NOVEL NEXT Chapter 16: Chapter 16
Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, picking at his food as Ron chatted away between mouthfuls. The sound of clinking silverware and the buzz of conversation filled the Great Hall, but Harry's mind was elsewhere. His eyes flicked to Ron, still oblivious, munching on a sausage like nothing was wrong in the world.
Harry smirked to himself. A test subject. The idea clicked into place. He'd been considering it for a while now, the notion rolling around in his head, but now… now it was time to act.
"Oi, Ron," Harry said, keeping his tone casual, "You free after classes today?"
Ron looked up, grinning like the fool he was. "Yeah, mate. Always free. Why, something going on?"
Harry's smirk deepened, but he played it off, shrugging as if it were no big deal. "Nothing special. Just thought we could hang out."
Ron nodded, completely unaware, and Harry's grin stretched like a predator's, sharp and ready. He settled back in his seat, eyes flicking over the sea of students until they landed on his next target. Parvati Patil. She was sitting with her twin sister, giggling about something, but Harry had no patience for waiting.
As soon as dinner ended, he stood, moving like a shadow through the halls until he spotted her leaving the Great Hall. "Parvati," he called, his voice calm but laced with an edge of command. She looked up, her brown eyes wide, and he gestured for her to come closer.
"What is it, Harry?" she asked, her tone curious, maybe a little nervous.
He led her to a quiet corner, away from prying eyes. The stone walls of the castle pressed in, cold and solid, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows. "Have you ever touched a man's cock?" he asked, blunt, cutting straight to the point.
Parvati's eyes went wide, her breath catching in her throat. "What—what are you talking about?" she stammered, but she didn't back away.
Harry didn't bother answering. He simply pulled out his already half-hard cock, his eyes locking onto hers. She sucked in a sharp breath, her gaze dropping to his exposed member.
"Do whatever you want with it," he said, his voice low and steady, "but no fucking. Not yet. You'll have to earn that."
Parvati hesitated for only a second before something shifted in her expression. Her lips parted, her breathing coming quicker. Without a word, she knelt in front of him, her hands shaking slightly as they wrapped around his shaft. She was more eager than Lavender had ever been. Her mouth was on him before he could even say anything, lips sliding over his length with a messy enthusiasm that caught him by surprise.
Harry groaned, his hand resting on the back of her head as she sucked him, her tongue swirling around the tip, her eyes half-lidded with lust. She was sloppy, spit dripping down her chin as she bobbed her head, her moans vibrating against his cock. He could feel the tension building in his stomach, his breath coming in short bursts as she took him deeper, her throat flexing around him.
Fuck, she's good, he thought, watching as she worked him over, her hands pumping the base of his cock in time with her mouth. He grunted, his hips twitching as he reached the edge. With a low growl, he came, shooting his load into her mouth, watching as she swallowed it down eagerly, her lips still wrapped around his cock like she couldn't get enough.
He wasn't done with her yet, though. As she sat back, gasping for breath, Harry leaned in, his tip brushing against her left nostril, smearing the last of his cum across her face. Parvati shuddered, looking up at him with wide, needy eyes.
"Tomorrow," he said, his voice cold and commanding, "you'll participate in an experiment. We'll see if you can handle this inside you." He gave his cock a teasing slap against her cheek before tucking it back into his trousers.
Parvati, still breathless, nodded eagerly. "I'll do whatever you want, Harry."
"Good girl." He left her there, still on her knees, and turned the corner—only to come face to face with Lavender.
Her eyes were filled with a mixture of anger and desperation. She'd clearly seen everything. Harry frowned, irritation flashing across his face. "What do you want?" he snapped.
Lavender looked like she was on the verge of tears. Her voice broke as she spoke. "Please, Harry… I need it. I'll do whatever you want. I can't take it anymore."
Harry grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her closer until his lips were brushing against her ear. "You defied me," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You'll be punished for that." His tongue flicked out, tracing the salty line of sweat on her neck, tasting her fear.
She whimpered, her body trembling against his. "I'll be good, I promise."
Harry sneered. "You'll get what you want when I say so." He spat into his hand, a thick, wet glob of saliva, before shoving it down the front of her panties. Lavender gasped as his fingers rubbed the slick spit over her clit, her body shaking with need.
"Use that to get yourself off until I think you deserve better," he whispered harshly. She nodded frantically, her breath hitching as he pulled his hand away, leaving her wanting more. She bit her lip as he stalked off, leaving her standing there, panting.
The next day, Harry met Ron by the Black Lake for another swim. The water was cold, biting at their skin, but it cleared Harry's head, let him focus. They swam for a while, the sound of splashing echoing across the still surface of the lake. Afterward, they sat on the shore, meditating like they had before, trying to connect with the magic inside themselves.
For a brief moment, Harry felt it—something bigger than himself. The magic wasn't just within him; it was in the air, in the ground beneath him, pulsing, alive. He was just about to reach out, to touch it, when something disrupted his focus.
A towel dropped over his shoulders, breaking the connection. He looked up sharply, glaring. Millicent stood there, her face pale, taking a step back as his eyes bore into her.
"You didn't need to do that," he snapped. "Get the hell away from me you bitch"
Millicent's eyes welled with tears, her lip trembling. "I-I'm sorry, Harry. I just thought—"
"You thought wrong," he spat. "I wouldn't fuck you if you were the last girl in this school. Being nice isn't going to get you anywhere."
Millicent ran off, wiping at her eyes as she fled. Harry turned back to Ron, who was watching the whole thing, shifting uncomfortably.
"Mate, I think you went a bit too far," Ron muttered. "She was just trying to help."
Harry rolled his eyes. "You don't know what girls like that want, Ron. Stay out of it."
Ron nodded, backing off. "Alright, alright. What next?"
"Let's head back and bathe," Harry said with a sigh. As they cleaned up, Harry spoke again. "Come to the third room on the second floor tonight," he told Ron. "There's something I want to show you."
Ron, still oblivious, agreed without question.
Later, on their way to breakfast, Lavender stopped them again. Harry motioned for Ron to go on ahead before turning to face her.
"What now?" he asked, his tone bored.
Lavender blushed, her eyes flicking down as she mumbled, "I… I want more."
Harry smirked. "You're still in punishment."
Lavender shook her head quickly. "Not that… I want more spit."
Harry chuckled, amused by her desperation. He looked around, making sure no one was watching, then spat into his hand and slid it down the front of her panties again, rubbing it against her slick folds.
She bit her lip, stifling a moan as his hand moved in slow, teasing strokes. When he pulled away, Lavender was trembling, her body aching for more.
"Good girl," he whispered, leaving her standing there as he went to breakfast.
Defense Against the Dark Arts class was uneventful until halfway through, when Harry's head began to throb. His hand instinctively went to his scar, a sharp pain shooting through him. He glanced up at Quirrell, eyes narrowing. There was something going on under that ridiculous turban. Something dark.
Harry kept his composure, but he could feel it. Voldemort was trying something. The air shifted, a gust of wind pushing through the classroom, carrying the strong scent of garlic with it. Then, it was gone. The stench of rot beneath the garlic was fading too.
He's doing something, Harry thought, his hand still gripping his scar. But whatever it was, it wasn't a direct attack. Not yet. Harry's mind raced as class ended, his thoughts lingering on Voldemort's presence. If his scar reacted every time the Dark Lord used magic, this was only the beginning.
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