"Forget the Boy-Who-Lived! You are the Man-Who-Conquered!"
I could admit I did like that one a lot better.
The Delacour sisters finished their mesmerizing performance, their silken gowns clinging sensually to their curves as their chests rose and fell with each measured breath.
The applause thundered through the hall, echoing with clear admiration and desire. Rather than following their classmates toward the Ravenclaw table, Fleur and Gabrielle exchanged knowing, seductive glances, their vivid blue eyes gleaming as they approached me at the Gryffindor table.
Hermione let out a sigh, but she and Ginny were nice enough to scoot over as much as they didn't want to. I really didn't deserve such understanding women in my life.
Fleur reached me first, her lithe body moving with feline grace as she deliberately pressed herself close against my side, her ample chest brushing provocatively against my arm. "Bonjour, Harry," she purred softly, her lips dangerously close to my ear, warm breath sending a tantalizing shiver down my spine. "Did you enjoy watching us?"
Before I could form a coherent response, Gabrielle slid onto the bench beside me, her delicate hands shamelessly tracing slow, teasing patterns along my thigh, moving dangerously upward. Her gaze held mine boldly, a playful, enticing smile dancing on her full lips. "We missed you terribly," Gabrielle whispered, her voice dripping with seductive promise. "Perhaps you can join us later, and we can show you how much?"
"We'll make sure you never forget again," Fleur promised boldly, her eyes smoldering with lustful intensity, making it abundantly clear they intended to follow through on their tantalizing offer.
Ron Weasley's shrill voice abruptly shattered the pleasant atmosphere, his words ringing with jealousy and bitter resentment. "The fake Harry Potter is getting even more women now!? This is ridiculous!" he shouted furiously, his face red with barely-contained envy. "That fake Boy-Who-Lived doesn't deserve any of them! He's nothing but a fraud!"
I felt the sisters tense beside me, their alluring gazes quickly transforming into cold fury as they glared daggers at him.
Ron, apparently oblivious to the deadly hostility radiating from Fleur and Gabrielle, reached hastily for a glass of juice. His fingers visibly trembled as he lifted it to his lips, clearly trying to mask his embarrassment behind a defiant gesture.
He gulped the juice down quickly, slamming the empty glass back onto the table with exaggerated bravado. "I said what I said!"
For a brief second, Ron looked almost satisfied with himself-until his face twisted in sudden, violent shock. His eyes bulged dramatically, and his hand flew desperately to his throat as he started choking violently. His body convulsed, mouth opening and closing silently, panic etched plainly across his face.
— Dumbledore —
A few hours later...
He thought the feast went well, aside from the "minor hiccup" of the youngest Mr. Weasley nearly dying from being poisoned at the beginning of the feast.
Dumbledore was in the medical room as Madam Pomfrey ran diagnostics over Ron after he had been brought in. Thankfully, Severus was a paranoid man and always carried a bezoar, which had ultimately saved Ron's life back in the Great Hall...
Dumbledore turned toward Madam Pomfrey, his usually calm blue eyes filling with deep concern. "What exactly is wrong, Poppy?" he asked gravely.
Madam Pomfrey sighed deeply, shaking her head as she glanced sadly down at the still-unconscious Ron. "It's much worse than we first suspected, Albus," she began bluntly, her tone solemn and unyielding. "Yes, he was indeed poisoned, and thank Merlin Severus had that bezoar ready or we'd have lost him. But that's hardly the extent of his troubles."
Dumbledore's brow furrowed, clearly puzzled and increasingly disturbed by the mediwitch's grave demeanor. "Please, elaborate," he urged softly.
She met his gaze firmly, eyes filled with righteous anger. "Someone has been systematically using Obliviate and the Imperius Curse on this poor boy," she declared sharply. "And not just recently-these spells have been repeatedly cast on him for years! His mind is a complete mess, fractured and damaged beyond easy repair."
Dumbledore visibly recoiled in shock and horror, his eyes widening and his mouth slightly agape. "Who could have done such a thing?" he whispered hoarsely, the gravity of the revelation clearly overwhelming him.
Madam Pomfrey took a deep breath, steadying her nerves before speaking bluntly. "Albus, the recent curses I've detected mean the perpetrator is right here at Hogwarts. This isn't some old spell from years ago. It's fresh-very fresh."
Dumbledore's gaze darkened as he absorbed her stark statement, his mind racing visibly with theories and suspicions. "The timing cannot simply be a coincidence," he muttered, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. "Could this possibly be connected to the Heir of Slytherin?"
Pomfrey nodded grimly, her lips pressing together in a tight, worried line. "It's entirely possible. Whoever did this, Albus, is cunning and ruthless. The damage to the boy's mind is extensive-far beyond what I am capable of handling. Ron will need advanced healing at Saint Mungo's. And honestly, it may take months of intensive care before he's stable again."
Dumbledore closed his eyes momentarily, letting out a heavy sigh as the burden of responsibility pressed firmly on his shoulders. When he opened them again, his gaze held unwavering resolve. "Then we'll send him immediately. And in the meantime, we must uncover who is responsible-before more harm is done!"
Dumbledore felt a deep, gnawing irritation building within him as he contemplated the terrible timing of recent events.
Just when Hogwarts was expected to impress the visiting schools, everything was unraveling at an alarming pace! He mentally cursed himself for eagerly accepting Lady Serafall's overly generous offer, realizing now that the timing had been far from ideal. Yet-ten million Galleons were ten million Galleons, after all.
The school's financial woes had only deepened since Lucius Malfoy had been forcibly removed from the board, leaving a glaring hole in their funding that desperately needed to be filled.
Dumbledore's eyes darkened slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line. He knew Hogwarts' prestige depended heavily upon the Triwizard Tournament and impressing these foreign delegations, but he now faced the grim possibility of scandal and chaos overshadowing it all.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he turned resolutely to Madam Pomfrey, his voice firm yet weary. "Poppy, please do whatever is necessary to care for Mr. Weasley. His well-being comes first. We'll handle whatever consequences arise..."
Madam Pomfrey gave Dumbledore a solemn, steady look. "Saint Mungo's has the best mind healers in the wizarding world, Albus," she informed him bluntly, her voice firm yet compassionate. "They'll provide Ron the specialized care he desperately needs. More importantly, they can carefully search his memories for clues about the perpetrator without causing further damage."
Dumbledore's expression immediately brightened with determination. He stepped forward eagerly, eyes sparkling behind his half-moon spectacles. "Perhaps I could assist in that particular matter, Poppy. I am a master Legilimens, after all," he offered with hopeful enthusiasm.
Pomfrey's face tightened instantly. "Absolutely not, Albus," she replied fiercely, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Ron's mind is hanging by a thread as it is. Your invasive mental probing could easily shred what's left of his consciousness. It's honestly miraculous he's still functioning at this point. He needs professional, gentle care-not more forceful interference."
Dumbledore visibly deflated at her stark warning, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He nodded reluctantly, understanding the gravity of Pomfrey's stern words. "Very well," he agreed softly, acknowledging her judgment. "We'll ensure he's transferred to Saint Mungo's immediately. They'll have the best chance at uncovering the truth without further risk."
XXX
So Lyra accidentally saved Ron by trying to kill him...
XXX
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chapter 14
There is an R-18 scene in this chapter.
Chapter 14 (~10800 words):
— Harry —
I hadn't been expecting an asshole professor like Snape to save a dickhead student like Ron Weasley, but maybe I'd misjudged the guy. Snape had actually been one of the first professors to rush over when Ron started convulsing on the floor, obviously poisoned.
"This is quite an exciting school you have here, Harry," Gabrielle joked next to me.
"Usually, we get further into the school year ourselves before encountering such overt murder attempts," Fleur added.
Nearby, my girlfriend Hermione sputtered incredulously at those words. "What kind of school do you two even attend? I thought Beauxbatons was supposed to be a high class institution?"
Gabrielle chuckled lightly. "Oui! It is a high class institution! Very elite!"
Fleur, on my other side, nodded alongside her sister. "Very elite-and filled with backstabbing aristocratic teenagers trained by their parents to always try and get ahead of everyone else. It keeps things interesting if nothing else."
Huh? They never really talked about their school much in their letters. This was kind of reminding me of an American teen drama show. Backstabbing angsty magic teenagers seemed pretty on brand at the very least. Dudley used to watch some of those CW shows.
I snapped my attention back on what was going on.
Despite glaring at their brother earlier, Fred and George immediately dropped to the floor beside Ginny, their joking demeanor replaced instantly with tight, fearful expressions. Their faces turned pale, their usual playful energy vanished as they exchanged panicked glances.
"What the hell is going on?" Fred demanded, his voice strained as he quickly knelt next to Ron.
"Did he eat something bad? Poison?" George's voice rose anxiously, his eyes wide as he tried desperately to steady Ron's shaking limbs.
Ginny shook her head sharply, visibly trembling as she cradled Ron's head carefully. "I don't know," she snapped, her voice tense and frightened. "He was being an asshole like usual and then he just collapsed. One second he was fine, the next-" she swallowed hard, her eyes filling with tears, "the next he was on the ground, shaking like this."
Around us, whispers grew louder, the other students murmuring in alarm and confusion.
Fred pressed his hands firmly against Ron's trembling shoulders, struggling to hold him still as Ron's convulsions intensified. George cursed under his breath, gripping Ron's wrists tightly, fighting to stop his flailing limbs from causing further injury.
Ginny, her face drained of color and panic clear in her wide eyes, cradled Ron's head in her lap, her fingers anxiously brushing away the sweat-soaked strands of his hair plastered across his forehead. "Ron, stay with us, you stubborn idiot," she whispered urgently, her voice shaking.
"Move, you idiots!" Snape barked, his voice sharp enough to cut through the panicked whispers around us. He knelt swiftly, his black robes swirling dramatically around him.
He yanked Ron's jaw open, forcing it wide despite Ron's strained groans and choking coughs. Snape's fingers moved quickly, pressing the bezoar stone firmly past Ron's lips and guiding it down his throat. Ron's body jerked and spasmed, his hands clawing helplessly at the air, but Snape held him down resolutely.
The murmurs around the table grew louder, a mix of curiosity and unease filling the air as everyone stared at Ron being levitated off the floor.
Snape, still scowling, raised his wand and carefully lifted Ron's limp body, guiding him through the air with surprising care. "To the infirmary," he snapped sharply to Fred, George, and Ginny. "Follow along, and quickly-your brother is clearly too incompetent to even check his own cup for poisons," Snape grumbled under his breath.
Ginny turned towards me, her eyes filled with uncertainty. I quickly flashed her a reassuring smile, hoping to ease some of her worry. Her tense shoulders relaxed just a bit, and she managed a faint smile in return, nodding at me before swiftly hurrying after Fred and George.
Fleur and Gabrielle both noticed my lingering gaze on Ginny as she hurried away. Fleur leaned in close, her soft breath brushing my ear as she teased quietly, "Are you involved with that girl, Harry? She seemed rather important to you just now."
Gabrielle pouted dramatically on my other side, her bright eyes narrowing slightly in playful jealousy. "Harry," she whispered in a mock-hurt tone, pressing herself a bit closer against me, her warm, delicate shoulder touching mine, "I thought you preferred our company?"
Hermione, sitting on Fleur's other side, scoffed loudly, clearly unimpressed by their teasing.
Fleur leaned closer to Hermione with a playful smile. "Oh Hermione, don't be jealous. Harry's heart is big enough for all of us," she teased, her voice soft and melodic. "Harry has written about his relationship with you, and you sound quite delightful. I would love us to be friends..."
Gabrielle giggled lightly from my other side, her cheeks tinged a soft pink as she glanced at Hermione with a playful, teasing expression. She pressed her body slightly closer to mine. "And, you know, there's something else of Harry's that's certainly big enough for everyone to share," she added with a suggestive wink.
I coughed awkwardly into my hand.
Nearby, Jasmine, Lavender, and Parvati overheard Gabrielle's comment, their faces instantly turning a deep shade of red. The trio exchanged wide-eyed looks, leaning closer to whisper animatedly to each other, their gazes occasionally darting towards me. I could barely make out snippets of their hushed conversation but clearly caught phrases like, "Is he really that big?" and "I've always wondered..."
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying not to meet anyone's gaze directly, embarrassment warring with a strange sense of pride.
Although professor McGonagall was standing right behind the three girls. And they hadn't noticed.
"Miss McKinnon, Miss Lavender, and Miss Parvati," she began, her voice crisp and authoritative. "This is hardly the time or place for such inappropriate discussions. I suggest you show some decorum immediately."
The three girls blushed deeply, casting embarrassed glances towards the floor. Jasmine muttered a quiet, mortified apology, while Lavender and Parvati quickly nodded in agreement, clearly wishing they could melt into the benches beneath them.
