Lightning Strikes Twice Ch. 61 (Harry Potter)

A/N: Hestia Jones is brought partially into the fold~

-x-X-x-

Hestia listens with very conflicted emotions as Amelia Bones outlines the not-so-eminent catastrophe facing their world. On the one hand, she can’t help but feel a sort of mounting horror as the new Minister of Magic details the very end of magic itself. On the other hand, they apparently do still have time, somewhere in the ballpark of five to ten years before shit really hits the fan.

On the third, more directly applicable hand, Amelia is STILL being fucked by Harry the entire damn time that she’s explaining all of this to Hestia. Even as Amelia is listing out statistics that prove the decline of magic thanks to the rapidly growing prevalence of muggle technology is very real, she’s bouncing on Harry’s cock. Even as she describes what’s happened in Japan thanks to muggle weaponry back during the era of Grindelwald, she’s valiantly containing her moans, her face flushed and her panting audible.

Needless to say, Hestia is squirming in her seat on the other side of the Minister’s Desk and she’s pretty sure she’s left a wet spot on the cushion by this point. Obviously, soaking through her panties while hearing about the potential end of the damn world as they know it leaves Hestia feeling quite confused.

When Amelia is finally done explaining things, Hestia can’t help but want to tackle that issue first, even if maybe there are more important matters at hand.

“Why… why are you telling me everything like… this? And why make me Head Auror? Kingsley would have been better under pressure.”

Surprisingly, it’s not Amelia who responds to that… but Harry.

“Kingsley Shacklebolt is a competent operator to be sure, but he has… split loyalties, Hestia.”

Hestia had known the young wizard was prodigious. She’d known he was beyond capable for his age. Frankly, she’d never known what to think of everyone saying he’d defeated the Dark Lord at one year old, but now she was beginning to believe it might have been possible, somehow. For him to be so good with magic now, perhaps he’d had exceptionally early and exceptionally strong accidental magic as an infant.

Still…

“Split… loyalties?”

Pinching Amelia’s nipples in between his fingers, causing the half-naked, increasingly disheveled Minister to moan in response, Harry nods.

“He’s Albus Dumbledore’s man, first and foremost. That might make him difficult to work with, in the future.”

Wha- Albus Dumbledore’s man? Hestia blinks owlishly. She can kind of see it, actually. The problem is, why is that a bad thing? Dumbledore was a great man and a greater wizard… wasn’t he?

As if reading her mind, Harry sighs and suddenly pulls Amelia off of his cock so that he has an unobstructed view of her. The Minister of Magic… immediately slips off of his lap and down onto the floor, with the telltale sounds of oral sex emitting from beneath the desk a moment later.

Hestia’s eyes widen as she looks down at the desktop, as though she’ll somehow suddenly develop the ability to see through it and witness the powerful witch underneath it currently giving Harry Potter head. Just like she witnessed Tonks doing so all that time ago in the safehouse kitchen.

Needless to say though, there was a pretty huge difference between watching a Junior Auror engage in such sexual tomfoolery and knowing that the Minister of Magic was doing so.

Harry, of course, acts like nothing is happening as he catches Hestia’s gaze with his own and holds it fast, staring her down intensely.

“Albus Dumbledore is not a bad man, Hestia. But he is old. And currently, he’s focused on all of the wrong things.”

Hestia swallows, feeling like she’s currently caught between two titans of magic. One old, as Harry had said… and one new. He was the Boy-Who-Lived, after all. If anyone had the right to challenge Dumbledore for his ‘throne’, it would be Potter right?

“What… what wrong things?”

Sighing again, Harry shrugs.

“Voldemort, primarily.”

Blinking, Hestia pauses and then pales at the implications of that statement. But Harry waves her off before she can respond.

“Yes, Voldemort is not truly dead. I vanquished him that Halloween Night, but I didn’t fully kill him. You may have heard rumor of a few incidents over the past few years like the Sorcerer’s Stone being housed at Hogwarts, or the Petrification Epidemic. And of course, the Death Eater attack this year after the Quidditch World Cup."

Hestia flinches at that last one. Fuck, talk about a painful few days for the Auror Department. Not only was the attack over too swiftly for them to get out there in force and do anything about it, but also they couldn’t do shit in the aftermath either. Oh sure, they had suspects for who could be behind the attack, but they weren’t exactly allowed to run down those leads because Cornelius fucking Fudge was stonewalling them to protect his donors and masters… some of whom very well might have been under those masks that night.

Needless to say, the events that took place after the Quidditch World Cup had led to more than a few ceaseless nights for Hestia Jones. She could only imagine it was even worse for those at the top like Rufus and Amelia. But from what Harry was saying…

“Those are all signs of Voldemort trying to come back in some way or other. He’s getting stronger and his followers can feel it, which is leading to them starting to act out in order to prove their loyalty to their master. Obviously, Dumbledore has caught on to that fact as well and has his focus on trying to prevent the Dark Lord’s return.”

Well wasn’t that a good thing? Except… no, Hestia realizes. When she thinks about everything Amelia just told her, suddenly Voldemort feels like… a side issue. Sure, the Dark Lord was evil and wanted to conquer the magical world, but he was a bit less of a priority when the very end of said world was on the table instead.

Harry nods as though reading her mind again, smiling thinly as he shrugs his shoulders.

“Voldemort is a distraction, Hestia. But Albus Dumbledore, for all his wisdom and all his power, is a little too set in his ways to recognize that fact. And that’s not a bad thing either. He’s an old man with only a few years left. But for that same reason, he’s not the right man for the crisis ahead. I chose you to be Head Auror instead of Kingsley because I knew I could count on you to be loyal to Amelia and me above all else.”

When Harry put it that way while being seated behind the Minister’s desk while the Minister of Magic was literally on her knees with her lips wrapped around his cock… well, it felt more like he was in charge of everything instead, didn’t it? But was that necessarily a bad thing? Hestia clenches her thighs together and bites her lower lip, trying hard not to let her arousal overwhelm the rational side of her mind.

“It’s alright to have doubts, Hestia. Let’s make a bet, shall we?”

Huh? Hestia blinks as Harry smirks at her… all while one of his hands is resting under the desk, clearly atop Amelia’s bobbing head. Blushing hard, Hestia shudders.

“What… what kind of bet?”

Harry hums as if thinking about it for a moment, but she knows better. He’s already got it all figured out… and he knows he basically has her right where he wants her. Truthfully, he’s had her right where he wanted her since that first time she witnessed Tonks getting her face fucked and didn’t step in. And Hestia spying on him and Tonks every day for the rest of that week hadn’t done her any favors in that regard either.

“I can guarantee that I’ll have Voldemort dealt with by the end of the Triwizard Tournament. Decisively. If I can show you proof of that over the Summer, then you’ll swear yourself to me completely and utterly. Until then, neither of us speak about what we know of the other to anyone.”

As far as ultimatums go, it’s a rather gentle one, admittedly. He’s not trying to force the issue today, not trying to make her decide one way or another right here and now. And it’s not like Hestia would have told anyone what he and Amelia had told her anyways, even without the threat of her voyeuristic perverse tendencies being unveiled hanging over her head.

In the end, the new Head Auror swallows thickly and nods, prompting a smile from Harry… followed by a grunt. Then, Hestia’s eyes widen slightly as she hears the telltale sound of AMELIA swallowing thickly down below the desk, the Minister of Magic gulping down Harry’s seed as he ejaculates in her throat over and over again.

It’s in that moment that Hestia Jones tips over the edge, catching herself by surprise as she orgasms on the spot. To be fair, it wasn’t the first time she’d cum from voyeurism, but it WAS the first time she’d climaxed without ever even touching herself for the added stimulation. It's not a huge orgasm or anything like that and she's able to keep her body’s movements to a minimum… but seeing the knowing grin on Harry’s face, Hestia is well aware that it doesn’t matter. He still knows what just happened.

She blushes hard, part of her almost wishing he had forced the issue so they could do something more together right then and there. Waiting until Summer to see if he could back up his claims about Voldemort was going to be absolute torture, Hestia could already tell…

-x-X-x-

“Are you ready for this, Harry?”

Hermione’s concerned voice brings a smile to his face, even as he turns to the worried brunette bookworm and pulls her into a somewhat raunchy hug along with a deep, tongue-filled kiss. The hug portion was raunchy because his hands went to her ass as he held her close, even as their tongues wrestled and they swapped spit for a moment.

When he finally pulls back, Hermione is flustered and panting heavily, her eyes filled with lust as she bites her lower lip.

“I’m ready, ‘Mione. You don’t need to worry about me.”

He would always kick himself for what could have been in the other timeline. But at least in this timeline, he hadn’t made Hermione settle for anything less than what she actually wanted. Now here they were, mere minutes away from the start of the Triwizard Tournament’s Third Task. For everyone else, it was a big deal.

For Harry? It was simply pest control. He would win the Triwizard Tournament (again) but not because he cared about it… rather, because it would give him the best opportunity to handle Voldemort once and for all, just as he’d promised Hestia Jones a month ago now. And not just Voldemort either… no, if everything went according to plan tonight, Harry was about to deal with the vast majority of his enemies in Wizarding Britain in one fell swoop. From there… the world became his oyster.

“I… I know I don’t, but I worry anyways, I suppose. If only you didn’t have to take part in this stupid tournament. There are so many more important things to worry about.”

Harry hums at that, inclining his head in acknowledgment. Hermione didn’t know everything yet. He wasn’t sure when he would tell her all of the sordid details. But she knew about as much as say, Hestia did. She knew that magic was on the decline and that if something wasn’t done soon, it might die off entirely.

Hermione had been working on solutions ever since he’d told her all those months ago. She was a bright witch… brilliant even. Harry was confident that given enough time, she would come up with something amazing. After all, she’d had far less time in the original timeline, and she’d still been on the brink of something spectacular before the death of magic had claimed her and everyone else Harry cared about.

That didn’t mean he was putting all of his eggs in one basket, however. Hermione was just one aspect of his plan. One tendril of the hydra, so to speak. Amelia being installed as Minister was another. Hestia as Head Auror was a sub-tendril of that. Rita as a writer at the Daily Prophet was a third entire tendril. Apolline’s acquisition, while unexpected, had supplied him with the beginning of foreign soft power. Narcissa, meanwhile, had the business side of things handled after Lucius’ squibification.

And at the center of it all… Harry himself, collecting power until finally he would have enough to do anything that needed to be done.

In regard to all that, tonight was barely a stepping stone in the path. A blip on the radar. Harry wasn’t worried about Voldemort or Wormtail. No, if anything… he was looking forward to this.

“There are, Hermione. And after tonight, we’ll be moving full steam ahead on those things. I need to go now, but I’m sure you’ll be watching. Just remember, no matter what happens… I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Hermione hesitantly nods but lets him go all the same. Harry begins making his way to where the Champions are meeting up, only to find himself accosted by a certain someone he’d very nearly forgotten about.

“Ready, Potter?”

Harry slows to a stop and regards the fake Mad-Eye Moody quietly for a long second. Of course. Harry still remembered Barty’s interference in the Third Task to ensure he made it to the center. He hadn’t exactly let the disguised Death Eater ingratiate himself with him this time around. Nor had he accepted any help from Barty either. But then, he’d also proved time and time again that he didn’t need it.

However, Harry knew Barty wouldn’t be taking any chances this time. Fortunately… the man’s usefulness was at an end.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Crouch.”

The polyjuiced Death Eater goes for his wand, but Harry just reaches out with his magic and slams him into the wall, knocking the wand from his grasp in the process. Then, he slams him into the ground for good measure before knocking him out with the strongest stunning spell he can muster.

“Thanks for the ‘help’ Barty, but Fleur is too important to me for me to risk you doing anything too damaging to her this time around I’m afraid.”

Sticking the disabled Death Eater in a broom closet and disillusioning him for later, Harry continues on his way with a bit of a pep in his step. Time to finish this.