Captain, now, and I hear you might looking for a Chaser-"
The conversation flowed around Harry like a river, but he found himself floating above it, as if the words were nothing but noise. He watched as Dean whispered something into Ginny's ear, causing her to blush furiously. The sight stirred something primitive and possessive within him, but he pushed it down, locking it away in the darkest recesses of his mind.
The atmosphere within the compartment shifted, a palpable tension hanging in the air like an unwelcome fog. Dean's expression grew uncomfortable as he looked around the small space, his eyes darting between the friends who were so deeply engrossed in their discussion of Dumbledore's Army.
"Hey, Gin," Dean said suddenly, his voice strained. "You wanna find someplace quieter? Y'know... for some alone time before we get to Hogwarts?"
Ginny hesitated, her gaze flickering back and forth between Harry and Neville before she reluctantly nodded. As she rose from her seat, Dean seized the opportunity to claim ownership over her body, possessively grabbing Ginny's ass with a rough squeeze. The action sparked a minor argument, Ginny's face flushing with anger as she slapped away his hand.
"Oi! Keep your hands to yourself!" she snapped, glaring at him with a fire that could rival her hair.
"Come on, babe, you know you like it," Dean retorted, smirking confidently as they left the compartment.
Harry and Neville exchanged glances, caught off guard by Dean's forwardness, while Luna continued to sit serenely beside Harry. With an enigmatic smile gracing her lips, she tilted her head slightly, her silvery eyes meeting Harry's.
"Prey animals try to puff themselves up when they sense predators are nearby," she murmured cryptically.
With Ginny and Dean gone, the atmosphere in the compartment grew heavy and charged. Harry's mind wandered as Luna hummed a haunting melody, her voice ethereal and hypnotic. Neville's gaze flickered over to Luna, his thoughts similarly consumed by the irresistible allure she exuded. Harry got up and sat by his side, to put some space between him and the adorable little nymph.
"Y'know, Harry," Neville whispered, his voice low and tremulous. "I can't help but... think about it."
"Think about what?" Harry responded, already knowing the answer.
"Getting Luna alone," Neville admitted, his face flushed with guilt and lust. "It's like this... urge, that I can't shake off."
"Same here," Harry confessed, igniting the fire of temptation even further.
Was this what those Hufflepuff bastards had felt when they’d tried to… tried to…
As if sensing the heated waves of desire emanating from the boys, Luna paused her humming and rose gracefully from her seat. Without any warning, she began to disrobe, her delicate fingers working at the buttons of her blouse.
"Er—Luna? What are you doing?" Harry stammered, trying to maintain some semblance of propriety despite the primal hunger roaring within him.
"Changing into my robes," Luna replied simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "We're almost at Hogwarts."
Neither Harry nor Neville found it in themselves to look away or leave the compartment. Instead, they watched with bated breath as Luna stripped down to her underwear, the pale moonlight streaming through the window casting an gentle glow upon her lithe form. Her breasts, small yet perky, seemed to defy gravity, while the curve of her hips and the swell of her buttocks beckoned to be touched, claimed.
Their eyes drank in every inch of her exposed flesh, their minds racing with unbidden fantasies of what it would be like to possess her fully, to breed her with their seed. The air crackled with unspoken desires, a tangible undercurrent of lust and power that threatened to overwhelm them, their magic made manifest.
If either boy had been alone, they would have lost control then and there, and Luna would have stumbled off the train on shaky legs with a baby in her belly. As it was, the presence of a witness, a rival, was enough to keep their appetites in check.
But only just.
Luna seemed unfazed by their hungry gazes as she slipped into her Hogwarts robes, her movements fluid and unhurried. Once fully dressed, she resumed her seat and continued humming, leaving Harry and Neville to grapple with the dark urges that lingered in the aftermath of her impromptu striptease.
The dimly lit corridor was alive with furtive shadows, the unmistakable sounds of flesh against flesh echoing through the air. Hermione and Ron, on patrol as prefects, forced open a compartment to discover two seventh-year students – a boy named Ethan and a girl named Freya – entwined in the throes of passion. Their writhing bodies were illuminated by the flickering light of a failing bulb, their moans and gasps punctuating the otherwise silent night.
"Merlin's beard!" Ron blurted out, his cheeks flushing red as his eyes darted between the copulating couple and Hermione's stern expression.
"Aguamenti!" Hermione snapped, her wand swishing through the air as she conjured a torrent of icy water that doused the lovers. They broke apart with a cry, shivering and cursing as they hastily tried to cover themselves.
"Oi! What the fuck do you think you're doing?" demanded Ethan, glaring at the two prefects while attempting to shield Freya from view.
"Patrolling," Hermione replied curtly, her eyes narrowed in disapproval. "And breaking up whatever this… indecent display is."
"Fuck off, Granger," spat Freya, her cheeks flushed with anger and humiliation. As she hastily pulled on her clothes, she shot Hermione a venomous glare. "Take the stick out of your ass and try replacing it with a dick for once."
Ron couldn't help but admire Freya's full breasts and curvy hips despite himself, his mind briefly wandering before he caught himself and looked away guiltily. He glanced at Ethan, his erection half buried in Freya’s snatch and felt a pang of insecurity. How would he measure up, if given the chance?
"Let's just go," Hermione said tersely, her face a mask of barely-contained anger. The two of them continued down the train, leaving the chastised couple to dress themselves, their libidos thoroughly doused.
As they walked, Hermione seethed internally. She couldn't understand what had gotten into everyone – and she couldn't shake the feeling that something even more sinister was lurking just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed.
"Oi, Harry!" Ron called out as he and Hermione entered the Great Hall, their faces flushed from their patrol. "You wouldn't believe how randy everyone is this year!"
"Really?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Five," Hermione muttered, shaking her head as she and Ron took their seats across from his own. "Five bloody shagging sessions we've had to interrupt, Harry! And half of them didn't even bother using silencing charms." Her brow furrowed in concentration, the wheels turning in her analytical mind as she tried to make sense of it all.
"Something's off," she mused, more to herself than to him. "The students... they're different this year."
"Maybe they're just horny?" Ron suggested, shrugging. He knew he was.
Lavender’s eyes darted over to Ron’s before she and Parvarti turned to each other in a girlish huddle.
"Anything eventful happen while we were gone?" Hermione asked Harry.
Neville caught his eye. They shared a quick look before silently agreeing to keep their secret about watching Luna change.
"Not really. Just teenagers being teenagers." Harry replied nonchalantly.
"Ugh," Hermione grumbled, rolling her eyes. "I don't know what's gotten into people - it's like they've all gone mad with lust."
"I can't help but notice it too," Neville chimed in, his voice low and cautious. "It's like everyone just... changed over the summer. It's dark, disturbing even."
"Speaking of changing," Hermione said, glancing around the hall. "So many of our classmates look... different. It's like they've been... altered, somehow."
Harry met her eyes and gave her a meaningful look. Hermione raised an eyebrow, then gave him a quick nod.
Hermione may not have had Luna’s clairvoyance, but she knew his mannerisms like the back of her hand - even better than he knew hers. It had taken less than a second, and no one else had noticed, but she had gotten the message.
We’ll talk later.
He had until after dinner to figure out what he could tell her and what he would have to omit - as much as he wanted to protect Luna’s privacy the things she claimed to perceive were too important to hide.
"Maybe it's just puberty," Ron suggested weakly.
The Great Hall seemed to throb with a palpable energy, the air thick with anticipation and desire. Students whispered furtively amongst themselves, their faces flushed and their eyes darting around, seeking out their next conquest. Harry couldn't help but notice that the once innocent faces of his classmates had been replaced by smirks and hungry stares.
At the Gryffindor table, Lavender Brown's curly blonde hair cascaded down her back as she giggled with Parvati Patil, their flirtatious banter betraying an underlying hunger that dwarfed any of their former fancies.
Lavender's figure had filled out considerably over the summer, her curves now more pronounced, even under her school robes. Her bust was one of the most generous in her year, straining against her top and drawing attention from all corners of the room.
On the other hand, Parvati carried an exotic allure with her long black hair and petite frame. Her dark eyes sparkled with mischief as she engaged in hushed conversation with Lavender her gaze lingering on each passing boy with a newfound appreciation.
Seamus Finnigan, who had always been a bit of a prankster, now sported a wicked grin that sent shivers down the spines of those seated near him. Dean was snuggled up next to Ginny, with his arm snaked around her waist, whispering something that had her blushing like mad. While Harry couldn’t read lips well he didn’t need to to recognize the movements for big black cock.
"Blimey," Ron muttered, running a hand through his red hair. "What happened to everyone over the summer?"
"Maybe... maybe there's something in the water?" Hermione suggested hesitantly, her brow furrowed with worry. "Or perhaps this has something to do with Voldemort? Some sort of Dark magic affecting us all?"
"Maybe…" Harry said quietly. So much for a normal year.
The whispered desires and furtive glances that filled the Great Hall pulsed like an undercurrent, crackling with a dark energy. The faces of students from all houses betrayed the same newfound hunger in their eyes, their gazes lingering on their peers with unspoken intentions.
At the Slytherin table, Blaise Zabini's once languid demeanor now radiated a predatory confidence, his dark eyes scanning the room for prey. Pansy Parkinson, her once snobbish pout now transformed into a seductive smirk, leaned in to whisper something to Millicent Bulstrode, whose cheeks quickly became a rosy hue.
Whatever magic was behind this had been unable to salvage Bulstrode, but it had worked miracles on Pansy. Gone were the days of Harry writing her off as another bratty Slytherin girl; she was now a vision of feminine allure. Her dark hair cascaded down her back in soft waves, framing a face that had lost its harsh lines and gained an irresistible magnetism. Her eyes sparkled with desire, while her lips bore an inviting smile. Her once boyish figure had filled out into tempting curves, her full breasts straining against the fabric of her uniform while her hips flared out in a way that made every wizard's gaze linger longer than necessary.
Harry's eyes wander across the Slytherin table. Several girls had undergone the same beautification as Pansy:
Tracey Davis’s dark brown hair flowed over her shoulders in soft waves, framing a face that was as delicate as porcelain yet held a hint of mischief in her sparkling eyes.
Next to Tracey sat a fifth-year girl he didn't recognize - he ignored Slytherins as a rule and was horrible with names. She possessed a classic beauty, with high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes that were a striking shade of emerald green. Her long black hair was sleek and shiny, falling straight down her back.
Astoria Greengrass, a younger girl whose face he vaguely knew, had blossomed into a stunning young woman. Her dark hair contrasted sharply with her fair skin, and her piercing blue eyes seemed to hold an ocean's depth within them. She was sitting next to her sister, Daphne…
…oh, Merlin, Daphne…
Harry felt his ‘basilisk’ throb as he admired these Slytherin beauties - if this was what being fluent in parseltongue got you, he didn't mind one bit.
Hermione followed his gaze with a bemused look. She wiped the scowl off her face as best she could and tried to get his attention with a joke.
“Thinking about bringing Gryffindor’s Sword to their Chamber of Secrets?” She breathed.
Harry’s eyes widened in shock before the two of them burst out laughing.
Ron looked at them suspiciously. “‘Wot?” he murmured, munching on half a chicken breast.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Hermione chided, before turning back to Harry.
Harry smiled, shrugging self-deprecatingly at the sheer insanity of the situation.
“You aren’t the only one.”
There seemed to be a realignment happening in real time at Slytherin House, as obscure girls from minor families suddenly found themselves thrust into the limelight. The boys slithered from seat to seat, making moves, upending old cliques as a new balance of power emerged.
At the center of it all was Draco Malfoy, with his signature blond hair styled in a way that seemed to make it glow in the light, was surrounded by a group of giggling girls who hung onto his every word. His usual sneer had been replaced with a smug smile as he basked in their attention.
‘Wanker.’
In contrast, the Ravenclaw table was abuzz with hushed conversations as Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein exchanged knowing glances, their once purely intellectual camaraderie now tainted with an edge of competition. Luna sat near the end of the table, mostly keeping to herself, although from the looks she was getting that she would be much more popular this year than she had ever been before.
Cho Chang, once the object of Harry's affection, had an air of cool detachment about her, yet her allure remained potent. Her almond-shaped eyes, dark as obsidian under the delicate arches of her brows, held a captivating depth. High cheekbones and a slender nose lent an aristocratic grace to her face. Beneath the flow of her Hogwarts robes, the sinewy elegance of an athlete was hidden - lithe limbs and a supple torso that hinted at hours spent perfecting Quidditch maneuvers. Harry remembered guiltily running his hands up that torso - now he desperately wished he had pushed for more while he had the chance.
Cho was painfully pretty and looking at her reminded Harry why he had been so infatuated with her for so long.
Her friend, Marietta Edgecome, had gotten less of an upgrade, but the SNEAK scar that had marred her face had disappeared, and without it she seemed reasonably good looking, even if she didn’t hold a candle to some of the others.
Meanwhile, the Hufflepuff table displayed subtle shifts in dynamics as well; Susan Bones' once cheerful grin had transformed into a sultry smile, while Hannah Abbott's eyes sparkled coquettishly. Ernie Macmillan, once a stickler for rules, now seemed more interested in pushing boundaries as he surreptitiously brushed his hand against a fellow student's thigh.
The transformation in Susan was remarkable. Her long red hair cascaded down her back like a blazing comet streaking through the night sky. Her figure, obvious even in her school robes, had filled out into an hourglass shape that left many of the boys at Hogwarts trembling. Her bust, already sizable before the summer, had become even more voluptuous and she wore it well with a certain pride and confidence that made her all the more attractive to her male peers.
Hannah had always been slim, and her figure was well hidden under her uniform. However, Harry run into her on his way to the platform - he knew first had that her body had taken on womanly curves in all the right places - her hips were wider and rounder with an enticing sway when she walked; her breasts were fuller; her blonde hair hung down to her waist in soft waves giving off an aura of sweet innocence that something dark in him wanted to ruin.
Neville was staring across the room at her like he had just discovered water, and Harry couldn’t blame him. They both felt a surge of irritation as Ernie wrapped a friendly arm over her shoulder and both felt a dark sense of amusement when she politely pulled away.
As he trained his gaze back to his friends, Harry couldn't help but notice how several girls from every table openly stared at him, their eyes raking over his powerful frame. Their admiration felt both flattering and disconcerting.
"Looks like you've got some admirers, mate," Ron commented, smirking as he nudged Harry playfully.
"Shut it, Ron," Harry muttered, feeling his cheeks grow warm despite himself. "They’re probably just thinking about Quidditch."
‘Oh, come on, Harry,’ said Hermione, suddenly impatient. ‘It’s not Quidditch that’s popular, it’s you! You’ve never been more interesting and, frankly, never more fanciable.’
Ron gagged on a large piece of kipper. Hermione spared him one look of disdain before turning back to Harry.
‘And you’ve been through all the persecution from the Ministry when they were trying to make out you were unstable and a liar. You can still see the marks where that evil woman made you write with your own blood, but you stuck to your story anyway…’
‘You can still see where those brains got hold of me in the Ministry, look,’ said Ron, shaking back his sleeves.
‘And it doesn’t hurt that you’ve grown about a foot over the summer, either,’ Hermione finished, ignoring Ron.
He scowled at Harry before turning his attention back to his pride. Harry felt the dark feeling of victory welling up in his heart again- if he’d been chuckling inside when Hannah had rebuffed a suitor, he was cackling like a maniac now-
-No. He wasn’t. He wasn’t!
Harry cleared his head as the first years made their way into the Hall.
The room went silent, and the great dark current that had captured so many of his fellow students began to recede, if only for a moment.
“They’re so small.”
Ickle firsties, fresh faced and young, anxious and excited and amazed, and untouched by whatever perversion seemed to have warped the others, taking their first steps into a strange new world.
Harry glanced around the room, relieved to see innocence as he grappled with his own sense of corruption.
The youngest students hadn’t been effected - thank God. They seemed totally unaware of the lustful thoughts of the upper years, or, if they had noticed, they were making the appropriate faces of confusion and disgust - bewildered at the obsession with the opposite sex and their cooties.
Harry could tell who had been changed just by looking at them - something he couldn’t see so much as sense, like the crackling of static in the air.
The seventh and sixth years were practically bathed in the stuff. The fifth years too… most of the fourths… two third years…
His stomach rolled.
Harry did his best to remember his abortive Occlumency lessons, clearing his mind. He was still shite at it, but as he focused his vision became clearer. It was hard to distinguish one signal from another, but he could sense the ebbs of and flows of energy - some were faint glimmers while others were blinding stars, flashing and pulsing with magic more great and terrible than he had ever known.
He was one of the stars.
Harry winced, and clutched at his scar, as he felt his mind press against Voldemort’s, dumb confusion on the other side.
This power was the boy’s? This was Harry Potter?
“Harry?” Hermione asked, as the color left her face.
Harry waved her away. “I’m fine.” He breathed, as Voldemort retreated. “He’s gone, I’m-”
Only Harry wasn’t fine.
By sheer chance, he locked eyes with a Fourth year Ravenclaw girl. Suddenly he saw her - her past, her present, her future. Janie Moore… she had asked him for directions, once. He had quickly forgotten it, but it had been the highlight of her term.
Memories and emotions flitted across his eyes as he scraped the surface - he could sense her disappointment, her confusion, her loneliness. She was one of the only girls in her year who hadn’t been touched by the strange magic that had enveloped the school’s souls - a late bloomer in a perfectly crafted garden. Still plain, still shy, lacking the beauty and confidence that her friends had stumbled into.
Suddenly, his vision concentrated on a single point of her mind, with the precision of a pinprick. Her saw Janie’s mouth open in a faint ‘ooh’ as a strange sensation spread throughout her body. She would quickly forget it, but Harry could never forget.
She had no idea that the first ember had just caught - that her mind and body would be irrevocably altered by the roaring flame.
She just sat their, cluelessly, as the Magic began its work. She looked away, breaking eye contact and ending his first forays into Legilimency.
“Harry?” Hermione repeated, more urgently, as Harry’s face took on a pallor that put most Hogwarts’ ghosts to shame.
“I didn’t,” he mouthed guiltily. “I didn’t, I only watched it happen-”
“You didn’t what?” Hermione hissed, while their classmates were distracted by food and other delicacies.
But she never got her answer, because at that moment the Sorting Hat was laid out.
Minerva McGonagall looked the same as always, albiet bit more haggard than usual. Still, she did her best to look poised as the Hat began its song.
A thousand years or more ago
When I was newly sewn,
There lived four wizards of renown,
Whose names are still well known:
Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,
Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,
Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,
Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.
They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,
They hatched a daring plan
To educate young sorcerers
Thus Hogwarts School began.
But Magic has her darkness
In addition to her light,
And now her tendrils hearken us,
To Morgana’s Delight
That darkness now descends on us,
Within and from without,
And blackest night is soon to come,
Of that I have no doubt,
I sort you now to educate,
to guide, protect and play,
But I can never separate,
A predator from prey,
Our numbers will soon dwindle,
We face terror, guilt and war,
But magic will not countenance,
Her absence from our shores,
Our Founders knew her secrets,
And the school they chose to build,
May prosper or may falter,
But her halls are always filled
In an ode to new beginnings,
Born of nature’s final end,
I have told you, I have warned you,
Let the Sorting now begin