La Blue Wizarda HP fanfic by canoncansodoff

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

oo00OO00oo 

Chapter 6 – Last Minute Mothering 

30 August, 1991 

Emmeline Vance chuckled as she stood in her godson’s bedroom and watched Lily Potter cram in a few more minutes of mothering before her first born left for boarding school. This smile didn’t mean that she lacked the same love or concern for young Harry’s well-being. She had, after all, been almost as much a part of the eleven-year old’s life as his parents had…even more so, in one key area. No, her ability to enjoy the byplay between mother and son was derived from having far more faith in Lily’s careful planning that Lily herself had. 

“Have you got all your books packed?” 

“Yes, Mum.” 

“Owl treats for Hedwig?” 

“They’re right there on the side of the trunk, Mum.” 

“Wand?” 

“Of course, Mum.” 

“Then what about your inhaler?” 

“Yes, Mum…it’s right here,” Harry replied, as he pulled a small object from his pocket and held it out. 

Lily frowned as she inspected the magical device that she’d invented nearly a decade past. It had always been a reliable method to feed Harry the orgasmic energy that he needed, and had done much to diminish the squick-factor associated with Emmy’s role as Harry’s “wet nurse” (even when that nursing was done from behind a heavy curtain). But with her son going off to school hundreds of miles away, they wouldn’t have Emmy available as a live back-up. 

“And you have enough spare cartridges?” 

“Yes, Mum…ten of them, each loaded with three square meals.” 

“And every one of those orgasms is strong enough to feed you, and keep your gifts a secret?” 

“You’d have to ask Auntie Em about that, now, wouldn’t you?” the young black-haired wizard replied, giving his godmother a wink. 

“Don’t get cheeky with me, young man…” 

“Fine…let’s just say that there’s ever been a problem with her energy levels before, and leave it at that, okay?” 

“Hey, I’m just trying to make sure you’re safe and sound at school…you know that the Matron will have an emergency cartridge in the Infirmary, right?” 

“Mum…relax!” replied Harry. “I know that Auntie Poppy knows about me, and will help if need be. But why do you think there will be a need? I’m going to be in a castle filled with three hundred hormonally-charged students, for Merlin’s sake! I’ll probably suffocate from all of the ambient sexual energy in the air!” 

“Now, you don’t know that for certain…” 

“Oh, Mum…don’t tell me that it wasn’t like that when you and Dad and Auntie Em were students!” 

“Never you mind, young man,” Lily said, with hands on hips. “Unless things have changed radically, students will not be wanking or shagging in the halls!” 

Harry chuckled. “Which is why I’ve already got Dad’s Invisibility Cloak and the mapped locations of all 127 of the castle’s broom closets stowed in my trunk.” He paused, and then quipped, “So do you want to tell me now how many of those naughty nooks have Dad’s and your initials carved inside of them, or shall we leave it a surprise?” 

“Oh, hush!” 

“Or yours and Auntie’s initials?” 

“Harry!” 

“Or more than two sets of initials?” 

Lily Potter rolled her eyes and sighed, quite certain that no other mother in the world had an eleven-year old son who was as comfortable talking about sex with his parents as hers was. Or mature enough…or as well-informed. 

That this was borne from necessity due to his heritage was completely beside the point. 

“Come here, you!” she growled, pulling Harry into a hug. “I’m so sorry that you were forced to grow up so early…” 

“I’m not Mum,” Harry replied. “It’s only because of my gifts, and that’s not something that I’d ever want to give up…and besides, I wasn’t forced to grow up early…I’ve always been big for my age.” 

“Well that’s true enough,” Emmy chimed in, as she joined the hug.

She didn’t have to bend over to do so…Harry Potter’s demon-side had always made him far bigger, faster and stronger than his peers. From grasping objects when he was a week old, to crawling at two months, and walking at six…and now, at age eleven, he was already a very muscular 5 foot 8 inches tall and nine stone and two in weight.

“Right then, time for bed,” Lily declared as she patted Harry on the back and kissed his cheek. 

“Yes, Mum…right away, Mum,” he replied, using a sing-song voice. 

“Don’t you get cheeky with me, young man!” 

“Yes, Mum…right away, Mum.” 

“Oh!” Lily hissed, slapping Harry on the arm. “I’m going to check on your sisters…I expect you to be in bed, and lights out in five minutes. 

“Yes, Mum,” Harry said with a brilliant smile.

When Lily finally left the room, he turned to his godmother/wet nurse and asked, “So…Auntie…what are you going to do with all of your free time once I’m away at school?” 

“As if Nia and Morgan will let me have any free time,” Emmy replied. 

Harry nodded, and then rather suddenly blurted out, “Fetha ‘ch” (“I’ll miss you”) 

Emmy tilted her head and squinted a bit. “Oh, no, Romeo…save the Welsh for girls more your own age,” the witch relied as she reached up to muss his messy hair.

“What…you mean you won’t miss me as well?” 

“Of course I will…now get to bed…I’ll still be here in the morning.” 

“But will you be behind the curtain tonight? That’s what enquiring minds want to know,” Harry asked cheekily. 

“Never you mind, mister!” Emmy growled, as she punched the arm opposite of the one Lily had slapped.

As the blonde-haired witch left Harry’s room she spotted Harry’s Mum coming out of his youngest sister’s room. 

“Both asleep, then?” she asked. 

Lily nodded, and asked her best friend if she wanted to join her for a drink in front of the fire. Emmy shook her head, saying that she was thinking of turning in early, as there was still a partially-filled inhaler cartridge on her nightstand. Harry’s mum insisted that there was time enough for that later, and pulled her unofficial co-parent downstairs for some serious reminiscing. 

oo00OO00oo 

The two witches had the most of the night to themselves, as James had volunteered to supervise the night shift in order to have time to bring Harry to King’s Cross the next day. And they spent most of most of the night talking about Harry, his gifts, and the girls that would no doubt benefit from those gifts sooner than either hoped. 

That the young demi-demon hadn’t yet reached puberty was a topic that covered two full glasses of wine.

It was rather paradoxical…that a boy who appeared physically to be closer to 15 than 11, and who had been forced to learn about the “birds and the bees” well before his “ABC’s”, and completely aware by age four of what his godmother was doing behind that heavy curtain in his room, had not yet begun his physical sexual development. Aside from his tentacle growth, of course…those appendages, designed for sexual activity, could extend out twenty feet in length. But each tentacle was designed for the pleasure of others, rather than one’s self, and was physically more like an arm than a penis (lacking the nerve bundles and pleasure points that would facilitate Harry’s sexual release).

Not that Lily or Emmy was at all anxious for that stage of Harry’s life to begin. From what little they knew about the normal, unblocked sexual development of a male with Shikima heritage, the onset of puberty could be painful even when that development was unblocked, and marked by period of time in which the demon side was nearly uncontrollable, and unquenchable without large amounts of direct sexual contact. They only hoped that the transition would occur some time over the holidays in a more controlled environment (not knowing exactly when onset would begin, Lily and James arranged for a half-dozen “retired” Vestal virgins to be permanently on-call to help Harry get through that transition since his ninth birthday). 

oo00OO00oo 

When Lily and Emmy finally made their way upstairs it was well after midnight, and well past two bottles of wine. Once checks were made on the children, Lily began to giggle, and tease Emmy about her plans to charge an inhaler cartridge. The blonde haired witch waggled her finger, and stated that she was quite certain that Lily would be filling a cartridge for James’s inhaler just as soon as she was in bed (the same system that kept Harry discreetly fed had made it easier for James to keep his needs in check while he and his wife were both at work). Lily snorted, and decided that that was the best idea that she’d heard all night…but if she was going to do it, she wanted both some encouragement, and some company. 

And this is how two giggling thirty-one year old witches found themselves sneaking into the “Naughty Nook” portion of Harry’s bedroom dressed in thin nightgowns, with inhaler cartridges and “chargers” in hand. 

That these cartridge charges bore the appearance of foot-long dildos was entirely by design. 

Lily cast a heavy silencing charm on the curtain divider, then plopped down onto the sofa next to her friend, and popped the cylindrical three-inch long cartridge into the back end of her flesh-covered “unit.” The device magically came to life, warmed to her touch, and began to vibrate. 

“How about ‘Satyrs drag a nymph behind the bushes’?” she asked, as she slipped off her knickers and threw a bared leg on top of her friend’s. 

“No, just asked for that one a few days back,” Emmy replied, as her own ‘charger’ sprung to life in her hands. Having given up on knickers years ago, she didn’t have to do nearly as much wiggling as Lily to get set up in a comfortable position. “Haven’t seen ‘Lesbian witches get caught sucking fanny in the broom closet by the Assistant Headmistress’ in a while, though.” 

“Oh, yeah…a classic!” Lily said brightly, as she absent-mindedly rubbed the tip of her charger against a gown-covered nipple. “Just as long as the black-haired actress doesn’t play headmistress…she’s always looked far too much like Severus in drag for my liking.” 

Emmy snorted. “And whose liking would that image cater too?” 

Lily giggled. “I hear Snape spends far more time in the Headmaster’s office than any of the other Hogwarts staff.” 

“Gah!” Emmy gagged. “I thought we were going to be using the painting to help us get in the mood, not kill our mood!” 

“Yes, yes,” Lily replied. “So do you want to call? The echoes have always responded better to your requests.” 

“That’s because I’m such a good stage director,” Emmy replied brightly. She then called for Aleksander the echo, to make an appearance within the magical painting. She then explained with an exacting degree of detail just what they wanted to see on stage, and the scene began. 

The cane swishing Headmistress was played by a big-breasted brown-haired witch that looked nothing at all like a cross-dressing Potions master. The two ‘students” were played by oil-painted actresses whose roles had long ago been permanently assigned to them…one with red hair and green eyes, and the other the spitting image of Harry’s wet nurse. 

The two live witches turned towards each other and shared a tender kiss before getting down to work. 

oo00OO00oo 

The next morning, Lily Potter greeted her husband at the hearth with a hug and an inhaler cartridge. James didn’t complain too much…he would have preferred a quick shag, but realized that Lily would want to spend as much time as she could with her son before she left to do whatever it was she did within the Department of Mysteries. 

A morning shower kept the Potter family from breakfasting on the patio that overlooked the Welsh seaside resort of Aberystwyth. They didn’t mind though, as their focus was very much inward that morning…while Harry’s departure for Hogwarts was the main table topic, it was also the first day of primary school for his sisters, and they were just as excited as he was. 

When the meal ended, Lily gave her three children last-minute hugs, took some last-minute pictures, and dispensed some last-minute advice to Harry before she reluctantly stepped into the hearth a few minutes before eight, and floo’ed to the Ministry. Deciding that he desperately needed a nap, James then headed upstairs to bed. This allowed Harry to spend a bit of time alone with his sisters, and volunteer to see them off to school. Harry didn’t at all consider this to be a burdensome task…seven-year old Nia and nine-year old Morgan adored their big brother, and he wanted the chance to visit with some of the Muggle teachers at what was now his “old” school.

Declaring it to be his last best chance to use “the language of Myrddin,” Harry insisted that they speak Welsh along the way. His sisters weren’t all that enthusiastic…both girls identified more closely with their English-born mum and caregiver than their Welsh-born father, and would have preferred to attend an English-speaking school. But when Lily had insisted that her children attend Muggle primary schools, James had insisted that the Muggle school’s lessons be taught in his native tongue.

When the three Potter children stepped off of the public bus in front of the Primary School, Nia and Morgan spotted friends in the schoolyard and dashed off (after giving their brother a hug). Harry then walked into the school and spent a few minutes with its staff. Everyone there was glad to see him, and to offer advice about being “out there amongst the English.”

Harry had been the school’s star pupil…the kind of student that teachers knew would provide a capstone for their careers (each imaging retirement dinner speeches that could be summed up with the phrase “He (or she) taught Harry Potter”). It was much more than his size and athletic skills…when the black-haired, green-eyed boy wasn’t winning foot races or hitting for six, he was coming out on top in spelling competitions and poetry readings. And that he competed and won both English-speaking and Welsh-speaking contests…that was icing on the cake.

But perhaps the biggest reason why Harry had been universally loved at his school was his positive attitude. Quite simply, the young man was the nicest, best-mannered, and humblest boy you could meet. Harry had never used his superior size and strength to bully…in those few instances where he found himself in the Headmaster’s Office, it was because he had jumped to the defense of others who were being bullied. 

Harry even apologized for things that he couldn’t have been responsible for! It was one of the only drawbacks to having the Potter boy in one’s classroom. Strange, unexplainable things sometimes happened…like the time that his Year Four teacher overheard Harry’s classmate suggest that he prank a different teacher by turning her hair blue. The instructor thought nothing of it, as she had spied the woman sporting her “normal” bleached-blonde look later that afternoon. It wasn’t until Harry’s teacher joked about the incident on the following day that the targeted teacher gasped, and confessed with a bit of embarrassment that she had somehow gotten a dayglo indigo dye job “down there.”

No effort was made to confront Harry, though…not just because it didn’t seem possible that he could do such a thing, but because the target didn’t want to admit that she had already shaven off the evidence. 

When the school bell rang and students spilled into the building, Harry took his leave with a smile on his face and topped-off energy levels. He had planned on heading down to the local University, and the “feeding grounds” that his father had introduced him to a few years past, but one of teachers in the primary school had insisted on giving him a hug, and in so doing unknowingly provided a power boost that she had generated earlier that morning with a loofa.

It was something that happened all of the time to the young demi-demon…that in this instance the energy came from one of the prettier and younger teachers in the class was a bonus. Despite the fact that Harry knew that “energy was energy,” there had been more than a few times when he had avoided physical contact with the Headmaster, or one of the mustachioed spinsters that worked in the lunch room, so as to avoid any benefit from their (most likely deviant) sexual practices. 

oo00OO00oo 

Harry arrived home in time to go back over his checklists and repack his trunk twice…once for Emmy’s benefit, and the second for his father’s. The young wizard then released his snow white owl with instructions to meet him at Hogsmeade Station, gave his godmother one last hug, and followed his father into the floo. He emerged a few seconds later in the Leaky Cauldron, where his father’s two lifelong friends were waiting to give Harry their own proper send-off. 

Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, Harry’s godfather, had almost been as much a part of Harry’s young life as Emmy Vance. They had been his dad’s mates when they attended Hogwarts, along with a fourth named Peter Pettigrew than nobody ever mentioned much.

Sirius, like James, was an Auror…although he had failed to move up the ranks like Harry’s father had (considering career advancement to be perpetually low on his list of priorities). Sirius was a regular at the Potter family Sunday dinner table, and still made half-hearted attempts to flirt with Harry’s godmother (despite the fact that she’d expressed her disinterest in his advances more than a decade ago). 

That Remus visited the Potter’s less often had more to do with his “furry little problem” then anything else. Once it became clear that the lycanthrope would find it near impossible to hold steady employment within a prejudicial wizarding world, James had hired his good friend to manage the family’s country estate just outside of Godric’s Hollow. It had worked out well over the years…James rarely visited his ancestral home, as it held too many horrible memories associated with the brutal murder of his parents. But there was still work to be done there… lands to be leased for the gathering of magical plants, and sheep to be raised (both for their wool, and to satisfy the dietary requirements of the Common Welsh Greens that lived in a nearby Dragon Sanctuary).

Harry knew about Remus’s condition, and thought it hilarious that it was a wolf that guarded Clan Potter’s flocks of sheep. He felt a little guilty about the fact that neither “Uncle Remus” nor his godfather knew about his own condition, but deferred to his father’s judgment on the issue. 

The three Marauders did a fine job of regaling Harry with stories about their glory days, and dispensing advice on Harry might best prank his Potions Master…so fine a job that they lost track of the time. The two Potters were thus forced to apparate into a King’s Cross broom closet, rather than walk or hire a Muggle taxi.

Once James expanded the trunk that had been hitherto shrunk for convenient travel, he opened the closet door. 

“Dad…your robes!” 

“Oh, right…thanks son,” James replied sheepishly, as he waved a wand down the length of his frame. 

Harry, who had been stowing his navy-blue robes in his trunk, rolled his eyes at the sight of this transfiguration. 

“Merlin, Dad…how many times do I have to tell you that gold chains and open-necked Edwardian shirts went out of style decades ago!” 

“And how many times have I replied that if it’s good enough to get knickers thrown at our Muggle country man, then it’s good enough for me?” 

There was nothing for Harry to do but to sigh as his father slipped his white shirt collar outside of his black leather coat… and to follow more than a few steps behind as James walked towards a rank of carts while whistling the tune to “What’s New Pussycat?” 

“It’s really too bad we were here a few hours ago,” the Potter Clan Chief lamented, as he helped Harry load his trunk onto a cart. “All of those lovely Muggle women rushing to work, dragging along the energy generated with morning quickies and rubs in the shower…” 

“Dad!” 

“What?” James said with a grin, as he began to push the cart. “You’re going to have to handle your needs on your own now…you've got to start looking for these kinds of situations.” 

“And I suppose that’s Mum’s opinion as well?” 

James snorted. “If you don’t know your Mum’s opinion on the matter by now…or Emmy’s opinion, for that matter…” 

Harry let out his own snort, and shook his head. The ethics behind latching onto a stranger’s orgasmic energy without politely asking had long been a topic of conversation at their house. Not that the number of times he’d talked about sex and his need to feed with his parents made it any easier for him. 

Just then Harry’s father let out a low whistle.

“Hello, hello!” he said softly. 

“Where?” Harry asked. 

James nodded straight ahead, towards a mother and daughter who were pushing a cart in the same direction. 

“Oh, my,” Harry hissed, as caught the 'scent' of a powerful cloud of orgasmic energy. “You don’t think she just….” 

James shook his head. “Unlikely, given the time and place and her company. And that means, if it’s been, say a few hours since…” 

“It means that she’s a bloody screamer in bed?” Harry quietly quipped. 

His father chuckled, and pushed the cart a little faster. Harry didn’t have to ask why.

“Too bad her daughter doesn't appear to have learned how to pleasure herself,” James whispered. 

“Dad!” 

“I’m just saying, son,” James replied, waggling his eyebrows. “The apple never cums far from the tree.” 

“Yes you do say that,” Harry quipped. “Far too often.” 

The two wizards were by now close enough to catch the mother and daughter engaged in their own whispered conversation. 

“Mum, I’ve already shown you the ticket a dozen times…I’m to board the train at Platform 9 ¾!” 

“But there is no such thing as Platform 9 3/4!”

“That’s what you would have said about magic, before I got my letter, though…isn’t it?” 

James Potter smiled when he heard this exchange, and cleared his throat. 

“Excuse me, ladies, but I couldn’t help but overhear your dilemma…perhaps my Hogwarts-bound son and I could be of some assistance?” 

Mother and daughter froze upon hearing the word “Hogwarts,” and turned their heads. 

If first impressions really were meaningful, then the man who had spoken to them was a dandy, and his son a sex god…at least from Hermione Granger’s perspective.

“Hogwarts-bound, you said?” she asked, finding it hard to keep her eyes off of the smartly-dressed boy who stood a good eight inches taller than she did. 

Her mother, finding the elder Potter to be far more handsome than her daughter did, jumped in before a response could be given, and held out her hand towards James.

“I'm Emily Granger, and this is my daughter Hermione.  We would be grateful for your help, Mister….” 

“Auror Captain James Potter, at your service, Ma’am,” James replied, as he took hold of the offered hand and bent down to kiss it.

“Merlin, he’s smooth,” Harry thought to himself, knowing that the move would allow his father to hide his eyes, when they flashed in response to the feeding that came with skin contact. 

“I’m Just Harry,” he then said with a smile, as he held out his own hand towards the daughter. 

“Nice to meet you Harry,” the girl replied, as she took the offered hand in her own.

“So Hermione...what a lovely name,” Harry replied, smiling widely. “Is your lovely mother a fan of the Bard, or are you truly a great king’s daughter?” 

Hermione blushed at the reference. “Well I’m certainly not a fellow of the royal bed,” she replied with a small smile. “Or, for that matter, the mother to a hopeful Prince.” 

Harry chuckled in acknowledgement, and swallowed a ribald reply that would have acted counter to his goals. 

“Looking to board the Hogwarts Express, then, Hermione?” he asked. 

The bushy-haired witch nodded. “It’s my first year, and everything is so new and different, and the Professor didn’t mention hidden platforms …I suppose that you have done it many times before, then?” 

Harry smiled and shook his head. “My first time as well.” 

“No chance…unless…but does it…hadn’t read….doesn’t mean….couldn’t be possible…” 

“I’m just big for my age,” Harry replied, answering all of the incomplete sentences at once. 

Hermione wondered just how all-inclusive Harry’s self-assessment was, and glanced down towards his trouser-covered crotch. She instantly raised her gaze though, hoping that he hadn’t noticed her pervy curiosity. 

He had, but was gallant enough (and strategic enough) not to reveal that fact. 

Hermione’s mother saved her from trying to recover verbally from her faux pas. 

“Look Sweetheart,” she said, handing Hermione a business card. “This nice man is a magical constable.” 

The eleven-year old witch took the card that James had given her Mum and laughed out loud at what she saw. It was a magically animated business card that, in addition to listing Auror Potter’s particulars, showed him walking onto the card from the left edge, whilst dressed in a Muggle tuxedo. The figure then stopped, turned towards the front of the card, and fired a curse from his wand. As “blood” dripped down from the top edge she asked, “Does the card come with a soundtrack as well?” 

“Hermione…manners!” her mum chided. 

“It does, actually,” Harry whispered. “Just need to say ‘Potter. James Potter’.” 

“Or ask and I’ll sing it for you, young lady,” James quipped.

“Gee thanks, Mr. Jones…too bad that there's no time for that,” Harry quickly replied, as he looked at a station clock. 

“Too right,” his father agreed. He then offered his arm out to Emily Granger, and left it for Hermione and Harry to follow behind with their carts. 

“So how do you two know about 007?” Hermione asked. 

“My mum’s parents were Muggles, and we live mostly in the Muggle world.” 

Hermione worried her lower lip with her teeth as she pondered his accent. “Welsh?” she guessed. 

“Well played,” Harry said with a smile. “We have a house on the coast in Aber. How about you?” 

“English,” she replied. “My parents are dentists. We live in a subdivision in Weybridge….completely and utterly boring, compared to your heritage.” 

“Now I wouldn’t say that,” Harry replied with a roguish smile (even though he could say it, by rights). “Bet you have a few tales to tell about releases of accidental magic.” 

Hermione replied by blushing a deep red. 

“I suppose,” she replied, using more of a squeak than regular speech. 

Harry smiled, wondering what the story was behind the young witch’s obvious embarrassment. He then turned just in time to watch her mother close her eyes and fall into his dad’s arms. James looked back at the younger couple, winked, and stepped backwards through a brick wall. 

“Where did they go?” Hermione asked with a gasp. 

“To the train platform,” Harry replied with a grin.

“Do Muggles have to be held like that to make it through?” 

“No, but it probably helped,” the black-haired wizard quipped. “Would you like a hug as well?” 

Hermione’s blush grew deeper. 

“What would we do about our trunks, though?” she asked. 

Harry paused for a moment of apparent thought, then smiled and snapped his fingers in an “Oh, darn!” gesture. 

“We’ll have to save that hug for next time, then,” he replied. “Follow me.” 

Hermione watched with amazement as Harry pushed his cart straight through the false wall.

As she followed on towards the other side, she ignored the improbable nature of the route, and focused instead on the promise of physical contact…close physical contact with a very cute boy whom she hoped would become her first friend within the wizarding world. 

And perhaps in a few years (if she could really wait that long), someone who becomes much more than a friend.