Chapter 89 - Between Good & Evil IV

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Ministry for Magic was in total chaos. The Minister screamed and shouted at everyone, trying his best, doing all he could to hide what happened. To ensure that no mention of Voldemort comes out. He threatened anyone he could, every type of media, especially the Daily Prophet.

"You went ahead and announced it to the kids! That's against my order, Dumbldeore!"

Dumbledore calmly listened to Cornelius frantically pacing in the office. He'd said all he needed to but there was no helping it. Cornelius would rather save his seat than inform the people of the danger.

"Minister," Amelia Bones began. "Multiple witnesses have confirmed the sighting. We must not treat this threat lightly. A student has lost their life. Sirius Black and Lily J. Potter have formally lodged complaints, alleging that the Ministry is concealing the Dark Lord's return. They question whether the Ministry has already been compromised by Dark Forces."

Cornelius' face soured. He glared at Amelia but said nothing. "We must exercise caution. Without direct evidence, any action might merely fan the flames of panic. More pressing, perhaps, is the account of over a hundred wizards flying at the scene. And Lucius Malfoy's disappearance—his wife has sought my help on two occasions. These matters warrant our attention."

"Investigating those mysterious wizards would mean acknowledging the Dark Lord is here as well. Furthermore, why was Lucius Malfoy even there? If he was, wh—"

"No, no, Madam Bones, you're leaping ahead." Cornelius interrupted Amelia. "We'll have our people investigate and draft a report. And Dumbledore, kindly refrain from any further references to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The Ministry has declared the issue resolved."

"That was years ago." Dumbledore reminded him.

"I don't care! I first need direct proof! Undeniable evidence that the Dark Lord is alive."

If only Cornelius Fudge knew how much he'd hate his wish in a few days.

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"Ghk! Ghk! Ghk! Ghhhh-hhhhk! Unnngh!"

"That's right, keep it up. Move that tongue, Rita—You will be rewarded greatly."

"Mmmhhh~"

Dudley Dursley sat sprawled in a nice, plush armchair, legs stretched straight and wide, his dark pants pushed down to his thighs, all the while the curly-blonde-haired woman sat on her knees in between, leaning in, her tight, bright red lipstick-clad mouth latched tightly on his shaft.

Her head bobbed up and down profusely, her throat tickled at each plunge, gag reflexes striking in but she controlled and maintained the pace to pleasure the man who held the ticket to her fame. Her crimson-painted nails were careful not to scrap his skin as she stroked him all the while.

Her spectacles loosely rested on her nose, barely holding on. Her red lipstick had smudged the entire length of his thick, veiny shaft, making it appear red, as if swollen, which was perhaps the right word for one witnessing and blowing him for the first time.

"You want the photos, don't you?"

"Ummmh… Yes… Mr… X!"

"Work harder then."

Dudley combed his fingers into her curly blonde hair and pushed her face down hard, jamming his entire cock in her throat. He kept her there, even shaking her head with his palms to settle in her massaging throat as deep as he could.

She opened her red lips as wide as she could, choking, tears pooling in her eyes, her nose flaring up.

"Gck…." She gagged, choking on his iron-hard length.

Only when she tried to push against his thighs did Dudley pull her head up. But as soon as she took a breath, he jammed her face back down on his cock.

He started to fuck her face-hole thoroughly, hips arching up, cock plunging into her mouth ruthlessly. He used her mouth like it was a loose cunt. Every plunge made all of his cock vanish in her hot mouth. Feeling the back of her throat smack against his swollen cockhead.

"Umh...Ghk, ghk... Oh!" Her spit gurgled, dribbled down her chin and sputtered out of the gaps mixed with sticky precum.

It was a hot, ripe, musk-thick mess; the kind that clung to your sinuses and soaked into your skin. The scent of spit, sweat, and sex hovered heavily in the air, coating every gasp.

Dudley, dark-eyed behind his mask, watched Rita's head work like a trained performer, her glossy red lips suctioned tight around the girthy shaft glistened with her saliva. Her curls bounced with every brutal thrust; the back of her throat was already wet with the rhythm of being used. Not gently, not sweetly, but filthily.

She wanted this. She asked what she could do, and he obliged.

Dudley watched her head bob. The curvy woman, even older than Lily, wasn't that beautiful, but he still chose to deal with her this way. He wasn't Dudley Dursley for her, but the mysterious Mr. X who'd come out of nowhere and teased her with photos of Voldemort's return. And the real faces of all Death Eaters.

Her lipstick was long gone, smeared like warpaint up his cock, which pulsed visibly with each deep push. She gagged hard, wet, guttural sounds that made his cock twitch. "Gkh! Grrggghk! Hkkk—hrrgkkk!"

It was music to him. Messy, choking, squelching—music.

Her throat flexed, trying to accommodate him, tears streaking down her cheeks as she pressed forward again.

"Fuck—your mouth's quite trained," he growled, grabbing her hair in both fists now. He began to thrust, sharp and shallow at first, then faster, deeper, fucking her face with short, hungry snaps of his hips.

Her cheeks ballooned around his girth, lips stretched tight as a seal formed, slurping noisily with every plunge.

Each time his cock slammed in, her nose smushed against his pelvis, and her throat clenched like it was trying to milk him. His cock throbbed, spit bubbled from her lips, and her moans vibrated up his shaft.

"Look at this fucking mess," he rasped.

Let's hope she gets the message. Dudley made a mess out of her entire face, all her makeup ruined.

This was all she could offer him for his favor, that was the lesson she needed to learn. Her quill, her words, and her newspaper meant nothing. She had nothing of worth to give him while he could make her life a living dream. Or a literal hell if she took some undesired steps. This was Mr. X, Dudley's other side that would remain hidden for a long time.

"Uh… Your mouth's as good at sucking as it is at spewing nonsense! Keep it up… You'll get what you want—and more!"

She moaned affirmatively, incoherent but desperate. And he felt it, the thick coil tightening, pressure building deep in his base.

With a sudden groan, Dudley shoved her head down one last time, burying every inch of himself into her spasming throat. Her lips grazed his balls, and with a feral snarl, he came, violently. Thick spurts shot straight down her throat, forcing her to swallow around him.

She gagged again, choking slightly, but held her ground like a starved animal at the altar of a god. Her lips fluttered, her throat convulsed, and his cock pulsed again, and again, and again.

Even when he eased his grip, her lips stayed wrapped around him, sucking down every drop like she was worshiping what he gave her. Some of it spilled down her chin, over her fingers, sticky and steaming. But most of it, she gulped down.

"Keep it clean now." He ordered from behind his mask.

Rita obeyed with filthy grace, dragging her tongue over his shaft like a lollipop, licking him clean from root to crown. A thick, stringy strand clung to her tongue as she pulled back. She slurped it in slowly, obscenely, then gulped it down like it was honey.

She sucked each finger clean, eyes locked on his.

"You're… mmmh… a remarkable man, Mr. X." She panted as she stood up. Her fingers slid to the hem of her skirt, willing to give him more.

"That's enough." Dudley stopped her. He had no interest in fucking her when he had a dozen other better options. Her mouth was enough. She really did take him deep and good. "Take it."

Dudley took out a camera film roll, encased in a box. It was magical, with live motion.

With bright greedy eyes, Rita almost jumped to grab it. But Dudley pulled it away from her grasp.

"Careful, Rita." He warned her, his voice was heavy and deep, scary to her. "If I don't see this in the morning papers, I'll forget our deal. I have plenty of options."

"After I've done all that—I'd be demented to not finish the job."

Dudley scoffed and tossed her the film roll. Then he stood up, fixed his black pants, and took out his wand. "All I did was drop a hint. It was you who dropped to your knees. Know where that mouth and fingers belong, Rita Skeeter."

Rita gulped, the taste of this overbearing, mysterious man heavy on her tongue. She wasn't one to keep her mouth shut. But this time, she felt overwhelmed. What type of man was Mr. X? What type of organization did he belong to?

"I did drop to my knees, and I have no regrets." She smirked sultrily.

Dudley said nothing and left the ancient villa in the middle of nowhere in France.

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Myanmar, Vanguard base.

"Why didn't you kill the Dark Lord right there? You had the chance." Tonks asked him as he arrived at the base. It was just the two of them, walking downstairs deep into the underground.

"But he's more use to us alive. Think about it—if You-Know-Who hadn't returned, who would the Ministry have turned their attention to? Who do they truly fear?" Dudley explained to her. "With him around, the Vanguards flourish unnoticed. He's our smokescreen, whether he knows it or not."

"But… how will we stop him now?"

"You know, it's hard to believe, but stopping him seems nearly impossible. He died once and came back—there's got to be something keeping him going. Maybe he's found a way to live forever. We need to figure out how he's doing it; otherwise, destroying his body won't make a difference."

Tonks sighed and nodded. "I should go back now. Cornelius must be going mad reading today's Daily Prophet."

He waved goodbye. "Say hello to your aunt for me."

Dudley kept walking downstairs as Tonks left him. After a while, the stairway opened wider, and he eventually reached a long corridor. There were Vanguards stationed, guarding the place, the prison in reality.

"Mr. X."

"Doctor." Dudley nodded at the wizard dressed in a white coat instead of the usual black one. "Is everything prepared?"

"Of course. Please, follow me."

Dudley followed the doctor deeper into the prison. Then, after crossing multiple safe doors, they arrived inside a large room, completely white, square in shape, brightly lit but there were no lights anywhere.

A single chair was placed in the middle of the room. Tied, Lucius Malfoy sat on it with his head covered by a black sack.

"W-Who are you? What do you want?"

Dudley didn't respond to Lucius' questions and looked at the doctor. "I ordered to feed him just enough to survive."

"We did, but he's quite tenacious." The doctor said, busy setting up a table and countless tools on it. "I couldn't push it too far or else the experiment would have been handicapped."

Sighing, Dudley nodded and gestured for him to go ahead. "Do it. Keep the sack on his head."

"Grrrr! Oink!"

Right then, a Vanguard member brought a live pig into the room.

"I will begin the experiment, Sir." The doctor grabbed the cutting tools and approached Lucius. He ordered his assistant to wave the wand and make both of Lucius' arms rise sideways and freeze on the spot. "We have already attempted to surgically remove the Dark Mark. But we failed. Today, we'll try to confuse the Dark Mark instead. For the past seven days, we have been infusing this pig with the subject's blood."

"STAY AWAY! DON'T TOUCH ME! M-MONEY! I'LL GIVE—!"

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