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Pedo Joke:
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Harry Potter and the Thief's Medallion

by Piper

mc; mg; mdom; oral; anal

What would have happened if Tom Riddle had never been born? Harry Potter's parents would not have been killed. He would not have been marked by the killing curse or become known to the wizarding world. He would have grown up in a normal wizarding family. When he started at Hogwarts, he would have been an ordinary wizard with a growing interest in girls. He would not have met the Weasleys or Hermione in the same way. Above all else, like his father, Harry would have been an asshole.


Harry Potter was splayed out on his bed, savoring the end of the first week of his second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He twitched his wand, idly sending his glasses cartwheeling through the air before settling them back into place. Like the other students, Harry had shed his robes when he returned to the Gryffindor tower, so he was wearing his comfortable, if somewhat drab, school uniform. He had, however shucked the red and gold tie that marked him as a Gryffindor.

Ron Weasley was the only other boy in their shared room at the moment. Harry had minimal contact with Ron during their first year. Although they shared a room along with several other boys, Harry and Ron had never had much in common. Their conversations revealed nothing that Harry could not have known by looking at Ron's ginger hair and secondhand robes. He was a Weasley, an old family, like the Potters, but poor and generally unimportant. Ron was friendly enough but generally not outgoing. Harry had quickly grown tired of Ron's reluctance to get into mischief and his apologies for not being able to afford whatever activities Harry suggested outside of Hogwarts.

Harry had a wide circle of friends, although none were particularly close. All the Gryffindors in his year looked at him with admiration for his antics in class and the money he freely spent on whatever he wanted. Girls watched him practice on the Quidditch field, where the team let him practice with them although he had been too young to join last year.

“Stupid girl.”

Harry rolled over onto his side. Ron was folding his tattered robes somewhat neatly and seemed unaware that he had spoken. Bored, Harry offered, “What was that, Ron?”

Ron looked up, startled. “Erm, nothing, Harry. Just thinking about Charms.”

“Ah, right,” Harry winced in feigned sympathy. Harry had a slightly above average talent for magic and the benefit of his father letting Harry practice with his wand for years. Ron must have lacked one or the other, because even after a year of Charms, he was still struggling with fairly basic spells.

Today had been worse than usual for Ron. The students had been paired up and told to evaluate each other on the charms they were reviewing from last year. Ron had been paired up with Hermione Granger, a know-it-all who the boys only ever saw sitting alone and studying. Usually, they did not see her outside of class, although Harry suspected that was because she stayed in the library most of the time. All that studying must have paid off since Hermione was the best witch in their year. Unfortunately she also tended to be a perfectionist and expected the same of others. So when she had been paired with Ron, all the ingredients for a disaster were in place.

Hermione had gone first, and of course, performed every spell flawlessly. She also threw in a few charms they had not even learned yet, and was a little put out when Ron refused to give her “extra credit” when he was scoring her performance. They switched places and Ron barely managed the first charm, levitating a feather. Hermione kept giving him what she no doubt considered to be helpful advice, but it only served to fluster Ron. After his fifth time failing to shrink the same stubborn feather, Ron had thrown his wand onto the table, shouted something obscene at a stunned Hermione, and stormed out of the classroom.

“It wasn't that bad,” Harry said unconvincingly.

“Yeah,” Ron said. He dropped onto his bed, ruining any order he had coaxed into his robes, and stared at the ceiling. “Sure it wasn't.”

Harry followed Ron's example and examined the ceiling, wondering when he could begin making polite excuses to leave. The ceiling held no answers and the silence stretched on.

“I just wish...” Ron began, then stopped. Apparently the ceiling had captivated him once more.

Stifling a groan, Harry took the bait. “You just wish what?”

“I dunno,” Ron closed his eyes. “I just wish I could get back at her. She thinks she's so smart and so pretty that-”

“Pretty?” Harry interrupted. He did a quick mental once-over of the bushy-haired brunette. Not unattractive, but anything above “plain” would be a stretch in his opinion. “You think Hermione is pretty?”

“What? No.” Ron's voice was tight and he seemed flustered, as though he had not realized what he had been saying, doing nothing to improve Harry's estimation of his intelligence. “That's not what I said.”

“You know,” Harry said, diabolical wheels already turning in his mischievous head. “I'm going to help you out, Ron.”

“Uh... no really, that's alright, mate.” Ron's hesitation was understandable given Harry's reputation for pushing the boundaries of “all in good fun.”

“Too late,” Harry grinned, springing up from his bed. He dove underneath it and quickly located an old balled-up sock. He shook out its contents, a gold medallion almost the size of his fist, tied to a scarlet red ribbon. In the center of the medallion, taking up almost the entire surface, was a golden eye. Harry slipped the medallion around his neck and tucked in under his shirt. He slid out from under the bed and innocently met Ron's suspicious gaze.

“Time for a walk, I think,” Harry said, picking his wand up and tucking it into his pocket.

Ron half rose from his bed and then seemed to think the better of it. In a tone that was half questioning, half warning, he said, “Harry...”

Harry ignored the boy and left the room, whistling quietly.


On the staircase leading down to the Gryffindor common room, Harry pulled the medallion out and let it hang freely from his neck. His father had not been willing to let Harry take his invisibility cloak to Hogwarts, but for what Harry had in mind, this would work even better. His father had told him it was called the Thief's Medallion and had given it to him on his last birthday. With the medallion, so it was said, one could walk anywhere without fear of spell traps or triggers. Unlike James Potter's invisibility cloak, which made one invisible to the eye, the medallion made one invisible to wizard spells. It would not help against active charms or curses, but passive spells used on gateways would not even notice him. Like, for instance, the staircase leading up to the girls' wing of the Gryffindor tower.

Harry traced one finger around the perimeter of the eye on the face of the medallion. Slowly, as if it were real and not metal at all, the golden eye closed until it was a crescent. Now the magic was activated. Although Harry noticed no difference in himself, he had tried it before and knew it worked. He tucked the medallion back under his shirt. No sense in letting his classmates see any of the secrets behind his mischief.

Harry walked down to the Gryffindor common room. It was empty, luckily, since students were already gathering in the Great Hall for dinner. Now, for the risky part of the plan. His medallion would take care of the magical alarms that prevent boys from going up the girls' staircase, but it would do nothing to help him if he ran into any girls. With a silent prayer, Harry put his first step onto the girls' staircase. No alarm sounded and he was not repelled back into the common room.

Moving faster now, Harry climbed the stairs, quickly getting out of sight of the common room. He passed several rooms before finding one with Hermione's name on the door. Cautiously, he pushed the door open. Seeing that no one was inside, Harry hurried in and shut the door. He knelt behind one of the beds so he would not be visible from the doorway and waited. After about half an hour it occurred to Harry that this might not be his most well thought out plan. If one of the other five girls whose names were on the door came back first, he would be in a very awkward situation. Dinner should be well under way now, so he could probably sneak back into the common room with no one the wiser.

Harry had just moved from a crouch to a standing position when the door opened. Hermione, always uncomfortable around others, must have decided to leave the Great Hall early. She was carrying her robes in one hand and a book in the other. Harry froze, and for a second, she did not see him. Then she met his eyes and her mouth opened in a small “o” of surprise. Like lightning, she dropped her robes and went to the waistband of her skirt where her wand was secured. She whipped it out and held it over her head, her skirt whirling with the motion.

In one part of his mind, Harry registered the first word of her jinx. But he had not been idle, and he had started with his wand already in hand. By the time Hermione had started her jinx, Harry was on the last word of his charm.

“Eterit tupia servus-” Harry stumbled when he heard Hermione begin the jinx. He had one word to go, but who? Ron? Himself? Or... “Gryffindor!”

Hermione had a moment to look afraid before Harry's spell hit her squarely between the eyes. She dropped her wand, her fear swallowed by a dazed happiness that swept across her face.

His heart rate settling, Harry considered the girl in front of him. Firmly, he said, “Come here, Hermione.”

Hermione placidly stepped forward and the door swung shut behind her. The charm Harry had used was one taught to him by his father safely out of his mother's hearing. It made the victim extremely susceptible to orders given by the person named in the spell. In Hermione's case, Harry hoped, she would obey any Gryffindor. He was not sure, though, since his father had told him you needed someone's name. The effects also only lasted a week (or as his father had said, a quarter of the lunar cycle) although the spell could be reapplied.

Now for the test, and coincidentally, the reward. Harry cleared his throat and told the entranced girl, “Take off your clothes.”

Hermione smiled and blinked slowly. She tugged her skirt past her hips and it easily slid down her pale legs. After that, she removed her tie and unbuttoned her shirt, giving Harry a peak at her delicate skin underneath. Soon enough she had removed her shirt and bra, an article which she actually needed, Harry noted with some surprise. When she moved to take off her panties, Harry called, “Stop.”

Obediently, Hermione froze with her thumbs hooked under the waistband. Harry snapped his fingers, because he felt more powerful, not because it was necessary, and said, “Kneel.”

Like a puppet with its strings cut, Hermione dropped to the floor, kneeling on her discarded clothes. Harry walked over to her, closing the distance in a few steps. With his crotch inches from her chest, Harry unzipped his pants. Hermione's happy expression did not change as Harry's cock swelled up, brushing against her left nipple as it rose to its full height. A full height which, Harry now realized, was rather unimpressive.

Harry pointed his wand at his cock and murmured, “Engorgio.”

For a moment Harry felt his cock grow almost painfully hot and then, without warning, it grew from six inches to over twelve and doubled in girth as well. It pushed up against Hermione's chin, closing her slack mouth. Harry twitched his member free and Hermione's mouth fell open again in the same dull smile.

“Hermione, suck my prick,” Harry ordered, wagging it back and forth.

Without hesitation, the girl bent forward and took the tip into her mouth, sucking on it as if it were a straw. Well, that was not going to work. Harry now had twice as much surface area that needed stimulation. Pocketing his wand, he placed both hands on Hermione's head and forced her farther down. She quickly gagged and Harry eased her back, wondering if she would have had the will to prevent herself from choking.

Since Hermione had only been told to suck, and Harry could not think of an easy way to instruct her in technique, he took the driver's role. He grabbed a fistful of her bushy hair in each hand and forced her to bob her head up and down his shaft as she kept sucking. Either his new cock was more sensitive or the perverse situation was turning him on. Either way, in a few short minutes Harry was about to cum. He roughly jerked Hermione's head a few more times quickly and then forced her to take as much of his cock as she could. She choked as he came into the back of her throat, but kept trying to suck and managed to swallow most of the first load. Thanks to his enlarged testicles, two more huge spurts of cum followed hot on the heels of the first. Hermione was fighting a losing battle, and cum finally squirted out between her lips. Harry let go of her hair and backed away, trying to save his pants from a difficult-to-explain stain.

Hermione tried to follow him, hobbling forward on her knees, to continue sucking as she had been told. She got close and opened her mouth when Harry said, “Stop.”

Again, Hermione froze. With her mouth open, a trickle of cum fell from her mouth and traced a path down to her naval. Harry knelt down to meet her vacant stare. What would be the best way to deliver her to Ron?

Harry stood up and stuffed his cock back into his pants, deciding to leave it enlarged. “Alright, strip, Hermione.”

Hermione slid off her panties, ignoring the cum that had started to saturate them. She then took off her shoes and pulled her stockings off her legs. She stood before Harry as though she was presenting her naked body for his approval. Although her pussy winked at him invitingly, Harry knew Gryffindors would soon be returning from dinner.

“Hermione, listen to me,” Harry said. She smiled at him in a vague way, which he took to be her acknowledgment. “You want to have sex with all your Gryffindor masters. You are going to start by going to Ron Weasley's room and waiting for him in his bed. Go.”

Without a backwards glance, Hermione turned and walked out of the room, giving Harry a tempting view of her bare ass. He gathered Hermione's discarded clothes and stuffed them under one of the beds. Then, he prodded the door open and made sure no one was in the hall. With the coast clear, Harry jumped down the stairs two at a time and staked out one of the large armchairs in the common room. He had waited for under twenty minutes when the portrait door swung open, admitting a stream of Gryffindors. Ron, Dean Thomas, and Harry's other three roommates saw him sitting and called out to him.

“We're meeting up with the rest of Gryffindor to watch a scrimmage against Ravenclaw,” Dean said. “Care to join us, Harry?”

“That's alright, thanks,” Harry shook his head. “I'll catch up with you later.”

“Suit yourself,” Dean shrugged. The gang of boys climbed the stairs, but not before Harry had a chance to shoot a wink at Ron, who looked confused and a little worried. Other Gryffindors went up to gather their own warmer clothing, but Harry lost interest.

After an hour had passed, none of Harry's roommates had come back downstairs, although everyone else had come and gone. Harry judged it was time to investigate. As he approached the door to his room, Harry could not hear any sounds. Someone must have had the forethought to cast a silencing charm. Sure enough, as soon as he cracked the door, open he was hit by the sound. There were gurgles that must be coming from Hermione and panting from the boys. Harry opened the door just wide enough to peer in and despite himself found his mouth dropping open.

Hermione was laying on her side on the floor. A boy was laying on either side of her, sandwiching her between them and impaling her on their cocks, one in her pussy the other in her ass. Ron, perhaps as revenge for all the times she had demeaned him, had taken her mouth and was currently thrusting into it roughly. The remaining two boys seemed to be doing their personal best to cover every inch of her skin in their cum and jacked off by rubbing their cocks against any exposed part of her body. Apparently none of the boys, even Ron, had trouble with the engorgement charm because they were all sporting almost comically large dicks. The question was not whether Hermione would be able to walk in the morning, the question was whether she would ever walk again.

Harry quietly closed the door and retreated back down the stairs. Funnily enough, he wondered what the poor house elf who had to clean up the mess would think. He was still chuckling when he reached the common room. He decided to go see who had won the Quidditch scrimmage. Checking once more for any stains on his clothes, Harry headed for the portrait leading out of the tower.

“Hi Harry,” a soft voice said.

Harry turned around and saw a small redheaded girl seated in a chair by the fireplace with a book in her lap. She must be a first year. Clearing his throat, Harry said, “Hi, er...”

“Ginny,” the girl said shyly. “Ginny Weasley.”
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