Milfs Like It Big

Chapter 24

At the border between the Hogwarts school ground, and the forbidden forest stood
a resplendent carriage giving silent vigil and keeping the humans of the school and the
beasts of the forest separated by drawing an imaginary line. And inside one room of
the enchanted carriage paced a woman that gradually eroded the distinction between a
human and a beast.
“Fils de pute!”
Fleur’s musical voice garbled with a screech, with the comprehension of them
swinging from understandable to utter nonsense.
Some embers of tiny feathers sprouted along the beautiful girl’s arms, rapidly
spreading upward.
Suddenly a distinct knock came from her door and Fleur Delacour promised she
would immolate the next slut who would come to tease her about her supposed
relationship with the British hero.
The knocking grew in intensity, and so did her anger. She chucked her comb on her
bed and prowled to the door, her rosewood wand flicking into her hand, ready for
some vicious action.
The sky blue door, which she thought looked atrocious, opened at a wave of her
wand and Fleur’s perfectly shaped brows furrowed at seeing nobody outside.
Had some of her fool of a classmate knocked and ran away?
Before she got truly riled up and looked all over the Beauxbatons carriage for the
culprit, the air simmered outside of the door and a cloak fell off a woman’s body. Fleur
squeaked in fright, hand raising to curse the invisible woman before her identity
registered in her mind.
Long red and exotic hair, eyes a shade that she had only seen on one person and a
physique that would challenge her mom in the sheer desirability even when decked in
a very modest robe—this was certainly the new professor of Charms and the Potter
Matriarch.
“Merde!”
That curse came out without even meaning to, but the redheaded woman waved
her stammering apology afterward.
“May I come inside?”
Fleur’s eyes widened before she bobbed her head, her earlier anger nowhere to be
seen. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous in front of a woman whom she had only

1
heard about but considering the witch in front was one of extreme renown not
mentioning the son she mothered—Fleur had the distinct impression that impressing
the redhead would somehow decide the course of her future.
A flush of shame spread along her flawless face as the state of her bedroom
registered in her mind. With books thrown across her powdered blue room, the bed
unmade, and some of the enchanted stuff lying on the floor broken, there wouldn’t
have been a worse time for getting a visitor.
“Nice enchantment you weaved here.” Fleur’s chest swelled at Lady Potter’s
compliment of her enlarged a cabin. The enchantment that was her doing. “It would be
tricky even for seasoned masters of the subject.” The beautiful redhead said lightly, her
eyes flicking all over the room.
Fleur feared seeing judgment in her brilliant emerald orbs, but they just sparkled,
very similar to her son.
“Madame Potter. Please have a seat. Would you like some refreshment?” Fleur
asked her, her wand moving discreetly and sending the broken knick-knacks under her
bed. “My maman has packed some of our family specials.”
“Maybe some other time.” Lily Potter turned to her, her eyes boring into Fleur’s sky
blue ones. “I should cut to the chase. I’m already intruding on your sleeping hours.”
“Nonsense. I wasn’t sleeping.”
The redhead judged her honesty before taking a deep breath, as if preparing herself
to utter some life altering fact.
“What do you think about my son?” Fleur’s face paled as the redhead straight up
asked her that. “I saw you tying to sedu…speak with him.”
“Well…I couldn’t introduce myself to Harry during the tournament, you know, the
one I won…” Fleur tittered nervously. “I was just rectifying that mistake.”
“You aren’t interested in my son, then?” Lily Potter’s eyes were searching and Fleur
swallowed. “I guess you did stop looking for my son from then. Maybe the rumors
floating around aren’t entirely untrue.”
“NON! Those are utter lies.” Fleur vehemently protested the redhead’s conjecture. “I
have no interest in Neville Longbottom. If I learned about the one who spread those
false rumors along with those pictures…”
“Then shouldn’t you try your best to make those rumors seem absurd? Perhaps
getting involved with someone else would be the quickest way to put an end to them,”
the redhead remarked, causing Fleur’s breath to catch in her throat. “But since you
don’t seem to have any feelings for my son…”
“Why are you trying to set me up with ‘Arry?” Fleur couldn’t help but ask. Sure, it
was embarrassing, accepting her desire for a son in front of his mother, but it could
turn out an enormous boon with the beautiful redhead in her corner. “Shouldn’t…You
know… try to stop me from getting together with him. With me being a veela and all

2
that…” Fleur muttered distastefully, fully aware the general women’s perception of her
kind.
Lily Potter bit her lips, an unsettled look flashing across her perfect features. She
opened her mouth and closed it before sighing tiredly.
“Even though I have some reservations regarding you, none of that is because of
what you are and where you are from.” The redhead’s jaws tightened, hands balling
into fist. “It’s just that I would like my future daughter-in-law to be younger than me.”
“EHH?”

-oOo-

“Please, Harry, it was for your own good.” Hermione’s pleading fell on deaf ears as
Harry just snorted, ignoring his bushy-haired friend.
“Sure…” Harry mumbled, drumming his quill on the library table.
“It was well past curfew, and I thought you must be in some kind of trouble…that’s
why I went to professor McGonagall.”
Rolling his eyes, Harry furled his homework and shoved it into his bag, getting up
from his seat.
His gait sped up, crossing the threshold of the Library. He grimaced when he heard
the hurried footsteps of his insistent friend from behind. Some Hufflepuff fifth year
boys ahead guffawed seeing him before barricading his journey further along the
library corridor.
“Hey Potter, care to share some tips? They say you were so rough with Professor
Black that she had to spend the night in the Hospital wing.” A broad nosed guy whose
name currently escaped his mind leered at him. “Why, feeling you have become some
hotshot after growing a few inches, squirt?”
Now Harry remembered the bastard. Michael Conrad—A grade asshole who used
to taunt him behind his back.
“If someone just asks around, then for sure they would realize that professor Black
has taken me under her wing to pass on her dueling expertise. But then again, sorting
hat has lost some of its edge with the passing of time. Professor Dumbledore’s words,
not mine.”
His tormentor’s eyes squinted and then stared at his friends. “What was that?” He
growled after seeing them equally stumped.
“So, Headmaster was right.” Harry nodded as if correctly realizing that fact.
“Why did professor Black choose you among all the guys in the school?” One of

3
Michael’s henchmen suddenly called out. “When there are so many better choices!”
Harry breathed out, spelling it out for these dunces to understand. “For Merlin’s
sake! She got hit by one of my curses while we were practicing. Can you guys knock it
off with these lewd rumors?”
Harry’s heart almost had given out the first time that rumor had floated to his ears.
His first reaction was: How the fuck would anyone conclude he was having any kind of
indecent relationship with the DADA professor?
And then dread about how come they came to that damn right conclusion.
He used to make fun with Ron about the wild rumors of Neville’s among the
students. But being on the other side this time, he promised he would refrain from
doing that in the future.
Shaking his head, he focused on the trio. “Maybe she saw my past performances
with the wanded subjects? Who knew why she choose me as an apprentice?” Harry
shrugged, feeling a vindictive pleasure at their impotent jealousy.
“I heard professor Black has a bit of a reputation. That she isn’t picky about guys.”
Michael finally found his voice. “Professor Potter, on the other hand…” All of them
leered at him.
Harry’s hands balled at his side, wand schlicking from his wrist holster. A hand
clasped around his forearms and Harry swiveled, seeing Hermione glaring at the trio.
“Granger, don’t tell me you ditched Longbottom for Potter now. I agree the chubby
asshole isn’t much to look at, but at least he is famous.” Micheal taunted.
An insane form plan formed in his mind and Harry turned the table on Hermione,
escaping from her grasp and squeezing her wrist, stopping her from uttering anything
when she opened her mouth.
“Actually, you guys are right. My mother usually rejects anybody who dares to ask
her out.” Harry hesitated, acting masterfully to appear contrite. “Why don’t you three
proposition her the next time? Maybe you will get lucky like me, you know…” He
winked at the surprised trio.
“Heard the squirt, guys?” Micheal gloated along with his friends’ stupid jeers. “This
pathetic cuck is encouraging us. We shouldn’t disappoint him, should we?”
The three seemed to forget all about their grievances with him. Appearing
thoughtful and giddy, the Ravenclaw trio scampered, uttering nothing else, and
gradually the wrath that was taking hold of his heart ebbed away. The angry throbbing
in his temples continued and Harry had a second thought about taking aim at the
bastards’ retreating backside and let loose the few deadly curses that came from
Bella’s tutelage.
“I’m so going to tattle those three to mother. Let her cook something humiliating
when those cunts gather their balls and do something stupid.” Harry said to nobody in
particular. The stout grip of his fingers on Hermione’s wrist slacked and, with a final

4
snort at those assholes, Harry turned to his bushy-haired friend who was similarly
spitting fire with her eyes.
“First Malfoy sorted into Slytherin and now these three in the house of Ravenclaw…
how could the sorting hat justify sorting them?” Hermione shook her head, letting her
curly locks bounce all over her shoulder.
“Maybe a little ‘depulso’ from behind while they are in the staircases will be
adequate punishment for that disgusting insinuation about my mother.” Harry nodded
and Hermione’s eyes zeroed into him, widening in alarm.
“Harry…I hate to break it to you…but you will have to punish the entire male
population of the Hogwarts if you go by that logic. Professor Black and your mother,
both are very famous among the guys.”
“Glad you spelled that out.” Harry rolled his eyes, turning in his stride and
continuing his earlier journey. “As if I need a reminder about every guy here
fantasizing about my mom.”
“I didn’t mean it like that!” Hermione sputtered, turning red.
“Forget it.” Harry waved her off. “I am off to my detention and for God’s sake,
please don’t go to professor McGonagall if I dally a bit.”
Ignoring Hermione’s squeak, Harry left her stranded on the empty corridor and
went toward the charms classroom, his long strides echoing on the stone surface.
Hopefully, mom wouldn’t inquire too much about yesterday’s rumors. It was only a
sheer miracle that his head of the house swallowed all that bullshit he conjured out of
his arse about panicking after hitting her with an experimental spell to explain her
catatonic state. Andromeda and Narcissa were both too out of their mind to lend any
help, and he was forced to shove them into her sister’s private quarters. Even his quick
thinking didn’t help him as he was remiss in clearing out the smell of sex so thick in the
classroom and the way professor McGonagall had wrinkled her nose…his heart had
leaped into his mouth at that moment.
Thank Merlin for her being a spinster. Though he avoided thinking about the
knowing look in Madam Pomfrey’s eyes.
She couldn’t have guessed, could she?
Now that he thought about it, Madam Pomfrey also had a bombastic physique
underneath her healer robes. Maybe she would like to give me a full medical?
With a grin forming on his face, Harry decided to visit the hospital wings soon.
After all, he wouldn’t just stop at the three Black sisters as his breeding sluts. He
needed more. Wanted more. NO one deserved to be his wife, that Harry had already
decided. But to carry his seed and the future of the Potter family…he would have them
all.
Seeing the dark mahogany door shut tight ahead shook him out of his reverie.

5
 Time for another detention.
With a huff, Harry realized he wouldn’t have to put so much effort now that his goal
had been achieved. Maybe it would be better to take it easy now?
That decided, Harry knocked on the door, pushing inside at the chirp of ‘Enter’ form
his mother.
“Good afternoon, professor. What will I be—what is she doing here?”
“Mind your language, Harry!” Harry gaped as his mother waggled her fingers from
her seat behind the desk. “That’s not how you greet someone.”
“But…but…”
“Certainly not your mother’s new apprentice.”
“What?”

-oOo-

Harry’s eyes twitched as he was pitted against his mother’s so called new
apprentice. Whereas he usually squared off against the redhead every other night, a
gorgeous silvery-haired girl grinned from his opposite this time.
“There’s no reason for this, mom. I have no interest in competing in any
championship.” Harry pleaded for the umpteenth time. “Neither against any
champion.”
“What’s the matter ‘Arry? Scared of facing little ole me?”
Harry ignored the mocking from the veela, rather looking in his mother’s direction.
Lily Potter looked determined to follow through with her idea, crossing her arms and
huffing.
“C’mon, give me some younger years’ work to grade. You know, it would lessen
your workload.” Harry added hopefully. Hopefully that would be enough to sway his
mother?
“Maybe you are forgetting about the rivalry between your master and me.” Lily
finally deigned to answer him. “Why do you think it won’t carry on through our
legacies?”
“But I’m your son!”
“And Fleur here is my apprentice.”
“Master, you assured that ‘Arry here is brave, courageous, and up for any challenge.
However, what I see is a little boy who seems afraid to face someone superior to him.”
If Fleur thought her feeble attempt at provoking him would succeed, then she was
damn right. A blush spread across his pale cheeks, and his decision to take it easy with
his frantic learning was already being tested by the two witches plotting against him.

6
 “Well, if you are so against facing my apprentice, then I won’t force you, dear.”
Harry’s eyes brightened at her words, “thank you so much, mo—“
“But there is one condition.”
Harry squinted his eyes, his brows furrowing. A glimmer of satisfaction danced
within his mother’s emerald orbs as she cast a smug smirk in his direction. Just the
sight of that Cheshire grin on her face sent a chill down his spine, making it clear that
escaping the impending duel wouldn’t come so easily.
“Proclaim in the Great Hall, before every student and esteemed foreign dignitaries,
that your master is but an inferior teacher compared to me.” Lily Potter uttered those
words with relish, savoring them as if they were a gust of divine breath. “Furthermore,
you must abandon your apprenticeship under her and willingly join my tutelage.”
“You’re kidding!” Harry choked out, hardly believing that she would put on such
stipulations.
“You should have read about the old customs and practices, dear.” Lily shook her
head as if sympathizing with his plight. “It wasn’t uncommon for rival masters to fight
for a particular prodigious student. And certainly it was a common custom for rival
apprentices to cross wands in the honor of their masters with the looser forfeiting the
right to carry on with any further magical studies.” The more Harry heard, the wider his
eyes got with the halfway burnt candles reflecting their orange glow in them.
“Consider yourself fortunate that I’m extending an invitation for you to join my
apprenticeship instead of stripping you of your wand privileges.” Lily Potter puffed up,
thrusting her chest out. “Am I not a magnanimous mistress?”
The phantom pleasures from the last detention in the DADA house were vivid
enough that Harry could perfectly recall that splutter of feminine nectar on his thighs
or the way the competing sister’s constricting throats undulated around his cock. He
also wasn’t under the misconception that losing his apprenticeship wouldn’t hamper
his easy access to the big-titted professor. Heck, she could even take another student
under her wings, cutting him off entirely. And losing one Black sister could even doom
him to lose the other two—that thought almost made him rabid, his heckles rising at
the mere idea of not wrecking those naughty sluts with his bitchbreaker.
There’s no other way, it seemed…
“All right. I will duel.” Harry’s cloudy eyes cleared, and he nodded at his mother,
whose pleasant expression stalled at his change of mind. “I guess it will be a good
measure of my recent improvement.”
“Quite right.” Lily Potter grouched, before a calculating expression shadowed her
face. “And if you can’t defeat my apprentice here, then you will also have to denounce
that witch and accept my offer.”
“Wait! I thought it was only if I didn’t compete? How do you expect me to win
against her?” Harry’s indignant tone barely fazed his mother, who just waved at him as
if swatting an annoying fly. “I can’t…Professor Black wouldn’t accept this.”

7
 “Bellatrix is a Black. She is well aware of the old ways.” Lily gloated right on his
distraught visage. “Or she can suck it up.” She murmured loud enough to be heard by
him.
“Don’t worry ‘Arry. You can learn how to use your wand properly under my
guidance.” Fleur smirked at him before adding thoughtfully. “After you become
mistress’ second apprentice.”
By the resolute tilt of his mother’s chin, he knew there was no escaping the
upcoming confrontation. Neither was there any chance of convincing her of aborting
her harebrained plan.
He would just have to beat the recently crowned junior dueling champion and foil
his mother’s attempt to poke her nose in his business.
Turning toward his opponent, Harry swallowed thickly. He had consciously avoided
taking in the attire of the French witch, but now, facing her, all his early efforts turned
into naught.
She was decked in the same light blue button-up silk shirt that must have been a
part of Beauxbaton’s official attire. Harry’s eyes fell on her aquamarine skirt. Short
enough to show the milky thighs and blemish-less skin of her legs. And why did the
French school allow heels for their witches? That made little sense. But he was damn
sure that the blue fishnet stocking adorning her legs must have been an addition by
the veela. No way a school would allow their students to dress like a runway model.
A pressure built inside his temple and took him barely a second to realize that it
was his opponents slowly leaking allure, brushing against his mind with feather light
touches, dragging his eyes to the arch of her foot or the low ponytail she had corralled
her silvery tresses in. Or the way her pink lips glistened enticingly, not to mention the
swell of her teenage bosoms inside the tight shirt.
Harry shook his head, giving a mental apology to Neville for badmouthing his
performance against the seductress.
If he hadn’t been on the receiving end of another rabid veela’s full blown allure…
Harry’s eyes widened at the memory and his lips quirked, the hesitation flowing out
of his body.
“What if I win?” Harry asked his mother out of the blue, ignoring the snort from his
opponent.
“Fleur has been dueling a lot longer than you.” His mother stated that glaring truth
matter-of-factly. “But if you really do the unthinkable and beat her somehow…I guess I
will just have to live with the fact my rival will be in charge of my son.”
But the confidence in her tone made it clear she didn’t think him capable of beating
his opponent, who was not only way more experienced but also a couple of years older
than him. It would have hurt him seriously, might have even dented his confidence to
see his own mother so sure about his defeat, but Harry was realistic enough to realize

8
that Fleur was far superior to him in a war of wand. Despite the meteoric rise in his
skills in the last fortnight. But then again it wasn’t like being more skillful assured you a
victory. Just like the two witches were going to find out soon.
Harry grimaced after seeing his mom vanishing the chairs and desks cluttered
around the back. She really wanted me to lose, huh?
Harry hated the fact that he would be the cause of her disappointment.
But he couldn’t lose here. He simply couldn’t.
“Begin on my signal.” Declaring that, the redhead flounced outside of the dueling
ward, her blood red hair fanning behind her.
Ears peeled for the characteristic bang, his eyes took in Fleur’s stance—of her
relaxed shoulder to her alert eyes. Even the high heels didn’t seem to make any
difference, with her footing as firm as his, wand held at her front, at her chest height,
pointing straight at him.
Should he bring out his trump card early on or keep it for later?
Decisions, decisions…
His decision was taken out of his hand as the moment a crack rang out of his
mother’s wand, his opponent attacked with her full might. And it wasn’t any spell,
curse, or charm, but the magical equivalent of a sledgehammer of desire that thudded
against his mental constitution. The might of the allure was such that Harry
unconsciously took a step back as if the shroud of distance would somehow shield him
from the onslaught.
Naturally it didn’t.
Harry gritted his teeth, his eyes curving up in challenge, and Fleur, who seemed to
glow with a silvery hue, seemed to suck in a breath, her sapphire eyes glinting in
admiration.
“Is this how you how you won against everyone?” Harry asked, voice barely
warbling or straining. “If so, then you will be disappointed this time, Ms. Delacour.”
“Oui, I can tell that you’re unlike any other boy,” Fleur beamed, her smile stretching
from ear to ear, as though she had stumbled upon a precious, long-lost treasure. “But
then again, I already knew that.”
This time, her wand rose impossibly fast.
Stupefy, incarcerous, impedimenta and pertificus totalus—the chain of four spell
rushed toward him in a single breath too fast to dodge or counter.
“Protego!” Harry incanted out loud, the intent to shield making the pale spherical
shield glow with a golden tint.
The spells collided with explosions of magic but his shield didn’t waver, remaining
strong before Harry jerked his wand down and cut down the power of the shield. His
opponent proved why she was crowned the champion, already finishing with her wand

9
waving by the time he had neutralized her first salvo.
Harry rolled aside, then sidestepped as a blue streak hit exactly where he was
standing, eyes widening to see an orange unknown spell almost on the verge of hitting
him square in his abdomen.
Motherfuc..
His hand jerked up, a blasting curse leaving his holly wand and colliding with the
spell. Harry flinched when the bright flash of collision seared his eyes, his bangs
blowing back as a compression wave hit him square in the face.
Thankfully, it wasn’t the first time his vision was impaired. Increasing the output of
magic, Harry conjured an enormous slab of concrete, grunting at the effort, then with a
flick of his wand, the slab picked up speed, rushing toward the veela. Some chunks tore
off from the concrete where her next set of spells collided with.
A yelp reached his ears from the other side. His conjuration blocked his vision of
her, but by the flashes reflecting on the other side, he could guess that she was trying
to transfigure the slab into something more manageable size.
The thought had barely formed when his heavy projectile shrank in size before a
blasting curse obliterated it, flinging dust and small particles throughout the
classroom.
Harry didn’t let her a single moment of respite. Seizing the initiative, curses flew out
of his wand, a bone-breaker following a blood-boiler both darkish but still within the
laws of international dueling circuit.
His inexperience in casting those showed when she countered each and every one
of them with one of her own. Her mastery over the spells won out, and she spun the
table on him. Now he had to bob and weave, canceling the spells that were in line with
his body with one of his own and somehow evade the ones that were missing him by a
fraction.
Her speed of casting increased by the second, and Harry cursed in his mind. His
mother and Bella both usually let him cook up something while they wait and thus he
had never faced an opponent who was relentless in her spell-casting, thus not even
giving him time to think of a counter. It was now coming to bite him in his arse.
Harry had the feeling that his opponent might not be magically powerful than him,
but skill wise…
But he couldn’t lose. He simply couldn’t.
The blond was grinning, a sheen of sweat beading her forehead. Her hand blurred
as if she had sniffed his weakness, hammering his position with overwhelming might.
It was just a matter of time that he would miss one of her spell and that would mean…
His eyes scanned the middle of the classroom, where most of their charms and
curses were colliding, scarring the uneven stone. A few small chunks had torn off
where one of their blasting curses had collided.

10
 Along with the dust and debris… And that gave Harry an insane idea.
Harry angled his next counters downward, so that his cutters would blast against
the stone floor after hitting one incoming spell from her side. And within ten seconds,
the debris grew exponentially, small chunks flying with fine dust.
He feigned a stumble as if at his wits’ end and smelling blood, Fleur renewed her
attack, a tinkering laugh chiming like bells from her vocal chords.
“You should give up, ‘Arry.” She gloated, staring at his panting form with hungry
eyes. “You are still not good enough to beat me.”
There!
Her front locks, which had come loose because of her movement, swung in front of
her eyes and she shook her head to clear her vision — just the moment he was waiting
for.
‘Ventus!’ the soundless charm left his lips, a rush of wind colliding with the debris
and flung the slowly accumulated dirt straight toward the blond.
Her blue eyes widened, realizing she had been played, but her counter of an aegis
shield was too late to form with some of the dust striking her face, causing her to blink
furiously.
Harry’s pulse raced. Waving his wand above his head, Harry shouted,
“Aqua erecto!”
His hand buckled as a geyser of water burst forth from his wand, rushing Fleur’s
way like straight out of a broken dam.
A panicking veela waved her wand around herself, conjuring a wall of flame with
her eyes closed. But Harry was prepared for it. The elemental spell in its ultimate form
could conjure mythical animals out of water, strong enough to douse the cursed
flames of the fiendfyre, but Harry’s mastery of it wasn’t even close to that.
The only intent he had put through was the volume and the speed of conjuration,
rather than giving it any particular shape. Magic obeyed his intent, fighting against the
veela’s fire with an even greater ferocity.
Fleur’s impaired vision wasn’t helping, as she was blindly casting her spell. Still, her
ancestral affinity for fire slowly but surely started beating his conjuration.
He couldn’t have that now, could he?
Glacius.
The ice forming spell was not powerful enough to transform the vast body of water,
but it helped to drop the overall temperature of it, a fact that showed when small
shivers rang through his opponent’s body and the wall of fire started wavering.
Now to finish it.
With a careful wave of his wand, a tentacle of water formed from the formless

11
wave, curving around the firestorm from behind and sneaking past her defense.
“NON!” A shout came from the blond and she waved her wand manically, blinking
to spot the illusive attacker of her. But her lack of focus in maintaining her frontal
defense proved to be too costly, with a thick stream of ice-cold water breaking through
her fire and splashing her entire body.
“CE FOUTU FROID!” The scream of French was interspersed with a furious
chattering of teeth.
Her conjured firewall blinked, then extinguished. And Harry had no intention to let
that opportunity waste. His wand twisted and water tentacle sneaked from the veela’s
behind, tightly coiling around the blond.
The steam from the collision of two opposing elements gradually cleared and there,
trussed up with his ice-cold conjuration, wavered his opponent, whose eyes rolled
behind her socket.
Feeling the blond witch losing her consciousness in his bind, Harry waved his wand,
canceling the conjuration and Fleur’s head lolled before she splashed in the shin deep
water that had accumulated around her.
Small ripples spread around the large puddle of water, which gradually stilled.
Harry himself was standing drenched in his conjuration, the surrealness of defeating
the veela still feeling like a pipe dream.
“What just happened?”
His mother’s question caused him to swivel, and he saw her gaping at Fleur’s wet,
unconscious form as if she was questioning the reality; a reality that Harry had shaped
into existence.
That more than enough gave him a pause before a stupid grin spread across his
lips.
“Would you look at that? Maybe I should have represented Britain this year.”
His mother’s shell-shocked eyes finally alighted with a furious flame before she
waved her wand and cleared the water from her classroom.
“Wait at the front, Harry.” She tried smiling his way, but it seemed to pain her. “I
need to have a word with my apprentice.”

-oOo-

"Harry," Lily Potter pleaded, her voice tinged with exhaustion. "Could you please
spare a couple of minutes? There are some pressing matters we need to discuss." Her

12
tired eyes locked with his, silently urging him to stay a little longer. She stared at her
apprentice with a pointed look and after bidding her a quiet good night, Fleur
reluctantly exited the classroom, her head bowed low.

Lily sank into her seat, the creaking of the worn wooden chair filling the quiet room.
She steepled her fingers as if feeling the weight of the day's events in every tired bone
of her body. A heavy sigh escaped her lips. "I'm truly sorry about the duel, love," she
admitted, her voice laced with regret. "I never wanted you to learn from the woman
who had been my lifelong rival. It was conniving of me to spring it on you, but..."
“It’s alright.” Harry shrugged, not bothered now that he had triumphed over Fleur.
Though he wondered what would have been his action if, somehow, Fleur got the
better of him. “I could have asked you for tutelage, but that is something that I could do
even without an apprenticeship. I mean, you aren’t going to deny me teaching
anything just because I am officially professor Black’s apprentice. Will you?”
His mother stared at his face as if searching for the truth in his words before
shaking her head. “That was very cunning of you.”
Harry chuckled, rubbing the back of his head.
“But the reason I asked you to wait…” She fished inside her drawer and put a worn
out square parchment on her desk.
Harry stared at the object, brows furrowing. “What…” His impulsive decision to give
her the Marauder’s map might have given him some jitters for the first few days, but
the more he thought, the more he realized her need was better than his. The three
creeps from the evening only strengthened that notion.
“Take it. I don’t need it anymore.” Lily encouraged him to take the priceless object
back and Harry had to pinch himself to make sure it was really happening. As much as
the thought of being impervious to her spying was enticing but some things were
worth his inconvenience.
He shook his head, leaning back. “No. Till the time that ugly bastard is in the castle
and not rotting in some ditch, I can’t take it back.”
“Oh you big boy, I’m not giving this back to you with no extra precaution.” His
mother pointed at the small ring on her right index finger. “I have enchanted this
beauty with the best of my capabilities. It can withstand up to five powerful curses and
would cast an automatic aegis maxima around my body.” Harry whistled, observing
the goblin silver piece with a critical eye. “Why don’t you have a go?”
More than happy to check the veracity of her claims, Harry raised his wand and cast
a chain of stunning, blasting, concussive charms and her outline glowed with a golden
hue, flaring bright after his sixth spell connected with her face.
“That’s more than enough.”
His wand stopped spewing anymore magic, hand falling down and Harry stared at

13
his mother in amazement. “I didn’t know you could enchant like this.”
She preened, waving away his compliment bashfully. “Oh darling, I wasn’t the
second youngest charms mistress just because of my pretty face, you know? If the
examiners hadn’t postponed my final assessment, then I could have even been the
youngest. Those Bloody racist farts.”
She must be very upset about the fact to curse in front of him. “Who is the
youngest?”
A long pause…
“Gellert Grindelwald.”
Oh!
Well, now that he was sure about her safety, with hesitating hands Harry quickly
pocketed the map, doing a mental jig at getting back the invaluable piece of heirloom.
She pushed another piece of paper toward him and Harry took it with no further
query.
“A permission note?” Harry asked, reading that it was a permission slip to traverse
the corridors after the curfew. “I don’t need it. I don’t plan on wandering anywhere.”
“Yes, you do,” Lily replied, pointing toward her door. “Who is going to escort Fleur
to her carriage?”
“C’mon. I’m sure she can find her way. She doesn’t need me to hold her hand.”
“Harry…” His mother’s chiding tone automatically shut him up. “I thought I have
raised a better young wizard?”
Huffing at the injustice, Harry shook his head, knowing when to stop arguing with
his mother.
The young wizard pocketed the slip before muttering a petulant ‘good night’,
causing her to let out a small chuckle.
“Have a wonderful night, dear.”
Harry stuttered at her odd words before escaping from her classroom, grimacing at
seeing the silvery-blond witch tapping her heels outside.
“Shall we?”
Rather than answering him, the young veela sidled beside him and hooked her
elbows like those soapy operas that his mother had forced him to watch a few times.
“Lead the way, ‘Arry.” She purred, burrowing into his side and making him almost
face-plant into the cold, stone surface.
He couldn’t wait to get away from his mother’s new apprentice, especially as seeing
her just reminded him of the girl’s mother with their uncanny similarity and sex appeal.
Feeling the sizable chest of the blond pushing against his arms, Harry groaned
internally.

14
 Bloody hell!

-oOo-

Inside the classroom, Lily’s pleasant expression slid off, a grimace taking its place.
She glared at the closed door before waving her wand at it, closing and warding it so
that nobody could get any hint of what she was about to do next.
Taking hold of her head, she furiously tugged her hair, almost uprooting a few
strands out of her scalp.
“DAMN YOU! YOU FUCKING SLUTS!”
Her scream was thankfully confined to the classroom.
All her carefully laid plans. All wasted. Just because her stupid apprentice couldn’t
even defeat her son, who, mind you, was seriously practicing for barely the last week.
How could Harry even defeat Fleur? That was something that she still had trouble
wrapping her head around.
She was well aware of the moment of genius that her son could conjure on a whim.
The brilliance that she herself had faced a few times while crossing wand with him. But
sheer genius alone couldn’t defeat a witch with a half-a-decade of rigorous training.
Having seen Fleur beat wizards years older than Harry without breaking a sweat
had made her undeniably cocky. And she was sure that she had finally found an
ironclad way to snatch her son from that Black bitch’s grasp, searching through dozens
of old tomes and treatises before finally getting her hand on a few archaic laws. And
how did it transpire?
She felt like banging her head on the desk for losing any and all future chance to
coerce her son away from Bellatrix and adding insult to her injury was the promise that
she wouldn’t put forth any more obstacle on whatever Harry decided to learn. Or from
whoever.
Stupid! Fucking stupid!
She had half a mind to dismiss the French bint right away. What a worthless
apprentice, failing her first project and making a fool of her master along the way.
Sure, she had taught nothing to the veela, not yet, but she had a feeling that Bellatrix
wouldn’t care about such things before hurling dirty taunts her way.
She wondered if the brunette would even care about such juvenile retribution
anymore. After all, the current DADA professor had a better way to take revenge on
her.
A jolt ran through her body, the happening of the last night flashing in her mind
like a vivid reel of a colorful muggle movie.
With a scraping noise, she opened the drawer of her desk and pulled out a pristine

15
looking square parchment, folded like an origami. A sour grin curled on her lips as she
realized that her son’s thoughtful gift that day had only strengthened her temptation to
check on him repeatedly. Especially whenever he had his detention with that slut.
And what did she find yesterday? All three of those skunks together waiting for her
son’s arrival.
Like a good, concerned mother, she rushed to the DADA classroom and barely
entered before the door snapped shut, trapping five of them inside.
And the next few hours…
How could her onetime friends sink so low—offering their daughters and such, just
to sate their degenerate lust?
She could have even forgiven them for fooling around with her son, especially as
Harry had become pretty irresistible in the last couple of months (She would know) but
the insidious plan to get themselves knocked up and then tie him in marriage, that was
an irredeemable crime in her mind.
And her stupid son…all too happy to be on board on their web of lies.
She would admit that in her panic and anger she took a step too far, casting a
couple of powerful compulsion charms, intending to make him detest the Black sisters
and hate the idea of ever marrying any of them. To her shock, somehow her son
overcame her spells, shaking the effect off and doing things with the sisters that would
have made even experienced witches of the Knockturn alley blush like a tomato.
Where did he even learn to do things like that?
Lily wouldn’t admit, even at the threat of death, that she had soaked her underwear,
hiding in the corner, wrapped around in a demiguise cloak, watching her son dominate
her once close friends.
At least, her charms had made Harry not agree to become some mindless toy-
husband of the sisters. That was the only comfort she could take from that encounter.
Though his alternate attitude seemed hardly appropriate.
Breeding those three… Lily snorted. As if she would allow the noble blood of the
Potter family to mix with those treacherous cunts.
A long forgotten conversion came to her mind. Of sitting in a beautiful garden with
her shameless son admitting preferring older, mature witches while leering at her
body.
She pointed her wand at the empty parchment.
“I solemnly swear that I am to no good.” She shamefully muttered, cursing her
husband for tying the wards of the map with the particular sentence.
Ink spread along her recently made duplicate, like a spider’s web, criss-crossing and
painting the corridors in an accurate representation of the reality. Small footsteps
scuttled along some corridors—of teachers doing their rounds, as well as prefects and

16
some daring older years doing what her son had become master of in empty
classrooms.
The redhead’s eyes focused on the sprawling grounds of Hogwarts, where two
pairs of feet made their way to the edge of the forest, with one pair seemingly trying to
climb above the other pair.
Her lips curled up slightly, a satisfied expression crossing her face. The glaring
memory of manly grunts and whoreish moans whispered dirty nothings in the air as
she pondered on a solution to his peculiar infatuation with older witches. Perhaps a girl
with an otherworldly beauty, emanating an aura of supernatural origin, could be the
one to break his fetish.
She remembered the rumors whispered of their insatiable desires, their need for
constant intimacy. The thought of a veela girlfriend entwining her son's life in a
traditional relationship seemed like the perfect solution.
It was far from ideal, allowing her son to be involved with a veela, especially one
hailing from France. Yet, she would go to any lengths, do anything to ensure that none
of the three Black sisters got their talons on Harry.
Absolutely anything!

17