La Blue Wizarda HP fanfic by canoncansodoff

Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

oo00OO00oo 

Chapter 10 – Bed knobs and Broomsticks 

When Hedwig flew into an opened kitchen window of “Ty-yr-Hydd” (the house of the stag), she thought nothing of holding a leg out towards Emmeline Vance…Harry’s familiar was, after all, a very smart owl, and she knew that his godmother was a Potter in everything but name.

Emmy, in turn, knew that Nia and Morgan wouldn’t allow the letter to remain unopened until their mother came home from work, or their father back from an emergency Board of Governor’s meeting. And she was just as excited to hear from Harry, so she opened the letter, and served up the separate notes that her godson had thoughtfully written to his two sisters along with their after-school snacks. 

The two young witches were thrilled to learn that their brother had been sorted into Gryffindor (even if they were disappointed that he didn’t reveal to them exactly how that decision was made). Emmy, after reading the much longer message that had been written for adult eyes, was thrilled that Harry had managed to keep his tentacles from popping during the confrontation with Draco Malfoy (or the encounters with older flirty witches, for that matter). At the same time, she was chuffed that the Sorting Hat was such a perv…a close inspection of her godson’s memories would have revealed a dozen different times in which he’d accidentally seen her naked while she was “cooking some pudding” in the Naughty Nook, or walked in while she was sharing a “nap” with his mum and dad. 

Once they arrived home, James and Lily echoed Emmy’s sentiments. Harry’s father came back from his meeting with independent information about the events that his son had described within the letter, and they were all pleased to see just how well Harry’s version matched up. They were also glad that he’d been sorted into Gryffindor, where his “Auntie Minnie” could watch over him, but at the same time nervous that he was in the same house with The-Girl-Who-Lived.

When dinner was done and Nia and Morgan had their baths, Lily and Emmy informed James that they would write their response to Harry, while he put his daughters to bed, as they had better penmanship, and a bit more tact. There also would be less chance that Harry would learn something from the Board of Governors meeting that he shouldn’t…now that he was a Hogwarts student, they all clearly saw the need to avoid even the appearance of impropriety, for fear that it it’d be used by James’ political opponents (a group which, they were sad to say, to some extent still included the school’s Headmaster). 

Emmy and Lily were finishing up at the kitchen table when James came downstairs from the girls’ rooms. 

“I’ve got Nia and Morgan’s contributions,” he announced, placing a hand-drawn picture and a parchment filled with dense lines of script on the table. He chuckled, and added, “I wonder if Morgan’s note contains more questions than Harry’s new Muggleborn friend had for him?” 

“Oh, hush, you,” Lily admonished. “I think it sweet that he’s taken this girl under his wing…don’t know how I would have survived my First Year if someone hadn’t helped me.” 

James scowled. “Oh, yes…we all owe Snivellous our eternal gratitude for his sniffing around your knickers.” 

“Don’t go there, James,” his wife scolded. “I don’t recall you acting that way when you were a First Year…you were too busy thinking up pranks with your mates.” 

“Yes, yes, I was a terrible git before you got hold of me and showed me the error of my ways.” 

“And you showed her the length of your tentacles,” Emmy quipped. 

“Didn’t hear you complaining after your first showing!” Lily protested, as she lightly swatted her best friend’s arm. 

“Or second, or third,” Emmy said, as she waggled her eyebrows. “Although it did hurt a bit after that fourth time, when he buggered us behind the Quidditch Stadium.” 

“Stop!” Lily chided. She then turned and swatted her husband’s leg. “And get that dreamy look off your face!” 

James shook his head and blinked. “Sorry, couldn’t help but rememb…that was the first time with all four of you wasn’t it?” 

Emmy laughed. “It was, wasn’t it? And we were all sore afterwards, and walking funny back towards the castle, and Minerva spotted us and sent us to see the Matron! Oh, it was so hilarious…Alice and Carol were both convinced that we’d be expelled for anal sex!” 

Lily sighed. “And it was a lucky thing that Poppy already knew about Demon-James and covered for us.” 

“Lucky thing she taught us that lubrication charm too!” Emmy quipped. “Ah, Good Times!” 

With a roll of her eyes, Lily signed the letter that she’d just completed and spelled the ink dry. “Right, so now that we’re thoroughly off the cart path…better get this off so that he’ll have it for breakfast.” 

“And so we can all get to bed?” James asked hopefully. 

“Is that the same thing as getting a good night sleep?” Lily asked, as she tied the letter to the leg of Milo, the family’s owl. 

“Not if I have any say,” James muttered, heading up the stairs. 

Lily rolled her eyes…both she and Emmy had heard her husband’s comments. But as she watched Milo fly out into the dark night, she worried her lower lip with her teeth.

“Emmy?” 

“Yes, Lils?” 

“You know the offer still stands, right?” 

“And what offer is that, Luv?” 

“Oh, please…must I spell it out?” 

“Yes actually,” Emmy replied with a smile, as she walked behind her friend and pulled her into a hug. “I like it when you talk dirty to me.” 

Lily shook her head and giggled. “Right then…would you care to have my husband stuff his big blue cock up your fanny and fill you with enough spunk to wash your womb?” 

“And this offer is different than all of the others because…” 

“Because I’d be countering your contraceptive charm before hand, and making certain that you get the child that you’ve always wanted to have!” 

“Hmmm…” Emmy hummed, as she reached up and cupped her friend’s breasts through the fabric of her lightweight robes. “You’ll have to get down really close to cancel that spell, won’t you?” 

“You’ve never minded me sticking my nose down there before.” 

“Nor you tongue, for that matter,” Emmy teased, punctuating her quip with a pair of pinches. 

“Hey!” Lily protested, as she clamped her legs together and covered Emmy’s hands with her own. “I’m trying to be serious here!” 

“Then you’ll never get between my legs,” he friend quipped. “That dog still doesn’t get the message that I’m not interested in him!” 

“You know what I meant.” 

“Yes, I did,” Emmy replied, as she nuzzled her face against the side of Lily’s neck. “So why now?” 

“Besides the fact that we’ve shared cycles since Fifth Year and I know that you are ovulating?” 

“Yeah, besides that.” 

“Well…it’s a little quiet around the house now that Harry’s at school, and you won’t be nearly as busy filling cartridges for him…sounds as if half of the witches at Hogwarts can feed him with a handshake…” 

“And you’ve discussed this with your husband?” 

Lily snorted. “He’s as much your husband as mine…and yes, we’ve discussed it.” 

“And he’s willing?” 

“When is my demon-spawned husband not willing?” 

“Good point,” Emmy replied, as she nibbled on Lily’s ear. “So would you be there with us, if I said yes?” 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

Emmy snorted into her friend’s auburn hair, and then asked, “Because you’re almost as much my wife as his wife?” 

Lily caught her breath, then leaned back into Emmy’s embrace. 

“I’d like to think so,” she replied. 

“Good,” Emmy replied brightly, as she let go of Lily’s baps and stepped back. “Because it just wouldn’t seem right to shag your husband unless I also got to shag his wife.” 

When Lily turned she discovered that her companion was now sitting on the edge of the kitchen table with wand in hand. A moment later, banished robes and undergarments were on their way to the dirty clothes bin, and her spread-legged friend was skyclad. 

“Let’s get rid of that contraceptive charm,” Emmy purred, as she reached down to spread herself even wider for Lily’s inspection. “And as long as you’re in the neighborhood…” 

“Looking for a good depilatory charm?” Lily asked with a grin. 

“I’d rather look at your mouth clamping down on my clit!” 

Lily smiled, as she swung a chair around in between Emmy’s knees. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

It only took a few minutes for Emmy to wonder if they’d ever make it upstairs to James. 

It didn’t take that much longer for James to sniff out Emmy’s first release, and head back downstairs for a midnight snack…a snack that turned into a successful fertilization amidst a seven-course meal. 

oo00OO00oo 

It took the threat of a fork stab to the hand to twist Harry Potter’s attention away from the Great Hall’s windows the following morning. 

“Yes, Hermione?” 

“Oh, honestly Harry…have you heard a word I’ve said all breakfast?” 

Parvati Patil, who was sitting across from the pair, reached out and stilled the hand that held the silver-plated weapon. 

“Give him a break, Hermione,” she said. “And let him act his age.” 

“And what does that mean?” the bushy-haired witch demanded. 

“That means,” offered Daphne, who was sitting between Parvati and Lavender, “that he’s an eleven-year old wizard who has got Quidditch on his brain, rather than our first Charms class, or Shakespeare…” 

“Or snogging,” sighed Lavender. 

“Hey!” Harry protested. “When have I acted like I’ve got snogging in mind when I’ve been around any of you?” 

Lavender smiled, batted her eyelashes, and reached out to cover Parvati’s hand that was still covering Harry’s. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Harry…I must have been thinking of someone else.” 

“Yeah, like yourself Lavender,” offered Daphne Greengrass, with a smile. 

Harry arched an eyebrow…it was the first time that he’d heard The-Girl-Who-Lived crack a joke. And it was about snogging? This fact would have fascinated Harry, had he really not had Quidditch on the brain. 

“Here they come!” he announced, pointing towards an inbound flock of correspondence. 

Harry’s impatience was rewarded, and then some. First it was Hedwig that swooped down carrying a large tube-shaped package…then Milo, with a letter from home. And finally, trailing behind all of the rest, two very large eagle owls carrying a long rectangular crate in tandem. 

“Yes!” Harry hissed, as he punched his fist in the air.

“Bloody hell!” Ron swore, as the owls dropped the box onto Harry’s and Hermione’s laps (it was that long). “Is that what I think it is?” 

“Dunno, mate,” Harry replied brightly, as he scavenged rashers of bacon from any plate within reach and offered them up to the eagle owls. He then glanced at his wrist where a watch might have been and added, “Well, would you look at the time? Better get all this back to the dorm before class!” 

“Not so fast, Mr. Potter,” huffed Percy Weasley, as he strode down the aisle.

“What?” Harry protested. 

The First Years all felt an imposing presence that was well-dressed in black.

“As much as it pains me to agree with a Weasley spawn, Mr. Potter,” hissed Severus Snape, who had flown from the Head Table almost as if he were a post owl himself. “I think that we all would like to have our curiosities satiated.” 

“I’m sorry, Professor Snape,” Harry replied, hissing the title as if he spoke parseltongue, “but I wasn’t aware that Hogwarts staff had the authority to intercept owl posts, or demand their inspection.” 

“Of course that authority exists,” Percy snapped. “There need be only a reasonable suspicion that the contents of that post either violate school rules, or would facilitate such a violation. And as I reminded you only yesterday about the prohibition against First Years bringing broomsticks to school…” 

Harry only heard the first part of Percy’s pomposity, his attention torn away by a summoning spell that ripped the box off of his lap. 

“I’ll take this back to my office to check for any dangerous hexes or jinxes…for your own safety, of course,” the Potions Professor sneered, as he patted the box that now sat in the crook of his arm. “And should its contents prove as innocent as you seem to claim, then it will be returned to you at some later point in time.” 

A hand placed on Snape’s shoulder caused him to whirl around violently with his wand extended and a hex on his lips. 

Minerva McGonagall frowned, and calmly pushed Snape’s arm to the side so that his wand was no longer in her face. 

“While I appreciate your obvious concern for the well-being of one of my students, this is more the responsibility of one’s Head of House, wouldn’t you agree, Professor?” she asked. “Or should I begin to concern myself with all mail delivered to Slytherin House, so that I might extend the same courtesy and concern that you are now displaying?” 

Snape scowled for a few moments, before he redirected his wand tip towards the box and cast a half-hearted detection spell. 

“The box is free of hexes,” he declared. “So long as your student seems to think that he’s done nothing wrong, then perhaps the easiest way to resolve your prefect’s suspicions is for Mr. Potter to open it here and now.” 

Snape’s Percy-enabled jujitsu placed Minerva in a difficult situation. She sighed, and then turned towards Harry. 

“Mr. Potter, do you know what is inside this box?” 

“No.” 

“Do you have reason to suspect what might be in the box?” 

Harry paused for a moment, and then shrugged. “Yes.” 

“Assuming that your suspicions are proved out, would the receipt of this package violate school rules?” 

Harry smiled, and shook his head. “Not according to my understanding of school rules.” 

“Then, Mr. Potter…if you would be willing…” 

Harry stared at his Head of House for a moment, before nodding slightly. Once Snape grudgingly sat the box back down upon the breakfast table, Harry drew out his own wand, and ran it along the edge of the lid. Once he completed this traverse, the lid popped open, and the black-haired wizard pushed it to the side. By now the entire Great Hall was watching the confrontation play out, with more than a few Slytherins angling for a better view by standing on top of their table (which was placed farthest from Gryffindor’s). Harry pushed away some straw, and tissue paper, and pulled out… 

“Bloody hell, Potter,” Ron Weasley swore. “That’s a Nimbus 2000!” 

“Language, Ron!” Percy scolded. He then turned back towards Harry said, “That certainly looks like an illegal broomstick to me.” 

“Well it isn’t an illegal broomstick,” Harry declared, as he snatched the broomstick away from Snape’s reach. “It’s game-used memorabilia.” 

“What are you on about?” demanded Percy. 

“It’s not a personal broomstick brought to school by a First Year student,” Harry declared. “I didn’t bring it with me aboard the train, and it didn’t come from home…it came from Holyhead.” He then reached into the box and pulled out an engraved plaque with two hooks for a broom handle to rest upon. “And see here…a wall-mounted plaque…says this broom was used during a league match by a member of the Holyhead Harpies. So it’s not a broomstick…it’s a souvenir!” 

“A souvenir that nonetheless can fly?” said Snape. 

Harry shrugged and smiled. “I guess I won’t know until I try, will I Professor?” 

Snape’s face actually grew a shade darker than palest pale, and he sputtered, “You’re purposely trying to circumvent the rules!” 

“No, I had no idea that that there would be a Nimbus inside that box,” Harry retorted.

“Of course not,” Ron Weasley muttered. “The Harpies all rode Comets up to the start of this season.” 

Snape sputtered. “This has your arrogant father’s name written all over it!” 

Harry smiled, and quipped. “No, Sir…those appear to be the Harpy’s autographs down the length of the handle.” 

“Mr. Potter?” McGonagall asked. “Your cheek isn’t helping the situation.” 

“Yes, Ma’am…sorry, Ma’am,” he replied. Spotting a note still within the box, he snatched it up and gave it a glance. “Here…here’s a handwritten note from the Harpy’s captain. It says…” 

“As if we’d believe what you say it says,” Snape snapped, grabbing for the parchment.

Harry snatched the letter back, and handed it to McGonagall. 

“Alright, then Sir…perhaps you consider my Head of House to be more worthy of your trust?” 

The Potions professor scowled, but did turn towards his colleague. Minerva nodded in recognition, and read the letter out loud. 

“Dear Harry, 

Congratulations on being sorted into Gryffindor House! I’m sure that your parents are thrilled, and I’ll be counting on your scouting reports regarding your team’s Chaser line…we hear that they might have what it takes to play for Holyhead some day (and I’m not just talking about bits!).” 

A squeal was heard from halfway down the table, as Angelina and Alicia began to chatter. This only added to the frown growing on their Head of House’s face over the letter writer’s choice of words. She nonetheless continued. 

“A little birdie has told me that one of your new dorm mates follows Muggle football, and has hung a picture of his favorite team on your dorm room wall. I insist on equal time, and I’m counting on you to convince him that Quidditch is a far more exciting and nobler pursuit. To that end, the girls and I have sent along some wall decorations to use as part of your marketing campaign.

Love and kisses (it’s all your mum will allow us until you’re a bit older), 

Gwenog Jones” 

The Great Hall erupted with cries of excitement and disbelief over what the Assistant Headmistress had just read. The First Year Gryffindor girls blushed and the Gryffindor boys gasped when Harry then opened the tube that Hedwig had brought him and rolled out an autographed team poster of the Harpies…a enlarged magical photograph of the starting team’s seven, all sitting on the same broomstick (it was, of course, a very tight squeeze given the broom’s standard length). 

As for Severus Snape…his reaction was a tad more violent. The well-dressed wizard reached across the table, grabbed Harry by the robes, and pulled half-way across. 

“You’re LYING!” Snape bellowed, as he forced direct eye contact onto the first-year wizard. 

Harry’s reaction was unexpected…he smiled, and unleashed the kind of twinkling in his eyes that would have impressed his Headmaster. 

“Go ahead, Professor,” the eleven-year old whispered, looking Snape straight in the eyes. “Make my day…it'll make my father’s decade.” 

The Potions master sucked in a deep breath at the whelp’s cheek, and wondered whether it'd be more satisfying to forge ahead with a nonverbal mental probe, or give the boy the back of his hand. 

He took a third path.

“One-hundred points from Gryffindor,” he whispered, quietly enough so only those closest to the two could hear him. “And a month of detentions!” 

Harry snorted. “Might I ask why, Professor?” 

“For threatening a Professor…or would you rather be expelled?” 

The First Year student calmly shook his head. “I have at least a hundred different witnesses who would say otherwise. So why don’t I just appeal your disciplinary action, and if it can't be resolved within the Headmaster's office we can have the Board of Governors sort it out?” 

“You wouldn’t…” 

“Might I make a suggestion, Professor?” asked Albus Dumbledore, who had arrived “just in time” to diffuse the situation. 

Snape roughly expelled his held breath, and pushed Harry back into his seat.

“Of course, Headmaster.” 

“I think that the spirit of the rule on First Year brooms focuses more on possession then or how the student acquired the broom, or its intended use.” 

“But!” Harry began to protest. 

Dumbledore held up his hand.

“Hear me out, Mr. Potter,” the old wizard insisted. “I am also concerned that such a valuable and unique souvenir would a tempting target, whether it was stored in the shed or hung on your wall. But if this broomstick were kept in the secure hands of say, your Head of House…” 

Harry frowned. “And would I have access to this souvenir?” he asked. 

The Headmaster smiled. “That would be between your Head of House and yourself, young man. That said…I see no reason why you couldn’t take temporary custody of the…souvenir…on an occasional basis.” 

“Occasional enough to accommodate Oliver Wood’s schedule?” Harry asked. 

Dumbledore chuckled. “That will depend on your Head of House, Mr. Potter…as well as, one would think, the results of this afternoon’s trials?” 

A small smile crept onto Harry’s face as Snape began to fume again. “Thank you Headmaster…as for the points and month of detentions?” 

“Yes, yes,” the old man said with a nod.  "For a most ingenious and creative solution to a perceived problem, I award Gryffindor ninety points.” "

“Ninety?” demanded Harry.  "And what of the detentions?"

Dumbledore nodded. “Pardon an old wizard’s hearing…the issue is over the assignment of a single detention to be monitored by Professor McGonagall, is it not?” 

“A single detention, or single month?” asked Snape. 

“I don’t think that we need bother the Board of Governors over a single detention and loss of 10 points net, do we?” Dumbledore asked, looking at both the Potions professor and Harry over the top edge of his eyeglasses. 

“No, Headmaster,” Snape choked out. 

Harry smiled. “Fine by me, Sir.” 

“Good, good…carry on then,” the Headmaster insisted, as he nodded to all involved parties and headed back towards the Head Table as if nothing had happened. 

Once Snape stormed off towards the dungeons, Harry hazard a glace towards McGonagall and was rewarded with a frown of disapproval. 

“Sorry, Professor,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll do my best to get those points back in class today.” 

“That’s not what I’m concerned about, Mr. Potter,” she said. Handing Gwenog Jones’ note back to Harry she added, “You’ll thank me for not reading the postscript out loud.” 

The black-haired wizard glanced down at the bottom the letter and sucked in a breath. 

“P.S. Hey boyo, since I’m letting you ride on my broomstick, perhaps you’ll react favorably if my niece asks to ride on yours someday?” 

“Plan on discussion this witch’s level of…familiarity…during your detention in my office tonight.” 

“Yes, Professor.” 

“I’ll be back at the end of breakfast to collect your...souvenir, then,” she said with a curt smile. 

“Thanks, Professor,” Harry said with a nod, quickly stuffing the letter into his pocket. He then turned back towards the table and found more than half of his house mates hovering over his gifts from the Harpies. 

“You know this is the fastest production stick on the market, right now?” asked an awed Oliver Wood. 

“Yeah,” Harry replied. “Most of the Welsh team rode them this past summer.” 

“And you know this is the same broom that the witches are sitting on in this picture?” added Fred. 

“Really?” Harry asked with a boyish smile. 

“Bloody hell he’s right,” said George, comparing poster to broomstick. “They even signed where they were sitting!”

“I believe you’re correct, dear brother,” said Fred. “Though it's such a tight fit..hard to tell if they're sitting on wood or lap.  I wonder if they were wearing knickers?” 

“Fred Weasley, you are incorrigible!” Alicia announced loudly. 

“But am I wrong to think it?” he asked, as he pointed towards the pictures. 

The grins and giggles coming from the photographed Harpies suggested that he was not. 

oo00OO00oo 

“I am most disappointed in you Severus,” Albus Dumbledore said later that afternoon, as the two watched the Gryffindor trials from the Headmaster's office window. “It was, admittedly, a most artfully presented piece of bait, but you still should not have swallowed the hook.” 

“The boy is even more arrogant than his father…and the impudence! He’ll hold the threat of his father’s place on the Board over me as long as he’s here!” 

“Not quite that long,” Dumbledore replied. “There are but four years left for your community service?” 

Snape spat out the window in the general direction of a Nimbus-riding wizard. 

“Four years that will cause treble the pain and suffering that I've experienced over the first eleven…blast James Potter and his suggested alternative sentence!” 

“Would you have preferred to have served that time in Azkaban?” 

“At least there the die is cast, and all uncertainty removed!” Snape observed. “You can’t imagine how hard it is for me to kowtow…to bite my tongue…for fear of giving the Board of Governors cause to sack me and send me into the arms of the Dementors!” 

“Alas, but I do,” Dumbledore replied. “For I feel myself under that same sentence…were I to give the Board cause to seek my replacement, how much longer would be your tenure at Hogwarts? How much longer your salaried service to Greengrass Enterprises?” 

Snape sighed deeply. “So that means we have to allow the boy and his father to walk all over us?” 

“Not at all, Severus,” Dumbledore replied. “James Potter lacks the votes on the Board to act with impunity…so long as your direct disciplinary actions are relatively even-handed, your job is safe. And if actions are more indirect….” 

“That’s the best I can hope for until the whelp’s O.W.L. year, then,” Snape concluded.

“I’m glad you see it that way, my boy,” Dumbledore replied, as he tossed a lemon drop into his mouth. “Voldemort is still out there, and we’re no closer to identifying the child of prophecy. I need you here, by my side, to ensure that the Dark Lord is vanquished.” 

Severus rolled his eyes and changed the subject. “I can’t believe you allowed the boy that broom…it is unfair to the other houses.” 

“Why would you worry so?” Albus asked with a twinkle in his eyes. “Harry is but a first year, and even if he makes the team…it takes more than a fast broom to play seeker, especially if you are his size and weight. You need a sharp eye, and experience…the Slytherin Seeker is an upper year, correct?” 

Snape nodded.

“So if I give the boy a boon, perhaps…perhaps he can learn to trust me more than his parents do. And he is already showing signs of leadership…were he to bring his friends along with him…” 

“You mean his harem?”

“Oh, Severus…they are only First Years, and not all witches.” 

“He might be a First Year, but some of those witches aren’t. Some of the wizards as well…it looked like Wood was going to soil himself with delight this morning.” 

“Well, it has been a rather long time since another house has won the Quidditch Cup, hasn’t it?” 

“And that is a problem….how, exactly?” 

The Headmaster chuckled. “The Gryffindor-Slytherin match is nearly two months away…surely that’s sufficient time to develop a game plan that would effectively counter any advantage in broom speed?” 

Snape nodded as his eyes darted back out towards the Quidditch stadium, and he began to wonder how he could best arrange for Harry Potter’s maiden match to be his last.