Unknown Prophecy (Ch. 60) (Patreon)

( Every character in this story is a legal adult over the age of 18 )

Unknown Prophecy

Chapter 60

Vincent Crabbe crouched by the edge of the Forbidden Forest, just past the lip of the Black Lake. The misty chill from the water reached him even through his overcoat. He vigorously rubbed his hands together, watching the tight cloud of breath drift in front of his nose as he waited. It was very dark, with clouds hiding the moon and only a distant glow from the castle’s high windows. He preferred it this way. There was less of a chance of being seen, and even less of a chance of being caught.

The package should have arrived at midnight. It was now ten minutes past. Crabbe’s knee bounced with nervousness, and he tried his best to keep still. He didn’t like being seen as the nervous type. He tried to focus on the brittle crunch of frost under his boots and the muffled lap of the water against the rocks. Crabbe stuffed his hand into his pocket, not for comfort, but for the wand hidden inside. You could never be too careful when you were smuggling contraband. This was especially true at Hogwarts, where the ghosts and portraits saw everything, and everyone gossiped. This wasn’t a childish game. If caught, he was looking at some serious time. 

He stared into the gloom over the lake, wishing that damn owl would hurry up. The cold made his nose run. He wiped it on his sleeve and kept waiting. The owl finally came in low, its wings beating heavy and slow. It was almost invisible against the dark sky. Crabbe spotted it by the way its movement disturbed the mist above the water. It glided to a halt on a dead branch above him and hooted a little too loudly for Crabbe’s comfort.

Crabbe whistled softly, and the owl dropped its package and waited on the branch. Crabbe caught the box and immediately cradled it to his chest. Now that the package was in hand, his heart began to thunder in his chest. The stuff he was holding was very illegal. He glanced at the package, then scanned the lakeshore to make sure he was alone. Just to be sure, Crabbe moved to the other side of the tree, so it blocked him from view. 

It was a small wooden case that was a bit battered. It was the kind of box that jewelers used for cheap cufflinks. Crabbe flipped the latches and opened the lid. Inside, nestled in a bed of dried leaves, were six plastic packets of blue powder. He grinned widely. The packets shimmered in the faint light, catching reflections that shouldn’t exist. Crabbe opened one, careful not to rip the edges. He dipped his finger in, scooped out a tiny bit of powder, and brought it to his tongue. The taste was bitter with just a hint of citrus. He smacked his lips and waited. After a few seconds, his skin tingled, and his gums went numb. He grunted, satisfied that it was the real stuff.

His contact in Guatemala had called it “Polvo Loco” or crazy dust. Crabbe had first heard about it from eavesdropping on his now deceased father. The dust was pollen from a magical flower that only bloomed during eclipses, and anyone who inhaled or ingested it would get a rush of euphoria, a temporary sense of invulnerability, and a loss of inhibitions. It was well known and widely used among the Pureblood crowd. Though he had never been allowed to join, he heard that their parties were legendary. 

With his father gone, it was now up to him to bring in the gold. The street value of these packets was just over five hundred galleons. As soon as they were sold, he could pay for another batch. If everything went as planned, he could be going into the summer holiday with several thousand galleons to his name. That was nothing to sneeze at for a first-timer.

He tucked the packets back into their case, snapped the latches shut, and slid it into his coat pocket. He wiped his hands on his trousers, then pulled out a cheap self-inking quill and wrote a quick note on a strip of parchment. “Package received. Quality confirmed. Payment as arranged.” He held the strip up in the air, and the owl flew from its perch, snatched the strip of parchment, and flew off into the night sky. 

The cold was starting to soak into his bones, and his teeth began to chatter. He decided to cut across the lawn and sneak in through the entrance by the boathouse. There was less of a chance of running into patrols, and Filch rarely visited that area.

Crabbe walked fast, doubled over. The wind stung his cheeks and the tips of his ears. His lips had gone dry, and they felt cracked. The castle loomed above him, and he kept to the shadows, letting the dark swallow him.

The seldom-used side door opened with a groan. He slipped inside and closed it softly behind him. The corridor beyond was cold and damp, smelling of mildew and lake water. Crabbe moved quickly, and he felt the weight of the box jostling around in his pocket. His boots left wet prints on the flagstones. He only hoped nobody saw them and decided to follow. He paused at every corner, listening for footsteps, voices, or the telltale snap of a teacher’s robes.

He made it to the dungeon stairs before he let himself relax a little. He didn’t see the first ghost until he was nearly on top of it. There was a floating girl in Victorian dress, sobbing silently and holding her head in her hands. Crabbe skirted around her, muttering an apology, and she vanished through the wall. It was a good omen, he decided. She wasn’t the sort to snitch.

The Slytherin common room wasn’t far, but the last corridor was the worst. It was long, straight, and empty, and it was dimly lit with torches. The sense of exposure made his skin itch. If someone came around the corner, he was as good as caught. Crabbe hunched lower and took off at a jog, eager to get inside and stash the goods. He didn’t see the snake until it hissed.

It wasn’t a normal hiss. It was as loud as steam blowing out of a vent, and it made his eardrums ache. Crabbe wheeled around, wand in hand. He had just enough time to spot something enormous flash out of the darkness before it hit him.

The white-hot pain was unimaginable, like his body had been ripped open from groin to shoulder. He landed hard on the stone floor, and the breath was knocked out of him. His wand skittered across the floor. Crabbe twisted, panic filling his lungs. He saw the snake then. It was a monstrous thing. Its body was as thick as his own torso, and its scales were wet and shining in the torchlight. It was already retreating down the corridor, moving faster than should be possible.

Crabbe tried to stand, but the pain was blinding. He looked down. His left leg was gone, ripped off above the knee. The leg of his trousers was raggedly torn and soaked in red. Blood pooled in the grooves between the stones, running toward the far wall in little rivers. The stump didn’t even hurt yet. He was still in shock, oozing and twitching. Crabbe made a noise. It was barely a whimper.

He pressed both hands to the wound, desperate to stop the blood. His heart was a jackhammer in his chest, slamming harder and harder with every passing second. The world tilted sideways, and his head began to spin. He screamed, and the sound echoed up the empty corridor and all the way up into the castle.

The Bloody Baron floated through the wall a moment later. He took in the scene with an impassive expression and then drifted closer, inspecting Crabbe’s wound. The Baron’s face went from dull boredom to something almost like horror. He opened his mouth, but instead of words, a scream came out. It was a cold, hollow wail …  the kind that made the torches flutter, and the windows rattle. He was setting off the alarm. 

Crabbe kept screaming. He clutched the remains of his thigh and rocked back and forth on the floor. He watched the Baron’s face as the ghost floated up. He heard the shriek echo and multiply along the corridor, bouncing off the stone and rolling up into the stairwells, turrets, and high dormitories, where the castle’s other ghosts and all the professors would hear it.

Crabbe’s last conscious thought was that he’d never get to sell the powder after all. The pain finally arrived, like a wave of acid. He mercifully passed out.

Unknown Prophecy

Saturday morning was quite nippy. Thankfully, Harry had the fireplace roaring, and the gentle crackle of popping wood filled the room. The air in his secret room was heavy and warm, as if it were immune to the bitter chill outside. He was at the center of his massive bed, lying on his back, and completely naked. He was utterly content. 

Hermione was at his right, pressed so close that her nipple tickled his bicep. Astoria was on the other side, kissing lazy paths down his chest while her hand toyed with his muscled belly. Pansy was sprawled between his legs with her bare ass pointed straight up as she devoured his cock with the slow, savoring rhythm of someone determined to draw the moment out for hours. Harry was more than happy to let her.

Hermione’s hair draped across his shoulder like a brown veil. She pressed her tits harder into his arm and let out little gasps every time Astoria’s hand brushed too close to her hip. Astoria was lost in her own naughty world. Her lips barely left his skin, and her fingers alternated between toying with his stomach and squeezing his balls. Pansy made a wet, slurping sound and winked at him from between his knees.

The only thing on Harry’s mind, besides Pansy’s soft, warm lips, was how good life could be when you actually had knowledge and a plan. He’d earned his good life. His last one had been miserable.

 He reached for Hermione, caught her breast, and squeezed until her nipple crinkled rock-hard. She groaned, thrust her tit into his hand, and tried to kiss his jaw, but Astoria was already there, nipping at the sensitive spot just below his ear.

For the next few minutes, the room was filled with soft moans and the sounds of Pansy taking his cock down her throat. Then, from outside the door, came the unmistakable clatter of hard heels on the stone ground. It was followed by the door creaking open. 

“I knew you all wouldn’t wait for us.” Daphne seemed unimpressed, as if she already knew what she was about to walk in on. She and Tracey had to make an appearance in the Slytherin Common Room. If they were never seen there, people would start talking. 

Hermione didn’t react except to burrow closer. Pansy paused and let Harry’s cock flop onto his stomach. She then licked the tip for emphasis. “You were taking too long,” she said, not moving from her spot.

“You can join in at any time,” Harry smirked while Pansy laid soft kisses along his shaft. 

Astoria rolled her eyes and draped herself on top of Harry, one thigh thrown possessively over his belly. “Just so you know, it’s my turn next,” she told them.

Daphne strode in and immediately pulled off her shoes. Tracey trailed behind her and also removed her shoes. Harry watched as both girls stripped down until they were fully nude. Daphne surveyed the scene and tossed her hair behind her shoulder. “We’ve got some news to share.”

Harry lifted his head and motioned with his chin. “Let’s hear it.”

Tracey flopped onto the end of the bed, dislodging Pansy for a second. She then leaned over and whispered something to her. Pansy laughed, but didn’t slow down.

Daphne perched on the mattress, drawing up her legs. “Crabbe got eaten last night … by the Slytherin monster.”

Hermione’s eyes snapped open, and she lifted her head from Harry’s arm. “What?”

Daphne shrugged, though Harry could tell she was nervous. “It’s all over Slytherin. It bit his leg clean off outside the dorms. At least, that’s what they’re saying.”

Astoria turned to Harry with a worried look on her pretty face. Tracey, who was gently caressing Astoria’s leg, piped up. “Blood was everywhere. Apparently, the Bloody Baron screamed like a banshee and nearly scared Millicent to death.”

Hermione looked unperturbed by the horrible news. She sat up, not even bothering to cover her breasts. “Is he okay? I mean, I know he’s a bastard, but …” Hermione was very good at pretending she was normal. No one other than Harry knew she was a budding psychopath. 

Daphne fluffed her long, thick hair. “I’m sure he’ll survive. Hogwarts has top-shelf healers, but the staff is in a panic. Everyone’s blaming the monster, but some are saying it’s a vendetta.”

“Against Crabbe?” Astoria said. “He’s not important enough for a vendetta.”

Pansy pulled her mouth off his cock just long enough to look up at Harry. “Maybe the monster just wanted a midnight snack.” Astoria swatted Pansy on the shoulder, and Pansy grinned, returning to Harry’s cock with even more enthusiasm.

Harry’s mind spun at the news. He hadn’t ordered the basilisk to do anything. He’d given it strict instructions to stay put until he called for it, but the basilisk was old, and the hunger ran deep. Harry was in control for now, but his influence was only so strong. If it were attacking at will, he’d have to move up the timetable.

He kept his face neutral. “Did anyone else get hurt?”

Daphne shook her head. “No, just Crabbe. He’s an idiot, anyway. I’d like to know why he was sneaking around the castle alone in the middle of the night.”

Hermione looked at Harry, her eyes narrowing. She seemed to be thinking the same thing he was. Harry smiled and squeezed her thigh. Astoria leaned in, her voice low and concerned. “It’s getting even more dangerous out there, isn’t it?”

Harry didn’t answer. Instead, he reached for her, pulling her onto his chest. She let herself be drawn closer, and her tits were warm and heavy against his body. Tracey, seeing the invitation, crawled up next to Pansy. She pushed the brunette’s hair out of the way so she could watch Harry’s cock disappear between Pansy’s lips.

Daphne watched as well before turning her gaze to Harry. Her voice was light, but her eyes were hard. “We’re counting on you to keep us safe.”

Harry nodded over the sounds of breathing and the wet noises from between his legs. Pansy increased her pace, bobbing her head with slow, methodical precision. Harry stroked the back of her neck and played with the hairs at the base of her skull. She shivered and doubled down, hollowing her cheeks around the head of his cock.

Hermione leaned across Harry’s chest so she could kiss Astoria. Their tongues mingled and explored each other. Astoria’s hand slipped between Hermione’s thighs, drawing a gasp and an instinctive arch of her hips. Pansy breathlessly pulled off and flicked the head of Harry’s cock with her tongue. “I could suck this thing all day.”

He laughed, and the sound was genuine. “Go ahead.”

Daphne crawled up the bed and straddled Harry’s thighs, not caring that Astoria had already called dibs. “I’ve been waiting for this all morning,” she said, reaching down to stroke his cock, her hand slick from Pansy’s mouth. Pansy relinquished her spot, settling in next to Tracey, who immediately started kissing her neck.

Astoria and Hermione had shifted to the same side. Their hands were now exploring as their bodies pressed together along Harry’s right side. He reached for both of them, pulling them closer, and the feel of their soft, smooth skin on his drove any stray thought out of his mind.

Daphne raised herself up, guiding the head of his cock to her entrance, and slid down, burying him inside her with a single, greedy motion. She moaned and arched her back with her hands braced on his chest. Harry could feel the heat and the wetness of her pussy. It was tight and clenching around him. He loved the gentle flutter of her silky walls. She set her pace, rolling her hips, and her perky breasts bounced with every thrust. Pansy watched with glazed eyes while one hand drifted between her own legs.

Hermione and Astoria broke their kiss, both panting. Hermione nuzzled against Harry’s ear, her breath hot. “Do you want us?” she whispered naughtily.

He pulled her in, kissed her mouth, then did the same for Astoria. “You know I do.”

Daphne rode him faster and harder, her breath coming in short gasps. Tracey reached over and played with Daphne’s nipples, pinching and tugging until Daphne squeaked and squeezed his cock harder.

Harry wrapped his hands around Daphne’s waist and guided her, holding her steady as the pleasure built. She was so wet that his shaft practically glided along her slick walls, and her pussy milked him for all he was worth. She came hard and fast, shuddering and crying out as she convulsed around his cock. Tracey, emboldened by the sight, pressed her mouth to Daphne’s breast and sucked a nipple into her mouth, making Daphne tremble even harder.

Daphne collapsed forward, burying her face in Harry’s neck. “Bloody hell,” she murmured, her voice muffled by his skin. “That’s so much better than talking about Crabbe.”

Tracey giggled and rolled onto her back, stretching her arms over her head. Pansy seized the opportunity by mounting Tracey and grinding her cunt against Tracey’s thigh. The bed creaked and rocked as she violently jerked her hips.

Hermione and Astoria both slid down Harry’s left side and ran their tongues over his abs, licking up the sweat and Daphne’s juices from his skin. They took turns sucking his balls, hands alternating between stroking his thighs and each other.

Daphne was still straddling Harry, grinding in slow, luxurious circles. She pulled herself up and off, letting his cock pop free with a wet noise. “Trade?” she asked, grinning at Hermione and Astoria.

Hermione answered by climbing on top of Harry and lowering herself until the head of his cock pressed against her slit. She took a breath, closed her eyes, and eased down, her whole body shivering as he entered her. Hermione threw her head back and moaned as her pussy stretched around him. She set her own pace, moving slower than Daphne as she rocked her hips and clenched tightly.

Astoria, not to be left out, took a spot next to Harry’s face. She straddled his mouth, using his hair as a grip, and guided herself onto his tongue. Harry’s tongue slipped inside, and her juices flooded his mouth. Harry lapped at her pussy, running his tongue in wide circles around her clit and dipping it inside her as she whimpered and rocked.

Hermione was close already. He could tell by the way her cunt fluttered and her breathing hitched. She ground down on him harder and harder, until she came with a cry. She threw her head back, which sent her hair flying. Her pussy gripped him so tight he nearly lost control.

Astoria came next, still riding his face. One hand squeezed her breast, and the other tugged on his hair. Her orgasm was relatively quiet. It was just a series of high-pitched squeaks as she dripped all over his wiggling tongue. 

Pansy and Tracey were twisted together at the foot of the bed, both of them fingering each other and watching the show with rapt attention. Harry felt himself reach the breaking point. He arched his back, pushed deeply into Hermione, and came in thick spurts that filled her and spilled out around his cock. Hermione moaned, slumping forward onto his chest.

The only sound was the ragged breathing of six exhausted, sated bodies. Daphne spoke first, her voice a low purr. “I wish every morning could be like this.”

Tracey rolled over, throwing an arm around Pansy. “I would die a happy woman if we could.”

Astoria flopped next to Harry, her body limp and sticky. “You’re not allowed to say die while the monster’s still out there,” she said, poking Tracey’s side.

Hermione, still impaled on Harry’s softening cock, giggled and nuzzled his chin. “Don’t worry. Harry’s got a plan.”

Daphne stretched out, reaching across Harry’s legs to rest her hand on his hip. “Do you?” she asked, her eyes searching his.

Harry looked at each of them in turn and smirked. Hermione saw his expression and giggled. “Of course he does,” Tracey bounced excitedly, causing her perfect tits to jiggle wildly. “He’s the greatest hero the magical world has ever seen.” This exclamation seemed to make the girls feel safer and more secure. They let out a sigh and relaxed. 

There was no more talk about Slytherin’s monster. There was only more kissing, touching, and fucking. The rest of Saturday was spent doing little else.