Chapter Text
13th November 1994-
‘Magic’ was dependent on ‘Intent’. And Intent was always emotional. Accidental magic was often triggered by the heightened emotional response of a witch or wizard who lacked adequate control of their magic but can exhibit raw amounts of magic in abundance. And control over magic was subtly tied to emotions, an enraged wizard or a witch tend to overpower their spells with magic, and a shy counterpart may often underperform similarly. Spell incantations in Latin and wand movements merely helped fuel one part of the magic, the moulding and controlling part of the magic.
The interview Rita needed the most hadn’t gone well. Cedric Diggory, Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour were consistent, they were clever, witty and charming, hence she had hoped Harry Potter would be the exception due to his young age, in other words, a juicy exclusive. It had begun well, but then the boy had decided to become tight-lipped to her questions when her Quick-Quotes Quill had started improvising on the flow to her thoughts.
Normally, she would have simply written whatever she wished to write, but she had questions she needed confirmations to, if not direct answers. There were rumours, unbelievable rumours. She very well could not claim that Harry Potter was a Parselmouth if it was completely untrue and risk Harry Potter or his guardian suing her for libel. Accusing someone of being a Parselmouth was not as simple as claiming that they were attention-seeking brats. Being a Parselmouth was the sign of a Dark Wizard and it indicated a person’s affinity towards the Dark Arts. If she accused someone as famous as Harry Potter of being a dark wizard without the hard-undeniable proof, her editor most likely would not run the story, and even if it did run, moreover there would be a severe backlash among her fans. She would not risk her credibility for an exclusive.
And so, she decided to coerce the boy to loosen his lips. And seduction was her tool of choice. The boy was fourteen, very inexperienced, and frankly speaking, very uncomfortable to be at the centre of attention. Famous, yet positively uncomfortable with his fame. Coercing young Potter would have been difficult with false promises and sweet words. It would have only frightened the boy. She needed something drastic to stun the boy into shock, and then help him go along with the pleasure.
And that’s how it had come to pass. She had slowly scooted next to him and had taken the boy’s average-sized cock in her hand and started giving him a handjob, to loosen his tongue. A classic technique that she has employed a number of times to coerce Ministry workers over a few drinks. The promise of sex often made people vulnerable to manipulation. The boy had stiffened and stared at her at first, but had quickly succumbed to her lustful ministrations. After all raging hormones were not something that was under the control of a boy his age. And then she had questioned him. To which, she had gotten answers, clear answers.
The silencing charms and privacy charms on the closet kept unwanted attention away while she milked the boy literally and figuratively out of all the information that she sorely wanted. It didn’t take long as she teased him, coercing out of him all the answers. The event about Quirinus Quirrell, the Chamber of Secrets incident, the boy was unusually reluctant about Sirius Black, but it didn’t matter, she had more than information for two articles. She could always visit again and coerce the matter about Black, out of him at her leisure, she was in no hurry.
It would have been cruel to leave him like this, leaving without giving him the pleasure of release. She undid the spell that kept him from cumming and she wanked his cock harder, his breaths grew shallower and shallower, she knew his climax was imminent. In a rush of power that she felt from the control she had over ‘the Harry Potter’, she asked in a teasing smugness, “Say my name in Parseltongue, Harry.”
Unaware of the consequences, Harry with his eyes closed, leaned in instinctively until his lips were touching the skin behind her ear, “Shaisak Seisaren…” Harry hissed her name in Parseltongue.
Magic was the intent. Emotionally stunted as he was, woefully inexperienced in the ways of physical intimacy, and starved of physical affection all his life, Harry had mistaken physical pleasure for love. And Harry was capable of giving great love. Fuelled by the magical language of the Serpents, the name he uttered had become the target of his magic. Harry’s potent magic had attacked her, the strength dormant in him that he sometimes managed to tap into, such as when powering a full-corporeal Patronus to drive out hundreds of Dementors away at only thirteen. Rarely seen, but still very much present within him. She could do nothing but fall prey to it. Rita didn’t even feel it. The effect was instantaneous.
Rita however felt the effects, her knickers dampened, and her lust skyrocketed. Suddenly, she found herself very much attracted to Harry Potter. In a quick instant of bad judgement, she decided to claim the boy’s virginity. Unaware of the danger that she was walking into, that she was invoking dark magic from within Harry.
Rita stopped her ministrations, making him whine, she quickly stood up and turned, sitting in front of him on the small desk, banishing the things on the desk with a wave of her wand. This reminded of her own days in Hogwarts when she remembered taking two Slytherin boys into broom closet where they had doubled teamed her from the back and the front, good memories.
Harry sat there staring at her cluelessly, his member sticking out of his trousers, still throbbing painfully. Seeing his look, Rita said with a predatory smile, “Eat me, Harry.” She parted her legs in front of him, placing them on both the sides of his thighs, trapping him, while lifting her green leather robes, and removing her knickers to give him unimpeded access to her cunt.
Harry only had an inkling of what to do, never having had ‘the talk’ from an adult, he was completely unprepared for this. But as a Gryffindor, not one to back from a challenge, he eagerly closed in on her, burying his face in between her thighs, making her moan. He used his tongue to lick her slit, remembering what he had read from one of George’s magazines in the Quidditch locker room.
“Higher,” Rita said softly, grinning at the boy’s inexperience. Harry immediately went higher to the top portion of her snatch and continued licking at her.
“Higher.” Rita guided him again until he reached her clit, and when he got the meaning and began giving long licks on the hood of her clit, “Yes, right there.”
Harry learned the art on the fly, picking up Rita’s twitches and moans, his senses heightened by the Parseltongue magic swirling around them. Using Parseltongue on her clit had the desired effect. It didn’t take long, five minutes was all it took for the magic to affect Rita’s senses, clouding her mind as an orgasm broke through her. She clenched her legs around his neck, keeping his mouth rooted on her snatch as he lapped at her juices.
Neither noticed it, Harry’s magic and Rita’s magic merging around them, as lust heightened again, making it impossible for them to think. What they were experiencing may have felt like euphoria for them, but what they were really involved in was accidental dark magic unique to Parselmouth wizards and witches.
“I need you!” Rita growled at Harry who was half-conscious.
“Yes!” He yelped as he stood up.
No more words were said, as Rita guided Harry to her snatch. Rita placed her wand on his cock non-verbally putting an Engorgement spell on it for her pleasure, given her mastery at self-transfiguration and human transfiguration, she did it with great efficiency. The penis had no bone, the risk of causing physical harm was inexistent, the tender organ was much easier to transform than the other parts of the body. It was for her own pleasure, a fourteen-year-old’s cock would not satisfy her.
Harry didn’t even notice the change; his glasses had fallen; he was functioning on instinct. Harry simply thrust inside on instinct the moment Rita had placed the tip of his cock on her slit. What followed was the four minutes of rapid pounding, during which she demanded, “Say my name in Parseltongue!”
And Harry did as commanded, “Shaisak Seisaren… Shaisak Seisaren… Shaisak Seisaren…” Repeating her name as he thrust into her repeatedly, each time the Parseltongue-fuelled-magic increasing in effect, until she climaxed as her senses overloaded with magic.
Her orgasm caused her to straddle his hips, while her walls squeezed his cock to painful levels, making him thrust in one last time and hold it in, as he cummed inside her, painting her womb with his seed.
What happened next was unknown magic, something neither one knew or could have scarcely anticipated. Rita’s magic was almost fully drained within an instant, making her eyes roll to the back as she fell backwards on the desk, unconscious in exhaustion. Meanwhile, Harry’s entire body went stiff as he slowly lost consciousness and fell back on the bench, his body going limp.
In the minutes, they were unconscious, Rita’s womb moved as something emerged from within her stretched-out cunt. The head of a full black snake with red eyes, born out of Harry’s seed and Rita’s magic, born out of dark Parsel-magic. As more and more the snake emerged, Rita moaned in pleasure in her cataleptic state. The full-grown snake fell on the floor below and slithered towards an unconscious Harry, climbing up his leg and biting him in the thigh, sinking its fangs into his skin. Its venom making the bite mark close up and the skin around the wound turn green. The moment the snake bit him and the venom seeped into his blood, the snake fell to the ground dead, convulsing a few minutes in its death before turning into black mist and dissipating away, leaving no trace of its existence.
The accidentally invoked ‘leaching spell’ was complete.
Harry reached his dorm, he didn’t bother removing his footwear or his uniform, he simply pulled the hangings on his bed close for privacy and crawled under the sheets. He was not feeling well. The detention with Snape had been horrible, and he had to endure another three days with that dungeon bat. When he had woken up in the dark closet, Skeeter was nowhere to be found. He was fully clothed and there were no signs of anything that had happened in there.
He had lost his virginity to an older woman who was much older than even what his parents would have been if they had been alive. He didn’t know how to feel about that. A part of him felt sick, helpless and weak. He had been so weak to quickly give-in to the woman’s seduction. The gravity of what had happened to him didn’t sink in until he had reached the common room. While another unappreciated part of him wanted to rejoice that he had experienced sex.
With such conflicting thoughts rattling in his mind, he drifted off to sleep, eyes heavy and feeling the heat of his body. It wasn’t until a quarter past eleven did he wake up feeling very tired. Wasting another forty minutes in bed, tossing and turning, he finally decided that it was too much for him to bear. He dragged himself out of bed and proceeded to the empty common room to go to Madam Pomfrey, only to find Hermione there sitting by the fireplace and doing her homework diligently.
Hermione looked up at him and asked, “Harry?”
Hermione had ten subjects, and among them were difficult ones such as Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. She had been helping him prepare for the tournament, which means, she did her homework late at night to keep up her studies. It brought a pang of deep-seated guilt from within him, he didn’t realise how much he took her for granted until this moment here.
“Hey, Hermione.” Harry said dully, “Are you alright? The curse, Malfoy’s curse, what happened?” He asked. Hermione grinned awkwardly, showing her his teeth, all of which were shrunken back to normal. He smiled at that, glad that she was fine.
But then her face turned serious, “Harry, are you alright?” She asked him, her voice filled with a sudden urgency of worry and panic.
“I’m just having a fever, I think.” He said nonchalantly, but Hermione’s expressions of horror worried him, “What?”
She quickly rummaged in her bag and showed him the mirror. He stared at his own reflection and saw it. His face had shrunken, the skin was sticking to his bone, he could see the skull bone. He gulped audibly in horror as he saw his own reflection, he looked hideous.
“We need to get you to Madam Pomfrey, now!” Hermione packed her bag and ran up to her dorm to stash it and then she ran back down to help him up. And then they proceeded out of the tower towards the hospital wing.
It took a few minutes, but they reached the hospital wing’s main doors and Hermione knocked on the door several times while supporting him on her side until Madam Pomfrey opened the door.
“Miss Granger? Mister Potter?” Madam Pomfrey was about to ask them why they were here until her eyes fell on Harry Potter, she quickly ushered him inside and laid him down on one of the beds.
The matron quickly began weaving spells to check him, while Hermione paced worriedly her eyes glued on Harry as she did so. It was then, Professor Minerva McGonagall entered the infirmary with a stern look on her face. Madam Pomfrey had sent one of the portraits to fetch her the deputy headmistress.
Minerva was under the impression that Mr Potter and Ms Granger were caught outside by Poppy, until her eyes fell on Mr Potter on the bed, looking gaunt and barely conscious. The transfiguration professor realised that she may have jumped to conclusions. She quickly turned to her most responsible student, “What has happened Ms Granger?”
“I don’t know, Professor. I was doing my homework in the common room when Harry came downstairs, he was looking to go out of the portrait hole, but when he saw me, he came and sat next to me on the couch. I saw what he looked like and immediately checked his temperature, he was feverish. I immediately brought him here, Professor.”
Minerva gave one of her rare smiles at the girl, “Well done, Ms Granger. Ten points for Gryffindor.”
With that, the Transfiguration professor turned to the matron and asked, “What seems to be the problem, Poppy?”
“Acute Magical exhaustion, Minerva…” Madam Pomfrey replied with a sigh, “…and malnutrition.”
Hermione watched as their head of house frowned at Madam Pomfrey’s words. Madam Pomfrey quickly turned to the young witch and asked, “Did Mr Potter by any chance skip dinner?”
Hermione felt the gaze uncomfortable, “Actually, Madam Pomfrey, I didn’t see Harry for lunch either. He skipped both lunch and dinner.” Poppy muttered something under her breath, while Minerva looked just as annoyed at Harry’s recklessness. And then the treatment began shortly.
Two days he sat in the hospital wing, bored out of his mind as Hermione was the only one who came to visit him. He appreciated her presence, it was soothing. With Ron still angry at him over his entry into the Tournament, he had no one else to rely himself on but Hermione.
In the meantime, Snape had apparently made his displeasure clear to Madam Pomfrey no less than half a dozen times, that his sudden sickness was some sort of ploy to get out of detention. A vexed Madam Pomfrey had actually curtly told Snape off, or so Hermione had told him. And thankfully after hearing Hermione’s accounts of what happened in the potions class, Professor McGonagall had taken pity on his condition and had cancelled his detention with her prowess as the Deputy Headmistress.
However, it brought about another problem. Ron got no such considerations, and he had ended up attending the detentions alone, and that had caused a row with Hermione. Ron had seemingly yelled at Hermione in front of the entire common room for supporting Harry, he had gone as far as to accuse that he had somehow used his fame to get out of detention.
However, that was not what had his thoughts drifting to. Ever since he woke up the next morning after that awful night, he remembered more and more of Rita Skeeter’s memories, her knowledge, and her instinct. It was weird. Why would he remember that, how could he? What happened during their interview in that closet? It was eating him alive. And he couldn’t divulge it to Hermione or anyone else, it would mean admitting that he had sex with a grown woman.
But the most worrisome part was the constant feeling to go somewhere with a lot of trees and regurgitate his magic. A feeling that he kept in check. He could not fully suppress it, just kept it in check for the moment. When he is released from the hospital wing, he was planning on going and regurgitating his magic.
As he sat there listening to his own thoughts, he failed to notice Hermione walking through the doors of the hospital wing with the prophet in her hands until he saw her standing beside him with a stricken expression on her face.
“What is it, Hermione?” He asked her.
Hermione looked at him sadly, giving him the paper, “Read.” She said as she slumped next to him on the bed.
On the paper was an article, written by Skeeter.
RITA SKEETER INTERVIEWS HARRY POTTER
“I suppose I get my strength from my parents. I know they'd be very proud of me if they could see me now... Yes, sometimes at night I still cry about them, I'm not ashamed to admit it... I know nothing will hurt me during the tournament, because they're watching over me...” Harry has at last found love at Hogwarts. His close friend, Colin Creevey, says that Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl who, like Harry, is one of the top students in the school.
“What a load of rubbish!” He dropped the paper in disbelief as he stared off into space. Rita had used him. She had used him! A deep rage emerged from within. He couldn’t even think of words to describe it.
Hermione finally said to him, “Ron, said some things at breakfast.”
‘Oh, god, Ron.’ He hadn’t even thought about that, Ron had a crush on Hermione, he couldn’t think of what Ron would think about this article. But then, some of Hermione’s words clicked, a suspicion bloomed within him, “What did he say?”
Hermione looked contemplative for a moment before shaking her head, “Not important.” She muttered, trying to veer off the topic.
His voice turned furious, “What did he say, Hermione?” He asked dangerously.
“Harry, please…let it go.” She looked at him pleadingly.
For a moment he almost allowed himself to calm down before he remembered a memory of Skeeter being ridiculed by a friend who she had forgiven once before. It wasn’t pretty. Learning from the example in the memory, he firmed himself. Being a friend was no excuse to be a prat.
“What did he say, Hermione?” His voice stern, yet calm.
“H-he called me a, a…a slut.” Hermione said it so softly, that he almost missed it.
Rage disappeared as a deep fear and sombre took over, he clasped her shoulder as unshed tears came to his eyes, “I’m so sorry, Hermione. I’m so sorry.” She immediately threw herself into his chest and cried, while he held her, trying to soothe her by rubbing his hands in calming circles on her back.
They didn’t know how long they spent in each other’s company, but soon Madam Pomfrey came and she cleared him to leave. And then he did, along with Hermione beside him.
As Hermione went to dinner, he slipped under his invisibility cloak and he headed outside to Hagrid’s hut. Once he was there, he headed into the Forbidden Forest and found a nice spot not far from the lake.
Suddenly, he was feeling as if he was right at home, that hooking sensation in the bottom of his stomach seemingly disappeared. And he felt a huge relief. He pulled the cloak off and dropped it beside him and he went on his knees. He opened his mouth and retched. But nothing came out, just air and magic. And then it happened.
His eyes blurred, and his body swelled and a huge pain shot through his body. His clothes tore apart as he expanded. Unimaginable pain. He howled and screamed as his body swelled further and he lost consciousness.
For how long he remained unconscious he did not know, but when he opened his eyes, he knew something was wrong. The entire world was different, it looked different, smelt different, felt different. His sight was different, his breathing was different, his body was different.
He looked down and saw that he had long black feathery legs with sharp curved claws for feet, it reminded him of Hedwig’s legs but much bigger and scarier. And he could feel more than two legs on his body, he looked back and saw that his hind legs were hoofs, his lower body was that of a horse. He had a tail, two large black feathery wings, and he could see his own yellow beak. An image of a hippogriff came to mind. He was a hippogriff.
He panicked for a moment; he couldn’t even think. He just wanted to go back to normal. And then it happened, his body began shrinking and pain shot through his body again. And when he closed and opened his eyes again, he was sprawled on the ground, naked as the day he was born, but back in his human form.
Harry sat up, using his invisibility cloak to cover himself. A mind-boggling revelation settled in; he was an animagus.