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Harry Potter Chapter 3

Page history last edited by Jason 15 years, 3 months ago

I do not own the rights to "Harry Potter" nor any of its characters. This story is written purely for the entertainment of the reader and is in no way connected to the series, its creator or should in any way reflect on them.

 

This story is copyrighted 2008 by Jason Morris, may not be excerpted, reprinted, reproduced, or reposted in any form without the express written consent of the author. Visitors to this web site may read or temporarily download pages but are not permitted to modify or re-distribute them.

 

The story contains sexual activities and situations that are to be read only by readers above the legal age of consent. The story is not to be read in locations where such stories are illegal. If you are not of legal age, or live in the wrong place, please exit this site immediately.

 

 

 

HARRY POTTER AND THE AGE OF LUST

 

Chapter Three

 

THE NEW MINISTER

 

 

After some time spent at Harry’s home, the three had spent a lot of time talking about how they would go about their vacation. The hardest part was to get Ron to agree on a day when they would leave Harry’s home and Kreacher’s wonderful cooking.

 

“Ron, we have to leave on this trip sometime,” Hermione resounded at the redheaded wizard lounging on a chair in the sitting room.

 

“Wot?” he asked, a small finger sandwich in his hand held halfway to his lips. “It doesn’t have to be today, does it?”

 

“No, but it will be in three days,” Harry told them both as he entered the room from the kitchens, a tiny owl sitting on his arm. “Pig brought us a message from your mum.”

 

The tiny little owl leaped off Harry’s arm and announced his job well done by flying around the room in continuous circles. He hooted non-stop in his prideful moment, and he sometimes flew low enough to gently touch Ron and Hermione’s heads with his rapidly beating wings.

 

“Three days?” Ron said, putting his snack down and trying to reach up and swat the little bird. “Stow it, Pig!”

 

The tiny bird took this a more praise and began to hoot and screech even louder as he flew faster and in smaller circles. Kreacher walked into the room, his hands over his ears, words in a language that he must not have thought any of them knew. It was the look of shock on Hermione’s face that caused him to quickly stop the words.

 

“I’m sorry, little miss,” Kreacher said, bowing low enough to not only touch the floor with his nose, but to actually press it hard and painfully into the wood. “Kreacher forgot the lady has learned the language of the house elves.”

 

Hermione got off the couch and walked across the room. She surprised not only Harry and Ron, but Pig as well, as she reached up and grabbed the bird in mid-flight and held it in her hand, not missing a step on her way to Kreacher. She finally stopped and leaned down to Kreacher and whispered in the bowed house elf’s ear.

 

She turned around and spoke into Pig’s ear as she walked over to Ron. She opened her hand and the tiny bird quietly flew over to the chair Ron was sitting in and perched atop the back of it. Ron and Harry watched the whole affair with an astonished look on their faces before she turned and looked not at Harry but Kreacher again.

 

“Did you have a message, Kreacher?” she asked in an overly kind face.

 

“Yes, m’lady. The Minister of Magic is at the hearth, wishing to speak with Master Harry.”

 

The message delivered, Kreacher turned and walked back into the kitchen, while Harry stood there, still looking at Hermione.

 

“What did you tell them?” he asked.

 

“The Minister of Magic is waiting to talk to you?” Ron asked, looking at Harry.

 

“Yes, it was in your mother’s letter she sent with Pig,” Harry said, not taking his eyes off Hermione. “She told him how to get in touch with me here through the fireplace. What did you tell them, Hermione?”

 

“I’ll tell you later,” she responded, making her way past Harry and toward the kitchen. “You can’t keep the Minister waiting. Come on.”

 

“My mom wrote to you?” Ron asked as he followed Harry toward the door.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Did she ask about me?”

 

“Yes,” Harry replied again, looking over his shoulder.

 

“Well, what did she say?”

 

“You can read it yourself,” Harry said as they passed into the kitchen. He handed a still sealed envelope over to Ron. The bright red envelope was already beginning to smoke from waiting so long to be opened.

 

“A howler,” Ron whined, as they reached the fireplace. “Why’d she send a howler?”

 

“Ah, there you are, Harry,” said Kingsley Shaklebolt, his head surrounded by the flames in the fireplace. “I hope you are doing…”

 

“RONALD WEASLEY!” echoed Mrs. Weasley’s voice in the kitchen. “HOW COULD YOU LEAVE YOUR ROOM IN SUCH A MESS FOR ME TO CLEAN UP! YOU BETTER NOT BE LEAVING THIS TERRIBLE OF A MESS AT HARRY’S HOME FOR THAT POOR HOUSE ELF TO BE YOUR LITTLE SLAVE! I DIDN’T RAISE MY CHILDREN TO LIVE LIKE PIGS!”

 

Everyone was looking at Ron, whose face was just as red as the envelope was before it caught fire and turned to ashes. Harry and Hermione suppressed their giggles as they turned back to Kingsley’s head, which definitely appeared to be having the same trouble with keeping a straight face. Kreacher could be heard at the sink muttering assurances to let Ron’s mother that he had been keeping the house elf very busy with cleaning up after him.

 

“I must confess, Harry, Ron and Hermione,” Kingsley began. “Dumbledore always said you three were good at getting into and out of trouble. Best of luck to you, Ron,” he called out.

 

“So, how are you liking the job?” Harry asked to change the subject and, hopefully, take the attention off Ron. He worried if that much blood rushing to his head, Ron might pass out.

 

“I can see why my previous predecessors always looked overworked,” he replied with a sigh. “I’m lucky to get time to spend with my family on some days. I’m happy to say that I’ve found a way for them to come see me at work on occasion. There are some perks to being Minister of Magic, you know. You may want to try for the possession in the future.”

 

“I don’t know, sir,” Harry replied, his face starting to blush.

 

“Actually, I was talking to Hermione,” Kingsley said.

 

“I’ll give it a thought, after I first become the Head Mistress at Hogwarts,” she replied without a hint at joking in her voice.

 

“That’s the Hermione I was told about by Minerva.”

 

“How is Headmistress McGonagall doing?” Hermione asked.

 

“She’s doing good, and I would love to talk with you about her in a few days when you come visit. But I do have a request for Harry on that visit.”

 

Before Hermione could ask about this visit, Kingsley continued, his face looking directly at Harry.

 

“I need you to bring the special tool you have with you,” he said, his face showing honest sincerity. “The ministry needs to catalogue it and keep record of the ownership of such a powerful tool. Only I will know about you bringing it, since I have personally set up this floo network between your home and my office. I’m sure it will be able to get past our sensors when you arrive.”

 

“I will bring it, sir,” Harry said, knowing that the Minister was talking about the Death Wand. “Was there anything else?”

 

“No. That was all. Oh, look at the time. I’m already late for the next meeting with Ron’s father. He wants us to use a different way of getting into the Ministry instead of the broken toilets. Can’t say as I blame him, either. I’ll tell him you said hello, Ron.”

 

Kingsley’s head disappeared quickly as the Harry and Hermione looked around to find Ron. He was standing at the sink, elbow deep in soapy water and washing a pile of pots and pans. They turned to look at each other before rolling up their sleeves and walking over to help Ron clean the dishes that all three of them had helped to cause.


 

Over the next two days, the trio took part in helping with the house work, leaving the majority of it for Kreacher at the house elf’s request. Ron tried his best to do a lot more, sometimes muttering about fear of Kreacher writing to his mother about not helping out around the house. The second night, after helping to clean the house again, Kreacher caught the three of them in the sitting room, relaxing.

 

“Kreacher would like to speak openly to Master and his guests, if he is allowed.”

 

“Go ahead, Kreacher. What’s on your mind?”

 

“Kreacher would like to know what he has done wrong, sir.”

 

“You haven’t done anything wrong, Kreacher. Why do you think you have?”

 

“Master and his friends have been trying to do Kreacher’s work, instead of letting Kreacher do it. Is Master planning on giving Kreacher…clothes?” A huge tear was beginning to well up in the large bulging eyes staring at Harry.

 

“No, Kreacher,” Hermione said, getting off the small couch with Ron and taking a knee in front of him. “We were just trying to do our part to keep the house clean after we mess it up.”

 

“There’s that, plus you threatening to tell my mum that I’m making you do all the work,” Ron called out from the small couch.

 

“That would have been a compliment to you, sir,” Kreacher said. “Anyone who gives a house elf work to do is someone that house elves adore. A working house elf is a happy house elf.”

 

“My mum doesn’t believe that, though,” Ron said, sitting at the edge of his seat. “She expects me to clean up after myself.”

 

“I can settle this for all parties,” Harry said, causing the other three heads in the room to turn his way. “Kreacher, if you ever speak with Ron’s mum, I give you permission to tell her that Ron has worked to clean up after himself, against your wishes. Hopefully she will get the idea that it makes you upset that Ron is doing your job.”

 

All of them agreed that was the best plan and the three promised Kreacher to never clean up after themselves again. In celebration of not having to clean house again, Ron and Hermione went to bed early; but Harry could tell from the noises that the two were definitely not going to get to sleep any time soon.

 

After lying in bed for what seemed like hours, Harry couldn’t restrain his desire and pulled the box out from under his bed. After sliding it under the covers, he hesitated opening it again, thinking about how the lethifold had killed a man already. The constant grunts and groans of pleasure seeping into his room from the ventilation, however, made up his mind and Harry pulled the lid off and quickly felt the silky smooth texture of his sexual pet caress and cover his body.


 

The next morning, the three of them packed their bags, deciding that when they returned from the Ministry of Magic, they would grab their bags and leave for their trip. Kreacher bade them goodbye and promised to have meals packed and ready for them to take on their trip. They disapperated from the front stoop of the house and appeared in an alleyway near the phone booth that Harry and Ron’s dad had used once to visit the Ministry several years earlier.

 

The entrance hall had been changed since they last snuck into the Ministry of Magic. As was expected, many heads turned to watch them and much of the foot traffic stopped and let the three of them move forward when they had recognized it was Harry. When they reached the desk to have their wands checked, the face of the guard greeting them gave a great big smile.

 

“Well, if it innit my ole friend, Neville,” said Stanley Shunpike. “’Anks to you and ‘or friends higher up, I got me a better job than the Night Bus. I’m in charge of wand checks ‘ere now.”

 

“It’s good to see you too, Stan,” Harry said, pulling out his wand and offering it to him.

 

“Blimey, no, Harry,” he said, holding up his hands in protest. “I’m under strict orders not to take your wand from you or your friends. Minister’s orders. Can’t disobey ‘im, now can I?”

 

“I guess not,” Harry said with a big smile on his face. He returned his wand to his jeans pocket, as did Hermione and Ron. “Thanks, Stan. Keep up the good work.”

 

They left Stan to regale everyone with his story of how he met Harry Potter on the night bus under the pseudonym of Neville Longbottom. They climbed into an elevator marked for going up and were thankful that it didn’t stop until they were on the floor of the Minister of Magic’s office.

 

“The Minister is busy,” said the secretary without looking up from her paperwork. “He’s not to be disturbed.”

 

“We have an appointment,” Harry told her. She then raised her head and looked Harry in the eyes, her face showing she was very much ready to tell him again that the Minister was busy; but her eyes passed Harry’s and came to focus on the lightening bolt scar on his forehead.

 

“Ah…Mr. Potter. I’m sorry for just now. The Minister is expecting you. If your friends would like to sit out here, he will see you now.”

 

“No, we will not sit out here and wait,” Hermione spoke up. “He asked to see all three of us three days ago.”

 

“Yeah, that’s right,” Ron added, showing he wouldn’t be left to wait either.

 

All three of them looked at the secretary as she tried to stare them down; but she quickly understood she wasn’t going to win this battle of wits.

 

“I guess, if he really has asked for all three of you, then all three of you may go in.” She waved her wand and a double doorway appeared in the wall to her right. She swished the wand again and one of the two doors opened slightly.

 

“Thank you,” Harry told the secretary, seeing something in her eyes he hadn’t noticed before in other women’s faces before. He thought, maybe, he might have been imagining it; but her look was one he had heard Hermione and other girls complain about. She was looking at him like he was a piece of steak.

 

Harry turned away from her, feeling her eyes, as much as guessing, settle on his bum. He quickly got ahead of Ron and Hermione and entered the door and was thankful to see it was a large office with only the Minster of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt inside.

 

“Harry. Hermione. Ron. Glad you three could make it. Please, sit down and let’s get down to business. I’m sorry if I seemed rushed, but I have a lot more on my plate than I had intended when we last talked.”

 

The three took up positions on the over stuffed chairs across from him and his desk.

 

“Oh, this will never do for members of the Order of the Phoenix,” Kingsley said, quickly pulling out his wand and giving it a wave. The desk and all the paperwork on top of it disappeared and the Minister’s chair was a lot closer to theirs now, all of them in a circle. “Now this is more personal, I think. How are you three getting on with the change in your life?”

 

“Changes?” Hermione asked, looking at first Ron and then Harry. “What changes?”

 

“You know, not having to peer over your shoulders for fear of being caught by You-Know-Wh…Voldemort,” he changed his words at Harry’s look. “You know, I used to get that same look from another great wizard when I wouldn’t say his name, Harry. I think some of Dumbledore rubbed off on you.”

 

Harry smiled at the compliment, and then frowned, thinking about how much Dumbledore had kept secret from everyone until the secret was needed to be told. He didn’t want to be like that.

 

“We’re getting along loads,” Ron said, his face lighting up. “Especially now that we don’t have to run from the bad guy and the good guys. We don’t have to run from the Ministry again, do we?”

 

“No, you don’t have to hide out from us anymore,” Kingsley said, a chuckle in his voice as he looked at Ron. “But, it is requested by several departments we keep track of a certain item in your possession, Harry. Do you have it with you?”

 

Harry hesitated, looking Kingsley in the eyes. When he was certain it wasn’t a hunger for power he saw there, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the dark Elder Wand.

 

“This is it,” he said, holding it out to Kingsley. “I am letting you see it, not giving it over to you. Just as a precaution,” Harry stated as Kingsley nodded his head and reached for the wand. He took it and held it in his hand then took the opposite tip in his other hand. He gave both sides a gentle pull, testing the flexibility of the wood. Kingsley then turned to the fireplace and gave the Elder Wand a wave at it. A small spark flew out of the tip and a very small part of the kindling began to smolder before it went out on its own.

 

“That is indeed a very powerful wand, Harry,” he said, handing it back to its rightful owner. “I can’t even do a simple fire spell with it, but I bet you could burn this whole place down with it, since you are rightful owner. I hope you forgive me for trying, but when I bent it, I was actually trying to see if I could break it. I don’t think anyone should have a right to a wand like that. Apparently only the owner can break it. Would you mind doing so?”

 

Harry looked at Kingsley, but not with a look of shock and horror at the attempt to destroy the wand. He just smiled and looked at Ron and Hermione next, seeing the same smile on their lips.

 

“I’m going to tell you why I have the wand, sir,” Harry said. “I hope you will understand and come to trust me with it after you hear me out.”

 

 

Copyright 2008 by Jason Morris, mjm202036@hotmail.com. All rights reserved.

 

Chapter 2 Harry Potter Chapter 4

 

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