Chapter 35

Early morning light filtered through the castle windows as Harry stirred awake, hearing familiar voices outside his bed curtains. Ron and Neville were already up, pulling on their workout clothes.

"Oi mate, rise and shine!" Ron called out, tossing a shirt at Harry's head. "Can't skip cause of our experiments"

Harry groaned but grinned, seeing his friends' eagerness. What had started as his solo training had evolved into a proper routine for their little group. Even Neville, once awkward and hesitant, moved with newfound confidence as he laced up his trainers.

They met the girls in the common room - Hermione and Lavender already stretching in their fitted workout gear. Parvati bounced down the stairs moments later, her long dark hair pulled back in a practical braid.

"Padma's meeting us by the lake," she informed them. "Says she's making progress with the meditation." Padma has been taught by them during one of their experiment days and she has been practicing since then.

They jogged down through the quiet castle, their footsteps echoing off ancient stone. The morning air was crisp, dew still clinging to the grass as they emerged onto the grounds. 

Padma waited in their usual spot, sitting cross-legged in the pre-dawn stillness. Her eyes opened as they approached, a small smile playing at her lips.

"I think today is special," she said softly as Parvati and Lavender settled beside her. "Like I can almost grasp the magic..."

While the girls began their meditation session, Harry found his own quiet spot beneath a gnarled oak tree. It was time to deal with his unwanted passenger.

Settling into a comfortable position beneath the bridge on the rock, Harry closed his eyes and began his internal exploration. The morning dew soaked through his workout clothes, but he barely noticed as his consciousness turned inward.

'Right then, you sneaky bastard,' he thought, searching for any trace of Voldemort's soul fragment. 'Where are you hiding?'

His awareness flowed like mercury through his body, examining every cell and fiber. He could feel his magic humming through his blood vessels, crackling with potential in his muscles, but no hint of that familiar dark taint. The absence was both relieving and concerning.

After thoroughly checking his extremities, Harry focused on his magical core. The dense cluster of power running along his spine beckoned. He directed his consciousness toward the intricate pathways threading through vertebrae and nerve bundles.

The moment he tried merging with the spinal magic network, a violent jolt of energy surged through his body. It felt like grabbing an electric fence - sharp, defensive, and definitely unwelcoming.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, withdrawing quickly. His fingers twitched from phantom shocks.

Taking a deep breath, Harry tried again with a gentler approach. He imagined his consciousness as a soft mist rather than a probing tendril. Another warning tingle ran up his spine, less intense but still clearly saying 'keep out.'

'Fine, you temperamental git,' he thought at his uncooperative spine. 'We'll do this the hard way.'

Only one place remained to check - his own mind. Harry redirected his awareness upward, pushing through the barrier between physical and mental space. The transition was immediately disorienting, like trying to do mathematical equations about doing mathematical equations.

His brain struggled to process examining itself. Neural pathways pulsed with activity, thoughts sparked between synapses like miniature lightning storms, and memories swirled in abstract patterns he couldn't quite grasp. The raw exposure of seeing his own consciousness laid bare was deeply unsettling.

'This is way too naked,' his thoughts echoed in the mental space. 'Need some coverage...'

Before he could stop the automatic response, his brain's self-image manifested a plush white bathrobe. The terrycloth material looked ridiculously fluffy, complete with a tied belt and an oversized collar. His literal brain was now wearing spa attire.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Harry groaned as his mind refused to un-imagine the absurd mental covering. "This is not helping."

Harry stared at his bathrobe-clad brain in exasperation, trying to focus past the ridiculous image. 'Come on, concentrate. Where's that dark bastard hiding?'

Pushing deeper into his mental landscape, he scanned for any trace of foreign magic. The familiar corridors of his mind stretched endlessly, memories and thoughts flowing like currents around him. Then - there. A tiny swirl of darkness, barely visible against his own magical signature.

'Got you,' Harry thought triumphantly, reaching out with his power. He expected resistance, perhaps even a mental battle. Instead, the moment his magic touched the dark remnant, it simply... dissolved. Like smoke in a strong wind, the last trace of Voldemort's soul fragment dissipated into nothingness.

'That's it? Really?' Harry was almost disappointed by the anticlimactic end. Still, he wasn't taking chances. Focusing his magic, he sent it coursing through every crevice and corner of his mind, cleansing as it went. The power flowed like liquid light, touching and purifying everything in its path.

As his magic completed its sweep, an unexpected side effect emerged. His awareness expanded dramatically, mapping every neural pathway and connection. Suddenly he could sense exactly where everything was - how many steps to the castle door, the precise angle of each turning staircase, the exact distance to his dormitory.

Coming out of meditation, Harry blinked in the morning sunlight. His enhanced spatial awareness remained, making him hyper-conscious of his surroundings. He could practically feel the castle's layout imprinted in his mind.

"Harry! You coming?" Hermione called. The others were already packing up their workout gear.

He stood, shaking his head to try clearing the intense awareness. When it persisted, he simply shrugged. One more weird magical quirk to add to the list - but at least Voldemort was finally, permanently gone.

A genuine smile spread across his face as he jogged to catch up with his friends. For the first time in his life, his mind was truly, completely his own.

Walking back to the castle, Harry pulled Hermione aside. "Need a favor - how good are you with Polyjuice?"

Her eyes lit up with academic interest. "Fairly confident. What're you thinking?"

"Need a batch that'll last at least a year from one hair. Possible?"

Hermione bit her lip thoughtfully. "I could dilute it enough, but..." she winced, "after three months the transformation would become increasingly painful. The molecular stability-"

"Three months is fine," Harry cut in. "Just want extra as backup."

"I'll start brewing today." Her lips curved into a knowing smile. "I assume there'll be... compensation for my efforts?"

Harry's grin turned predatory. "Oh, definitely. Give you something good for this help..."

They rejoined the others heading to breakfast, Harry's mind already planning future trusts with her.

Classes dragged by that morning. Harry split his focus between taking notes and attempting wandless magic to write his assignments. So far he'd managed to make his quill twitch pathetically.

'Focus,' he told himself during Charms. 'Intent and will...'

By lunch, he'd progressed to floating the quill, though his actual essays remained stubbornly handwritten.

Walking to Defense Against the Dark Arts, speculation flew about their new professor. After Quirrell's dramatic exit, everyone was curious.

"Just hoping for someone normal," Harry muttered. "No more possessed teachers would be nice."

They filed into the classroom, settling into their usual seats. Harry's enhanced awareness mapped exit routes automatically, he did not want to deal with the annual DADA assasins without preparation not when there will be 2 in his first year itself.

The door opened and their new professor strode in. Harry's eyebrows rose appreciatively despite himself. She was young, maybe early thirties, with striking gothic style - black clothing, dark makeup. Not exactly standard teacher attire.

But something in her eyes made Harry tense slightly. The way she looked around the class... calculating, hungry. His instincts screamed 'danger' - not immediate threat, but definitely someone to watch.

'Great,' he thought wearily. 'Another one after my cock or my life. Maybe both.'

He considered his options as she introduced herself. He could seduce her first, get ahead of any schemes... but something in her look screamed major yandere vibes. Best play it safe for now.

The professor began outlining the year's curriculum, her teaching style surprisingly competent and clear. Harry remained alert but allowed himself to relax slightly. At least the class itself seemed promising.

The DADA class ended normally enough - the professor, Miss Blackthorn, was surprisingly clear in her demonstrations. Harry wasn't used to actual competency from Defense teachers.

After classes, Harry dragged everyone to the library. Millicent was already there, hunched over several thick tomes.

"Hey," Harry slid into the seat beside her. "What're you working on?"

"Just this bloody Transfiguration essay," she grumbled, not looking up. "Where've you been?"

Before Harry could answer, Hermione and Parvati practically shoved him aside, bracketing Millicent.

"We'll take it from here," Hermione announced, already pulling out color-coded study guides.

"But-" Harry protested. "We've all got the same work!"

"Girl talk," Parvati cut him off firmly. "Shoo."

Ron and Neville snickered as Harry retreated. "Welcome to the reject club, mate."

"Those three are scary when they're studying," Ron shuddered. "Remember when they made Madam Pince back off?"

"No way," Harry stared. "Nothing scares that woman."

"They did something," Lavender confirmed. "She won't even glare at them anymore. Best leave them to it."

Harry turned to his own research, curious about the Philosopher's Stone. Most books just repeated the basics - immortality, gold, Flamel. But one obscure text mentioned someone called Gregorovich Iban in connection with the stone.

'Never heard of him,' Harry frowned. 'Worth looking into later.'

Packing up, Harry wondered why Draco did not mess with them like he did in canon, infact he does not remember seeing the guy much so he decided to ask McGonagall about Draco's absence. He headed for her office after telling his friends to go without him as his mind already wandered to more pleasant activities than just conversation.

His enhanced awareness mapped every step through the castle. Third corridor, left at the suit of armor, down the spiral staircase... He could practically walk it blindfolded now.

Reaching her door, Harry knocked and entered, immediately appreciating the view. McGonagall wore emerald green lingerie that barely contained her assets, she must have started wearing those after he always came in for conversation and left without giving her something

'Quick one before dinner,' he decided, already growing hard. Questions could wait until after he'd properly enjoyed those massive tits.

Harry's blood heated at the sight before him - McGonagall perched provocatively on her mahogany desk, long legs crossed elegantly. The emerald green lingerie set hugged her curves obscenely, barely containing her massive breasts that threatened to spill over the delicate lace cups. Her hardened nipples strained against the sheer fabric, begging to be freed.

"Mr. Potter..." she purred, uncrossing her legs to reveal a damp patch on her tiny thong. "I've been waiting..."

Harry's cock was already rock hard, tenting his trousers painfully. Without a word, he stalked toward her like a predator approaching prey. His enhanced awareness made him hyper-focused on every detail - the flush creeping up her neck, her quickened breathing, the musky scent of her arousal.

Reaching her, he roughly spun her around and bent her over the desk in one fluid motion. Papers scattered as she gasped, arching her back to press that perfect ass against his straining erection. Harry's hands roamed possessively over her body, squeezing and groping every inch of exposed flesh.

"Fuck, Professor..." he growled, yanking the flimsy thong aside. His fingers found her dripping wet, her pussy practically gushing at his touch. He circled her swollen clit roughly, making her moan and buck against his hand.

"Please..." she whimpered, trying to grind back against him. "Need you inside me..."

Harry freed his throbbing cock, the heavy length springing out eagerly. He rubbed the thick head through her soaked folds, coating himself in her juices. McGonagall writhed impatiently, desperate to be filled.

"Beg for it," he commanded, spanking her ass sharply. The crack echoed off stone walls as she yelped.

"Please fuck me, Mr. Potter! Need your big cock stretching my tight pussy... want you to use me like your personal slut..." she babbled shamelessly, all pretense of propriety abandoned.

Gripping her hips bruisingly hard, Harry lined himself up and thrust inside her welcoming heat in one savage motion. They both groaned at the sensation - her walls stretching deliciously around his girth as he bottomed out.

McGonagall's walls clenched around him as he began a brutal pace, her massive tits bouncing and swaying with each powerful stroke. The wet sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filled the office as Harry ruthlessly pounded into her.

"Such a needy cunt," he growled, reaching around to maul her breasts. He pinched and twisted her nipples through the lace, making her cry out. "You were wearing this for a while everynight eh expecting me to visit?"

"Yesss..." she hissed, pressing back to meet his savage thrusts. "I was waiting and waiting using my fingers remembering your cock.."

Harry yanked the bra cups down roughly, letting her heavy tits spill free. They swung hypnotically with the force of his fucking, nipples rock hard and begging for attention. He gripped them firmly, using them as handles to drive even deeper into her soaked pussy.

"Fuck... so tight... taking my cock so well..." Harry panted, his balls slapping against her clit with each thrust. McGonagall's inner muscles rippled around him as she approached her peak.

"Gonna cum... please... harder!" she begged breathlessly. Her fingers clawed at the wooden desk as pleasure built to unbearable levels.

Harry increased his pace, slamming into her g-spot mercilessly. His cock stretched and filled her completely, hitting spots that made her see stars. The obscene squelching of her juices around his pistoning length echoed off the walls.

"That's it... cum on my cock like the slut you are..." he commanded, pinching her nipples brutally.

McGonagall screamed as her orgasm crashed over her, pussy clamping down vice-like around him. Her whole body shuddered as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her.

The feeling of her walls milking his cock pushed Harry over the edge. With a final brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and exploded inside her. Rope after rope of hot cum painted her inner walls as she continued to spasm around him.

"Take it all..." he growled, grinding deep to ensure every drop filled her womb. McGonagall whimpered and shook as the intensity of her climax slowly faded.

Finally spent, Harry slowly withdrew his softening cock. A flood of mixed juices leaked down her trembling thighs as she slumped bonelessly over the desk.

Still catching his breath, Harry tucked himself back into his trousers, watching their combined fluids trail down McGonagall's quivering thighs. She slowly pushed herself up, summoning her wand to cast quick cleaning charms before adjusting her disheveled lingerie.

"Professor," Harry said, his voice returning to business-like tone. "Where's Draco Malfoy? I have not seen him much."

McGonagall's post-orgasmic flush drained away, replaced by a grave expression. She perched on the edge of her desk, no longer radiating sensual energy but rather deep concern.

"There was an incident, Potter and I know that you take these things personal but know that we could not have done anything" she began, voice heavy. "Someone... we don't know who... force-fed him the potion. His magic began draining within hours."

Harry's cock, still sensitive from their fucking, went completely soft as ice filled his veins. "How bad?"

"Total loss," she whispered. "By morning, he couldn't even light a Lumos. Lucius and Narcissa withdrew him immediately. They're searching for specialists, but there is no cure..." she trailed off meaningfully.

Harry's mind raced with horrifying implications. The potion which he thought was rarely used has took another students magic. It was a weapon that could destroy a wizard's very essence.

"Fuck," he breathed, running fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. "Do we know who did it?"

McGonagall shook her head. "None. The house elves found him unconscious in a third floor corridor. By then it was too late."

Draco reduced to a powerless shell made Harry's stomach churn. For all Harry did not want to deal with his bitch whining, he'd never wished this for him

"I need to go," he said abruptly, already moving toward the door. His enhanced awareness felt like a curse now, mapping every escape route while his mind spun with dark possibilities.

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