Chapter 30

After their morning with McGonagall, Harry, Hermione, and Lavender barely made it to Charms. Hermione's hands trembled as she presented Flitwick with their note, thighs still quivering from earlier.

"Transfiguration tutoring?" Flitwick squeaked suspiciously. "All three of you?"

"Advanced practical applications, Professor," Hermione managed, suppressing a shiver as memories of McGonagall's tongue flashed through her mind.

Throughout the day, Harry noticed both girls walking with satisfied smiles, exchanging knowing looks whenever their eyes met his. During lunch, Lavender leaned close to whisper.

"I can still feel you inside me," she purred quietly.

Hermione nodded in agreement, pressing against Harry's other side. "We're yours completely."

Before his detention, Harry pulled them into an empty classroom to discuss his research project.

"I need you two to oversee the experiments while I'm gone," he said. "Have the Patil twins go at it with Ron and Neville. We need to compare their stamina, recovery time, magical or physical differences... everything."

Lavender smiled. "The twins will be eager to help."

"Perfect. Set them up in separate rooms, use monitoring charms, record everything."

"Yes, Harry," both girls breathed, pressing closer.

He kissed them each deeply before checking his watch. "Fuck, Snape's going to kill me..."

"Go," Hermione urged. "We'll handle everything here. Come find us after..."

Harry rushed off, knowing his loyal sluts would arrange everything perfectly. The Patil twins would get thoroughly fucked, gathering precious data about his test subjects.

Harry descended into the dungeons, still fuming about taking the punishment alone. His footsteps echoed off the damp stone walls as he entered Snape's classroom.

"Sir, why isn't Ron serving detention too? He was in the forest with me," Harry demanded, asking just for the sake of it.

Snape's quill paused mid-stroke, black eyes rising slowly. "Questioning disciplinary decisions, Potter? How... predictably arrogant."

"He broke the same rule I did," Harry pressed, though he already knew about Ron's shoulder injury from their encounter in the forest.

"The Headmaster," Snape drawled, setting down his quill, "has rescinded Mr. Weasley's detention in light of his... shoulder injury sustained during his foolish expedition. He deemed the injury sufficient punishment."

Harry's jaw clenched. The thing in the forest had thrown Ron hard against a tree before they escaped. His friend's arm was still in a sling. "But-"

"Unless you'd prefer TWO nights scrubbing potion residue," Snape's lip curled, "I suggest you begin cleaning. The supplies are there."

Harry grabbed the bucket and rags, dragging over the stepladder. As he stretched up to tackle the disgusting ceiling, his mind wandered to what the Patil twins might be discovering about Ron's... other abilities... while he was stuck here. At least his friend's injury had some benefits - creating the perfect excuse for him to avoid detention while still participating in their experiments upstairs.

"Something amusing, Potter?"

"No sir. Just... cleaning."

Snape's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he returned to grading while Harry continued scrubbing, occasionally using wandless magic when the professor wasn't looking. The sooner he finished this punishment, the sooner he could check on his research project's progress.

The putrid ceiling dripped steadily as Harry worked, ancient potion residue staining his robes in sickly shades of green and purple. His shoulders burned from the constant reaching, arms trembling as he attacked particularly stubborn patches.

splat

A large glob of something viscous landed on his cheek. Harry wiped it away with disgust, careful to maintain his focus on the wandless magic he was secretly using to assist his cleaning.

Two hours of combined physical labor and subtle spellwork had the ceiling looking better than it probably had in decades. The stone actually gleamed in places, though Harry's clothes were ruined and his muscles screamed in protest.

Snape finally looked up from his grading, dark eyes scanning the transformed ceiling with obvious surprise.

"Most... efficient, Potter," he said slowly. "I don't recall the last student completing this task so thoroughly in a single detention."

"Just wanted to do it properly, sir," Harry replied carefully, already gathering his things. He needed to check on the experiments with the Patil twins.

"Indeed." Snape's tone was suspicious but not knowing.

Harry didn't wait for further commentary, hurrying toward the door. Harry made his way to McGonagall's office, knocking promptly. When she opened the door, her cheeks were already flushed.

"Back again, Mr. Potter?" she purred. "Keep visiting my office this frequently and your virility might just get me pregnant."

Harry laughed. "Actually Professor, I need help with Gringotts. Been getting inheritance letters."

"Best handle that now before banking hours end," she said, straightening her robes professionally.

The floo deposited them into a Diagon Alley Harry barely recognized after dark. Scantily-clad witches prowled the shadows, eyeing passing wizards hungrily. Men hurried past with heads down, clearly trying to avoid being dragged into dark alleys where desperate moans suggested forceful potion administration.

"Stay close," McGonagall warned as a group of witches in tight corsets eyed Harry's obvious natural arousal. Harry couldn't help staring at a particularly voluptuous witch whose massive breasts threatened to spill from her revealing robes as she stalked a terrified-looking wizard.

Inside Gringotts, they met an ancient goblin who led them deep underground. The vault they stopped at had an unusual opening at waist height.

"The heir must prove himself through direct deposit," the goblin stated flatly. "The vault requires genetic verification."

"Surely there's another way!" McGonagall protested.

"I need to know what they left," Harry said firmly, unfastening his trousers.

Once Harry positioned himself and pushed into the vault's opening, he immediately gasped at the unexpected sensation. The hole was perfectly warm and produced a pulsing suction that began gently but steadily increased in intensity.

"Merlin's balls..." Harry muttered under his breath, gripping the vault door edges. The magical mechanism seemed to adjust to his size, creating an impossibly perfect fit that massaged every sensitive spot.

The suction continued building rhythmically, drawing him deeper. Harry's knees nearly buckled as the magic began swirling and vibrating around his shaft. "Fucking hell..."

McGonagall turned away discretely, though her breathing had quickened noticeably. The goblin simply stood there impassively, as if this was the most normal banking procedure imaginable.

The magical sensation suddenly intensified tenfold, making Harry's eyes roll back. It felt like thousands of tiny tongues were working him from every angle while the suction pulled with increasing urgency. His hips jerked involuntarily.

"Sweet Circe..." he groaned through clenched teeth as the magic seemed to reach impossible depths, stimulating places he didn't even know could be stimulated. His balls drew up tight as the pressure built to unbearable levels.

When release finally hit, it was so intense Harry had to bite his lip to keep from shouting. His whole body shuddered as the vault's magic milked him completely dry. The sensation lasted far longer than any normal orgasm, leaving him gasping and weak-kneed.

Only when the last drop had been extracted did the suction finally release him. The door's seals hissed as ancient mechanisms clicked and whirred.

"Authentication complete," the goblin announced blandly as Harry hastily tucked himself away, face burning.

The massive door swung open to reveal the letter and briefcase sitting alone on a marble pedestal.

till trembling slightly from the intense "authentication", Harry adjusted his clothes and stepped into the vault. The marble pedestal seemed to glow with its own light in the dim chamber.

"Only the heir may enter," the goblin warned as McGonagall shifted forward. "The consequences for others would be... most unpleasant."

Harry approached the pedestal, his footsteps echoing. The briefcase was made of worn dragon hide, its brass fixtures tarnished with age. The letter beside it bore his parents' seal in red wax.

With slightly shaking hands, he picked up both items. The briefcase was surprisingly light, while the letter felt oddly warm to the touch. As soon as he lifted them, the vault door began to swing closed.

"That's it?" Harry asked, rejoining McGonagall and the goblin. "Just these two things?"

"The Potter vaults are elsewhere," the goblin explained. "This was a special security vault, used only for items requiring... unique verification methods."

McGonagall's cheeks were still pink. "Shall we return to my office to examine the contents, Mr. Potter? It would be safer than remaining in the alley at this hour."

Through the bank's windows, Harry could see more predatory witches gathering in the growing darkness. A wizard ran past, pursued by a group of cackling women wielding potion vials.

"Yeah, good idea Professor."

They hurried back through the marble halls, Harry clutching his inheritance close. His mind raced with possibilities about what secrets the letter and case might contain...