Chapter 10: Tightening His Grip
Chapter Text
His first impulse might be to reject Bella's proposition… but Harry hadn't done all he had to come back in time just to exercise half-measures. As he thrusts into her, fucking Bellatrix upon the bed that the Room of Requirement had created for them, Harry frowns… and knows that in this case, she might be on to something.
He wasn't the sort of man who could enjoy the act of fucking other men, even for the purposes of subjugating them. That would never be him, and as he'd already previously thought, he shouldn't HAVE to resort to that sort of thing in order to get the power he needed to do what had to be done. His goals SHOULD have all been easily accomplished solely through performing the ritual on witches of enough age and power to build out his strength.
That said… there was no denying that any additional power that he could secure on top of all of that could be of dramatic importance down the line. In spite of his foreknowledge, there was sure to be some road bumps here and there as he made moves that might change the future that he knew. Being ready for any surprises was paramount, and Bella's proposal might just mean the difference between prepared and unprepared for whatever the world threw at him.
On top of that… there were many individuals who Harry would hold no compunctions about using a modified version of the ritual on. He didn't consider himself a monster, but he wasn't Dumbledore's Golden Boy or anything like that. He hadn't been for a long, long time. Hell, he wouldn't have Bellatrix making this offer in the first place while he was ball's deep inside of her if he was.
Voldemort and his Death Eaters immediately came to mind when Harry considered just who the targets of Bella's proposed modified ritual would be. And Harry didn't honestly have any issue using it on any of them either. The problem would be if Bellatrix tried to push for him to use it on others… but Harry was the one in control here. He was Bella's Master, not the other way around.
Reaching up, he wraps his hand around her throat, to remind both himself and the former Death Eater just who she belongs to. His fingers tighten as she gasps, her eyes widening slightly and her lips parting. A quiet moan leaves her lips as her pussy walls tighten around his shaft in time with the minor bout of asphyxiation she's currently experiencing thanks to him.
Harry grunts in turn, squeezing down more and more, completely cutting off her ability to breath. As her face grows red and then a little purple, he looks her in the eye and gives his answer at long last.
"Do it, Bellatrix. Retool the ritual, remove the sexual and binding components, and find a way for me to take their magic for my own. However… you will NOT experiment on any innocents. You will not use this ritual without my permission and supervision. And you will not act in any way that you know I would disapprove of, regardless of how 'efficient' or 'timesaving' it might be."
He knew Bellatrix Lestrange. He knew her better than she perhaps knew herself. His own rabid attack dog… and one that he'd already chosen to keep on a short leash by making her stay here with him, at Hogwarts. But all the same… her idea held merit. And so Harry would let her try to make it happen.
It wasn't like he would be engaging in this magic draining as soon as tomorrow anyways. What Bella was talking about… it held the same issues as him bonding with a younger witch who's magic hadn't completely settled just yet. If he tried to do either too early, then he was setting himself up for failure. He needed a strong foundation first, one that wouldn't crumble on him if he took on too much at once.
With that said, Harry finally relaxes his grip on Bella's throat, having let her eyes very nearly roll back in her head from lack of air before he ultimately does so. He waits patiently for her to gulp in some oxygen before finally giving her response.
"O-Of course… Master… your Will be done."
Moving his hand to her breast instead, Harry caresses it and then pinches a nipple between his fingers, making Bella moan and clench down on his cock in a sudden orgasm as a reward for her obedience. In all honesty, that was the real reason he was okay with letting her move forward with her proposition. He knew he could trust her to obey him wholly and completely. That didn't mean she wasn't a potential bomb that could blow up in his face at any time… but if he gave her clear and concise instructions, she would follow them to the end of the line.
With that decision made, Harry lets out a sigh and focuses on giving Bella a good, hard dicking, even as he continues to further bind her magic to his own, wrapping it further and further up in his power until it was indistinguishable from what was originally there. She belonged to him… and they both knew it. A woman like Bellatrix couldn't be left to roam freely. Luckily for her, he was a much kinder Master than Voldemort had ever been.
That said, even as he finishes up with her for the evening and Bellatrix retakes her animagus form as they return to his dorm to keep up appearances, Harry's mind is racing ahead as always. First Hermione and now Bellatrix. They both just wanted to help, but with the former now on a path that would only lead to one inevitable conclusion and the latter planning to devise a way for him to accumulate even more personal power… Harry felt that it was probably time to move up his other plans.
He needed that foundation he kept talking about. He needed it yesterday. And the only way he was going to get it was by binding the magic of more witches to his own. He'd been wondering whether he would finish things with Aurora or try and juggle multiple witches at once, but now… now he knew what needed to be done. He was already juggling multiple witches at once when one considered Hermione's insatiable curiosity, Bellatrix's mad brilliance, and Aurora's perverse nature.
It was time to finish things with Aurora. Time to bring the Astronomy Professor in from the cold, for better or worse.
-x-X-x-
SMACK!
"A-ah~"
Aurora Sinistra's back arches and her eyes threaten to roll in her skull as the hand of her domineering lover comes down upon her shapely dark ass cheek. She moans wantonly as Harry Potter spanks her as is his right. He owns her after all, more now than he did before even.
She shouldn't have let things go on as they had, but in the end… what choice did she really have? She'd let him have his way with her multiple times since that first night, and she hadn't done much at all to fight him over it. Her token protests had fallen away ages ago, and these days she just pretended to suffer in silence… when in reality, they both knew she was absolutely enjoying everything he was doing to her.
As her toys buzz away inside of her at his direction, Harry turns his spanking of her ass into a deep-tissue molestation. As he grinds his fingers into her buttocks, Aurora mewls, only to have him grab her by her hair and pull her head back with his other hand.
"Aurora… it's time we talked about our future together."
That gets the beleaguered woman's attention. Their… their future together?
"What… a-ah, what do you have in mind… s-sir?"
Even as he's physically holding her in two places, Aurora feels like he's inside of her despite that not currently being the case. His cock, twitching and throbbing as it is while she strokes it off to the side, is nowhere near her pulsing, clenching cunny. And yet… and yet, it feels like he's slipped into every pore of her body. Every fiber of her being. And to tell the truth, she loves it.
"There's a ritual I want to perform with you."
Aurora's eyes snap open at that. A ritual? There were only so many rituals he could be talking about. To be fair, ritual magic had fallen out of favor among most of the British Wizarding World. Even her colleagues, Professor Vector and Professor Babbling, who taught Arithmancy and Ancient Runes respectively, didn't put much stock in ritual magic these days.
Sure, their disciplines could be used to do ritual magic, but they could also be used in other ways, like for instance, ward magic. The difference between ritual magic and magical wards was simple. Ritual magic tended to involve permanent connections and changes between people, while ward magic tended to secure places and things, protecting locations and the valuables within them.
The Ministry of Magic had long toyed with the idea of banning ritual magic and declaring it all dark magic, but that hadn't happened yet… and it might never happen, simply because the very concept of ritual magic had fallen out of fashion all on its own and didn't truly necessitate a ban anymore.
Why did Aurora know all of this? Simple, really… she was a pervert. A huge fucking pervert who had long been aroused by the debauched, depraved idea of what was possible with ritual magic. With the right magical ritual, you could quite literally enslave someone to you. You could do whatever you wanted to another person with the proper ritual. Hell, you could do whatever you wanted to yourself as well.
Self-ritual magic was exceedingly dangerous, of course… and part of why Aurora had never engaged in such a thing. But she'd thought about it. Studied it even, once upon a time. And she'd long fantasized about the idea, even if she'd never given in to her younger self's desires and had long given up on the idea.
Still, there was just something so arousing about the possibility of increasing her sensitivity. Of making herself perpetually more aroused. Of ruining herself and ultimately increasing the chances of her perverse nature being discovered by those around her, be they students, her fellow professors, or even the Headmaster.
… Well, less that last one. The Astronomy Professor wasn't the sort of woman who had a thing for men THAT old and grey. But she would be lying if she said she hadn't fantasized a time or two about being in a different time and finding herself at the total mercy of a Hogwarts Headmaster who was less wrinkly and decrepit than Albus Dumbledore.
Phineas Nigellus Black for instance, had some paintings that showed him off at a sterling age when he'd still been Headmaster of Hogwarts. The man was said to have been quite difficult and domineering, and his portraits around Hogwarts could be much the same… perfect for someone as perverted as Aurora.
That all was to say… yes, she knew all about ritual magic. No, she had never even dared to use ritual magic on herself or seek out someone who would do it to her. It was too dangerous and Aurora had always known the difference between fantasy and reality. It was one thing to fantasize about selling yourself to some handsome wizard to be his ritually bound slave for the rest of your days. It was another entirely to actually go through with it.
… Rather, Aurora had THOUGHT she knew the difference between fantasy and reality. Because now here she was, experiencing a harsh dose of said reality with Harry groping her ass and holding her up by her hair, patiently waiting for her response as he plays with the magically enchanted toys she has littering her naked body.
A whimper leaves Aurora's lips as she finally musters up her voice to speak.
"You want… you want to perform a ritual on me?"
Her pussy clenches around nothing whatsoever, her ass stuffed with her glistening butt plug. Harry continues to manhandle her casually, still kneading her dark-skinned bubble butt as the voluptuous Astronomy Professor quivers in his grasp.
"Yes. I want to take our relationship to the next level. You're mine, aren't you? So why not… make it official?"
Aurora pants even more heavily than before at that. He was really talking about ritually enslaving her, wasn't he? He wanted to make her his sex slave in actuality. She would… she would become his property forever and ever. It's terrible how much the idea is turning her on. But she has to stay coherent. She has to be pragmatic here. Obviously, Harry doesn't know what he's talking about. He's still young. Even if he's found a proper ritual that won't blow up in their faces, he doesn't have all the facts.
"It would… it would be a bad idea, if you were to perform such a ritual on me, Mister Potter… the Headmaster and the Deputy Headmistress would likely be able to tell. Hogwarts' wards would catch such a thing i-immediately…"
There's a brief pause in which Harry digests her words and Aurora assumes that he will accept that it simply can't be done. But then he lets out a soft chuckle.
"That won't be a problem. We'd do it on a Hogsmeade weekend and out of the castle to be safe of course, but once the ritual is done… it's undetectable. No one will be able to tell, Aurora."
S-So familiar… not even a 'Professor Sinistra' anymore. And also… he sounds so confident as well. So sure of himself. Letting out a shuddering gasp as he finally moves his hand from her ass to her pussy, sliding three fingers up into her gushing snatch, Aurora bites her lower lip.
"How… how can you be so sure, sir?"
As he pistons the digits in and out of her, Harry hums for a moment before answering her. And his answer… shocks her to her core.
"Because I've already performed the ritual once before with someone. And that someone is here at Hogwarts. No one has noticed. No one can tell. As I said… the ritual is undetectable."
That was… that was a lot. Just when she thought she was getting a handle on Harry Potter, he went and blew her approximation of him out of the water all over again. But… truly? She wasn't his only… his only conquest? No, more than that, Aurora wasn't even his first. She finds herself wondering who he performed the ritual on before her. Who could it be? Young Miss Granger, perhaps? She certainly hoped not but it wasn't like she was in a position to play the disapproving Professor.
Even still… even still, she definitely shouldn't just give in. She should fight this every step of the way. She should demand more information at the very least! She shouldn't just accept Harry's offer solely because he was making her deepest, darkest desires come true!
Chapter 11: The Second Ritual
Chapter Text
"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…
Chapter 12: Rita Skeeter
Chapter Text
"Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and the mysterious Fourth Triwizard Champion! Let's start the Champions' Interviews with you, shall we? Come, come!"
As she reaches him, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face that poorly hides her true venom as she grabs hold of his wrist and begins tugging him towards a familiar broom closet. There are moments in Harry's life that he remembers with startling clarity. Moments that he could never forget, not in a million years. This, his first meeting with the deplorable Rita Skeeter, was definitely one of them.
And yet, Harry lets her pull him in, glancing around the room to see everyone looking pitying but also grateful that they're not having to deal with Rita first. Even though he's very much stealing their spotlight, they can automatically tell what sort of vulture Rita Skeeter is, and it keeps them from being even the slightest bit jealous of him.
The door to the broom closet is flung open and then a moment later slams shut with them inside.
"Lumos!"
Rita casts a quick light charm from her wand, letting it float above their heads to give them some ability to see as she happily sits across from him on a small box, her approximation of a pleasant smile on her lips.
"Well now, Harry… I can call you Harry, can't I? Oh, you might not know who I am, though I'm sure you've heard my name before. I'm Rita Skeeter, with the Daily Prophet. Let's talk about the Triwizard Tournament and your place in it, shall we? Oh and don't mind the quill, it's just to help with notetaking."
Harry watches as Rita's signature Quick-Quotes Quill flits into the air in front of him, a floating notepad right along with it. The quill almost seems to look at him for a moment… before jotting things down despite the fact that he hasn't even spoken yet. No doubt to due with his appearance, general demeanor, and current attitude in the tense atmosphere.
The first time he'd been in this closet, Harry had been completely caught off guard. Rita had played him like a fool, but then to be fair he was nothing but a boy back then. He never should have been left alone with the bitch in the first place. In fact, Harry would go so far as to say that in a perfect world, someone like Rita Skeeter wouldn't even exist. Or at the very least, her particular brand of 'journalism' would not be so highly sought after or coveted.
The fact that she had readers still baffled Harry to this day. Fuck, even the likes of Molly Weasley was inclined to get taken in by Rita's sensationalist articles. That all said, this wasn't a perfect world. Not by a long shot. Harry knew just how dark this world was, and he also knew that there were worse evils in it then Rita Skeeter… though it was still close.
With that in mind, he offers Rita his best smile and nod.
"I know who you are, Ms. Skeeter. I've read quite a few of your articles. Oh, and that biography on Headmaster Dippet. Master or Moron, wasn't it?"
He was pretty sure he was right about that, though admittedly he hadn't actually read 'Armando Dippet: Master or Moron?'. Nor had he read The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore. Or his own biography. Or Snape's, for that matter. He'd heard enough about all of those books to know they were more of Rita's usual fare… that is, tasteless garbage that the unwashed masses still insisted on gobbling up all the same.
In the end, Snape's biography was the last book Rita had ever written. The apocalypse had put a stop to her particular brand of insanity. Too bad it had also put a stop to everything else, in the end.
Rita's eyes widen in surprise as she looks taken aback… and downright flattered for a moment.
"Oh… oh my! Well now, I didn't expect the Boy-Who-Lived to be a fan!"
Scratch-scratch-scratch! Harry's eyes dart to the Quick-Quotes Quill before moving back to Rita, who he gives another smile.
"Oh, but of course. You're out there on the frontlines, Ms. Skeeter. Trying to separate fact from… fiction. That said… do you think we could be candid with one another? There are certain things going on at Hogwarts, both this year and in my last few… that I would love to tell you about. But… I would hope you would be understanding of the sensitive nature of some of what I have to say."
If he could turn Rita into his own personal attack dog, and without revealing that he knew about her animagus form, then maybe she could be useful to him. He would certainly prefer it if she could be turned into a weapon against his enemies, but he was very aware of her poisonous nature.
For a long moment, Rita is quiet as she takes in his words. There's a calculating glint in her eye, before finally she offers him a grin.
"I'm impressed, Mr. Potter. You certainly know how to intrigue a woman, don't you? Please… do go on."
Scritch-scratch-scritch. Except, even as she leans forward, which just so happens to give him a view down the front of her top if he chose to go for it… the Quick-Quotes Quill is still going strong. She doesn't bother to put it away, and sure Harry hadn't directly asked her to, but it felt like it was implied. Pushing out with his magic, he heightens his awareness to get an idea of what the quill is currently writing about him.
… It's all the same. Not quite the same from the original outline, none of the tragic boy-who-cries bullshit, but it's still sensationalist garbage. And sure, Rita might not use it right this moment if Harry gave her a juicer bone to chew on… but she would use it one day, wouldn't she? For her biography of him if nothing else.
In that moment, Harry decides he can't do this. He can't manage Rita as an attack dog without a proper collar and leash. The bitch is liable to go off and bite someone important if he doesn't have her under proper control. It irritates him… but then, everything about Rita Skeeter is irritating, isn't it? She knows it too, and she's weaponized that, turning it into her whole brand.
With a sigh, Harry drops the act. He drops the smile and flicks his hand out, calling upon some wandless magic to capture the Quick-Quotes Quill and its notepad in an invisible grasp. Then, he squeezes.
Rita's eyes widen as her trusty quill gives a little shriek before bursting. The magic contains the ink in a small bubble instead of letting it spill everywhere. He's certainly tempted to let it spray all over Rita's face, but instead he just has it spill all over her notepad, ruining the entire thing and destroying what notes she's already taken.
As the blonde reporter stares in disbelief, Harry tilts his head to the side.
"You know, Rita… I've never had much issue with most types of bugs."
The emphasis he puts on the word 'bugs' forces her gaze to snap towards him. She stares at him wordlessly, incredulity beginning to spread across her face. Behind that incredulity is poorly concealed glee as she no doubt suspects she can still turn this into a spectacular article, even without her Quick-Quotes Quill's notes. Obviously, Harry isn't about to let that happen.
"Beetles in particular are a bug that seems fairly harmless. One that I'm perfectly willing to let live. Until they decide to make themselves a nuisance, of course. A beetle who doesn't know how to stay out of my way? Well, that's a beetle not long for this world, isn't it?"
Now Rita has gone absolutely still. Any poorly concealed glee has vanished, replaced by the blonde reporter staring at Harry in abject shock and disbelief. He just smiles at her. Smiles and nods.
"It's not as though I'm the beetle's enemy or anything. But I like my immediate surroundings to feel… clean. And if I caught a beetle crawling around where it shouldn't… I might be willing to let it go the first time. Not the second though. There would be no third."
There's no doubt that he knows at this point. Harry can see the question in Rita's eyes though, so he just smiles and nods, giving her the confirmation she seeks. Honestly, there's no denying how good it feels to have her tense up in response. Rita is scum. Maybe not Death Eater scum, but she's adjacent, certainly. The only reason Rita Skeeter didn't sign on with Voldemort during his Second Rise in the original timeline was because he and his Death Eaters wouldn't have let her get away with writing shit about them.
Rita lived and breathed on Freedom of the Press, something that didn't exist in a world where the Dark Lord won. Though at the same time, she was also a living and breathing example against Freedom of the Press, Harry couldn't help wryly thinking. Even still…
"… What do you want?"
Rita's quiet defeated tone is music to his ears. Not that Harry thinks for even a second that he's actually managed to cow her. This is also an act… something that she's putting on until she can get the upper hand again. Oh sure, he could take a page out of Hermione's book and blackmail Rita with the knowledge of her Animagus Form. He could even get a few decent articles out of her, ones that would help him build up a proper reputation among the Wizarding World's unwashed masses.
But Hermione's blackmail hadn't lasted forever in the original timeline. It hadn't stopped Rita from being Rita. No… Harry needed a more permanent solution. He needed to bind her to him, to use his ritual to make her his as he had Bella and Aurora before her.
The only problem was it needed to be willing. Rita needed to be willing. Without consent, the ritual wouldn't work. And so… Harry needed to convince her to sign on with him. He needed to convince her that submitting herself to him was actually in her best interests.
"What do I want, Rita? I want to coexist with the beetle, of course. But that's long term. In the short term… I want you to come see me on the left corridor of the seventh floor, at the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach trolls ballet, later tonight. Can you do that for me? Do you know which tapestry I'm talking about?"
Looking positively hunted, Rita clutches at her skirt for a brief moment before nodding.
"I know it. But… I might not be allowed on the campus later this evening. I have yet to manage to secure long term lodgings at Hogwarts for the duration of the Tournament, even though I put in a request."
Harry just smiles at that. Really? What did Rita expect from telling him that? For him to tell her he'd put in a good word for her with Dumbledore? For him to let her off the hook? Either way, Harry shakes his head and chuckles.
"… I think we both know that won't be a problem for you, Rita. You'll be there tonight. I don't think something as pedestrian as permission is going to stop you, is it?"
Rita doesn't get a chance to answer him before the door is thrown open and they're interrupted by a panicky-looking Ludo Bagman.
"T-Time for the Wand Weighing Ceremony! No more questions, no more questions!"
Harry lets himself be ushered out of the broom closet, and so does Rita. Leaving behind an utterly busted up and mangled Quick-Quotes Quill and a notepad entirely soaked through with ink.
-x-X-x-
The rest of the Wand Weighing Ceremony goes pretty much as Harry remembers it. Ollivander looks over each of their wands, makes his comments, and certifies that they're all in tip top shape and working just fine. With that, the ceremony comes to a close after a few pictures, with a much more subdued Rita Skeeter doing her level best to get out of there as soon as possible.
Harry watched her go in amusement, not overly concerned that she would try to pull a runner. He hadn't done anything to her directly quite yet… no, that would be for later that evening.
Of course, before he knew it, he found himself waiting in front of the hidden entrance to the Room of Requirement, standing across from Barnabas' tapestry and waiting to see if Rita would actually show up or not. They both knew he had her by the throat, but there was always a possibility that she wouldn't come, that she might talk herself out of it or something.
… But no, after only a few minutes of waiting, Harry catches sight of a distinctive beetle lazily flying down the corridor. He watches as Rita Skeeter in her animagus form lands in front of Barnabas' tapestry… and then carefully looks around. Only then does Harry reveal himself, staring right down at her with a smile.
"Hello Rita."
The beetle does the equivalent of jumping out of its carapace, before freezing in place for a moment. Then, slowly, she transforms back into her human self, becoming Rita Skeeter once more. The blonde witch looks concerned for a moment, glancing about with a frown.
"… Alright, Harry. I'm here. What do you want from me?"
Rather than answer her immediately, Harry begins to stroll.
"Let's walk and talk."
Rita blinks owlishly, before hurrying after him… only to watch in confusion as he turns around at the end of the corridor and begins walking back.
"Wha- what are you doing?! What is this, exactly?"
"This, Rita… is opportunity. Yes, I know about your illegal animagus form. Yes, I'm more than willing to go to the Ministry and get you arrested if you piss me off."
Rita stiffens, even as she continues following him up and down the corridor. But even with the threat laid bare, she latches onto the first bit.
"Opportunity?"
Coming to a stop across from Barnabas' tapestry, Harry smiles… and reaches back, opening the door that hadn't been there mere moments before.
"Please, Ms. Skeeter. Step into my office."
Rita narrows her eyes and follows him in, the door shutting behind them as she finds herself in a cozy-looking study. Her eyes dart around in confusion, making it clear that the reporter had never uncovered this particular Hogwarts Secret when she'd been a student here. Harry, for his part, wastes no time.
"Let's set aside our first arrangement, shall we? You don't write your sensationalist drivel about me or put any words in my mouth, and I won't reveal your nature as an Animagus to the Ministry of Magic. That's our first deal and it's locked in stone, alright?"
Rita hesitates… but slowly nods, knowing he has her across a barrel on that bit.
"Wonderful. Time for another deal then. I've got plenty of information for you, Rita. I've got all of the information you could ever want to write a dozen stories that would gain you all the notoriety you could ever desire… all without having to assassinate my character in the Daily Prophet."
There's a brief pause, and then the suddenly hungry-looking reporter leans forward.
"… And what do you want for those stories, Mister Potter?"
Harry just smiles, knowing he very much has her attention.
"I want you, Rita. I'm a growing young lad, aren't I? And you're a beautiful woman. It's really quite simple. I want to have sex with you in exchange for what I know."
Rita's eyes widen at that, damn near bulging out of her head. It's clear she didn't expect that from him, not in a million years. But then to be fair, Harry hasn't exactly given off the horndog vibe until now, has he? He didn't even look down her shirt when she all but flashed him in the broom closet earlier.
And truth be told… Harry DOES have ulterior motives here. But Rita doesn't need to know that.
In the end, it's time to find out exactly where Rita's limits lie. Time to see just how dirty she's willing to get for a good story…