The downfall of the wizarding world

by Adamant946 (ao3)

Chapter 1

“It’s quite a hard thing to teach and learn. There are reasons why Hogwarts doesn’t have many classes about the subject, the culture, traditions and so on. All that’s taught on the subject is the goblin rebellion, and I'm quite aware how bland professor Binns can be. I’d need to think it over,” Flitwick said, leaning forward over his desk and resting his chin in the palm of his hand. He watched the first year nervously fidget with his tie.

Harry Potter had been one of his most promising first year prospects. It was only a couple months into the school year, but he had shown a propensity for asking very astute questions and Flitwick was certain his curiosity had no limits.

He could even recall picking the young boy up from the ramshackled hut for Dumbledore and how he had explained to the boy the four houses and their different traits. Harry had seemed keen on Ravenclaw when the professor steeped the house with praise and it was little surprise he’d been sorted into the intelligent and curious group.

“What’s gotten you interested in Goblins anyway, if I might ask?”

“I’ve only seen them in Gringotts, and was interested, but was too nervous to ask. Talking with you in class and seeing you in the common room when you have those house meetings you've been so kind, and well, normal, I figured you wouldn’t mind.” Harry said. Flitwick sat back and adjusted the books he had set underneath him in the chair to be able to see over the desk.

“I don’t mind of course, but we’re a fairly secretive bunch and I’m only half Goblin mind you. I’m not sure what is best to share and what is best left alone.” The diminutive professor reached down into his drawer and began sifting through a Rolodex. He mumbled a few names and unintelligible words under his breath and then seeing what he had been looking for stopped flipping before continuing to speak, “I can consort a friend and have a better answer for you in the next class.”

“Thank you professor. I'm sorry if I’m being a bother.” Harry said looking a little sheepish as he rubbed at the back of his head and stood to leave.

“It’s my pleasure Harry. Anything for one of my favorite students.” Flitwick dropped down from his perch and walked with the boy to the door. “Don’t hesitate to come see me whenever I have open office hours.” Harry stepped into the hall and brushed shoulders with another student coming in.

“Watch it Potter,” Draco said with malice dripping from his words.

“Ah, Mr. Malfoy, do come in. You’re here about your first exam grade I assume?”

“I have a note from my father,” Draco replied, looking down his nose.

“Of course you do,” Flitwick said with dry humor in his tone. He shot Harry a knowing wink before closing the door.

A smile was plastered on Harry’s face the whole way back to the Ravenclaw common room. Once inside the dimly lit chambers he found his friends Terry Boot and Marcus Belby. Harry was popular and had many acquaintances since coming to Hogwarts, including a couple of Gryffindors he had shared the train with on his first night, but due to sheer exposure Terry and Marcus were swiftly becoming his favorite.

“Hey Harry,” Marcus said as they saw him approaching.

“Hey guys, sorry to keep you waiting,” Harry replied before sinking into a comfortable chair next to the two who were focused intensely on a game of gobstones.

“Shhh, Marcus is about to make a critical error and I don’t want him to blame you for distracting him when I win,” Terry said and waved a hand at Harry without looking up. Marcus stuck his tongue out slightly and aimed his shot. The boys sat in silence for a while until he let loose and was promptly shot in the face with a cloud of foul smelling gas.

“Oh come on,” Marcus said as he squirmed away.

“Yes, I win again!” Terry stood with his arms both above his head triumphant.

“Let’s play wizard's chess next time instead. That game actually takes skill and intelligence.”

“Then you’ll just lose twice as bad,” Terry said with a sly look and a snap of his fingers.

“So what kept you Harry?” Marcus asked, cleaning the play mat.

“I went to see Professor Flitwick after class.”

“You’re doing alright in charms though, why are you worried?” Terry sat back down and tucked a lock of his brown hair behind his ear. It was lengthened down to his collar as he had been trying a hair growth spell that was a bit too advanced for a first year.

“I was just kind of curious about goblins. Nobody really says much about them.” Harry said. Terry scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Who cares about them. You have no context, being practically a muggle still, but no one talks about Goblins because they’re selfish greedy gits.” Harry’s brow furrowed at this crass attitude and shook his head in defiance. Marcus swallowed hard when he saw both the other boys look at him for his opinion.

“Well, I never gave them much thought, I spose,” he responded with a noncommittal shrug. “But if you're interested you shouldn’t let someone like Terry stop you.”

“Yeah, waste your time if you like,” the other boy interjected.

“No worries, it’s better then staying to chat with Snape,” Harry remarked and Marcus giggled recalling how pale Terry had looked after going to the cantancerous professor for additional help.

“He’s a professor, he’s supposed to help us!” Terry said his voice getting loud as his face flushed. “How was I to know he would spend half an hour telling me how dumb I am.”

‘“You are pretty dumb if after ten minutes in his first class you hadn’t picked up on the fact he doesn’t like us,” Marcus said solemnly

“He’s a bully,” Harry added.

“Yeah and thanks for the warning second year,” Terry said and stuck his tongue out at Marcus.

“Can’t warn someone who you don’t know. If I recall correctly you were still sitting on your own for lunch by the fourth day,” Marcus retorted, jabbing a finger into Terry’s stomach. The boys fell into good natured teasing and spent the remainder of the evening in high spirits. Harry could not remember a time remotely close to the joy he experienced and he though on more then one occasion, ‘this must be what having brothers feels like.’

–

Griphook slammed his fork down onto the neck of a scurrying rat on the floor near his dining room table. A smile spread across his scarred face as he lifted the impaled creature up and watched as it slowly expired. Once it was still, Griphook snapped his fingers on his free hand and the rat and fork disappeared in a puff of black smoke.

“So, about this student,” Flitwick said, pulling at the collar of his shirt, clearly unnerved by the whole display.

“Harry Potter?” Griphook huffed and eyed the professor who was sitting next to him at the long table in the torch lit room.

“Yes.”

“The boy who lived?” he asked, and shadows from the flickering light fell across his gruff expression.

“Yes.”

“You want to tell him about Goblins? Our culture?”

“Yes.”

“Why does he want to know about us? What does he want to know?” Griphook waited for a response and proceeded to sift through some food on his plate, stabbing at it absently and with violence.

“He is curious, I think.” The professor removed his glasses and began cleaning them with a napkin from the table. The majority of his food remained untouched on his plate and he pushed it away politely. He had not wanted to come for a dinner, he had only wanted to speak with the old acquaintance, but Griphook was a persuasive individual.

“Curious? I’m curious too.” He responded and dropped his silverware. He ran a hand over his clean shaven head and looked off into the distance. Flitwick had the feeling he was deep in thought. “It’s good you came to me first.”

“Since you’re young I figured you might have an idea of how to proceed.” He replaced his glasses on his face and then leaned forward with an expectant posture.

“You are far too soft and hardly ‘immersed’ in our culture enough to understand why this is a, sore, subject.” Flitwick nodded unwilling to argue the point. “We should discuss this with Ragnok. He will have a good idea of what we can disclose and more importantly what we should try to gather ourselves.”

“Ok that sounds good, when should I go? Should I tell him you sent me?” Griphook scoffed loudly at the remark.

“I’ll take you to him now.” Avoiding eye contact for a moment the professor finally looked back and raised a hand in a gesture of reaasurrance.

“That won’t be necessary. I can definitely take it from here if you think someone higher up the chain of command needs to have the final say.”

“I said no such thing!” Griphook shouted and slammed a fist on the table. His temper diminished quickly and in a calmer voice continued, “I simply think it best we get some additional clearance.”

“Yes clearance, from a superior, '' Flitwick said, but quickly backpedalled waving a hand in surrender. “I digress.”

“Come then.” The two stood and walked to the fireplace nearby. “Use this fireplace and the floo powder to go to Gringotts.”

“Won’t you be coming?”

“No, no, no, I will use my Goblin magic half blood. It is much faster, cleaner, and I can go directly there. You shall ask to see Ragnok from one of the tellers.” He snapped his fingers again and disappeared in a whiff of smoke the same as the rat. Flitwick blinked in surprise, but quickly recovered and used the floo to transport himself.

He twisted and whirled through the network feeling his body contort and shift. Once he felt his feet land home he stepped forward into the majestic halls of the wizarding world’s finest banking establishment.

Flitwick had only taken a few trips to the Copperway Commons in his life. The ancestral home of the Goblins was a dark, but beautiful series of pathways built into the underside of London’s streets. It mirrored much of the city above and had been there growing and flourishing along with it for centuries.

Gringotts wasn’t far away so he wasn’t sure why Griphook hadn’t just walked with him. Besides now he needed to deal with the staff and explain himself likely a half dozen times to get inside and see Master Ragnok. Somehow he figured that might be the point, however.

“Hello,” said the long nosed, scraggly haired Goblin who met him at one of the many desks.

“Hello, I’m professor Flitwick–”

“We know who you are half blood,” was the clerk's rude interjection.

“In a chipper mood I see.”

“Business is our passion and business is about money. Money is lost wasting time talking to you.”

“Very well, too the point — if you’ll let me — I am here to see Master Ragnok,” Flitwick said, his cheeks getting a little red at the interaction. The Goblin laughed in his face for a few heartbeats before slapping his nearby co-worker on the arm.

“Spiznak, Spiznak,” he said through fits.

“What?” responded a thin flat faced dour looking Goblin.

“This mighty Hogwarts professor just walked in and demanded…” He stopped he was laughing too hard; catching his breath the rotten attendant went on, “...demanded to see Ragnok!” The two goblins began to laugh in a ruckus so loud others began to gawk. Flitwick sighed heavily, realizing this was going to be far worse than he had thought.

A very frustrating and embarrassing hour later Flitwick was finally escorted back to a massive golden doorway. Some of the guards were still snickering at him and he had to bite his tongue one last time only seconds before the doors swung inward.

Inside the hall were imposing archways that spanned the entire length of space from one wall to the other. They were emblazoned with gold that glittered in the light of the braziers that sat at the foot of each column. The fires that raged inside the braziers were approaching bonfire sizes and could have each warmed the room themselve, but they gave off no heat.

Walking down a bright purple carpet that ran the length of the hall Flitwick had to admit the engineering and craftsmanship was impressive. The carpet ended at a raised dais that had a series of steps. On top of the platform was a couple of chairs next to a simple table and behind a full living quarters.

Griphook and Ragnok sat at the table chatting and chuckling amongst each other, but for the entirety of his walk Flitwick couldn’t hear what they had been saying. Once he got close enough they stopped and rose.

The two goblins stood with hands behind their backs as servants came and removed the simple wooden furniture and then several more came in carrying a throne. The seat was large enough for a full sized man to sit comfortably and was made of marble. Flitwick assumed it must have weighed a couple thousand pounds or more. The six Goblins were carrying it by poles that had been run through at the base.

Griphook descended the dozen or so stairs and stood at the bottom where Flitwick came to join him.

“Bow,” he said and nudged the professor in the side. Flitwick complied and bowed deeply before coming back up to see that Ragnok had sat down.

“My young friend Griphook has been filling me in on your situation Professor Flitwick.” He swung a short leg over the top of his knee and began bouncing it. He was dressed in a full robe of a rich dark purple hue and he had sharp, but attractive features. His short hair was at one point jet black, but now was peppered with old age making it a silvered gray.

He fixed Flitwick with intelligent and knowing eyes. Unsure if he was supposed to speak the professor turned to Griphook who stood looking towards the Director of Gringotts, stony faced and unblinking.

“Um, good, I think,” Filius finally managed as the gaze of Ragnok and Griphook shifted. “Do you have any direction for me in the matter?”

“Yes I do,” Ragnok said, but made no indication he was going to continue.

“Do you,” Flitwick paused and looked around the room again, “want to explain them to me?”

“No.” Was the only response that Flitwick got. He almost turned and left right then. He’d simply teach the boy whatever the hell he wanted to and they could be damned. Nobody deserved this kind of treatment, especially not a professor as esteemed as himself.

“Now you get it!” Griphook sneered.

“What?” Flitwick asked, utterly dumbfounded.

“Now you see,” Ragnok said with a smirk crossing his face. “Now you are understanding what it means to be a Goblin, a second rate citizen, a joke for the wizards to laugh at.”

“What!?” Flitwick repeated, floundering between wanting to throttle Griphook and go for his wand. “What game are you two – buffoons – getting at? Start explaining.”

Griphook reached out and dropped something into Flitwick’s hand. It was half of a gold coin split down the middle so one side was smooth and the other engraved with a profile of Ragnuk the ancient goblin king‘s likeness unmistakable.

“Reach into your pocket,” Griphook commanded. Flitwick did as he was told and began searching his pockets. When he reached into the pocket meant for a watch on his waist coat he found a metal coin.

Pulling the piece of gold out it shot from his right hand to click into place on the smooth backside of the coin Griphook had just given him, becoming the tails side of the coin. It was engraved with the seal of Gringotts on ‘his’ half and appeared as one seamless coin after coming together.

“We were able to hear your thoughts, professor,” Griphook said, taking back the coin. “This is a powerful magical artifact that when split grants those who carry its counterparts the knowledge of the target. A handy spying tool.” Flitwick looked to the older Ragnok who sat on his throne, he was holding up a similar coin.

“You were — listening to my thoughts?!” Flitwick demanded with abject horror on his face. “That’s irresponsible at best and dangerous to say nothing of the rude, and despicable things it says about your character. You should be ashamed!”

“Save your indignation for someone who cares,” Ragnok said, waving a dismissive hand in the air. “We needed to prove a point.”

“What point? What could you possibly be teaching me that you couldn’t have just said. Am I to be treated as an enemy?”

“This is how they treat us half-blood,” Griphook retorted. “You don’t see it because they give you equal treatment. You’re one of them, a wizard, but we are shunned and distrusted. The best we can hope for is to be ignored by your kind.”

Flitwick stood for a long time considering what he was hearing. They weren’t wrong necessarily. He did hear disparaging remarks. He knew many witches and wizards who were wonderful people that simply knew nothing of the Goblins' plight. Ignorant to the way they had been treated after the rebellion.

“Ok. I see your point, but what does this have to do with Harry Potter and whether I can help him?”

“Griphook and I know things are changing, Filius. The status quo will not last.” Ragnok stood letting his words loom large over the two as he did. “I want you to teach Potter; see if a human can truly understand our ways, but just as much I want you to learn from him. Griphook will oversee everything and he has the final say.”

He stood and walked a few steps behind the throne before pausing. He turned and came back. Griphook bowed again and slammed an elbow into Flitwick's side to make him do the same.

“If you could,” Ragnok said, scratching at his chin, “get them to sign a contract beforehand. A binding one.”

“My pleasure!” Griphook smiled wickedly. Flitwick felt a lump in his throat as he tried to swallow, but raised no vocal concern despite a growing fear in his mind that Harry’s curiosity may have gotten him into a lot of trouble.

Chapter 2

“Morning Terry. Still not getting it right?” Harry asked as he entered the Ravenclaw Common room. Terry was cutting his hair in a mirror that he had enchanted to float in the air. Several large piles of hair lay at his feet and it was far more then seemed possible given only a few hours had passed since Harry had seen him last.

“Yeah I’ve been at it a few times the last couple days, but it grows uneven, or too long, or not enough.” He sighed heavily and went back to the mirror. “Damn annoying.”

“You’ll get it eventually,” Harry responded, hoping to cheer him up a bit.

“No he won’t,” Marcus said from where he was laying on a nearby loveseat. “He’s more likely to accidentally grow his pubic hair too long.”

“Shut up,” Terry sneered.

“Either of you want to join me?” Harry asked, and pointed towards the entrance to the common room.

“For what?” Terry asked.

“To meet with Flitwick and his associate.” Terry scoffed and Marcus sat up.

“You’re really going to do that? On a Saturday, even?” the second year boy asked seeming skeptical.

“Yeah why not.”

“Cause I can think of a million places I’d rather be,” Terry said rolling his eyes, “wouldn’t catch me dead with a couple filthy Goblins when I can be doing something fun.”

“Like sucking at magic and trimming your hair down so you look like a balding old woman?” Marcus snickered. “I reckon he does have a bit of a point though Harry. I can find better things to do, no offense.”

“No, that’s ok,” Harry responded, but he had a hard time hiding the clear disappointment in his demeanor. “I’ll see you guys later either way right? You’re still going to show me some flying basics, explain quidditch, right?”

“Yes!” Marcus said, beaming. “Now that will be a good time.”

Harry bade them goodbye and went out into the corridor. He ambled down the halls making his way to the charms classroom in no particular hurry. He was nervous to meet with the professor and even more so to meet his pure-blooded Goblin acquaintance.

Harry had a million ideas running through his mind, of what to say and how to act, as he stepped into the semi amphitheater classroom. He walked towards the center of the room where Flitwick was talking to the new Goblin who was supposed to help bring some of the aspects of their culture to light that Harry couldn’t find elsewhere.

“Hello Harry,” Flitwick said as he turned to greet the boy. “This is my–”

The bald Goblin with several scars on his face stepped past Flitwick and put a firm grip on his shoulder. The professor stopped speaking immediately and Harry got the sense it wasn’t exactly a friendly gesture.

“My name is Griphook,” he said with an intense look on his face. “I’m Flitwicks brother.”

“Well–” Flitwick began, but Griphook shot him a dark look and he silenced again, averting his eyes to the ground.

“His brother?” Harry asked skeptical. “Aren’t you a full blooded Goblin? How does that work?”

“How indeed – brother?” Flitwick said and cleared his throat taking a swift step to the side, avoiding a jab from an elbow he anticipated.

“There is a lot you don’t know about Goblins,” Griphook said, and stood tall putting a hand to his heart.

“That’s why I’m here,” Harry said his face contorting slightly with confusion.

“Not as dumb as you look are you,” Griphook growled back, but quickly recovered his temper and continued, “that is to say for a human.”

“He’s one of my sharpest young pupils, brother.” Flitwick smirked when he said the word ‘brother’ with sass on it. Griphook was not as amused.

“Well good then he will catch on fast.”

“Come to think of it,” Harry said looking away and putting a hand to his chin clearly in thought. “I’ve never seen a girl Goblin. Whos your mum? Are you half brothers on her side?”

“Well, a little young to be starting with sexual education, but I can….fill you in…” Griphook drew out his words and began to rub his hands together a little as he looked at the boy.

“Mr. Potter is not of age by wizarding standards, but I assure you he is capable and likely well away of the ‘brids and the bees’ if you will.”

“What about the bees and the bees?” Griphook asked. “You see Harry there are no female Goblins. Each of us men are capable of becoming pregnant.”

“What?” he said and his nose scrunched up in bewilderment as he looked from the gruff Goblin to Flitwick then back. “How is that possible?”

“I can show you?” Griphook said and put a hand on the boy’s arm. “Maybe you’d like a little demonstration?”

“Ok, that is enough for today,” Flitwick said as he stepped between the two.

“Oh brother, just a little good natured flirting come on.”

“Flirting? With me?” Harry asked his voice a squeak.

“No of course not Harry he is being silly.”

“No I’m being lewd!” Griphook exclaimed and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Well that‘s enough,” Flitwick repeated. “That’s not why we wanted to meet today.”

“Very well, we can discuss the contract.” Griphook reached into his overcoat and brought out a scroll. He unwound it and handed it to Harry. “Basic stuff really, just about us letting you experience the Goblin culture, et cetera.”

Harry began to read at the top, but Flitwick moved to look over his shoulder.

“Hey keep in mind Filius,” Griphook said pulling his attention away. “You already signed yours and I am allowing you to be here. If I want to make googly eyes at a hot young human I can.”

Harry’s head jerked up unable to focus on the contract with the two arguing and of course himself being a point of contention.

“I know, and I did sign, but Harry doesn’t deserve to be oggled.”

“Well remember he learns nothing if he doesn’t sign.” Griphook said and crossed his arms defiantly. Harry frowned as they continued to argue and then without another thought put quill to paper at the nearby desk. He signed and smiled rolling the contract back up and handing it to Griphook.

“So what are we covering first?” Harry asked with a proud smile on his face.

“Oh, we’re done for today,” Griphook said immediately, now that the signed contract was in his hand, “I'll see you next week,” and he began to leave.

“Wait.” Filius called, but the young Goblin never looked back. “Probably should have read that better. At least you got a good look at it, Harry. Must’ve been like mine.”

“Sure,” Harry said, but really had no idea what was on the parchment, as it had been in a language he didn’t recognize.

–

Harry’s foot touched back down to the crisp lawn in the Hogwarts courtyard. He let the broom twist in the air and he caught it smoothly.

“Well I’ll be damned, he’s a natural,” Marcus said with a massive smile.

“Yeah beginners luck,” said Terry.

“It was a lot of fun. I felt so free.” Harry handed back the broom that he had borrowed from Terry to learn the basics.

“Bet that thing will never feel right letting your worthless bum fly around on it Terry.”

“Shut up,” the smaller boy said and gave a half-hearted push at Marcus' lanky frame. “Don’t get too used to this quality Harry. The school brooms are right pieces of rubbish.”

“Yeah he ain’t lying about that,” Marcus agreed.

“Wonder why?” Harry asked, but got only dumb looks and shrugs.

“You up for some Exploding Snap before it gets too late?” Marcus asked.

“Too late,” Terry scoffed shaking his head at Marcus. “It’s the weekend what's too late?”

“I’m beat, but thank you guys. For the crash course and the offer to play exploding snatch.” The two boys began giggling and Harry gave them a confused looked. “What?”

“Exploding Snap, Harry. It’s Exploding Snap,” Marcus said, a giggle still rolling in his belly. “Either way if you’re tired, no worries, we’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you deserve your bedtime Baby Potter,” Terry said, but not with malice, just boyish jesting.

Harry said good night and found his way to his chambers with minimal interruptions. Unlike Gryffindor, the Ravenclaw first years were allowed separate lodging. The comradery and social aspect of a dorm were less in line with the types of Witches and Wizards attracted to the house and the privacy of a stress free place to unwind and study was far more enticing.

He went through the motions of his bedtime routine and slumped into bed only a moment later. Harry felt his senses dim and the grogginess of sleep begin to take hold almost immediately. He tried to think of the days events and in particular his meeting with Professor Flitwick and Griphook were on his mind just as he floated off to slumber.

He was walking through the forbidden forest. A wide range of creatures were walking with him just outside of his field of vision. As he came to a clearing Harry stood over a small puddle of water and looked down to see his naked body in the reflection.

He wasn’t self conscious or disturbed by the view of himself naked in the pool, instead he was curious and began looking at the supple smooth curves of his stripling body. As he stood transfixed with his own exploration of his appearance he felt a form approach from behind him.

Looming massive and dark to his pallid skin was a centaur. He had a black stallion coat on his horse lower body, and his upper body was a rippling muscular frame with board tanned shoulders. He was handsome, with a strong jaw, and his long dark hair flowed like a mane down his back.

He reached down and put his hands on Harry’s delicate shoulders and rubbed sensually releasing immense tension the boy had no idea was there. He let out a soft moan of pleasure and the centaur whispered seductively in his ear, “A young wizard such as yourself must be careful coming into the wilds. You would be wise to bring a protector such as myself.”

A satyr emerged from the treeline across from the pool. He was short, about Harry’s height, with brown goat legs and waist. His torso was pale, but lithe with the physique of a swimmer. He stepped forward and removed a large cap in a swooping bow. His horns were visible on his head amidst curly blonde hair that perfectly framed his cherubic face and striking blue eyes.

He dropped his hat on a nearby branch and came forward saying, “It is easy to get lost along the way let me guide you, innocent one.” When he got to him he put a soft hand on the flat of Harry’s stomach. He leaned in close and Harry felt his breath on his cheek as he said, “We can show you the way out of here.”

“And make sure you get there safely,” The centaur added.

“But it’s only fair you do something for us in return.” Harry felt his insides twist into knots and he opened his mouth to protest, but was completely unsure of where to begin. He felt the weight of the centaur come closer and begin to push on his frame. He crumpled under that pressure, but was held gently as he was lowered to his hands and knees.

He felt the centaur mount him from behind and begin to push the tip of his flared cock inside of his virgin hole. Harry moaned out in pain as the shaft continued only going deeper and deeper inside of him.

“You see, young one this is where humans like you belong,” the centaur told Harry as the Satyr now looking over him, took out his own shaft. It was larger than any Harry had ever seen and it throbbed on its own before the satyr moved, causing it to bob up and down.

Harry was about to speak, but before he could say anything he found his mouth filled with the cock. He tried to vocalise regardless of the intruding member, but that only made the satyr moan in delight before saying, “Oh, I think he’s completely right, you know?”

He started pushing forward with more force causing Harry to gag. They both began to pump back and forth with the centaur almost preaching now, “you humans should be on your knees at the hooves, of your betters.”

Harry was held in place by the two as they began to move more fluidly in and out of him. The shaft in his hole making it stretch and the one in his mouth had him gasping for breath. The pace quickened to an intense tempo and Harry felt like they were two jackhammers ramming into him from both ends.

It went on like this for a few minutes before the two thrust in as deep as they could and let out a warm liquid into the boy’s body. It made the gagging sensation even worse and he wanted to throw up or howl in pain, but he could do neither as the two beasts held him steady. So he simply watched the waistline of the satyr tremble in ecstasy as a feeling of gushing hot semen filled his body.

Harry thought it was over, but it wasn’t. Not by a long shot. He felt the two of them start to pull out, but just as he sighed with relief and caught his breath he was horrified to see the Satyr sprinkle something that glittered in the light of the clearing over his cock and it immediately became hard again. The two slammed their fresh erections back into him and resumed where they had left off.

Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw a passing figure and waved his hand to try and get their attention. He attempted to speak again, but it was futile and when he could see the figure come into view he realized it was another satyr.

The two talked for a moment and to Harry’s dismay when the first one finished the newcomer took his place. It went on like that for what seemed like hours; an endless rotation of forbidden forest creatures took their turn using him for their pleasure.

The barrage of fucking began to disorient Harry and after some time he realized he was losing track of how many had come and gone. After that he began to forget everything, even his name.

There was a dull pleasurable sensation growing somewhere outside his perception. Harry could tell it was somehow different from what was going on. He became aware that he had a massive erection and that it was teetering on the edge of climaxing. His focus wavered between worlds, but came tumbling back into the present when he orgasmed into his pajamas.

He sat up and found a rag to begin cleaning at his wet dream. Harry felt the vague senses of the whole thing slipping away and by the time he lay back down, a book and candle on his end table to try and return to sleep with some light reading, he wasn’t really sure what the dream had been about at all.

Chapter 3

Fenrir unfolded a newspaper and scanned the headlines. One of his pack had grabbed it for him while they visited a nearby village. He wasn’t too concerned with the daily profit, it was filled mostly with pure-blood bigotry, but he secretly loved the horoscopes. Besides why not have them grab him a copy since they were there getting this months house guest anyways.

He had been purposefully ignoring the distraught boy he’d chosen to be his current plaything, but he acknowledged him when he said, “If you do a good job on my boots maybe I’ll keep ya around and let you join my pack.” Looking over the top of the paper he saw tears stained the face of the 7-year old boy. “Did I say stop?” He kicked the boy for motivation. “Get to work, pup.”

He must have put a fear for his life in the small latino boy because he did as he was told using his tongue to lap at the soles indiscriminately. Unfortunately, Fenrir lamented, he was not paying attention to the small details. The fowl remnants of dirt, grass and other earthy elements were still present on the majority of the boots and the boy turned to spit some of the grit out.

Leaning forward Fenrir snatched the boys mouth mid spit and said, “swallow it like a good little boy. Don’t you dare let any of it go to waste.” Fenrir held his mouth closed until he heard a satisfactory gulp of the filth going down. Their eyes connected and both knew that there was no other option then to comply.

The boy closed his eyes and began again resigned to getting the deed over with. “Look at that,” Fenrir said with a smirk and he pushed his boot onto the boy’s face in order to create more contact with his tongue and the bottom. “Those wizards are at it again. Fucking with creatures.”

The article described how an Auror was involved in a case of mistaken identity that left a Goblin dead in the streets of London. Fenrir was no Goblin lover, but he understood their plight. He himself was often the Prophets choice of villain for fearmongering tactics. If he were accidentally killed they’d probably release a similarly vague and counter productive attempt at spinning the incident to their means.

All that could be heard while Fenrir regarded the paper was the sounds of frantic licking as the boy did his best to get in every crevice of the sole not wanting to face the man’s anger. It didn’t take him long to finish, but once he did he reached up and put a hand to a swollen and red tongue.

When he couldn’t hear the sounds of licking anymore Fenrir silently took his boot off of the boy’s face and put the other one in its place. A small groan could be heard before the cleaning continued without any complaint.

“You aren’t done yet,” Fenrir said once the second one was clean a few moments later. He leaned down and unlaced his boots, slipped them off, and did the same with his socks. The werewolf’s feet had become sweaty inside the thick leather boots so they slid easily across the boys face as he sandwiched it between them.

“Well? Get to work,” he barked out after a few moments of the boy sitting there doing nothing. With another groan he got to work this time licking at the mans feet instead. Fenrir let out a growl of satisfaction. He seemed reluctant at first just like with t he boots, but became acclimated quickly.

His pace became almost desperate as he cleaned every inch of Fenrir’s soles. The boy finished and grabbed onto one of the feet. Fenrir thought to kick the boy, but instead found himself chuckling as he began sucking at one of his toes. Using his other foot to pet the boy on the top of his head he got no response other than small whimpers of pleasure and obedience.

“That’s right pup, keep at it. When you’re done with that I might let the rest of the pack have a go at you.” The boy’s eyes lit up and Fenrir thought that the boy would make a much better beta pup then he ever would as a real wolf. As his feet continued to be worshiped he decided he’d need to write a letter to those goblins.

–

Terry sat at his desk in History of Magic with one hand propped under his chin. He was slouched forward and his eyelids were drooping. Slowly his whole head began to sink and then with a whack it fell to the desk. He startled awake and wiped drool from the corners of his mouth.

“What was that,” Bins growled, but too bothered to try and discover the source of the noise simply went back to droning on in a monotone voice.

“Hey Boot licker,” Draco said and tossed a wad of paper at Terry as he tried to look inconspicuous. “Up all night wanking?” Terry shot the foul Slytherin a middle finger.

Wanting to avoid Draco at all costs he turned to see if he could find Harry. He wasn’t surprised to find him looking out the window with a dumb look on his face. Ever since the meeting with that goblin – Grapplinghook was it? – he had been unable to get his friend to focus for more than a few minutes. He just kept drifting off into wistful looks and ignoring nearly everything going on around him.

“Harry,” he said. “Hay Harry, Draco asked if you will take him to the dance next weekend.”

“Shut it Boot,” Draco said with a sinister stare. “I said no such thing.”

“Of course you did. Don’t be shy. We all know you have a huge crush on Potter.”

“I’ll come over there and fuck you–”

“Stop talking,” interrupted Bins. “Mr. malfoy, Mr. Boot, and Mr. Potter: the three of you will be staying after class for extra curriculars.”

“Nice work, Draco,” Terry said with a groan.

“What did I do?” Harry said, but Bins ignored him and kept going with his lecture.

“For being Ravenclaws you two sure are pretty dumb.”

“And you’re awfully smart for a House Elf.”

“Both of you shut up or it’ll get us in deeper trouble,” Harry said and the two juvenile boys began pouting. It was a very long ten minutes later that the class finally got out and all three boys made a speedy getaway towards the door hoping Bins would have forgotten the punishment.

“Hold it you three,” the professor said and floated over to catch them. “Come sit down and enjoy some extra curriculars.” Bins was beaming with the prospect of keeping the three boys back. They took seats near the front of the class and three Daily Prophets poofed into existence in front of them, or more likely, were teleported from elsewhere.

“Not this tabloid drivel,” Draco said.

“Something we can agree on,” Terry remarked, but frowned as if he felt dirty to be agreeing with the obnoxious slytherin boy.

“Current events are very important especially in light of history. I want all three of you to read the front page article.” The three boys groaned in unison and reluctantly began reading, knowing full well that they were not free to go until they did exactly as Bins told them to.

Terry tried several times to focus on the article, but kept finding his gaze drift to Harry. He was so aloof lately and Terry was finding himself getting increasingly frustrated with the idea. What's so interesting about some stinking Goblins?

When he finally did begin reading he found the article was about Goblins too. Specifically one named Peshnak. He reached a juicy bit about half way through where it read: An unknown Auror, who has since been placed on paid leave, was responsible for the mistaken identification that lead to the incident. Terry skimmed some more, but couldn’t be bothered to try actually reading the article.

“Who cares?” he said aloud finally, unwilling to try and piece together the convoluted way it was written.

“Did you even read it!” Harry said in abject horror.

“Indeed, did you?” Bins asked.

“Well,” Terry began now nervous since everyone was looking at him. “Seems like an Auror was just doing his job and some dolt got in the way.”

“To the lay-person that may seem like the takeaway,” Bins agreed nodding. Draco snickered, but stopped when Bins added, “What is your understanding Mr. Malfoy?”

“Um, that the Goblin should have done as he was told and he would have been fine.”

“That’s crazy,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“Elaborate, Mr. Potter.”

“The Auror’s job is to stop bad things from happening. To keep muggles from learning about magic. He created a massive scene and killed a Goblin who was completely unrelated to the suspect he was supposed to be looking for.”

“What?” Terry said looking and feeling stupid. “How did you get all that from the article.”

“Read between the lines moron,” Draco mouthed off.

“Oh shut it you didn’t know that either.”

“I think he did us a favor. One less Goblin to worry about.”

“Mr. Malfoy keep that kind of ignorant statement to yourself please,” Bins said his patience obviously wearing thin. He walked over to the chalk board and flipped it over. On the back was a near translucent panel. He had Harry come forward and recite a preset charm from the end of the article.

While the boy spoke the long incantation Bins went full professor mode, “In the mid 1800’s Francois Dubois was enticed by the invention of photography. In addition to working on many of the earliest moving pictures that are so popular in the wizarding world he developed the Pro’Agir system. Not often used, but highly effective in capturing a moment in time to then be repeated as a reenactment for others to watch. The cumbersome nature of the long and complex charm has made it fall from fashion, but I think in this instance it is appropriate we watch it.”

Terry lamented heavily at this point that Ghosts don’t need to pause for a breather and whispered to himself, “and why should we care?”

“This moment we are about to witness takes place right after the Auror arrived at the scene where the DMLE was called. The caller said the suspect was short and so the Auror began canvasing the nearby crowd.”

“Sure it wasn’t Terry? He’s a right midget.”

“The Auror,” Bins went on ignoring Draco. “Determined a Goblin was in the crowd using a Glamour to blend in and he confronted him.”

Bins stopped to watch Harry finish. Sweat was dripping down his brow from the exertion of focusing on the words so intensely, but thankfully despite being long the charm wasn’t beyond the scope of the first year’s ability.

“Pro’agir,” Harry said the final words in the charm and a bright light shot from the paper and onto the surface on the back of the chalkboard. As soon as it did they could see a live projection of the events unfolding.

“No I was just walking throught honestly,” said Peshnak, who the Auror, a large red haired man, had by one arm and was dragging into the center of a crowd of people.

“Yeah your kind always says that,” was the large mans response and he slung the much smaller goblin forward. Peshnak kept his balance and put his hands up defensively.

“You really are making a mistake sir, I’m just trying to get by. I was walking under the glamour because I can’t very well be walking about on a london street as a Goblin can I?”

“Keep quiet I’m taking you in for questioning.”

“No, pelase I have to get to work soon.”

“Mouth off again and I’m going to personally make sure you get a cell in Azkaban. Probably see a few of your relatives there and make a family reunion of it.” He stepped forward and loomed tall over Peshnak.

“This is outrageous, I'm going. I have done nothing wrong.” The Auror reached out to grab Peshank by the arm again, but Peshnak twisted his attempt at the elbow over balancing the man who had to reach down. With a slight yank and throw he sent the Auror reeling away and the formidable Goblin technique left plenty of room for Peshnak to walk in the opposite direction.

As soon as Peshnak got a few steps away the Auror turned and regained his footing. He had a look of surprise and anger on his face just before he raised his wand and enacted a non verbal tripping jynx. Peshank’s feet flew out from underneath him and he fell forward. He came down hard and the side of his head collided with the curb of the sidewalk.

“Oooh, help,” Peshnak mumbled after a long silence fell over the crowd. Blood began to pool around his head and a ruckus started to arise from the crowd. Several more Auror’s and Obliviator’s began to show up. “Please, I’m dying,” Peshnak rassped.

“Shut up filthy vermin,” one Auror said as he went about ‘calming the crowd’ and was forced to step over Peshnak. Chaos quickly ensued and after only a moment more Peshnak stopped moving. The Pro’Agir came to an end and the three boys and the ghostly professor sat in silence for a moment.

“Seems a lot more real when you see it,” Terry mumbled. He was squirming in his seat. Draco sat silently with his arms crossed not betraying any feelings if he had any. Harry shook his head in disbelief.

“Well boys can any of you tell me why this is important?” Silence was the only response he got. “I am no political expert. I’m not a Magical Law Enforcement administrator. I am just a history professor and one thing I know is you don’t mess with Goblins.”

Chapter 4

Hal Tamber stood in line for the small commissary and licked his lips thinking of the delicious treats. He patted his chubby belly absently as the Ministry of Magic’s main hall bustled all around him. Hal had the intense gaze of a predator on the hunt only moments before the kill.

He honed in on the rack of candies and once he was first in line snatched a chocolate frog and a caramel filled apple. His hand hovered for a moment, and then shot back for a second one, his sweet tooth winning the internal debate that had warranted the pause.

“It’s an apple; it’s healthy,” he said when the shopkeeper gave him a raised eyebrow. He paid for the treats and then in a decidedly passive aggressive tone said, “have a nice day,” before leaving.

As a veteran Auror of ten years Hal knew that rule number one was ‘never go hungry,’ so it had been a necessary stop before going out for his current case. He needed to go speak with the caretaker of St. James Park because someone had used a wilting curse to kill the lawn. It was a common complaint and often chalked up to pranksters. Since the park was not far he figured he’d use the public restroom entrance and simply walk.

He stepped out of his stall, having used the fireplace and toilet respectively, and was baffled by what he saw. Not a man for office drama or current affairs, Hal was oblivious to the events surrounding Peshnak’s death, and thereby confused to see a protest going on. The restroom was crammed from wall to wall with all manner of magical creatures who were held back only a few feet from the stall doors by several auror’s and barricades.

“Murderer’s!” shouted a mohawk sporting goblin who was holding a sign that read: Propriety for Peshnak. Another goblin with a bandana pulled up over his lower face had one that read: FU DMLE, with an outline of a middle finger.

Hal recognized one of the Auror’ s standing by keeping the crowd behind the barricade. ”Hey Sarah,” he said and approached the small blonde woman. “What’s going on?”

“Protests over that goblin dieing.” She raised her wand threateningly at a centaur who reached across the barrier. He planted his sign boldly on the other side and stared at her with defiance written in his furrowed brow.

She stepped forward and in an even tone said “Incendio” causing a surge of flame to shoot from her wand and destroy the sign. “Get back scum!” she shouted, her voice magically enhanced. A chorus of boos and jeers rose, but several protesters near the woman, including the centaur now missing his eyebrows, shied away.

She straightened her robe and then looked at Hal who had half a chocolate frog hanging from his mouth. She frowned, with disapproval, before saying, “Real shit detail if I’m being honest. You should be happy you are free to eat sweets and go about—“ she paused then shook her head “—whatever it is you do.”

“Right, goblin protests,” Hal said, chewing the last of his frog. He left out the restroom door and a moment later was on Whitehall street far enough away for the concealment charms to kick in rendering any noise silenced. He walked for a moment savoring an apple with a gooey caramel center.

He pondered, not for the first time in his life, how they got the caramel into the center and the core out. His partner at the time, a real hardass, had told him it was magic. Duh, what kind of magic? He decided some things are best left to be a mystery.

As he waited at a crosswalk the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He did a quick glance around and saw a short figure with his hood up. It was impossible to see who it was with the clothing and the way they was standing, but something felt off.

Hal sped up as he continued along the sidewalk past various governmental buildings. The figure seemed to always be two or three paces behind him and slightly to the side. He was certain he was likely being paranoid, but hadn’t he seen someone wearing that hoodie in the crowd in the restroom?

As he came to a corner and turned Hal began to run. He got half way down the block and into an alley before he saw the figure again still following. Now in a full panic, his heart pounding just from the short run, he fumbled for his wand.

As he prepared to apparate away Hal’s sighed in relief figuring he had dodged a possible ambush. He began to focus on his destination and turned in place, but nothing happened.

He heard a chuckle coming from the entrance to the alley. Hal turned and saw the short hooded figure and a tall skinny one walking towards him. In the dim light of the alley all he could see was a glowing stone that floated in the air before them.

Pulling back his cowl the figure had a scarred face and bald head. He smiled with wicked intent as he taunted Hal by saying, “what’s the matter? Can’t apparate?”

“Who are you?” Hal said. His voice was barely a whisper. He got no response so he fled down the other end of the alley. He was met by the clapping of hooves on pavement as a centaur came into view and began closing in from that side. The large creature cracked his knuckles as he approached.

“W-who a-are you?” Hal repeated this time his voice a quivering mess. “What d-do you w-want from me?!”

“My name is Griphook,” the goblin said as the three of them began to edge closer.

“S-stay back. I-I had nothing to do with your goblin friend. I-I promise,” he continued to studered.

The centaur reached him first and grabbed Hal’s robes. It ripped them from his body with one powerful yank that lifted him off the ground. With a deep voice that sounded like a landslide the centaur said, “strip,” indicating the rest of his clothes. Hal stared at him blinking, completely unable to move.

“Take care of the rest of it as well Bucephalus. I don’t think he can hear you.” As if to accentuate Griphooks point Hal wet himself. Once the centaur’s hands gripped his shirt Hal began to hyperventilate and tears started rolling down his cheeks. He was frozen in complete shock, but as the massive half horse half man began to remove his underpants his senses started to come back.

Looking down at his hand, as if unbelieaving that he could even feel the piece of wood in it, Hal realized he was holding his wand. His Auror training kicked in and he began to sling spells wildly moving his arms. Instead of the fireworks show of power he expected he simply looked like a madman flailing about pointing a limp piece of wood at his assailants.

“Ah ah ah,” Griphook said wagging a finger at Hal. “Not while the runes are active.” The goblin pointed to the glowing rock that was just behind him and floating next to the robed and mysterious figure. “Oberon could you make him docile for me?”

Hal spun and threw his wand with all his strength and it bounced off the well muscled chest of Bucephalus. The mysterious figure removed his hood and a strikingly beautiful man with leafy green hair and an aloof expression fixed his eyes on Hal. He felt his body stiffen when he looked into those eyes. They were golden and shining like a coin freshly pulled from the forge.

“Do not worry human. This will not hurt as long as you cooperate,” Oberon said and his voice was ethereal and seductive. It permeated every aspect of Hal’s mind and all the rest of the world faded as the musical otherworldly command that followed struck him with magic behind it, “Do not fight.”

“That Faery magic of yours is amazing, my lord,” Griphook said as he removed his own clothes. He walked to the wall and leaned against it. Pulling Hal by the arms he brought the man over to him and then without warning brought the stunned man down into a squat on his cock. Hal let out a sharp intake of air from the pain of the goblins thrusting, but was unable to resist.

So distracted by Griphooks plowing he began to breath heavily again when he realized the centaur was closing in. He got a massive whiff of the beasts musk and found despite his own horror the smell was somewhat appealing.

His gaze looked along the horse body and it’s large erect shaft until it finally lingered on his massive dangling testicle. Hal was inwardly impressed with the massiveness of them and mused that he could almost hear the sloshing of semen inside as they came closer.

Hal wanted to beg them to stop, but as soon as his mouth was open he felt the phallus of the centaur forcing its way down his throat. He had to breath in heavy gasps whenever the massive girth left enough room for him to. On one of his thrusts the centaur came out fully and Hal kept his mouth closed, not fighting back, but refusing to open.

Griphook reached up from behind and squeezed the sides of Hal’s jaw forcing it to open painfully. Hal cried out a whimper of anguish and Griphook whispered in his ear, “Stop it. This is where wizard whores like you belong.” The goblin spat as he continued to thrust in and out without any regard for Hal’s pleasure.

“Stop struggling so much human. You’ll hurt yourself,” the centaur said as he continued to pound away at the fat man’s mouth making him start to choke. Hot tears continued to roll down his face, but he attempted to do as he was told. He tried not to pass out from the pain of the goblin ramming his hole dry or the feeling of the horse cock in his mouth.

Calming himself down he started to suckle at the shaft in his mouth thinking, It’s just a lolly; nothing to worry about. Hal lied to himself. He tried blocking out the moans of the centaur above him and the mutterings of the goblin slamming into his arse.

The wizard managed to trick his mind into a weird reassurance as he sucked on the sweaty cock in his mouth. Each breath he took he was forced to breath in more and more of the animalistic musk of the part horse.

He’d even managed to get used to the goblin using his arse. The rough thrusting hurt, but it had turned into a dull pain that he was able to ignore. The fact that the two worked in relative silence also helped him block out the trauma inducing event.

He felt the goblin reach his climax from the sensation of his colon being flooded. It was a weird feeling, and Hal wasn’t sure how to take it, but he didn’t have much time to think it over as the shaft in his mouth began to pulse. The centaur’s cum went down his throat and directly filled his stomach. He didn’t get a chance to taste it until the stallion began to pull out, only getting the smallest bits of the salty flavor.

The goblin shoved Hal and he crumpled to the dirty alleyway. Looking up he watched as Griphook began to dress. He dug in a pocket on his waistcoat and produced two gold coins. He tossed them onto the ground near the used man and they clinked heavily after spinning in place for a second.

“Your payment, whore.”

Hal was stunned. He didn’t know what to say. He looked at the two of them and finally said the only thing he could think of, “I only wanted to serve.”

“And it looks like it fed you well all these years,” the Centaur said, picking up the second caramel filled apple from where it had fallen. He took a bite and gooey filled center strung from his lips. “Just remember,” he continued and then waved a hand towards the dour goblin, “If I come looking for a slave I won’t let you go hungry like some of my compatriots.”

“Yes sir,” Hal murmured and then closed his eyes tight as sobs took over any rational thought. Oberon waved a hand and the distraught man fell into a deep peaceful slumber putting him out of his misery.

“Did you really need to do that?” Griphook grumbled as the three walked off down the alleyway.

“He didn’t exactly deserve such treatment, besides he’ll wake shortly.” The fairy king reasoned.

Griphook scoffed, “they all deserve it.”

Chapter 5

“You’re still going to meet with those monsters despite everything that’s going on?” Harry wasn’t surprised that his friends had cornered him so early in the evening inside the common room. He wasn’t surprised that they were skeptical. Terry asking him such a silly question was even expected, but he still sighed heavily having to defend himself yet again.

“Yeah. Heck, it’s even more important now.”

“Heck,” Marcus said and shook his head while chuckling. “You’re really too pure for this world Potter.”

“Am not.” A scowl spread across his face and Harry realized he was growing very tired of the two boys constantly badgering him about the ‘goblin menace.’ He was their only real connection to anyone who sympathized he knew, as Hogwarts was quite isolated from the current events, but it still bothered him that the issue was so often shoved in his face.

“I don’t think you're wrong,” Marcus said.

“I do,” Terry mumbled.

“It is important. We’re just scared. It’s scary,” Marcus continued, ignoring the rude comments. Terry scoffed, but Harry nodded realizing the truth in the older boy’s words.

“Well, I don’t give two shits.” Terry dropped onto a nearby couch. “Have fun with your underground rebellion.”

“It is getting kind of wild out there Harry.” Marcus said with genuine concern on his face. “I heard several Aurors have been followed and…” his voice dropped to a whisper, “...raped.”

“Those are probably just rumors Marcus. They would fight back or flee. They have wands, they’re fully capable wizards.”

“Right, just be careful anyways.” Harry agreed to do his best and left to go meet with Flitwick and Griphook. He walked through the halls and, as was becoming the norm, heard whispers from students as he passed.

He couldn’t be sure, but Harry was under the impression that Terry had told a few people of his meetings. He had walked into the great hall one day and heard someone yell “smells like goblin!” from behind him. A wave of snickering followed and ever since most of the curious questions about the ‘boy who lived’ had turned into averted eyes and dark expressions.

Harry decided to keep his chin high and simply walk with confidence through his days and so far it had kept any more serious bullying at bay, but he had his concerns. He reached the charms classroom without incident, however, so he praised that today would likely be a good day.

“Harry, come sit,” Flitwick beckoned when he opened the door. Griphook was leaning against the wall near the front of class and a separate desk had been pulled up beside the professors. Standing next to the two desks was a tall figure he didn’t recognize and Flitwick who was smiling like he’d just won the lottery.

“We have a very special guest today,” he said excitedly. “Meet King Oberon of the Faeries.”

A tall figure with slender features and a strikingly handsome face bowed before Harry. He was dressed in gray robes that made Harry think of thunder clouds. They were embroidered with intricate silver symbols Harry didn’t recognize.

When the man rose Harry noticed he had pointed ears sticking from the thick spiky hair that was stylishly unstyled. He looked at the first year student and his golden eyes pierced him. Harry couldn’t help but gasp.

“You certainly look like a king,” Harry said finding the power to keep moving his legs despite his surprise and intrigue. He reached the desk and his gaze was glued to the enigmatic figure.

“Thank you young one,” Oberon responded with a smooth seductive voice that Harry felt matched him perfectly.

“You got a bit of drool on yer chin, act like you’ve see another person before even if you are shitting yourself.” Griphook’s voice was mocking and dissonant to the entire tone of the moment. It felt like grinding hinges on an ancient gate; ruining the once fine craftsmanship by disrupting any who used the entrance.

“Please my diminutive friend, he is a child and one who spent so much time trapped to the muggle world. We are akin to a storybook tale coming to life for the poor creature.”

“Diminutive…” Griphook began, but his voice trailed off and he crossed his arms holding his tongue.

“Oberon is a representative of a new group that is emerging, Harry.” Flitwick pipped up his tone rushed. He pushed his glasses up higher and Harry could feel the exhilaration radiating off of the professor. “The Creatures of the Cryptic Knighthood is their name and they are banding together to try for peace talks over the current rioting.”

“Yeah, we’re going to ram C.O.C.K. down their throat,” Griphook said.

“Oh, the abbreviation is COCK?” Harry asked dubiously.

“Make sure you say it as an initialism Mr. Potter,” Flitwick corrected. “Like: cee-ooh-cee-kay.” Griphook chuckled, clearly pleased with the conversation.

“I will be representing this new coalition of magical creatures at said talks, but make no mistake that the goblins are the brunt of the organization, comprising nearly sixty percent of the total group.”

“More leeches are coming out of the forests and from under rocks daily,” Griphook said and spat on the floor. “Ready to join the bandwagon when it suits them.”

“Your saltiness never stops surprising me, Griphook,” Flitwick said with a frown.

“I’m afraid I must surprise you both with an unusual request,” Oberon interrupted the two as they stared hatefully at each other. “Can you give me a moment alone with Harry Potter?”

“Psssh, fine.”

“I don’t see why not.” The two moved to leave and Flitwick winked at Harry adding, “Better Oberon then that slimeball right, Harry?” He gave the professor a weary smile, nervous at the prospect of being left alone with the daunting and gorgeous king.

After the two left Oberon's shoulders slumped. He didn’t lose any of his stately or regal air, but he did seem to relieve some tension once they were alone. Sitting at the desk next to Harry he rapped his fingernails on the wood in a sequential tap.

“Things are going to change quickly in the wizarding world Harry.”

“What do you think will happen?”

“Wizards have been playing with steel, so to speak, for far too long.” He waved his hand and a small sprout of light left his palm. It descended to the desk and once it touched the wood it transformed into the shape of a goblin.

The magical light twisted in rainbow colors and the goblin raised an arm as another light form, that of a wizard, pointed a wand at him. The goblin was shackled from a spell and fell to his knees before the human form.

“They have been subjugating all manner of magical creatures,” Oberon said and the goblin began to shift from one form to another: satyr, centaur, faery, house elf, and many more Harry did not recognize.

As the images continued to move Harry got the feeling he was seeing wizard history and that now it transformed to modern day. As it did he saw no more physical chains, but instead the creatures were relegated to quarries, Gringotts, and forests.

“Worse than their treatment of magical creatures the wizards have been suppressing anything they deem ‘unworthy magic.’ Changing the magical landscape to their liking.” The light became a wizard, Dumbledore Harry realized, toiling over a book. He was flipping page after page and when he was done he tossed the tome into a nearby fireplace. “They choose who’s magic is best,” Oberon snarled.

His expression changed drastically from the handsome composed figure to a vicious frenzied one. It was fleeting, but Harry felt a deep sorrow and hatred boil over. His composure returned, Oberon said, “What they don’t know is they will likely ruin it all.”

He waved his hand and the figures disappeared. The two sat for a moment in silence before finally the tall Fae stood and came over to sit on the edge of Harry’s desk. He placed a hand on the top of his head and said in a loving voice, “Can I show you something terrible Harry?”

“Haven’t you? Just now?” His voice was cracked and small. He wanted to shrink away from the hand.

“Make no mistake, the goblins would be tyrannical leaders.” Once the words fell on Harry’s ears he felt a jolt of energy going through Oberon’s fingers into his scalp. He was frozen to his seat and his eyes became glossy then rolled into the back of his head.

His sight of the room and the king were gone, replaced with a vision. Oberon’s voice came to him in his mind and it said, “This is what Griphook would have the world be.”

Before his eyes Harry saw the great hall of Hogwarts. The tables were gone and instead he saw row after row of blackened metal benches. They had a single rag wrapped around the top of the bench and laying face down on each one, likely a hundred or more, were male students. They were completely naked and had ball gags in their mouths.

The room was silent other then the faint whisper of a hundred expectant boys breathing. The hall was dusty with cobwebs and disrepair all around. What had once been a miracle of the wizarding world was now as filthy as a barnyard: piles of rags, broken torches, and hay strewn about. Pitchforks were leaning against several of the pillars and there were buckets filled with human waste near the windows.

Harry stepped forward, but his motion was more like a glide than walking. He raised a hand and could see past it like the ghosts he was accustomed to seeing at Hogwarts. He tried to grab at a nearby sconce, but his hand passed right through it.

He moved for a moment amongst the rows of boys and stopped in his tracks when he came to a bench with himself strapped to it. Coming closer he looked down at the vision and he was bound at the ankles and wrists, positioned so his legs were tucked under the bench and his arms secured at his back.

His skin was dirty and had open sores in spots. His glasses were shattered and half falling off his face. He had no vacancy in his eyes just stared ahead blankly with no indication he was even feeling anything.

A goblin came up from a nearby line that went out the main door. Hundreds were waiting, Harry realized, and this one was next. He stepped up to the rows of boys and began walking amongst them, finally stopping behind Harry’s bench.

Having picked Harry as his plaything a step stool shot up from the ground. Stepping up the Goblin was perfectly aligned with Harry’s tight ass. He dropped his pants and began stroking a massive erection then slammed it home without so much as a second thought.

Harry leaned in and watched his own face. It was at first surprised, then pained, but ultimately he got a sense that he was pleased. To be certain Harry watched for a moment as the Goblin slammed in and out of him. Once Harry realized a series of increasingly strong moans of pleasure were coming from the vision of himself he turned away not wanting to watch anymore.

He heard himself cum and despite his own aversion turned back to look. A tube was connected to the underside of the bench where a hole must have been, it filled with his cum and then drained into the floor.

His curiosity getting the better of him Harry looked at the underside and saw that his cock was strapped into a machine of sorts that was gently pulsating back and forth milking every last drop of semen from his balls.

The moans of ecstasy turned into violent shaking as the goblin continued to slam his arse with abandon. Finally the goblin came inside Harry’s tight asshole and wiped at his brow from the exertion. Harry shit himself then and the mixture of jizz and shit began to slowly run down his leg.

He wiggled back and forth and almost toppled from the bench, but large leather straps shot up in several spots and secured him tightly. A moment of moaning and physical thrumming abated and another goblin came forward inserting his rock hard dick without the slightest concern for the filth or previous goblin’s cum.

The vision faded and Harry fell from the desk. He landed on his arse and said, “Ow.” Oberon reached down and offered a hand to help the boy to his feet. Harry backed away on the ground scooting across the stone floor. He shook his head violently and Oberon gave a single nod.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Yes, I understand it is frightening receiving a fae vision, but now you see why their must be more then goblins to guide the future of all magical creatures.” He walked around the desk and sat back down. Harry took his time collecting his thoughts and composure. When he was ready he went back to his own desk and sat.

“Why would Griphook want, that?” Harry asked. Harry kept his face as neutral as he could, but his mind was racing. He felt conflicted between his arousal and uneasiness.

“Goblins are an exceptionally sexual species. They prefer mindless sex over almost everyhting except money and violence perhaps.”

“Why humans though?”

“Because no self respecting Goblin would give up his time to rear a child if he didn’t have to. He’d rather be fucking, fighting, or counting his gold. Besides, if they continue to impregnate humans after subjugating them, eventually they will breed them out of existence.” He raised a finger to his lips as if he had more to say, but shouldn’t. He paused like that for a moment, but finally added, “Of course, for reasons Griphook does not know, this would never work, but with your help maybe–”

“Maybe?” Harry asked.

“I’ve said too much and don’t have any proof, just assumptions,” He said and stood again. “I simply wanted to give you this insight before you got too far into your goblin studies.”

“Um, thanks I guess,” Harry replied and his brow was furrowed with frustration.

“I intend to be an important figure in these talks, Griphooks teachings, and likely your future Harry. So it has been a pleasure to meet you and I am eager to have our next conversation already, but I’m afraid I must be going.”

“Right,” Harry said absently, his mind still thinking of the vision. When he was alone in the room he dared to stand and go find something to clean up the cum that was drying to the inside of his pants.

Chapter 6

Fenrir Greyback ripped the letter into tiny pieces and started to stomp on them. He turned to the nearby table inside his small hovel and flipped it. He next turned his ire towards a wall and started ripping down the pictures.

“Stop me from joining their little club!” he shouted. The small latino boy who he had kept around for the past week cowered into the corner. When the picture frames became projectiles he ducked into the inactive fireplace.

Soot began to drop into the boy's face and he coughed a little at first and then in a violent fit as he was struggling to breath. A large hand with sharp fingernails came through the dust cloud and yanked him by the collar back into the room.

“Why do those goblins and their little pals think they can deny me the right to sit on their council?” His words were low and dangerous. The boy knew better than to say a word and instead tried to focus on stifling his coughing.

“They think I'm a ‘menace’ to the cause? That I am too violent for peace talks?” He dropped the boy and then yanked the ceiling fan down from above him with a shower of sparks. “I’ll show them violence! I’ll give them cause for concern!”

He slumped down onto the floor with his legs crossed. He sat for a long moment, his jaw clenched staring straight ahead, fury bubbling just below the facade of calm. After a tremendous effort of will Fenrir felt the beast bubbling within him.

His mind fully accepting of his animalistic nature Fenrir pulled on the inner moon of his soul and hair began to sprout from his body. His nails turned to claws, his teeth grew into fangs, and when he finally gave out a visceral howl he was twice as large and if possible ten times as menacing.

The latino boy began scoot backwards on his bum away from the massive beast. His elbow bumped a smashed picture frame and it toppled over with a clatter. The werewolf turned and looked into the boy's eyes and horror flowed into the child’s heart.

Fenrir stalked closer and then only inches from his face sniffed. He panted in appreciation for the scent and his wolf cock became erect. The child turned over onto his belly and started to crawl away with tears streaming down his face.

The massive form of the hairy werewolf followed, looming over top of him as certain as the specter of death. Fenrir let out a low growl and began to hump at the boy's ass and back. His animalistic drive kept him from being able to string together the complex thought needed to actually find penetration with his thrusts, but he plowed onward nonetheless.

As the boy continued to try and crawl away Fenrir increased his pace with zealous fervor and an unthinking mind. He was lost to the needs. He was ready to release his seed and the boy wouldn’t stop squirming.

Reaching up with his clawed hand he grabbed the boy at the neck and continued to pound his erect and angry red cock into the backside of the boy. He was close to climax and realized that the boy had stopped moving. He saw the blood pooling from his victim’s neck and it only increased his passion.

He exploded with release and felt immense satisfaction. With the limp body in his grasps and his need to fuck satisfied he realized he was now quite famished. Lucky for Fenrir Greyback he was holding a fresh meal.

—

Harry was packing his things for Christmas break, but his spirits were in stark contrast to the other Ravenclaw students. They joked and laughed as they went about their process, often stopping to discuss all the fun events they had planned for break.

Harry ran a hand across the back of his neck as a vision of Dudley pushing him, head first, into the toilet came to mind. He had avoided the disgusting face first dunk into toilet water that day, but a thousand other similar incidents flickered in the back of his psyche.

Terry came into his room, the door had been open for any to enter, and pulled Harry from his thoughts.

“Hey Harry. You know Flitwick was looking for you?”

“No, he was?”

“Yeah something about seeing you before break. He said it was important.” The thin boy plopped down on Harry’s bed and asked, “How’s the packing going?”

“Splendid,” Harry replied with a sigh and shrug.

“That’s good.” Terry began throwing a snitch he picked up from Harry’s desk into the air. Hagrid had allowed him to keep the ball when he explained Quidditch to Harry and the muggle-raised boy was immediately enamored with the idea of the sport.

“You think Daphne Greengrass is hot?” Terry asked not even looking at the other boy.

“No.”

“Oh, come on those great big knockers! And her cute little nose. I’d love to lock her up in my sex dungeon and really go to town. I bet she-”

“Shut up,” Harry interrupted.

“Come on mate, a fine piece of ass-“

“Leave or be quiet, ok.”

“What bug crawled up your ass.” He sat up and gave Harry an annoyed look.

With a heavy sigh and a moment to clean his glasses as an excuse to gather his thoughts Harry finally replied, “I just don’t have as nice of a - situation - to go home to on break as all of you.”

“Oh yeah,” Terry replied, his mood diminishing to a more somber tone. “Evil in laws or whatever?” Harry nodded, but didn’t add anything. They finished the rest of Harry’s packing in silence and then with a slap on the back Terry said he would follow Harry to meet with Flitwick.

The two boys made their way to the charms classroom with Terry stopping and talking to several different people along the way. Harry stood by politely, but to most of them he was an outcast now and they didn’t send anything other then pleasantries in his direction.

When they entered through the large double door Flitwick was in the middle of a heated conversation with Griphook. The goblin had a large battle axe strapped to his back. He turned and regarded the boys when they entered and a wide grin accompanied a narrowing of his eyes when his gaze fell to Terry Boot.

“What have we here?” the goblin said in his nasally voice.

“Ah Harry, Terry I’m glad you could make it before leaving.” Flitwick said as he stepped between Griphook and the two boys. “I need to speak with you Harry.”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up.” Griphook said and pulled the professor back by the hem of his waistcoat. “Who are you?”

“Terry Boot, who the fuck are you!?” Griphook barked a vicious laugh and began walking around the boy eyeing him up and down.

“Be respectful Mr. Boot.” Flitwick protested, but only half heartedly.

“No, I like his fire.” The gruff goblin said as he lifted Terry’s arm up and sniffed at his armpit.

“Hey, it’s not polite to-” Terry protested, but he jumped when Griphook pinched his ass. “Ow, don’t do that.”

“Your mouth is for other things than sassing off boy. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“I don’t answer to your kind and I’m not your ‘boy’ you slimy monster.” Terry spat on the ground and stepped away from the prodding goblin.

“Mr. Boot! Ten points from Ravenclaw.” Flitwick interjected showing some real frustration for the first time at their antics. “Sorry Harry,” he added, looking apologetic to the other Ravenclaw boy.

“No he should-” Harry began to reply, but then turned to look at Terry directly and continued, “-you should be nicer to our guest Terry.”

“Guest?” He scoffed and cocked his eyebrow at the other three “Are you looney? This perve is an invader.” Griphook smiled and then feigned a lunge at the boy who almost jumped out of his skin to get away.

“You are excused Terry,” Flitwick said, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. Once Terry had left the room he looked to the scarred goblin and said, “Griphook he is still young for a human you-“

“Save me the sermon. I have places to be, people to enslave.” Griphook interrupted and without another word left through a side door Harry always saw him use when he came to visit.

A long and refreshing silence fell between the two as Harry aimlessly poked at the knick knacks Filius had on his desk. The professor finished filing away all the papers he had been working on and then looked up from where he had taken a seat at the desk.

“Do you like comics?” he asked, pointing to the one Harry had picked up from his collection.

“Uncle Vernon would never have let me have something so nice,” he said, his eyes wide looking through the pages admiring the heroes and villains in their tight rubber suits and chiseled physiques.

“That’s too bad. I’ve always been fond of that particular muggle hobby. The stories seem so fantastical to them, but they are often close to historical accounts.” He giggled softly at the prospect of a dragon being thwarted and how to the muggles it was a bedtime story yet he had been a personal participant in a battle with one of the creatures in his storied past.

“If I had been given more chances to enjoy them I likely would have. Now I can learn wizard history and it will seem just as amazing to me, though.”

“That’s a positive way to see things,” he said and a sadness crossed his eyes as he looked at the boy flipping through his collection. “It must have been hard to remain positive with the way things are with the Dursleys?”

“Yeah it was terrible.” Harry dropped the comic back to the desk, and slumped into a nearby chair. “I don’t want to go back.”

“For break?”

“Ever.” Harry shuffled his foot absently on the stone floor. Flitwick looked at him nodding.

“Well I can’t make any promises about forever, but-“ The professor stopped and considered his words carefully. “Would you be opposed to spending the break at my home?”

Harry stiffened and looked to the half goblin with a sharp snap of his head. “You can do that?”

“Well, it’s not exactly looked upon with good favor, but I don’t see why anyone would stop us.” Harry jumped from the spot he had been sitting and ran to embrace Filius still in his chair and propped up on a pile of books.

His cheeks a deep red Filius replied to Harry raining thanks upon him by saying, “Of course, I want you to have a good break Harry. It’s unbelievable, hell it’s neglect, to send you back to that home.”

—

The small coin dropped from Hal’s hand and splashed in the fountain. He sat on the edge of the massive water feature inside the main hall of the Ministry of Magic and watched as the piece of copper floated aimlessly to the bottom.

He had told his partner that he was going to the snack cart and had heard derision in the bald man's voice when he snorted and replied, “O’ course ya are.” He squinted his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose thinking of the interaction and it took a moment before he could sigh and let the embarrassment go.

Hal had found himself weeping for no reason over the past couple weeks. He knew it was likely due to the ‘incident,’ but he was doing his best not to think about that. Everyone had been truly shocked to see him back at work only three days later, but he had to do something. Laying around his house, weeping, and eating his weight in sweets was not a healthy way to cope.

Neither was loafing on the edge of a fountain hating your partner he supposed, but here he was. He reached into his pocket and found another coin, but his breath caught in his throat. It was one of the gold coins that nasty piece of work goblin had dropped to him after violating his manhood.

Why had he kept it? What a silly thing to do, but after all, as he looked at its mint and felt its weight, it was likely quite valuable. He rolled the coin in his hand and could swear it was growing warmer. He watched as it began to glow orange, radiating heat until it was literally hot enough to burn his hand.

He dropped the coin and it fell into the water with a sizzle. Once it hit the bottom of the fountain it melted into a puddle of metal that began to grow. Slowly at first, but it quickly turned into a massive mound of molten magma. It grew until it heaped up over the edge of the water and Hal had to move to avoid it.

The metal, now above the surface of the water, formed into a ring easily ten feet in diameter and when it closed its loop a bright light filled the interior. Inside that bright light shimmered a magical presence that solidified it into a mirror like surface.

Hal reached forward and touched that surface, but jumped back several steps when it wiggled and rippled from his touch. All around the dumbfounded Auror people stopped and gawked. A small murmur of wonder and amazement went up around the packed hall and then Sarah, Hal’s co-worker, came forward.

The pinched face and short blonde woman smacked Hal on the arm and said, “What’s this all about.” Hal stared at her slack mouthed. She pointed at the gold rimmed mirror-like ring and he shrugged.

“I have no idea,” he said. Before either could say anything else a collective gasp came from the growing crowd near them as a head poked out of the liquid like surface of the portal. Halfway up the circle, looking down on them, was a strikingly handsome man’s face.

He stepped forward and a leather jerkin was pulled taught across his chest showing the outlines of a well muscled torso. Below the waist he had goat legs that were covered fully in thick brown hair in contrast to the wavy blonde locks on his head and chin. He was clean shaven other than the patch that pointed from the end of his face and his eyes were a striking bright blue.

Behind him came the form of Bucephalus whom Hal recognized from the alley. Griphook entered next and then Oberon.

“Are they here for the talks?” Sarah asked, but Hal shrugged again.

“I didn’t hear anything about that.”

“We are not small female human,” Bucephalus said, his voice booming from overhead. Sarah and Hal shuffled away from the imposing centaur.

“Who the hell are you and what the hell do you-“ Sarah was interrupted when Bucephalus smacked her hard across the face sending her stumbling away. She immediately pulled her wand out.

“You can’t do that to an Auror!” she shouted and leveled the wand for an attack. After a pause of her shaking the wand and then saying the command of ‘stupefy,’ instead of trying non verbally, Sarah pulled the wand back and looked at it with a confused expression.

“The stone,” Hal said, his mind racing to fill the empty spaces in between cohesive thoughts. “He has a rune or something.” The two Aurora looked past Bucephalus to Oberon who did indeed have a floating stone etched with runes glowing brightly in the air before him.

“Calm humans,” The Faery King said, his voice melodic and soothing. “If you show peace, peace will be shown.”

Griphook, not so keen on a peaceful take over, stepped forward and stomped on the foot of a elderly looking wizard. The man screamed in pain and a few dozen wands were now in the hands of a large group of angry wizards. Shouts to apprehend the magical creatures began to rise from the now mob-like atmosphere.

Many more satyrs, centaurs, and goblins continued to flow from the portal filling the area around the fountain. Still half as many in number as the wizards in the room they were surrounded.

Bucephalus stepped forward and removed the wand from Hal’s hand where he had raised it defensively. He tossed it over his shoulder into the water and then without a word of protest the fat man fell to his knees with his mouth open wide before the centaur.

The group of creatures laughed heartily and the other wizards began to look around concerned. “Kill ‘em!” came a loud cry from the back of the hall. Several more wizards tried their luck at casting spells, but realized quickly they were holding only worthless pieces of wood.

“Not now my little pet,” Bucephalus said and patted Hal on the head for his gesture of subservience. Sarah grabbed at the chubby man's arm trying to get him to stand up.

She found the blade of sword touch under her chin and it dug in slightly causing a dribble of blood to go down her throat. She stopped moving and followed her gaze up the gleaming metal to where it was held by the massive centaur leader.

“Your magic is worthless human,” he said matter of fact. To accentuate the point the entire group of magical creatures began drawing swords, axes, maces and even bows from their side and backs. Now armed they suddenly loomed far more dangerous and imposing in the room if not the minds of the still misunderstanding wizards.

“Today,” Oberon began, his voice magically enchanted so he could be heard by all. “The humans will fall from their throne. They will not go down a single step. They will drop, plummet, to the depths of servitude.”

He let the words sink in and the various warriors of the group spread out and began taking wands and forcing humans to their knees. Once down they would shackle them with glowing chains that Oberon had designed to keep them from casting anything without a wand if they were that talented.

“Today,” he continued, “We will take back our freedom and you will lose yours, but I swear to those who will go gracefully into this position of disgrace that they will be given fair enough treatment as to have small privileges.”

He paused again and a few men and women already began to kneel of their own accord. Some tried to run, but found themselves cornered as while the attention had been on the center of the hall two more portals had sprung up at the edges of the room, one directly in front of fireplace exits.

“Today,” Oberon said, a finality to his voice. “Those who fight will be slaughtered and all will accept the Creatures of the Cryptic Knighthood as their masters. You are all now slaves to C.O.C.K.”

Chapter 7

Being a professor must have paid well because Flitwick’s home was the nicest Harry had ever been in. It was decorated with a wainscoting to the mid wall of a dark wood. The walls themselves were vibrant colors.

The furniture was all old, used, and well built. Harry sat in a tall backed lounge chair with a nearby foot stool. He sipped at his tea politely and Filius smiled at him from a thick arm chair. They looked around the room avoiding eye contact in quiet companionship.

“You have a beautiful home,” Harry said for the third time.

“Thank you.” Filius replied and Harry wished he would elaborate. “Believe it or not I had considered a custom made home. With a small interior, meant for someone of my stature. That’s how the goblins do it.”

“Really? I’d love to see a home like that,” Harry said, setting his tea down and giving intense direct eye contact.

“Yes all the homes in the Copperway Commons are built as such.”

“Can we visit there sometime?”

“Possibly. I have word that some troubling events are likely to take place over break so it’s best we remain….isolated.” Flitwick sighed heavily as he spoke of these mysterious events, but Harry was unsure of what he spoke of because there were no newspapers or such since he had left the school with the Charms professor.

“Oh that’s fine too. I can just pick your brain for any and all information possible, professor.”

“You do me a great honor with your praise, but I am no master of goblin lore or anything else for that matter.”

“Your humility is just another thing I love about you.” Harry batted his eyes as he said this and Flitwick blushed a deep pink.

“Eh-hem yes well let’s get you to your room and tucked in for the night shall we?”

“Of course.”

The two took a brief tour of the main halls and second floor. Filius notified Harry that he slept on the third floor, but didn’t take him up there or give him any indication of what it was like.

He showed Harry to a large room with a window overlooking the countryside and a queen bed. It also had a desk made of solid wood and traditional design. Harry began to unpack his things as Flitwick finished telling him about the bathroom down the hall.

“By Merlin's beard Harry,” Flitwick said, reaching out and taking a pair of pajama pants from the boy who was about to stuff them into a drawer. “You can’t possibly wear these.”

“Why not?” Harry took back the pants and let them unfold before him as he held them aloft and inspected them. The pair of light blue pajama pants were easily two sizes too small for Harry and had several rips and holes. They were discolored in spots likely from infrequent cleaning.

“I will get a pair of my ex-,” He paused for a moment and his eyes scanned Harry’s face, but when the boy didn’t look up from the pajamas he continued, “that is a friend of mine’s pajamas for you.”

“Ok if you’re really sure these are unfit for me to use.”

“If you are to be in my home I will show you how a boy your age should be dressing for bedtime.” He left the room and Harry went through his clothes setting them out on the bed.

“None of these will do,” Flitwick said from beside him, startling the boy, who had not heard him re-enter the room.

“I’m not sure what is appropriate. I’ve never slept at someone else’s house before.”

“Here,” Flitwick said and handed over a black piece of fabric. Harry took it in his hand and it was soft and stretchy. He held it up and it was a one piece suit that seemed too small.

“It will stretch,” Flitwick assured him, then setting down a pile of other clothes on a chair near the door he left. “I’ll see you downstairs in a bit for a night time snack if you’d like.”

“Thank you,” Harry called after the kindly Professor, but he was already down the hall. He undressed and then began to put one arm into the stretchy black fabric. As he did it accommodated him fairly easily and began to adhere to his body tight like spandex.

He sifted through the other clothes in the chair and found a leather overcoat that was a deep maroon and he put it on as well. It sucked onto his chest tight giving him a sleek look. He also put on a pair of leather bracers, choker, and boots.

“I feel like some kind of superhero,” he said aloud to himself and then went to the stairs. Harry realized it was not the most practical thing to be wearing so close to bedtime, but he felt so cool in it he wanted to keep it on. As he went down the stairs he jumped about remembering the acrobatics of the men in Flitwicks comics.

He found his way to the dining area that Flitwick had shown him and stepped inside. He didn’t see the professor, but he was feeling thirsty and with a shrug went to the sink. He began going through the cupboards and eventually found a cup.

He brought the cup down to fill in the sink, when he heard Flitwick speak from near him. He startled and dropped the cup on the floor with a clang. He bent over to collect it, thankfully unbroken, from the wooden surface and said, “You scared me.”

Once fully bent over to pick up the glass he felt a hand rub across his back and down onto his ass. It squeezed at his right ass cheek and he heard a moan from behind him. Harry turned around to see Flitwick rubbing at an erection visible through his pants.

“Sir, is that appropriate?” Harry asked, but didn’t move away.

“You look so sexy. Like a real life Batman or better yet Robin.” The professor bit his bottom lip and caressed his shaft more. Harry realized that Flitwick was also wearing a skintight hero's costume, but in deep purples and grays.

He reached out and placed a hand on Harry’s crotch feeling the boy's girth inside the tight fabric. He fondled gently and Harry began to grow in his hand. He looked up and made eye contact with the boy. With his eyes no longer cascading up and down the boy's body his demeanor snapped just like a spell that had been countered.

“Oh, no. Oh, no no no. I shouldn’t do this.” He turned away and put both hands on his head. “Damned goblin blood.”

He began to beat at his head with fists striking hard enough that Harry was sure it hurt. “Professor, it’s ok,” Harry said and placed a hand on his shaking frame.

“You don’t understand. It’s a terrible curse.”

“I’m beginning to see,” Harry whispered in his ear, now bending over to embrace the diminutive man. Slowly he turned him around and then cupping his mustached face in his hands Harry placed an awkward, but passionate kiss on his lips.

The two dressed as heroes stood in the dark, before Flitwick’s fabulous dish towels and kitchen window, breathed each other in with every sensual movement of their intertwined mouths.

When they broke apart a snake's hiss of danger was present between their gazes. Lingering hands stroked at each other’s arms and necks.

“Harry,” Flitwick said soft and forewarning in the dim light as the sun set in the distance of the countryside beyond them. “As part goblin we like certain - things.”

“I accept it all, professor,” he said without hesitation. “I want this. I want you.” An edge came to the corners of Flitwicks eyes and he nodded his understanding.

“No matter how much you beg, I won't stop. Not now, not ever. This will be your one and only chance for salvation.”

“I don’t need salvation professor, I want to help you satisfy these urges that you have inside you” A moment of silence passed as they both stared into each other’s eyes. With it’s passing a harshness entered into Flitwicks gaze that Harry felt in his groin. It stirred his lust and he was raging hard.

Flitwick reached up and twisted the choker on the boy's neck. It dug into his skin and hurt. Using this grip for leverage he pushed Harry back, bending him up onto his tiptoes causing him to be practically sitting on the edge of the sink.

Twisting tighter, Harry felt his airway cut off completely and Flitwick ripped the fabric around the boy's cock with his free hand. Without pause the professor began to blow him with forceful bobbing of his head.

Flitwick bobbed his head up and down on Harry’s shaft. He made no indication that he’d stop twisting the choker until he was satisfied. He made sure to twist just hard enough so Harry would feel the maximum amount of pain without leaving any lasting damage on his favorite student.

Nothing had felt so freeing, erotic, and frightening in his life. Harry had always known deep down, ever since being a baby left to cry, that he was deserving of nothing less than to be abused. He reveled in the pain and pleasure, which mixed in his mind until he was exploding semen all over himself and the professor.

He was falling suddenly and felt his face slam into the ground. He began to look up, but a hand came down and pushed from behind so his face went flat on the floor again. One eye squinted shut from his cheek being smushed up the other explored looking for any sign of what was happening next.

The only thing he could see was the cup, now on the ground again, as he felt a wet sensation run down his ass crack. After that came a hard pain in his ass as Flitwick began to fuck him harshly.

With Harry completely flat on the ground Filius mounted with one hand on the back of his head and the other at his hip. The professor huffed and moaned as he continued to furiously roll his hips back and forth causing his impressive cock to slam in and out.

“Such a tight hole,” he gasped and then leaned forward so his arm was no longer extended from the back of Harry’s head and his chest was pressed to the boy's back. He reached around and shoved his fingers into Harry’s mouth gripping at the sides and pulling to use as leverage for his thrusts.

His moans reached an animalistic lusting with their unintelligible sounds. He began to growl viciously with each slamming thrust and Harry felt tears rolling down the corners of his eyes from the pain. With one final booming grunt Flitwick filled Harry’s ass with his cum and then after a pause thrust a few more times for good measure.

The last pump must have hurt a little because Flitwick hissed and pulled out. He whipped his cock in the air and jizz flicked from it across the back of the motionless boy.

Harry rolled over, his face wet with spit, semen, and tears. He looked into the professor's eyes and said, “thank you.”

“It’s not a problem at all, sidekick. The first time is always the hardest. Don’t you worry. I’ll help you stretch your hole,” he said with a grin. Taking out his wand he made a flicking motion and a butt plug magically appeared inside of Harry’s hole trapping the warm seamen.

—

It was late in the evening as Terry sat at his desk writing a letter for Marcus. Break was already half over and he had heard terrible stories of the riots, death, and forced slavery of many across the world. His parents had done a lot to keep him from reading the stories, but he was able to get much of the picture.

The wizards as a whole were at war and they were losing. Terry wanted to get into the fight. He was writing to Marcus to ask for help. If the two of them could get together he hoped they might run away and find a group of rebels who were resisting the C.O.C.K. uprising.

Hope was thin in London from what he could gather, but in many places, America foremost, there was much more upheaval and disruption. He looked out his window and just then saw a group of three Satyr’s walk down the street openly. They seemed to just be talking amongst themselves.

“Pieces of shit,” Terry said to himself as he stopped and watched them. He started to fantasize about going out there and burning them alive with a spell, but realized it would bring more trouble than it was worth.

Even scarier than the magical creatures and their rampaging assault was the muggle situation. Terry had heard his father say he wasn’t sure how much more the last remaining wizards could do to keep them from seeing the situation as more than an insane spree of animal attacks and drug addicts.

He felt a pain in his tooth and pulled the pencil away from where he had been absently chewing it. The metal tip was flattened and the eraser was barely attached by a strand. He tossed the mangled writing utensil onto the desk and growled.

Arms crossed he looked out his bedroom window at a distant fire that he could see burning in the city skyline. His brow knit and mouth turned into a deep frown he fell backwards out of his seat when his window exploded inward.

“What’s the fuck,” he shouted as he scrambled up from the floor to the far wall and put a hand to his face where blood was trickling down a cheek. He followed with his hand up to a deep cut above his left eye.

He hissed in pain, but instinctually pulled a piece of glass out of the wound and then pressed a pillow sheet to the spot.

He looked all around the room with his still uncovered eye, but saw nothing that could have caused the explosion. As he was preparing to leave his door opened and his parents came in.

“Are you ok?” his mother asked coming to his side. As soon as she reached him an arrow came from the open window and struck her in the chest. She fell away with a mumbled “oof.”

“Honey!,” Terry’s father shouted and lunged to catch her as she fell. He lowered her to his lap as he knelt on the ground and a hand went to the arrow, but he hesitated instead of yanking it out.

A cackling high pitched laugh came in from the darkness outside the window.

“Toss me over the bush,” said the same voice that had been laughing. “And damn nice shot by the w-“ the words were cut off as the voice instead became a bark of surprise.

Griphook came up over the bush outside the window and flopped unceremoniously into the center of the room. He cussed and fumbled to remove his cloak which he had become entangled in.

“You monsters!” Screamed Mr. Boot as he threw himself at the scarred goblin. Griphook came to a battle ready stance and easily grappled the man down onto the ground.

Terry began to say something, but his words were cut off by the sickening chop of Griphook’s axe coming down on his fathers neck. The head separated cleanly from the body and rolled with a surprised look on its face.

“Noooooooo,” Terry tried to scream, but it came out as a hoarse croak.

“Hurry up little one,” Bucephalus said, sticking his torso into the blasted window.

“I’m going to,” Terry said, but his voice was distant and his arms were limp. He realized that he had dropped the pillow case and blood was mixing with the tears that were now streaming down his cheeks.

“Hush my precious,” Griphook said and wiped at the tears with his thumb. He hoisted the still bloody axe up onto his shoulder with the other arm and then grabbed Terry by the hair. It had grown long and thick with his last casting of the growth charm and was voluminous and strong when the goblin used it to drag him from his home as a nearby soldier goblin tossed a torch into his room. What used to be my room, he thought with horrified realization.

Chapter 8

The room was upside down when Terry finally opened his eyes again. He had passed out or someone had cast a spell on him because the last thing he’d remembered was his parents being brutally murdered.

“Help!” His senses returning, Terry realized his arms were dangling over his head and that the room wasn’t upside down - he was. He looked down (or was that up?) at his feet and they were tied together hanging from a rope that was hooked to the ceiling.

“Anyone?” He struggled to see the room and in his movements caused his free floating form to begin swinging and rotating. With the room now spinning he became sick and when the nausea reached a peak he vomited down his own face and into his hair.

The sting of bile ran into his nose and eyes and he fell into a coughing fit. His entire body ached and his feet were on fire from circulation being cut off. The rotation slowed, as Terry stayed still, collecting his wits.

After his pause he reassessed the room and saw that it was dimly lit by torches in each corner. The room was a square and twenty feet by twenty. The walls were stone and the floor covered in a dingy gray rug.

He focused on the furniture and was unsure of their use as they looked like straps and cranks attached to various positioned boards. He was hanging almost directly in the middle of the room and on one of the walls was a single door that looked strange to Terry.

He shouted again, but this time it was primal and angry instead of quizzical and the words were mumbled and unrecognizable. He shook twice as violently as before and tried to reach up to his feet.

The door swung in and Griphook walked forward saying, “tsk, tsk, tsk.” He wagged a finger as he closed the distance to the upside down boy. Terry realized the door had looked odd because it was short, goblin height.

“You fucking monster! I’m going to kill you.” He started swinging again from the violent shout and Griphook reached out to stop him so he faced the scarred goblin eye to eye only inches apart.

“Hush my pet,” Griphook said and pinched the boy's cheeks together, biting his puckered lips in a savage kiss. Terry began to beat at him with his free arms, but stopped as his strikes landed on hard leather armor that was covered in tiny spikes.

“Ow,” Terry said and pulled back; small pin pricks of blood appeared on his fists and arms.

“You like my war suit?” The goblins waved a hand at the armor that covered him from neck to toe in layers of dark brown leather. He unslung his battle axe from his back and leaned it against a nearby machine.

“Let me down!”

“Where are my manners,” Griphook said in a fake voice of dismay. “Please, welcome to my humble abode.” He pulled a lever that was on the floor nearby and the boy dropped to the floor with a loud thud.

Looking up at the ceiling dizzy from the shock of blood rushing out of his head Terry saw the grisly visage of Griphook come into his view again. The goblin had an ugly smile on his face and licked his lips.

He grabbed Terry by the hair and drug him kicking to the far wall where he shackled his free wrists to the wall with manacles. They were tall enough to force Terry to remain kneeled, but far too tall for him to sit comfortably.

“You look parched,” Griphook said and then lifted a bucket from nearby. Terry’s slight lift in hope was dashed by a cold surge of water hitting his face and chest. The surprise of the sudden impact left him gasping and whipping his head about trying to get his hair out of his face.

“”Why are you—” A solid thwack interrupted the boy’s attempt to reason as Griphook’s gloved fist hit his mouth.

“No questions, my pet.” Griphook walked to a nearby table and lifted a sheet that had been covering something. Terry expected to see all manner of torture instruments, but was shocked when Griphook grabbed an apple from a large platter of fruit.

The fruit was in the middle of an entire feast that had been set up. Terry sniffed at the air and now that his nostrils had been cleaned of his own vomit he could make out the aroma of delicious foods.

“Hungry?” Griphook asked with a wicked smile.

“Fuck you.”

“In time maybe you will be given the privilege to ride me as you see fit with the freedom of a good slut boy. But for now you are still wild.” He walked over to Terry with a dangling piece of ham that glistened with smoked skin and glazes of honey. “I need to break you first.”

“Fuck. You.” Terry turned his face away in an effort to defy the nasty overlord, but he heard his stomach ache and grumble with the nearness of the delicious food.

“No tricks. I need you strong.” Griphook dangled the meat by the boy's face who again turned his head away trying not to want the sweet and salty piece of heaven.

“Right, I won’t fall for that shit.”

“Suit yourself.” Griphook began to eat the hunk of meat in front of Terry with loud chomps and moans. He licked his fingers when done getting the salty honey remains off his fingers. Terry licked his lips, but tried to turn away.

He resisted for a good hour. Avoiding any sign he was interested. Even throwing the occasional curse at the goblin tormentor. Eventually though as Griphook ate a bit of everything from the table and continued to offer him some he broke.

“You will feed me?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“No tricks?”

“None, we need you healthy for the real games.”

A moment of tense scrutiny passed where Terry surveyed every inch of the goblins' features and demeanor for some sign. He nodded almost imperceptible and Griphook stepped up with a piece of cake.

Terry ate it from his hand with wanton mouthfuls. His eyes were closed and he never remembered something tasting so good. Griphook took his time and fed him some of nearly everything until Terry was full to bursting.

“Good boy,” Griphook said and then bent over to kiss the boy. The frosting and juices from the foods made the kiss taste good and Terry found himself giving out a satisfied mumble. He sat up startled by how far he had let down his guard and braced to be struck.

Griphook reached up and loosened the manacles so that a chain that ran through the hoops had slack and Terry could sit comfortably. He smiled and said, “A reward for a good boy.” Griphook left the boy to sit and wait. Unsure of when he would return and only his doubts and fears as company.

—

Oberon raised his arms over the pit and chanted some ancient words that Ragnok and the others didn’t recognize. Looking down into the blackness of that hole, as wide as a city bus, you could see only absolute darkness.

“You're sure this will work?” Ragnok asked.

“Again, yes.” Oberon answered his words floating in the air like butterflies. He motioned for the twelve Fae behind him to spread out and they did. They went all around the pit at equally spaced intervals leaving one spot with a slightly raised mound of dirt where Oberon went and stood.

They each reached out with their arms in unison and began to chant the words Oberon had just used. Green and pink energy flowed from their fingertips between each of the Fae and the circle began to close.

“You know your role?” Oberon asked Ragnok who gave a small nod, but gulped audibly.

“Maybe we should have waited until Griphook was available to do it.”

“Squamish?” Oberon asked with a raised brow.

“No.” Ragnok replied too fast.

The slender king left the sentiment alone and began to chant more. Ragnok looked around at the massive pit they had put in the courtyard of Hogwarts and was still in awe of the power of the combined Fae.

If they could make this massive pit with a few hours of chanting and some various twigs and berries, he was scared that the events he was about to be a part of might have the potential to go horribly awry. After all they had spent days in preparation and then there was his part — his thoughts were interrupted as the ground shook.

“Not long now, be ready,” Oberon said over a humming that was becoming louder by the second. Ragnok stepped into the circle they had drawn in the dirt for him. He reached into his pouch and retrieved a curved dagger of fine steel and silver. The red gems in the hilt glinted from the swirling light of the magical energy of the circle.

He looked up to the dark sky and Ragnok had a moment of regret. He wished that when Flitwick and Griphook had come to him he had simply sent them away with a laugh. But he had thought it a fun game to play; messing with the humans. He had thought it would be a riot to involve the Fae who had spent so much time dormant over the last century.

“Now. We are ready, king of the goblins.” Ragnok had been greedy. He had heard Oberon call him that on their first meeting and it had stuck in his mind as the penultimate goal. He would be the actual king of the goblins and not just a de facto one.

“It’s too late now,” Ragnok said aloud. Despite the winds from the swirling energy, and the hum of the growing power being far too loud for Oberon to have heard him, the handsome Fae smiled.

A goblin outside the circle came forward holding a football sized bundle in his arms. He presented it to Ragnok who hesitated for a second before reaching through the spinning light and taking it.

A grimace on his face Ragnok turned to the pit and shouted, “We offer blood for blood!” He let the rag on the bundle fall away and the baby inside began to cry.

It kicked its chubby feet about and wailed with a high pitched scream. Barely a month old the creature was like melted puddy in the goblins hands who lifted it high over the pit. He gripped the little tike in one hand too tight and it began to cough. That cough turned to a gurgle as his knife blade crossed its neck and a thin red line appeared.

He dropped the bleeding baby into the pit and as the blackness opened up to swallow it Ragnok felt a piece of himself fall with it into that abyss.

—

“You’ve been at that damn school for a few months and you come in here dressed like a goddamn idiot demanding to live with your boyfriend!?”

Harry watched as Uncle Vernon coughed up food he had been chewing. It was unfortunate to catch the Dursleys at a late lunch, they were voracious eaters and it was not a pleasant thing to watch.

“Well sorry, but we just figured you deserved to know why I wouldn’t be back.”

“Don’t apologize to these heathens Harry,” Flitwick said and placed a hand on the boy’s leg rubbing the spandex covered limb.

“Heathens!? You are part monster, you filthy little….little….goblin!” Petunia shouted and she dabbed at her eyes with a napkin removing imaginary tears.

“These idiots are far worse than I had expected. You did them way too much service based on what you’ve told me.”

“Can I kick the stupid little man father?” Dudley asked between mouthfuls of mashed potatoes. Harry sighed and looked out the window. A storm had been brewing.

In fact the storm had been getting worse all evening and it was quickly approaching something out of a medieval depiction of rapture. The sky was dark with thick black and gray clouds with crags that showed through to a green and pink sky underneath.

“Wow, the wind is really picking up,” Harry said, not paying attention to the bickering match going on between Filius and petunia.

“More concerned about the bloody weather than breaking your aunt's heart,” Vernon said and reached out to smack Harry across the back of the head. His glasses fell off his face and landed in the gravy.

“By Merlin’s beard, you insolent—” Flitwicks words were cut off when he climbed onto the table and dodging plates walked to stand in front of Vernon. Without a pause he slapped the man across the face and then grabbed him by the collar.

“Ow, you can’t—” the fat man began to protest, but Flitwick smacked him again. The resounding smack of the hit was accentuated when the windows in the kitchen burst inward. They began to bang about off the walls and a massive gust of warm air flowed into the room.

“Mommy I’m scared,” whimpered Dudley as he went to his mothers arms and they crawled under the table to hide. A loud voice boomed in the heavens and it spoke words none of them understood.

Harry helped the professor off the table and they walked out the rear door into the back yard. They stood in stunned silence as the wind whipped around them and the voice came again bellowing in an ancient tongue.

“What is it saying?” Harry asked.

“It is an ancient language, one I’m unfamiliar with, but it sounds similar to Fairy.”

“Fairies eh? The only two god damn fairies here—” Vernons words caught in his throat and he hitched a little in his step as he came out the back door. He stumbled from the movement and fell down. Petunia ran to his side, but also fell to the ground shaking and convulsing.

“Mommy, Poppy!” Dudley screamed and scuttled to stand over the two who were shaking violently, eyes in the back of their heads. “Stop hurting them,” he said and pointed at Harry and the professor.

“Not us,” Harry mumbled.

A loud voice boomed overhead, but this time it spoke in English, it said, “We offer blood for blood!” With the finishing of the statement the air went calm and a brief second of silence fell over all of them.

Suddenly Dudley began to vomit blood in massive wretches that gargled in his throat. He fell down on top of his parents who had stopped convulsing and lay still with blood dripping from their ears and eyes.

Harry looked at Flitwick and they said nothing. In silence the professor took Harry’s hand and ushered him from the Dursley house as they went to find out what the hell had just happened.

Chapter 9

London was on fire and so were Marcus Belby’s legs. He had been running for an hour and his heart pounded with every step. Worse than the physical exertion was the horror of it all. The smell of smoke, blood bright against the sidewalks, and shouting on top of the din of sirens and the crackle of flames.

Marcus was unsure if his parents had gotten out alive, but his house had been raided. A group of centaurs were slaughtering any who fought and dragging away slaves tied and gagged. He had run for his life dodging in and out of various buildings.

He heard the distinct sound of hooves just behind him and he ducked down an alley between two buildings. He got to an L shaped corner and went around it with abandon. He ran face first into a centaur waiting for him.

Marcus bounced off the creature and sprawled out on the dirty alley. He felt a hand grip the back of his shirt and he shouted, but was unable to hear himself over the ringing in his ears. He was lifted fully off the ground by a firm grip and dangled in the air before the centaurs face.

“He will make an easy ride. We shall take him home for pleasure.” Two other centaurs behind the first made noises of agreement and two more came down the alley where Marcus had entered. The massive muscular creatures eyed him like a fine piece of meat at a feast and Marcus felt a whimper escape his mouth.

“Hush child. Now that so many muggles are dead and their cities collapsing there are far worse fates than to be one of our plaything,” said the most vocal of the five centaur and he held Marcus aloft as the other two on either side of him began to bind his arms and legs with rope. They tossed him, now hogtied, over the back of this supposed leader's haunches and the five began to exit the alley.

A shrill howl pierced the chaos and the group looked up to the top of a nearby building in unison. The source of the sounds was a shadowy figure gripping the shingled roof. It was massive and hunched over and in the dwindling dusk light the ominous figure sent a shiver up the spines of even these most grizzled veteran warriors.

“What is that?” one asked, and his questions were answered when the figure lept two stories down to the cobbled street at the mouth of the alley.

Standing before them was a massive wolfish form. It had elongated arms and corded muscles that could be seen beneath thick fur. Its face was pulled back into a fierce snarl and its muzzle had scars from many fights. It was as large as the centaurs and it had yellowish teeth and claws that stood out against its black fur.

“Step aside,” commanded the leader of the centaur group, but his voice was cut off by another ear piercing howl from the werewolf. As the note rang out it was suddenly harmonized from behind them and half the group of centaurs turned to see that the backside of the alley was now being cut off by two more of the creatures, one brown and the other, the most scarred and menacing looking of them all, was gray in color.

The centaurs huddled together and Marcus squirmed to see as best he could, but the carnage that followed was more an assault on his senses of hearing and feeling than sight. He tumbled from the centaurs back when the werewolves charged and he rolled away into a pile of trash. He fought to get free and saw a glimpse of a werewolf ripping the hind leg off a centaur.

He felt a massive form knock into him and went reeling again this time stumbling to try and regain his footing. The ropes at his feet began to loosen, but he slipped in something wet and fell flat on his back. While he looked up he saw hooved legs about to come down on his face, but they were swept aside by a massive gray arm.

Blood droplets rained down onto his face and chest. Marcus rolled to his stomach and began to squirm, the leg ropes coming completely off. As he inched like an army soldier on the ground he realized that the wet he had slipped in was blood and he was now covered.

He looked up and could see the lead centaur sink an axe into the shoulder of the gray werewolf who used the chance to step inside his reach and then bite his face savagely. The sickening tearing sounds of the flesh rending under the shaking of the wolf's head back and forth had Marcus looking away and attempting to stand.

He got his feet underneath him and took one step towards the exit when his path was cut off by the black werewolf. He put his bound hands up before him defensively and opened his mouth to speak, but found no words coming out. The alley was suddenly very silent and very still.

Marcus dared to crane his neck and look around him. The five centaur lay in mangled bloody heaps. The gray werewolf was bleeding from his shoulder wound, but it seemed less severe then one would have thought. The only sound that Marcus could hear coming from the wild beasts was strained breathing from the fight.

The gray werewolf, the leader based on the other two's deference, spoke to Marcus. His voice was rough and inhuman, but understandable when he asked, “are you ok human wizard?”

“Um,” Marcus said dumbly. He patted at his chest and looked down at his blood soaked clothes. “I think so.”

“Good.” The werewolf came forward and sniffed his face from only a few inches away. “You have a wolf’s spirit inside you. It is buried by shameful human activities, but I can smell it.”

“Oh, ok.” Marcus stepped back from the creature and continued, “Thank you for, um, saving me, but are you going to eat me?”

“We have enough flesh here.” To prove that point the other two beasts began feasting on the downed centaurs. “I am Fenrir Greyback. We are growing our pack. Would you like safety in these times of trouble?”

“As a…werewolf?”

“Yes.”

“I…uh…sure why the fuck not.”

—

For just a moment Flitwick feared the worst as he stood inside the Bronze Bar. Harry was supposed to be right behind him and he watched the fireplace wringing his hands.

“Come on,” he whispered and wiped his brow. They had fled down Privet drive in the wake of, whatever the hell had happened, as people came fleeing from their homes. Many were covered in blood and screaming hysterically that their loved ones had fallen over dead.

Once at a safe location, a coffee shop at the end of the street, they had tried to use the floo network. Harry was unable to apparate and Flitwick was apprehensive to take the boy for his first ride along in his current state.

As many times as they tried to use the network to go to Hogwarts nothing would happen. Flitwick knew he had permission to use the command word, and thereby anyone he deemed it appropriate to share it with, but the saying resulted in them standing dumbfounded in the fireplace unmoving.

With nothing else to do Flitwick finally told Harry to go to the Bronze Bar. It was a local haunt he had been to a few times in the Copperway Commons and he figured he could call upon Griphook or Ragnok once there to see what the problem was. His recollection of the events was interrupted as Harry came stumbling out of the fireplace in a heap and gush of green flame.

“Oh thank god,” Flitwick said as he knelt down next to the boy and gripped him in a tight hug.

“I thought it wasn't going to work for a second, but then—“ Harry stopped speaking and looked around the room. “Where is everyone?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” Flitwicks brow knit in concern, but he shook his head to push away any fears and helped Harry to his feet. “Come on, we should move.”

The two took off out the main door and down the gilded streets of the goblin community. The shops and residences were eerily empty as they passed and they saw only one other person on their way, an old goblin with a hunched frame, who ducked into a doorway when they stumbled by him.

After only a couple minutes of jogging Flitwick was more confident with his bearings and pointed when Griphooks home came into view. The two ran up to the metal door on the side of the wall and began to pound on it.

“Griphook, it’s Filius and Harry. Are you in?” The professor waited a moment then slammed his fist down a few more times. He placed an arm around Harry reassuringly then said, “what is going on!”

Harry began to shift uncomfortably and looked up to Flitwick with pleading eyes. “I’m scared.”

“Me too if I’m being honest. But I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” The door opened and Griphook peeked at them from a small crack he had allowed in the frame.

“What the hell do you want?” he asked with a sneer on the small portion of his face Flitwick could see. It was exceptionally dark behind him and Flitwick craned slightly to see past him, wondering why he had left the door only cracked.

“Can we come in, it's bloody chaos out here. The muggles….are dieing or something and the commons seem damn near empty.”

“Yeah most of our kin are probably at the summoning.”

“The summoning? What?” Flitwick gave a stupid gap mouthed stare, but Griphook didn’t seem to have anything more to add. “Will you let us in and discuss this?”

“Get fucked and get lost….wait us?” He opened the door a bit further as he said, “who’s with y—“ Griphook’s face twisted into a sinister smile when he saw Harry huddled up next to the professor, his eyes darting about like a scared rabbit. “Yeah, come in.”

Griphook swung the door wide and the two entered in haste. Once inside Flitwicks eyes took a moment to adjust as the room was dark, only being lit by a few sconces, one on each wall. After he could see again he noticed Griphook had hastily walked past him and closed a door to an adjacent room.

“What’s in there?” he asked the scarred goblin and realized that he was in only his underwear. “Good heavens Griphook, where are your clothes?” Flitwick threw his hands up and a strand of his hair came loose from behind his ear falling in front of his face. “I demand some answers already!”

“Cool your tits.” Griphook locked the bolt on the door he had closed and went to do the same on the front door.

“Why have a deadbolt on the outside of a room?” Harry asked and a concerned gaze passed between him and Flitwick.

“You're probably here because you can’t get into Hogwarts?” the half naked goblin said as much as he asked. “Good luck for me.” He laughed a bit under his breath and he went over to Harry and sniffed at the boy's underarms by grabbing him in a rough grip.

“Ow,” Harry squealed and Flitwick stepped up to push at Griphooks hands.

“What with the lame suits though?” Griphook said as he stepped back from the shove Flitwick had given him.

“We are your guests, we are tired, we have seen several muggles die from an apparent sickness, or something, and now you are treating us with utter disrespect. I demand that you give answers or this is going to end poorly, Griphook.” Filius reached to his waistband and produced his wand. He had a dead serious scowl on his face.

“Ah ah ah,” Griphook said, his tone clearly mocking. He wagged a finger at Flitwick and then as if it was supposed to mean something to the two he said, “how nice of you to join me for business.”

The word business came out of his mouth strangely and it floated to the professor's ears. He suddenly felt the ground under his knee and his wand fell from his grip. He put his hand to his leg and tried to push off and stand, but his strength seemed gone. Harry was staring blankly off into nothingness next to him and he gripped the boy's wrist.

With every fiber of his body working overtime Flitwick scooped up his wand and pulled on Harry’s arm to find his footing again. He swayed back on his heels, but kept his balance and then leveled his wand at Griphook.

“Leave us,” Griphook said with a smirk on his lips. “Walk out the door and never come back to look for the boy. You are bound and you will comply.”

Flitwick opened his mouth to spit an insult, to say something defiant, or to simply demand answers again, but he couldn’t do it. He turned around and left Griphook’s home without Harry or a glance backwards.

—

Harry could feel his body, but it was a prison. His mind raced around inside and watched with horror as his dearest friend - no, more than that, his first and only lover - turned to leave. He told his arm to reach up and shove the Goblin who had come to stand before him, he told his legs to run, he told his lungs to fill and scream for the professor to come back, but nothing happened.

“You can breathe,” Griphook said, playing mindlessly with the boy's cape and smiling at him. Harry felt his lungs begin to take in air again. “We’re going to have so much fun you and I.”

Griphook reached up and tore the spandex suit Harry was wearing away revealing his naked chest. He licked at it and caressed the boy’s nipples. Harry was glad he was stifled from saying anything or a moan of approval might have escaped his lips because the warm wet touch of the goblin felt good.

“I’m so happy you signed that contract. No need to break you like your friend. I can just have you to play with as I see fit.” He fondled the boy some more before ripping the rest of the suit from him leaving him completely naked in the shadows of the room.

Griphooks left the and came back with a latex suit in hand. He set it down and commanded Harry to put it on. Without a word and despite inner turmoil as to whether he should or not Harry began to slip into the suit, which was skin tight to his body. It had zip up holes for acces to all the erotic zones and once the suit was on Griphook handed him a gas mask.

“That too,” he commanded and Harry began to adjust the straps. Once it was to his size he slipped it over his face and wiped dust from the lenses. “Sorry I had to get that out of storage. It was Grandpa Madknuckle’s.”

He held out gloves and Harry instinctively responded to his will pushing his hands inside. They did the same for a pair of heavy leather boots. He felt snug and despite his fears about the whole situation and the sudden change of events Harry found he was comfortable and even appreciative of the suit as he had been of the superheroes outfit.

“You want to see something really special?” Griphook asked, but chuckled, “of course you can’t answer unless I allow you too.” He took Harry by the hand and walked him to the door where he had switched the deadbolt. He undid the latch and opened it up.

Inside were all manner of contraptions. Harry was unsure of most of their purpose, but one in particular was in use. In the far corner of the room was Terry, completely naked, with a ball gag in his mouth. He was strapped into a device that loosely resembled a bike. With his arms pulled forward onto the handlebars and his legs on a couple pegs he sat with his balls dangling from a thin seat.

Terry mumbled and wiggled, but he was mostly incoherent. Harry got the sense he knew someone was there, but not much else. “He’s under a powerful zombification spell. It makes him docile, but takes away a lot of his cognitive power as well unfortunately. Not like you. Thankfully you get to be present for all our fun.”

Griphook pulled Harry closer and when they stood next to Terry in the contraption he noticed more details about it. The device also had a cylinder that was rotating back and forth around his cock. The inside was slick with a soft material and lubricated. As it continued to shift back and forth Terry convulsed and had an orgasm.

His semen dripped from his cock down into a bucket which, to Harry’s surprise, was almost full. “He’s giving me an orgasm every three to four minutes.” Griphook said with a big smile. “The room here is enhanced with powerful runes that speed up the production of semen and keep the cock stiff almost indefinitely as long as the stimulus is maintained.”

Harry’s mind raced with the sick admiration one might have for an atomic bomb. It is a serious affront that the device even exists, but damn was it ingenious, and useful.

“I’ll hook you up in due time,” the overlord goblin continued, “but for now I need to get your hole used to being used.” Griphook began to feel his ass and back, a hand roaming all over the boy's backside and Harry felt his cock stiffen. Griphook opened the zipper and Harry’s shaft sprung free.

Taking the boy by the hand, Griphook strapped him into a stockade. This forced Harry to be bent over with his ass out and ready for presentation. The Goblin unzipped the opening back there as well and gave a few playful jerks to the boy's stiff erection. He then began to eat Harry’s ass slurping and moaning with pleasure.

“Mmmmm you taste good, but I can tell you’ve been using your little boy hole since I saw you last. Has the professor been stooping to our level?” Griphook waved a hand and black smoke came out and magically tightened Harry’s asshole. Harry felt his eyes roll back with anticipation for the plowing he knew was coming, but only felt more licking and fondling.

Griphook came to stand before him and twisted a knob on his gas mask. The compartment that was meant to purify air began to leak backwards doing the opposite of its intention, filling the mask with a strong scent of goblin odor.

“My own musk, saved up for you,” Griphook said and released his own cock from his leather battle suit.

Harry began taking massive whiffs of the musk in and felt it taking hold of him. The contract's magic was loosening as long as the power word wasn’t reactivated he realized, but his own hormones and desire were taking over. It was the sexiest smell he could imagine.

Harry finally felt his mouth move under his own will as he said, “I want your goblin cock in me so bad.” Griphook couldn’t help but chuckle and clap his hands with glee. He danced his way around behind Harry and began playing with the boy's ass again, but not penetrating.

“What do you want?” he asked playfully.

“I want your cock. Fuck me until I come. I want your cock milk inside me. Fill me up!” Harry was practically raving with desire and he wiggled to try and back his ass up because he could feel Griphooks cock floating behind him teasing at his back door.

“I dunno, maybe you’re too eager,” Griphook replied with a wide grin.

“No! Please, I need it.”

“More than Flitwicks?”

“Yes, oh god yes, please!”

Griphook smiled even broader and then slid just the tip of his massive cock into the boy's ass.

Harry howled, “more,” and wiggled about.

He slowly moved inch by inch deeper into the boy's tight hole.

“Don’t stop, I want more!”

Griphook’s cock reached full insertion and he shuddered with ecstasy. The ass was the tightest he’d ever felt and he took a moment to douse his own desires and thoughts or he would be done too quickly.

Bringing his gaze back down to his thick cock inside the boys ass he began to fuck. He took his time, but worked at a massive smacking pace shortly thereafter. Harry howled again and his cock and balls bounced from the rough fucking.

Griphook took the boy by the hips and used a firm hold to intensify the fucking until Harry squealed, “Yes I submit master Griphook,” and shot a huge load of jizz all over the dingy carpet floor.

Harry’s wails of ecstasy awakened a primal desire inside Griphook and he felt himself going wild. He was smacking at the boys and clawing down his back, drawing blood. He licked up the mess and continued to fuck, taking slow turns to cool and then repeating his wild phases even stronger each time.

“We’re going to fuck all of you into oblivion!” Griphook screamed as he came the hardest he had in years. His jizz filled Harry up and squirted out backwards as he continued to ram his stiff dick in and out with abandon. Once enough was inside the boy he pulled out and removed his limp form from the stockade.

“All right boys,” Griphook said with a malicious intent in his eye. He waved a hand and gray black smoke wrapped around both victims moving their bodies through the air. “Time to switch out… Cause I’m just getting started”

Chapter 10

Hogsmeade was eerily quiet as Flitwick waited in the shadow of a small shack on High Street. He could make out Zonko’s and the other usual shops from his location and was surprised to see them boarded up and unoccupied.

Whatever had happened to the Muggles must have skipped the town because none of the carnage or mayhem he had seen elsewhere was going on. Unlike the Copperway Commons, which seemed to have been hastily abandoned, it appeared a concerted effort was made to fortify and leave behind the sleepy village.

Flitwick decided that he had waited long enough since apparating to the alley. It was easy enough of a location to remember in great detail ever since his first date had ended here so long ago with his first blow job.

The professor stepped out into the street and now under the overcast sky made his way up the street heading towards Hogwarts. The incident that had struck down the Dursleys was fresh in his mind and the fear of being unable to apparate or flu his way into Hogwarts had his curiosity running on overdrive. Not to mention the horrors he feared Harry was enduring.

“Hold on my love,” he whispered and quickened his pace. Within a few minutes, he could see the front gates. He was shocked to notice a couple of grubby goblins standing on either side with patchworked suits of armor and pikes.

As he approached the one to his left barked out, “who goes there.” The diminutive figure leaned over and whispered to his friend, “always wanted to say that,” but his helmet slipped down onto the bridge nose and over his eyes causing him to fumble with his pike and push it back up.
“It’s me, Professor Flitwick,” he said and raised his hands up in a sign of no ill intent.

“My oh my if it isn’t the pushy professor, Spiznak look who it is.” said the rude clerk who Flitwick recognized now that he was closer. He smiled faintly, but kept out of pike distance and waved slightly.

“Oh yeah, so it is. What do you want, professor? I think schools out, for good.” Spiznak slapped his comrade on the arm when he said the remark and both goblins broke into a fit of laughter.

“Yes, very humorous,” Flitwick said with a sullen expression and more than a bit of sarcasm.

“You need to lighten up.” Spiznak’s friend turned and began to open the gate.

“Not an ounce of muscle on the man, if he lightens up he’ll float off,” Spiznak said and the two guffawed even harder. Once the gate was open the clerk turned guard looked back and saw Spiznak making a birdie with his hands and miming them flying off. This caused the first guard to laugh until he coughed and then wiped away tears. He caught his breath and actually slapped his knee.

“You always entertain yourselves so easily?” Flitwick asked as he approached.

“You are obviously a great big snob. I doubt you find anything funny – half-blood,” Spiznak said and this time his tone was as sharp as the end of the pike he leveled in Filius' direction.

“He definitely won’t laugh when he sees what's inside.” The other guard put a hand on the pike to lower it and then said, “Just give me your wand and you’re free to enter.”

“Not a chance.” Flitwick stepped back and the goblins stepped off to the side in response. They were pushing into a triangle and Flitwick's instinct for dueling knew all too well what that meant. “You can let me pass peacefully you know?”

“Not a chance.” Spiznak took another step when he said it, distancing further off to the side. It was getting more difficult to keep an eye on them both. Flitwick sighed heavily and ruffled the cape of his suit out behind him.

“Last chance.” Flitwick's voice was low and steady. He let his foot slide in the dirt behind him bringing him into a slight crouch. Now nearly out of his peripheral vision off to his side Spiznak was the first to strike. He lunged forward with his pike hoping for a fast and easy victory.

“Huh?” was the stupid remark that came from his voice as Flitwick dropped under the strike in the knick of time. His wand was drawn in a swift fluid motion from years of practice and leveled at the goblins breastplate just above the hipline.

A white blast shot from the wand and the jinx struck. A simple knockback charm, but it was placed expertly on the goblin's center of gravity. With the lunge motion only half completed, the spell struck Spiznak while he was almost completely off the ground already.

The result was devastating. The breastplate dented and Spiznak hurled through the air some ten feet backward before he crumpled against a nearby street lamp. The entire post listed slightly from the impact and a low moan was all that could be heard from that direction.

Not wasting a second Filius dropped to his stomach in the dirt as a black ball of goblin magic hurtled past where he had been standing and struck a portion of the wall. Acid dripped from where it hit and began to devour the stone beneath it.

Flitwick rolled in the dirt off to the side once, twice, and then a third time. He came up into a crouch and rolled again before whirling around and leveling his wand at the other goblin. Another bolt of goblin magic had whirled by and missed him in this second set of dodges and he could only smirk when his gaze fell on the other goblin -- he had him beat.

His helm had fallen forward and he was completely turned around trying to get it back up. He tripped and fell over his pike which he had dropped to his feet. Flitwick stood slowly, keeping his wand at the ready, and then began brushing dirt and grass off of his suit. The other goblin finally regained his bearings somewhat and got the helm back up.

“You should've kept your job at the bank.” Flitwick gave a twist of his wrist and a spell shot out from his wand hitting the goblin in the back of the head. Soon various bindings came forward and began to wrap the floundering goblin tight.

“Please don’t kill me.”

“Come on, I'm not a barbarian.”

“You killed Spiznak.” The wrapped-up goblin’s eyes shot to the crumpled heap of armor that was his friend and Flitwick could sense real fear in his face.

“He should be fine, it was just a knockback jinx.” Filius made sure the bindings were secure and then turned to leave. Thinking better of it he went back and approached the form of Spiznak cautiously.

Once close enough he kicked at his limp leg hoping to rouse the unconscious man. After a few nudges, he realized that something was amiss and stepped forward to shift the slumped-over form up so he could see his face. Spiznaks head lolled back in a limp fashion, mouth agape, and blood dripping from his neck.

Flitwick’s stomach dropped and he knew from the look on his face the goblin was indeed dead. He shifted the body more until he found a deep gash in the back of his head. He saw that it was deep enough to have cracked the skull and likely scrambled the goblin's brains like an egg.

“Damn,” Filius whispered and dropped the body to slump back over. He began to laugh then. Hysterically and uncontrollably Flitwick laughed for a few moments as the bound goblin nearby tried to squirm away like an inchworm.

Having gotten the laughing fit out of his system, Flitwick went to join the fleeing guard. He smiled as he kicked him over and looked into his frightened face.

“Why are you laughing you sick freak.”

“Don’t you get it? Don’t you see the irony?”

“No, that was my friend.”

“Spiznak…Peshnak? Both with a cracked head? That's what started this whole thing.” He looked expectantly into the frightened eyes of Spiznak’s friend but saw no recognition. “Who’s the real monster? You don’t even know why you're here.”

Flitwick's boot came down perhaps a little harder than he had intended on the stupid look that stared back up at him. Deciding he was unlikely to get a welcoming visit from the others at the castle after such a tussle the crafty professor said, “Leviosa,” and moved the unconscious man to a nearby hut.

Once inside Flitwick took the man's armor and pike, which he donned. He snatched up some hair for polyjuice potions and said aloud to himself, “time for a little subterfuge.”

–

Morgan Le Fay walked through the halls of Hogwarts with Ragnok and Oberon in tow. She passed through the first wing and smiled at how quickly the superior races had taken over. This section was dedicated to the satyrs and they had set up shop for their lewd games in every corner of the previous Ravenclaw haunts.

A dark-furred but red-headed satyr near one door stood masturbating as he looked inside. Le Fay watched over his shoulder and saw that a group of some dozen satyrs were inside with young muggles chained up and spread eagle.

They took their time as they went about exploring the boy's bodies. More than a few were sucking on the young cocks and making them come. Another was fisting his muggles ass for intense prostate stimulation. The depraved acts were as numerous as there were members.

The three de facto leaders wandered off towards the Gryffindor wing and the ground was soon covered in hay. Buckets were hung from nearby hooks and sconces. Le Fay peaked inside and giggled to see massive dildos, butt plugs, and gags.

She came to a classroom door that was ajar and inside was a large centaur. He stood much taller than the muggles who he had tied up to a carousel. The ropes that ran from the center to their heads were strapped on with Bridles.

The men moaned and squealed through their bits while on all fours. As they walked in a circle around their master who struck them with a riding crop they simulated a trot with their front arms and if they failed they were struck extra.

“Good you are catching on well Pony Hal,” boomed the voice of Bucephalus from the side of the room. He cantered forward and shoved a massive butt plug into the disgraced Auror’s ass. Hal nodded through tears streaking down his cheeks and mumbled something that vaguely sounded like ‘thank you, sir.’

Le Fay cooed at the whole scene and walked off towards the dining hall. Once there she clapped her hands together happily. Inside the hall were a hundred shiny benches designed with a hole cut in them for milking the strapped subjects' cock.

Griphook approached from the side of the room and wiped at his sweaty brow. He offered a hand in greeting and said, “been a few days since you – um – got here and I still haven't introduced myself.”

Le Fay ignored his outstretched hand and responded, “I’ve needed my beauty sleep. Coming back from the dead is difficult.”

“Right,” Griphook said and looked at his hand confused. He dropped it to his side and shrugged before adding, “you going to fill us peon’s in soon?”

“Yes I intend to explain the culling and my future plans before the masses soon, but for now I think they are happy to fuck and feast.”

“Culling? Like the, uh, curse Oberon was telling us about?” he looked to the ever ethereal and poised Faerie King then, but Le Fay spoke up pulling his gaze back.

“Yes. The culling that took place was enacted when the good king revived me with the blood of the line of Arthur.” She nodded to Oberon who in turn inclined his head. “That then wiped out his lineage across all the realm. Some 1 percent or so of the population shared his blood by this point. A disproportionate number here in England and Scotland.”

“That’s intense,” Griphook said and then picked at his teeth with a grubby pointed fingernail.

“Not as intense as the next culling.”

“Next?” Oberon said.

Ragnok looked shocked too and stepped forward saying, “My lady we are in control now do we need more bloodshed.”

“We are in control here. This tiny island. If what I have learned from your texts, and scrying the world is MUCH larger than in my time.”

“The world?” the Gringotts Director said incredulously before he went on, “the entirety of England is in the dark ages. People are looting. Governments have fallen, but the world is much stronger than that, it has essentially quarantined us as a terrible anomaly.”

“That is why we must strike again. And again after that. We will destroy the lines of all the great leaders of all the world until the populace is weak. We are the chosen ones and they must do our bidding! Arthur could never understand this. Are you too weak? Will you be herded into a cage again? Locked away from the wildest desires of your hearts?”

“Fuck no!” Griphook cheered and Ragnok looked a pale shade of green as he watched the rough goblin spit on the face of a nearby muggle boy who they had chained to a sconce as they worked. “I’m gonna get this castle up and running to pump out a whole swathe of goblin-human hybrids who will follow you to the bitter end lady!”

Morgan Le Fay smiled at him and waved a hand for him to go about his business as she left the room. She walked from the main door of the castle and looked out at the path that led to the main gate. All the way down the path poles had been erected at an equal interval. Strapped to the poles some ten feet off the ground were the girls and women of Hogwarts.

Wombs and throats slit all the way to the gate. Blood soaked the ground and Ragnok couldn’t look directly at it. Seeing the death and contempt dispensed to them was too much for him to bear and when he looked to Oberon he saw for just a moment the slightest twinge at the corners of the Fae King’s eyes.

“Look what we did,” Ragnok said after Le Fay wandered off onto the grounds and out of earshot.

“I fear,” Oberon began and then turned to cast a concerned look on his diminutive co-conspirator, “we may have made a grievous miscalculation in our plans.”

Chapter 11: Story update

Hello everyone, it’s Mr. wizard here.
I’m writing this to make you aware that Downfall of the wizarding world and Paw patrol will be put on hold. We don’t know how long it’ll take seeing as real life circumstances and a lack of interest on my part is leading us to take a break.
We will most likely continue to work on separate projects, and we are unsure of when/if we will return to these.
We deeply appreciate your interest and enthusiasm for our stories.