Sex at Hogwarts

Chapter 10

Author's Note:

There will be no further stories forthcoming from the Potter years at Hogwarts. Although there is much more that could be relayed about the sexual goings on at the famous school, I have consented to a request from two of the principals to bring these accounts to a close. They have their reasons for not wanting further publicity about their youthful antics and I have agreed to respect their privacy.

I do think it is appropriate, however, to end these accounts on a positive note, rather than with the ugly incident, however titillating it may be to some, of Draco Malfoy's rape of Harry Potter. Although I do not have a full accounting of Harry's final interaction with his mentor, Albus Dumbledore I do have some fragmentary knowledge of both that incident and several others that took place over the seven years of the Harry Potter journey. I present a few rough passages here, in the unedited form in which I received them, to bring these accounts to a close which I hope will give the readers some measure of satisfaction, as well as a more complete elucidation of the relationship between these two great wizards.

While the intimacy of the relationship between these two great wizards, mentor and protege, certainly climaxed during this final goodbye, it did not begin there, and so there will first be a brief mention of a few earlier encounters between the two that cemented their bond. The initial one occurred during Harry's first year at Hogwarts.

Readers will remember that it was during his first year at the school that Harry began to get in touch with deeper, more emotionally vulnerable parts of himself than he had previously been aware of as a mere child. While prowling the castle in his newly acquired invisibility cloak he happened upon the mirror of Erised. The mirror revealed to Harry his deepest, most intimate desire, which happened to be to make a connection with his dead parents. But -- and this was never stated by Ms. JKR, but only implied -- the incident was also the beginning of Harry become aware of his inner self generally, and specifically his emotional and erotic needs and desires.

At this point Harry was less than 11 1/2 years old. Although the books managed to avoid all mention of Harry's sexual development, he had in fact already begun puberty by this point -- perhaps a bit early if he had been a muggle boy, but not for a boy wizard. In fact, like virtually all boy wizards at Hogwarts he engaged in regular sexual experimentation with other boys from an early age, and at the tender age of 11 was starting to feel not only strong physical urges but, like almost all boys of that age, the need to have an emotional bond with a man. In the old classroom where he found the mirror he also encountered Professor Dumbledore, and that is when their bond -- one not only emotional but also erotic -- began to take shape.

It was the first time that Harry and Dumbledore had ever had a private conversation, just the two of them with no one else about. Dumbledore seated himself companionably on the floor next to Harry as the two of them looked at the mirror and the professor explained its powers. His tone was warm and intimate. He at one point patted Harry reassuringly on the shoulder, and left his hand there an extra moment or two. Dumbledore eventually tried to bring the conversation to a close by suggesting it was time for Harry to be in bed.

Harry stood up to comply, feeling a bit stunned. Stunned still by the effects of seeing his dead parents so unexpectedly, even though this was now his third visit to the mirror. Stunned as well by the fact that Dumbledore had apparently been somehow observing his three visits to the mirror in secret. And stunned by something else as well.

Dumbledore smiled in his kindly way. "Before we take our leave, Harry, I feel there is something else we need to speak of. Something that I believe seems to you to be of considerable urgency just now."

Harry flushed very red.

"I . . . um . . . I don't know sir. I . . . "

"It's not for me to say what it is, my boy. It's up to you."

Harry gulped. Horrified, he thought he knew very well what was the professor was referring to. He couldn't believe that IT was happening --right in front of the headmaster of Hogwarts! It was all he could do to avoid looking down at the front of his pyjamas. He was speechless.

"Would it be of any help to you to know that I many times find myself in the same exact state?"

Harry gulped and managed to stammer, "Y-you??"

"Indeed."

"What . . .why? I don't . . ."

"Of course you don't understand. I certainly don't expect you to. Permit me to explain. Here, do sit down again, Harry, this may take awhile."

Harry complied, desperately trying as he did so to adjust himself without Dumbledore noticing.

"Let me begin with a question. And forgive me if I startle you with my question -- it's not the sort of thing one usually mentions to a wizard too young to have even begun to study sex magic. But you are exceptional in many ways, Harry, not the least of these being your sexual precocity."

Harry was not at all certain he knew what sexual precocity meant exactly, but there could be no doubt at all now that the professor was referring in some way or other to the fact that his unusually large 11-year-old penis at that very moment stood ragingly, burningly erect, concealed only by the thin fabric of his pyjama bottoms.

"My question is this: what would you say is the purpose of sexual desire?"

"The -- purpose, sir?" Harry squeaked.

"Yes."

Harry's mind was still whirling, but he managed to stammer, "Well, sir, I suppose it's for, well, having sex. For reproducing."

"Excellent, yes, that certainly has been its most important function Harry, you're right. But can there be others? Can we men, for example, find ourselves desiring sexual contact with another person without any wish at all to produce offspring?"

Harry gulped, and was speechless. Dumbledore had called him a man. "We men," he had said. As if he, an 11-year-old boy, were of the same stature as the greatest wizard in the world!

"Let me give you an example. Do you not suppose that there are some sexual goings-on at Hogwarts from time to time between students? Goings on that have absolutely nothing whatever to do with procreation?"

Harry stared, still speechless, horrified yet fascinated that a professor -- in fact, THE professor, the head of the entire school -- was talking with him about, of all things, sexual desire!

"Of course there are!" Dumbledore continued. "Why, I would venture a guess that this very night there has been some sexual tomfoolery going on in a few of the dormitories in the castle. And most if not all of it between two persons unable to procreate at all, both of them being of the same gender! Wouldn't you agree?"

"Um, yes, I suppose sir. I . . . well, I know of . . .well, actually . . .'

"No need to get into specifics, no need at all," Dumbledore said reassuringly, with a dismissive wave. "I merely make the point to illustrate that there may be all manner of other reasons for a person to desire sex -- for one's magic wand to spring to the ready, as it were. As yours is doing right now!"

As if it had a mind of its own Harry's hand dropped to his crotch, automatically concealing the large something that was there, even as the boy realized there was really no point in pretending Dumbledore hadn't already seen the aroused state that he for some ghastly reason was in.

As if he hadn't noticed Dumbledore continued. "You see, one of the best ways to know about ourselves -- our needs, our fears, our desires, our very identities, really, is to attend to the messages the body sends us. The body knows all, Harry, and we are wise to heed its messages."

"What -- what messages? I mean what message does . . ."

"As we move through life there are certain people with whom we come in contact with whom we are well advised to make connections. To get to know, to become friends with, and perhaps, in very special cases, even to bond with in emotional intimacy. And how do we know who those people are, Harry? How do we recognize this special people when we encounter them, do you suppose?"

There was silence.

"is it -- the body . . .?"

"Exactly!" Dumbledore beamed and rose suddenly to his feet.

"Now it really is time for both of us to head back to our beds, my boy," he said briskly, helping the boy up a bit and nudging him ever so gently in the direction of the door.

Harry, his head still whirling with all that had just happened before the mirror of Erised, turned at the door before heading down the hallway.

"But sir . . ?" he began. "Does this mean that we . . .?"

The wizard's blue eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. "Just listen to the body, Harry!" he exclaimed, and then closed the door.

During Harry's second year at Hogwarts things took a more sinister turn, for this was the first time Harry began to hear the voice of Voldemort in his mind, although he had no idea what it was he was hearing. During this year there were no interactions between Harry and Dumbledore in which sexuality was explicitly referenced. However, one is aware of a very interesting exchange which hinted at the deepening bond between pupil and headmaster.

The incident occurred on the climactic night when Harry defeated Tom Riddle in the chamber of secrets. Shortly thereafter, in Professor McGonigall's office, after she and the Weasleys and Professor Lockhart had all left, it was just Harry and the headmaster who remained behind. According to the account we have all been given, Dumbledore thanked Harry and praised him for his loyalty. He also explained how it was that, in spite of his ability to speak parseltongue, Harry really was a Gryffindor. We are further told that shortly thereafter, as their conversation drew to a close, Lucius Malfoy arrived and a confrontation between him and Dumbledore ensued.

What was left out -- and this was no doubt something neither Dumbledore nor Harry had mentioned to many people -- was a very touching moment between the two wizards, soon to become mentor and protege.

As the door closed behind Ron and Gilderoy Lockhart, Harry let out a deep breath, his shoulders sagging, as if his whole body were beginning to relax. The terrible ordeal he had just been through was finally over.

Seeing this, Dumbledore placed a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Here, my boy, let's just take a seat here and have a bit of a rest, shall we?" he murmured, guiding Harry to a nearby armchair. Dumbledore plopped down in the adjacent one.

"You've been through such a lot, Harry," Dumbledore said in a soothing voice, his hand still resting gently on the boy's arm. "It would have been a lot even for a full-grown adult, let alone a young wizard not yet 13 years old. You are quite a remarkable boy, you know."

"I'm -- just glad it's over." The boy looked exhausted. The boy stared a moment into the fire that now burned merrily in Professor McGonigall's fireplace, his eyes glazed.

Dumbledore said nothing, but his bright blue eyes were fixed steadily on Harry.

Suddenly Harry turned to the professor.

"But sir . . . how did you know? You -- you sent Fawkes to help us! But you were nowhere around! You couldn't have had any idea . . . "

Dumbledore pulled at his beard a moment as one does when considering carefully how to reply to a question. Or perhaps, how much to reveal.

"I had an intuition, you might say," he finally replied, gazing pensively up into the corner of the room. "For some reason -- I'm not at all sure why myself -- you and I seem to be -- in tune with each other, you see."

"In tune?"

Dumbledore turned and looked deeply into Harry's eyes. There was suddenly such intensity in his gaze that Harry gave a small start.

"Your fate and mine are bound up together, Harry. I don't completely understand it, but I'm sure it's true. And that gives us a special -- connection. A bond, you might say. A protective bond."

The boy swallowed, staring back hard at Dumbledore. "A protective bond like -- with me and my mum?" he finally asked, his voice scratchy with sudden emotion.

"Oh no," the man sighed, and there might have been just a wisp of melancholy in his voice. "Not quite that sort of bond."

He was silent.

"What sort, then, Professor?"

Dumbledore smiled, and there was a sweet sadness in his face. He reached out and carefully and gently caressed Harry's cheek.

"A different sort of -- affection," the old wizard murmured, his fingertips just lingering for a second on the softness of the boy's jaw before finally dropping away.

During Harry Potter's third year at Hogwarts we really see very little of Professor Dumbledore. He is referred to occasionally, but between Harry's attempts to save Buckbeak, the terrifying arrival of the Dementors, the mystery of Sirius Black and the excitements of the quiidditch season, the two of them do not have much interaction. On the physical plane, that is. But in Harry's dream life -- that is another story entirely.

Readers will recall that one of the most important events of that year as far as Harry was concerned was the final quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin houses, the match that would determine the season's champion. The night before the match, keyed up with excitement, Harry had not slept well. He had a couple of bad dreams and then he had awakened in the middle of the night and through his window glimpsed the ominous black dog that had been making alarming appearances from time to time -- the dog that eventually would turn out to be Sirius Black.

Once Harry had gone back to bed he had still another dream. This third dream was different from the others. Although it would no doubt have been a very disturbing one to many people, surprisingly that is not how it affected Harry. Rather, Harry felt filled with strength and confidence by the time this final dream ended, and he awoke the next morning, ready and eager for the championship match, feeling that strength and confidence permeating his every pore. Harry confided this dream to only two persons, I am assured, and I describe the dream now only after having sworn not to reveal the identity of my informant.

Harry dreamed that he was in a great arena that held an immense quidditch pitch, a much larger one than the pitch at Hogwarts. As he stood in the middle of the field and surveyed the scene he saw that the stands on all sides were filled with people. Looking more closely he saw many people in the stands he recognized. Hermione was there, and the entire Weasley family, and Professor McGonagall. Hagrid was there too, and Colin Creevey and Seamus and Dean and Neville. Hordes of fans wearing Gryffindor crimson stood cheering, although there was no match occurring at the moment. Harry suddenly realized that since there were no other players on the field but he they must all be cheering for him. He raised his hand, waved and smiled -- and just then he realized he was completely naked! More horrifying still, he realized he was standing in front of thousands of people not only naked but with an immense erection. He was frozen with panic.

Suddenly a great shadow passed over the field and looking up Harry saw an immense bird circling the field. As he watched it began an abrupt descent. It was a gigantic phoenix. With a great swirl of crimson and gold the phoenix landed right in front of Harry, who was so astonished he completely forgot about his naked state and the crowd. The Phoenix stared hard at Harry with one beady black eye, clicked its golden break, and with a great shiver shook itself. As it did so its feathers flew off in a storm of scarlet, its breast somehow opened up and to Harry's astonishment, instead of a great phoenix, it was Professor Dumbledore who stood before him, clad in long crimson and gold robes.

Before Harry could move Dumbledore ripped aside his robe with a quick twist of the wrist -- and there, right there on that quidditch pitch in front of Harry and all of Hogwarts, stood the most powerful wizard in the world as naked as Harry was. Harry's eyes were drawn instantly to what certainly could not be, but was. Dumbledore stood in front of Harry, his naked body neither old nor young, neither wizened nor muscular -- sporting an erection so immense it did not seem real. As Harry watched, mesmerized, Dumbledore raised his arm aloft, gripping -- the most beautiful Firebolt Harry had ever seen. It was painted bright red and it positively glistened in the sunlight.

The two, man and boy, stared at each other, oblivious to everything and everyone around them. Dumbledore took a step forward until he was within am's length of Harry. With his free hand Dumbledore reached out toward Harry and then very decisively and firmly grasped the boy's own huge erection. With his other hand he extended the Firebolt to Harry.

Although no words passed between them Harry knew what to do next. He grabbed the Firebolt with one hand and with the other reached forward and grabbed Dumbledore's erection just as the wizard had grasped his. It was so hard and so hot. Electric pleasure surged through Harry's penis as Dumbledore squeezed it and he felt sure that Dumbledore must be feeling exactly what he was feeling. He squeezed the professor's reddened and heavily veined tool a little more tightly.

At that there was an immense roar from the crowd, and a surge of confidence, a joyful feeling of rightness unlike anything he had ever felt before suffused his whole being. Still joined sexually with the headmaster Harry waved the broom ecstatically to the crowd, and many in the crowd waved enthusiastically back. Harry released Dumbledore then to turn and wave to those seated behind him -- and when he turned back around Dumbledore was gone. This did not seem at all surprising to Harry, who continued to smile and wave, his heart bursting with happiness and pride, and it seemed as if the cheering crowd were roaring its approval of his great erection, which he was now not at all embarrassed to show off to the multitudes. In fact, Harry actually gave it a pronounced tug, and at that the crowd roared even louder.

Just then he heard a voice, very low but very insistent. It said, "Go on now, Harry. You're ready. Make us proud!" And Harry knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it somehow was his father's voice. He gripped the Firebolt tightly, just as he had gripped Dumbledore's monstrous erection, and he knew that somehow his life had changed forever.

The Harry Potter saga changed profoundly in Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts. Ms. JKR herself has acknowledged that this was the pivotal year of Harry's seven year journey. For one thing, it saw the return of Voldemort to full potency. And, no doubt of greatest interest to readers of this treatise, it saw the relationship between the boy and Dumbledore take a more explicitly sexual turn.

The last few chapters of the account of this dramatic year are rather a jumble of plot twists and turns, and readers can be forgiven for assuming that during that period the last thing on Harry Potter's mind -- or Dumbledore's -- could have been sex. In those climactic couple of days after Harry escaped Voldemort's clutches and retuned to Hogwarts the boy was exhausted, injured, and traumatized. It might seem as if sexual pleasure must have been the last thing on anyone's mind then. And yet there was actually an erotically transformative few minutes between the headmaster and the young hero. Sexuality seems always to have been a part of the bond between these two, although it took Harry awhile to recognize this and even longer to understand and appreciate the meaning of that bond.

Readers will recall that Harry was taken to the hospital wing at Hogwarts to begin his recovery from all that he had endured. There ensued a lengthy meeting of many of the principals of the story, during which everyone was brought up to speed on the horrifying encounter between Harry and Voldemort and the deception of the false Mad-eye Moody. There then ensued a lengthy and futile attempt by Dumbledore to persuade Cornelius Fudge that Voldemort had in fact returned.

According to the story as ably related by Ms. JKR, once Fudge had angrily stomped off Dumbledore sent most of those present on their way on various errands and instructed that Harry be given a sleeping draught to help him recover from his terrible experience. This account left the reader with the impression that the professor left the room as Harry took his potion while looked after by Ron, Hermione and Molly Weasley. No doubt this was the information the author was given. It is not surprising that what actually happened was kept secret -- it was no doubt assumed to be no one's business besides Harry Potter's and Albus Dumbledore's. After so many years, however, it is time to acquaint the world will the real story.

Actually, it was Ron, Hermione and Mrs. Weasley who left the hospital room first -- Dumbledore alone remained behind for a few minutes. Readers were told that Harry finally crumbled emotionally and was hugged and comforted by Mrs. Weasley. It is true that Harry, overwhelmed with emotion, has collapsed into tears -- but it was not Mrs. Weasley's arms who held and comforted him. It was Dumbledore's.

The two sat together in silence for several minutes, Dumbledore tucked rather awkwardly on the edge of Harry's bed, cuddling the boy as Harry sniffled and wiped his nose and otherwise tried to pull himself together. Finally Harry was calm, staring blankly out into space. Dumbledore waited.

The boy gave a big sigh and then turned and looked up at Dumbledore, as if he wanted to say or ask something. Dumbledore sat back a bit, leaning against the headboard.

"What is it, my boy?"

The boy gave another sigh, then frowned, looked around the room a bit and shook his head.

After a bit Dumbledore asked softly, "It's happening again, eh?"

Harry looked up, a frown on his face and nodded. "What -- what does it mean?"

Dumbledore smiled benevolently. "You know what it means, Harry. What did I tell you when it first happened, three years ago now?"

Harry swallowed. "You told me to listen to the body. To pay attention to what it tells me."

"Quite so. And have you been doing that lately?"

The boy colored and shifted a bit in the bed.

Dumbledore gave Harry's neck an affectionate little squeeze. "You're 14 now. You're coming into your power as a young magician -- no longer just a boy, just a student. And you are coming into your full power as a young man too. That includes your full sexual power, doesn't it? No need for names or personal details, but I feel I must know -- have you been obeying what your body tells you to do?"

The boy sighed again and then, as if he had made a decision, turned fully, looked at Dumbledore and said in a voice attempting firmness and quivering only slightly, "A bit, sir. Yes."

"But not as much as you'd have liked, I daresay."

Harry managed a rueful half-smile. "Well, sir, there are rules. I can't just . . . I mean, girls are off limits . . . "

Dumbledore chuckled. "Quite, quite. Although I daresay you seem to have managed to evade quite a number of rules thus far in your years at Hogwarts."

"I know. But, sir -- things seem to have turned out, haven't they? I only did what had to be done--"

"And how many times have I punished you for your various transgressions?"

Harry smiled. "Well -- none, sir."

"Exactly."

Harry shifted a bit, surreptitiously slipped his hand under the sheet that covered him and tugged at something rather near his crotch.

He looked up at Dumbledore then, his face a mixture of emotions. "But sir, there's something I need to ask. It's -- very awkward . . . "

"Something about sex?"

The boy swallowed, but continued to stare hard at Dumbledore. "Yes. Why . . . "

"Why what?" Dumbledore asked very softly.

Harry drew a big breath and let it out forcefully. Then, sounding less embarrassed than frustrated asked, "Why am I always hard around you?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, gazed at Harry with a smile and nodded in approval. "Wonderful. You have such courage, my boy."

Then he said, with a broad smile, "For the same reason I am always hard around you!"

Harry swallowed hard and kept gazing at the professor.

"Does that surprise you?" Dumbledore asked. "It shouldn't."

"No, it . . . it doesn't."

Dumbledore waited. There was silence.

"You were in my dream," Harry finally said.

"Ah."

"I think I should tell you. It seems like I should."

"Then by all means do!"

The boy paused, as if gathering himself.

"It was last year," he began. "Right before the big quidditch match. You know, when Gryffindor won."

"Due in large part to the skill of the Gryffindor Seeker, as I recall," Dumbledore smiled.

Harry went on as if he hadn't heard this compliment. "I dreamed I was in a giant quidditch pitch. There were fans all around, all cheering for me. And I was standing there naked! And then this big phoenix landed right in front of me, and its chest kind of opened up, and it tuned into you! And you were -- naked too!"

"Ah. And was I--"

"We were both hard!" interrupted Harry breathlessly, suddenly hurrying as if eager to tell the whole story. "And you held up this red firebolt, and I knew it was for me, you were giving it to me, and at the same time as you held it up you grabbed my -- "

"It was your cock, wasn't it?" Dumbledore guessed. "Don't say `willie,' by the way," Dumbledore admonished. "That's a little boy word."

"Yeah. My cock. And I -- I grabbed yours too! And we just stared at each other as you passed me the firebolt. It was like you were telling me something. Like, that my cock and the firebolt were the same thing, or something. And I felt really strong, and not embarrassed at all. And then I heard my father's voice. I know it was him." Harry's own voice suddenly caught in his throat.

"And what did your father say?"

"I remember every word! He said, `Go on now, Harry. You're ready. Make us proud."" Tears suddenly sprang to Harry's eyes.

"Mmm," murmured Dumbledore. "Extraordinary."

Harry blinked, and said, "It felt . . . extraordinary."

He hastily wiped his eyes, as if impatient with himself for his own emotions, and then asked, "What does it all mean, sir?"

"It all means, my boy, that your father was right. You are ready."

"Ready -- for what?" The boy's face pleaded, as if he were desperate to understand.

"For all of it. For leadership on your quidditch squad. For real sex, not just a bit of fun with your mates. For your struggle with Voldemort. For manhood itself, I daresay, despite your young age. And for one other thing."

"What's that?"

"For a deeper bond with me. Isn't that why you're hard right now?"

Harry stared, unflinching. "Is that what my body is telling me?"

"Well, it's what my body its telling me! Only you can know what your body's wisdom is saying to you."

Harry swallowed. There was silence. Finally Harry spoke.

"It's up to me, isn't it? To go first."

Dumbledore drew out his wand and flicked it in the direction of the hospital room door. There was a click.

"Of course."

Without hesitation Harry puffed out a deep breath, threw the sheet off his body, unsnapped his jeans, lifted his hips in the air, shoved down his briefs and jeans, and lay back in the bed. There was silence as both he and Dumbledore observed his furiously erect cock. Blazingly red, its sticky head already partially protruding from its foreskin, stretching almost 10 inches upward from his scantily haired pubes, it bobbed slightly in time with his heartbeat. Harry kicked off his clothes entirely.

If Dumbledore was surprised at the unusual size of 14-year-old Harry's member he showed no sign of it. He eased one hand toward Harry's erection is if to grab it but then paused, inches away. He waited.

"Do it," Harry said, his voice tight and tense.

"Are you certain? Be very certain, Harry."

"I'm certain," the boy responded, unable to conceal the urgency in his voice.

At that Dumbledore closed his hand firmly around Harry's cock. The boy jumped and gave a gasp.

"Yes?" asked Dumbledore.

"It . . . it tingles!" exclaimed Harry.

"Shall I go on?" asked Dumbledore calmly.

"Uh-huh. But . . ."

"But what?"

"Should I, um . . ."

"There's no `should,' Harry. What is your body telling you?"

"Um . . . to do the same to you."

At that Dumbledore let go of Harry's cock, rose to his feet, unclasped his robe and tossed it aside. Completely naked, he seated himself on the edge of Harry's bed again. An erection of seemingly impossible size surged upward in Harry's direction.

Harry swallowed, but without hesitation reached out and clutched Dumbledore's organ.

After a silent, motionless moment, Dumbledore asked, "Is it as it was in your dream?"

Harry nodded, eyes wide in wonder, a slight smile curling his lips. "Exactly."

Dumbledore smiled. "And how do you feel?"

Harry looked Dumbledore right in the eye. "I feel . . . strong! Like I can do anything!" There was a note of excitement in Harry's voice. Then he broke into a broad smile.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore replied. He grasped Harry's cock again.

"How shall we do this, then?" he asked. "What would excite you most?"

Harry paused. "I think . . . I think I want to go first. Then you do it to me."

"Very well. I am at your service," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "Scoot over a bit then."

The boy made more room for the professor as he lay full length next to the boy.

Turning onto his side, focusing intently now on Dumbledore's remarkable stalk, Harry slowly began jacking the man.

"Is this all right?" he asked after a moment's exertions.

"Wonderful, Harry. Just a bit less roughly, if you don't mind."

Harry changed his grip a bit and continued.

"Like this?"

"Perfect."

They continued in silence for two or three minutes, Dumbledore with his eyes closed and a beatific smile on his face, Harry frowning with determination. Eventually the boy's stroking eased. Dumbledore opened his eyes and looked at Harry.

"I want to do something else now," Harry said.

"By all means," replied Dumbledore. Suddenly a look of surprise, indeed of wonder came over the face of a wizard who seemed rarely if ever to be surprised by anything. For Harry had just slipped his lips over the man's cockhead and slid the entire glans into his mouth.

The man's hand came very gently to the back of the boy's head. "Excellent, Harry, excellent," he murmured.

Harry Potter turned onto his belly then, leaned over Dumbledore and began plunging and withdrawing, licking and slurping, caressing and stroking, and slobbering and tickling like a madman. All the while he hunched his erection into the bed again and again as if trying to mate with it. Despite whatever emotional exhaustion he may have been feeling as a result of recent events, he certainly seemed to have recovered his youthful vigor.

Finally, after several minutes of Harry's increasingly aggressive cocksucking, Dumbledore gripped Harry's shoulder. "Let's stop for just a minute, Harry."

The boy looked up quizzically, his lips slightly puffy, his chin and cheeks wet with saliva.

"You're really doing wonderfully," Dumbledore said, perhaps just slightly out of breath. "Where in the world did you acquire such skill?"

"Well, second-year Sex Magic, I suppose," Harry replied.

"Professor Pratt is certainly a capable instructor the arts of sexual pleasure, very capable. And yet your techniques and your sexual self-confidence -- I can't imagine you acquired all that at age 12."

"Well, sir, I have started to get a bit of, er, practice."

"Ah. Well I'm sure you are very much appreciated by your dormmates, or whoever else my be the fortunate beneficiaries of your erotic talents. Be that as it may, I think it's time for something new. Are you willing to try something and see how you feel about it?"

Harry nodded.

Dumbledore took Harry by both shoulders and rolled him onto his back. He gazed at the boy's slender body, slightly flushed now with arousal, and at the big cock that surged angrily upward along the boy's narrow belly. Its glans flared dramatically outward from the shaft, completely exposed, its foreskin having been fully retracted by Harry's repeated humping of the mattress.

Dumbledore gently pinched one of Harry's small pink nipples between two fingers. With one long finger of his other hand he tantalizingly tickled the big glans, flicked the foreskin and then, as the plates of Harry's belly tightened spasmodically, drew his fingernail slowly down the underside of the boy's shaft.

"Ah," Harry gasped softly, his eyes closing. And then Dumbledore began to administer to Harry more sexual pleasure than the boy had ever imagined was possible, even in his wildest, nastiest fantasies. While gently fisting the boys cock he caressed behind his ear, the inside of his thigh, the arch of his foot. Dumbledore pinched and shook Harry's foreskin while crushing the boy's nipple. He roughly clutched and mauled the boy's cock while rhythmically pressing his perineum, just next to his anus. He tugged at the boy's balls in their hairless sack while caressing the scant few hairs that had just started to sprout in one armpit. The man worked the boy over for minute after minute. As Harry would near ejaculation the man would divert his pleasure again and again, and the boy's erection turned from dull red to a shining lustrous purple and strained upward another quarter-inch, seeming to beg for release.

"Oh God. Please!" Harry finally gasped.

"Are you sure?" Dumbledore panted.

"Un-huh," the boy gasped again.

With that Dumbledore rose to his knees and straddled the boy, one knee on either side of his hips, and began vigorously pounding the boy's cock while gently tugging at his scrotum. In no time the boy was there. Eyes closed, giving little wail, Harry arched upward, his clenching little ass rising several inches into the air, every muscle in his body straining. As soon as the first burst of cum shot from the boy's cock Dumbledore released the organ, shoved his own penis downward, pressed it against Harry cock, and then, as Harry spewed the next gob of spunk onto his belly, Dumbledore began ejaculating too. Glans to glans, shaft to shaft, the two wizards, man and boy, ejaculated together. Great wads of semen continued to spray everywhere. It was impossible to tell whose spunk it was that coated Harry's breastbone, shot onto his shoulder, or dripped viscously from one eyebrow.

"YAH! AH! AH!" Harry bellowed, twisting and writhing in the air, grabbing his own cock now, firing a gob of spunk onto Dumbledore's chest, then onto his pillow, then off the side of the bed entirely. Meanwhile Dumbledore sawed his still-spewing cock into Harry's groin, over his clenching belly and eventually underneath his balls, which he so coated with spunk that when Harry finally dropped back onto the bed, exhausted, his entire scrotum was immediately soaked with semen. Dumbledore gave one last immense burst of semen, hitting Harry in the cheek, and then subsided heavily onto his side next to the boy.

A minute went by, as both man and boy lay panting side by side, apparently completely depleted. Eventually Dumbledore arose and began dressing. At this Harry pulled the sheet back over himself, leaving his clothing in a pile on the floor.

Finally Dumbledore pulled a chair over close to the bed and sat.

Man and boy looked at each other.

"Things will be different now, won't they?" asked Harry suddenly.

"Yes. For you, and for us as well."

"For us?"

"I rather think so, yes. You know, Harry, for your whole life you have been an orphan. A boy without parents. But you have a special destiny. And to achieve all you must achieve you must have a deep bond with someone to guide you. And," Dumbledore smiled, "our bond is apparently one to be cemented sexually."

"Our bodies have told us, haven't they?"

"So it would seem!"

"Will we, you know . . . do this again?"

"Probably. But not too often, I think. A loving bond is a wonderful thing -- but it is only a means to an end. We'll know when to be together like this again, I think."

Dumbledore arose and strode over to a small cabinet on which Madam Pomfrey had placed the sleeping draught.

"Now it really is time for you to rest, Harry. I can't imagine how you got the energy for our little encounter just now, but you must not push yourself any further. You've earned a long, deep, restful sleep, and you shall have it."

Carefully Dumbledore poured a bluish liquid into a battered old spoon that Madam Pomfrey had left for just that purpose, and like the little boy he no longer was, Harry opened wide, closed his mouth over the spoon, swallowed its contents, and in seconds was drifting off to sleep.

Dumbledore smiled with satisfaction, capped the bottle, put it carefully back into the cabinet, and softly left the room.

It must be confessed to readers that the following scene contains no sex. Throughout Harry Potter's entire fifth year at Hogwarts Professor Dumbledore, for reasons he eventually makes clear, seemed basically to have ignored Harry as much as he could. And yet, at the end of that year the two finally had the most emotional hour they had ever spent together, and although no sex was involved, their bond was cemented stronger than ever.

As seems to happen frequently in the Harry Potter books, the end of Book 5 features a long meeting between Dumbledore and Harry at which another batch of the mysteries of this complex saga are explained. As the reader will recall, the reason for Harry's annual summer stays with the loathed Dursley family, the explanation of Dumbledore's insistence that Harry study occlumency, and the account of Sybill Trelawney's fatal prophecy are all made clear to Harry.

But to Harry at that meeting in Dumbledore's office all the above-mentioned explanations were for many minutes mere background noise. For at that meeting Harry was awash in grief over the death of Sirius Black, and this was all that filled his mind. At this point he was literally at the lowest point he had ever been in his young life.

Harry's grief, which was for a time inconsolable, was doubled by Harry's horrible realization that he had, in effect, killed his beloved godfather. He had fallen into Voldemort's trap and his resulting decision to break in to the Ministry of Magic led directly to Black's death. So his grief was compounded by guilt, to such an extent that he was frustrated and overwhelmed by everything. Screaming and yelling, throwing things around Dumbledore's office, it was as if he had finally lost control. His grief and frustration, welling up within him like magma, exploded in a fit of rage directed at Dumbledore.

Eventually, however, as Dumbledore persisted in placidly explaining so many of the facts to which Harry had previously been blind, Harry grew calmer and calmer. Finally Dumbledore was done. Harry still felt empty, hopeless, and utterly drained. And yet there was enough life left in him that, once his fury at Dumbledore had subsided, a tiny light began to go on in Harry's emotion-wracked mind. Harry began to understand what Dumbledore had done for him, how he had protected him all his life. He saw that Dumbledore too was wracked with guilt, guilt over concealing from Harry so many things about him that Harry would have desperately wanted to understand. As much as he might have wanted to, Harry knew he could not blame Dumbledore. Dumbledore had done what he had done to spare him pain. He had done it out of caring, out of kindness.

For the first time in all their years together a critical realization hit Harry. It hit him the moment Dumbledore explained that he had never made Harry a prefect -- an honor Harry had bitterly resented being denied -- to protect him from further burdens, for he was already carrying too many. As Dumbledore explained this, one lone tear trickled down his beard. Seeing that tear Harry suddenly realized, with a wrenching feeling in his stomach, that Dumbledore loved him. He, a fatherless, motherless child, bereft now even of his beloved godfather -- he still had Dumbledore.

Harry sprang from his chair, rushed to Dumbledore, flung himself into his arms, and sobbed as loudly and as long as he ever had in his life, his hands spasmodically clutching and squeezing the old man's arms as he held him.

In his sixth and final year at Hogwarts Harry Potter and Professor Dumbledore spent many hours together immersing themselves in Dumbledores's memories by using his remarkable pensieve. The two of them would dive together into the bowl of memories, and Harry learned a great deal about the past of his mortal enemy, Lord Voldemort.

In Ms. JKR's fascinating description of these remarkable journeys into the past she explains that the process of entering into these memories involved a sort of falling or diving into the memories swirling about in the bowl. On some occasions Harry used the pensieve by himself, and that kind of diving in is basically how it happened. But when he and Dumbledore went together, the process was a rather different one.

On these occasions it was important that Harry be strong, resolute and purposeful. Dumbledore feared that the more Harry found about Voldemort's past, and the more he saw evidence of the evil magician's extraordinary brilliance and resourcefulness, as well as his viciousness and cruelty, there was a chance he would lose his resolve. To this end Dumbledore used an ancient technique to fill the boy with manly power -- a technique neither novel nor magical, but one which nevertheless may have been beyond the ability of a lady chronicler to appreciate -- if, indeed, Ms. JKR was ever informed about it at all.

To illustrate, let us consider the very first trip Harry and Dumbledore took together into the past during Harry's sixth and final year at Hogwarts. Dumbledore had told Harry there would be some sort of lessons for which Harry should visit him in his office, but he had been very vague about what the subject of these lessons was to be. Of course Hermione and Ron speculated that Harry would be learning some extra-powerful spells or curses in order to arm himself for whatever lay ahead.

As it turned out Dumbledore was planning some new lessons of a much different sort than Harry and his friends imagined.

Harry had not even arrived at the door to Dumbledore's office yet when he felt his cock erecting, as it always seemed to do when he was near Dumbledore. Just the thought that he was about to be in the presence of the headmaster seemed to do the trick. At first this inevitable erectile occurrence would make Harry confused and more than a bit alarmed. But he was sixteen now, and used to it. Harry sighed as he gave the password to the gargoyle who guarded the opening to the magical stairway that curved up to Dumbledore's office.

Man and boy greeted each other with a few pleasantries, which included Dumbledore teasing Harry about his earning a detention so soon in the school year.

There was a pause.

"It's happening again." Harry observed, with a small shrug.

"Of course it is," Dumbledore replied coolly. "As I've said, it's what is needed between us. It will always happen."

"But we can't . . . I mean, this isn't really a good place, is it?" Harry looked around the office uncomfortably.

"Actually this is the perfect time and place." Dumbledore smiled. With that he reached out and began unfastening Harry's robe.

Dumbledore chuckled. "I see you're wondering what all my predecessors would think if they were to be spectators at what we're about to do. But notice . . . " He gestured to the portraits hung high on the walls all about the room. In every frame its occupant was asleep. Some of the past headmasters were passed out with chin on hand, others face down, still others with heads thrown back and snoring softly. Even Dumbledore's wonderful phoenix Fawkes sat on his perch with his head under his wing, apparently fast asleep as well.

"It so happens they have all chosen this afternoon for a nap," Dumbledore explained as he began removing his own robe. Harry wondered if perhaps two dozen former headmasters all napping simultaneously were more than merely a fortunate coincidence.

Harry shrugged out of his robe and began kicking off his shoes.

"So why is it the perfect time?" he asked.

"The use of the pensieve this year is going to be quite a big step for you -- for both of us, actually." he explained. "For one thing, it will reveal to you the secrets of Voldemort's past."

Harry shrugged out of his T-shirt. "Why is that a big step? I've used it before. And what does that have to do with . . . `

"With your erection?" Dumbledore smiled. "And -- with mine?"

Dumbledore, who now stood naked in front of Harry, gestured toward himself as he said this.

Harry stared at the immensity of the magician's tool. It was not unfamiliar to him, but he could not resist marveling at it every time he saw it. Or felt it.

"Um -- yes."

Smiling broadly at the boy, Dumbledore reached forward and unfastened Harry's jeans. The boy obediently shoved them down along with his briefs. His own splendid penis snapped upward, as if ready and eager for action.

Dumbledore unhesitatingly reached forward and caressed the boy's organ, which was an angry rose pink, its foreskin already retracted. Harry shivered with pleasure.

"Grab ahold of it with me, will you Harry?"

The boy slipped his own hand along his huge organ until came to rest atop Dumbledore's hand. Several inches of boy wizard meat protruded from his grip.

"Squeeze, Harry. Really feel it."

The boy and the man both squeezed the boy's cock firmly. The head of Harry's cock bulged.

"Feel your strength. Observe how it feels. Whenever you use your wand, remember that this is your real magic wand. That bit of wood you may hold in your hand at times gets its power from this wand. This wand -- and your heart."

Dumbledore paused, as one does who chooses his words carefully.

"Your ability to conquer your fear will be tested when you see the truth of what Voldemort is. The cruelty he is capable of is even worse than you may imagine."

Dumbledore began gently playing his fingers up and down Harry's cock.

"The trips back into the past you and I will take this year will be different from anything you have experienced before. You will need all your power, and all your courage."

"I'm not afraid, sir," Harry said stoutly, raising his stubborn little chin.

"Perhaps you are not afraid for yourself. And that in itself is admirable. But there is a greater fear than that. There is fear a hundred times greater than that."

Both were silent. Dumbledore chose not to elaborate.

"Today's trip into the past will be just a gentle introduction -- an important one, as you will see, but a gentle one. There will be future trips this year that will not be as gentle. Each time you and I prepare to enter the swirls of memory I will be strengthening you more and more. When our trips into the past -- Voldemort's past -- are complete you will have all the strength you need for -- what lies ahead."

Before Harry could ask exactly what he meant by `what lies ahead,' Dumbledore commanded, "Now grab me. Grip me very firmly. Keep holding your own as well."

The boy complied, and as he did so he seems to stand a bit straighter, his lightly muscled chest thrust outward just a tiny bit.

"Close your eyes now. Feel the power flowing between us."

Both wizards, man and boy, stood silently, eyes closed, gripping each other hard for some time.

`Very good," said Dumbledore with a nod, releasing the boy's organ. "Now let's have a look at this pensieve, shall we?"

The boy stepped out of his clothes and kicked them aside along with his robe as Dumbledore walked over naked to the cabinet and procured the shallow stone bowl. Turning to walk back to Harry he stopped for a moment and gazed at the boy.

"You know Harry, we would go ahead with what we're about to do if you were as ugly as a toad, but it certainly doesn't hurt that you are a rather attractive lad."

Hearty found himself blushing, feeling very confused. What did it mean that Dumbledore thought he was -- attractive?

"Yes, It certainly makes it easier for me to do what must be done, I must say," Dumbledore chuckled, seemingly more to himself than to Harry.

"Now just bend over the pensive. That's it. I'll be right behind you."

The boy bent forward, bracing his hands on the wooden shelf that held the magical device.

Standing behind him, Dumbledore massaged the boy's shoulders gently.

"Spread you legs wider apart, won't you?" Dumbledore suggested. The boy obeyed, his mind suddenly racing. Was this going to be the time it finally happened? His penis seemed to get even harder at the thought. But what did that mean? Did he even want -- what he thought might be about to happen?

Since he has been a second-year he had known about adult wizards buggering boys. He remembered Professor Pratt reassuring the class that it was a practice largely out of fashion, a relic of a much different time, and not much heard about any more. But he wondered. More than once he had had dreams, just fleeting scenes, really, in which someone -- a man, someone with power and authority -- was buggering him! And he had been shocked to realize that after such dreams he had awakened -- how? Not happy, exactly. Still a bit confused. But strong somehow. Self-assured. Like he would be prepared for whatever lay ahead. And always fully, blazingly erect.

And for some time now he had wondered if the real reason he and Dumbledore always became erect in each others' presence was that one day, that powerful man buggering him would be Professor Dumbledore. And that it would happen not in a dream but in real life. And, he had thought to himself, maybe it didn't matter if he wanted it or not. Maybe it was like his battle with Voldemort. Maybe it was part of his destiny, or something.

Caressing the boy's back, Professor Dumbledore drew his hands lower until they rested on the small mounds of the boy's butt, still perky and small, even though Harry was now 16 years old. The man's great penis bobbed as he did so, pointing as it did straight at Harry's back door. The man massaged the boy's butt cheeks gently but firmly, insistently.

"It's time for you to fill yourself with more of my power, Harry. Everything between us over the past five years has been building to this."

"Sir, are you going to . . . fuck me?"

"Ah, of course not, Harry. What we will be doing is not actually fucking at all, as you so delicately term it, for fucking is when we lose ourselves in pleasure and desire. We will not be losing ourselves. We will be finding ourselves." The wizard drew one long finger up and down the boy's asscrack.

Harry gulped, and thrust his butt back a bit against Dumbledore in spite if himself. So it was going to happen then. And in that moment he realized something. He wanted it. More than anything else in the world right then, he wanted Dumbledore's cock deep inside him.

"So is it, like, making love, in a way?" he finally blurted.

"Ah, well, I suppose that's closer to the mark," Dumbledore replied, as he continued to slowly stroke up and down Harry's asscrack. "But it's not exactly that either. Making love is when two people simultaneously embrace the truth of each other. It is a mutual thing, you see. But you and I -- it can never be mutual between us, because we are not equals. You know this very well, and I'll not pretend any different. I am the man, with power to pass on. You are the boy, in need of such power."

"So . . . your power will come into me -- through your, erm, magic wand?"

Dumbledore stopped caressing Harry. "How does that thought make you feel?"

Harry shocked himself with the words that came from his lips. "It feels right, sir."

"Ah, good." Dumbledore resumed caressed Harry's little butt. "And does it scare you?"

"Perhaps a bit. But not much. I . . . trust you."

Dumbledore carefully pressed this finger deeply between Harry's asscheeks. The boy stiffened a bit, then relaxed.

"It seems that . . . you haven't bestowed the gift of your virginity on any of your mates thus far, am I right?"

Harry frowned, turned and looked over his shoulder.

"Well, sir, I have, um, done things, I don't want you to think I'm some kind of prudish virgin or anything, but no, nobody's, um, you know . . . "

Dumbledore paused. "It's time, Harry."

"I know. Will it, um . . . `

"Will it what?" Dumbledore asked, with the suggestion of a chuckle.

"I can take pain, sir, I don't want to be a baby, but you are, well, you're really, really big!"

Dumbledore caressed Harry's neck gently.

"Well, fortunately there are charms at our disposal we can use to solve any problems of that sort that might arise. For example, I believe Professor Pratt explained the Softening Charm to you during your third year."

"I guess, sir. I don't think I was really paying that much attention. I mean, I never thought I'd, you know, do anything that would require it."

"One usually performs the softening charm on oneself, but I can perform it on you if you gave me the word."

"Like -- permission?"

"Absolutely. I'm sure you understand one must never perform charms or spells of a sexual nature on other persons without their explicit permission."

Harry nodded. "OK sir, go ahead."

"Very well. Face front."

Dumbledore drew his fingertips down Harry's back, then gently pulled the boy's buttocks apart and allowed them to slowly slide through his fingers.

He then drew his hand quickly through the air and gave a quick twist of the wrist.

"Relaxat sexualis!" he declared loudly.

Harry gasped.

"It works quite quickly, as you can see," Dumbledore commented.

"It feels -- weird!"

After another few seconds, Harry exclaimed, "It feels all warm! Sort of like a massage with a warm, wet towel or something."

"In a minute or so you'll be ready. In the meantime, let's see how ready you are in front . . . oh yes indeed, you are more than ready!" Dumbledore caressed the splitting hard erection that surged forward from Harry's scantily haired groin, his long fingers moving gently over the boy's stretched skin almost if he were playing some sort of musical instrument.

"How's your sexual self-control Harry? Would the Prolonging charm help, do you think?"

"I'm -- I think I'm pretty good," Harry panted a bit.

"It will be best if we are completely synchronized."

Harry turned at looked at Dumbledore. "You mean . . . cumming at the same time?"

"At exactly the same time. The experience will be twice as powerful that way."

"I think I can hold off."

"Very well. Turn back around then."

With that the wizard nudged the bulbous end of his penis gently between the boy's tender buttocks. The boy slid his feet still farther apart and bent more deeply over the pensive. As the man gripped the boy's hipbones with both hands and began to press, Harry stared into the swirling mist in the bowl.

It began to happen.

As Dumbledore's penis began pressing against Harry's anus the boy felt his insides begin to give way.

"AHHH, man!" Harry cried, and as if something inside him was controlling him he arched his spine like a cat in heat and pressed back against Dumbledore. With a great gasp the man slid several inches of his enormous cock into the boy, and the boy's insides swallowed it up eagerly.

"YAHHHHHH," Harry sighed in pleasure, his head snapping back. Sweat already beaded his upper lip.

"Excellent, my boy, excellent," Dumbledore breathed, pausing just a moment. Then he pressed forward again.

"Ohhhh," Harry gasped. "I can't believe it."

"Good?" Dumbledore chuckled as he withdrew slightly.

"Oh God," was all the boy could say, as pleasure, warm and tingling, spread through his ass, his balls, his belly, and his great, straining boy cock.

Dumbledore pressed forward again, then withdrew, then drove in a bit farther, then out again. His thrusts were always firm yet always gentle, and between each thrust he would pause a moment to caress Harry's bicep, his neck, his hair. Harry for his part seemed with every thrust to be losing himself more and more deeply into ecstasy.

Dumbledore sped up a bit. Harry was moving easily against him, responding to every surge by slamming his hips back, spreading bis legs still wider, gripping the shelf more firmly. His eyes were closed, his head lolled, his mouth was open as he gasped in pleasure.

Dumbledore went deeper and deeper. It seemed almost impossible that a cock of the length and girth of Dumbledore's could fit at all, let alone pleasurably, into the little body of Harry Potter, who was not a large boy for a 16-year-old. But the boy showed every sign that it was fitting wonderfully.

"Ah, GOD," Harry cried, and he grabbed his own cock with one band and began beating it vigorously. The boy's silly foreskin snapped up and down, scrunching up to cover the plum-sized glans one second, then slipping quickly down exposing the raw, wet head of the boy's penis. Dumbledore responded to this by thrusting more quickly, although his strokes were still long and deep.

A minute went by, then two, then three. Sweat trickled down over Harry's ribs and when the boy grabbed a fistful of his own long locks in ecstasy, sweat could be seen matting the small wad of black hair in his armpit. Harry panted with increasing desperation.

"Do you want all of me, Harry?!" Dumbledore gasped.

"DO IT! DO IT!" the boy cried, half out of his mind now with the searing craving for more pleasure.

At that Dumbledore thrust nearly all of his very last few inches into the boy, burying himself for the first time.

"UNGH! OH! " Harry cried in shock, lurching forward and almost knocking the pensieve onto the floor.

At this Dumbledore released boy's hips, wrapped his arms around the boy's chest, leaned slightly backward, drawing the boy against him, and pushed Harry's hand away from his erection and replaced it with his own. His thrusting stopped.

"Now we wait," he said breathlessly.

Man and boy were still except for Harry's loud gasps and Dumbledore's gentle, persistent kneading of Harry's erection. The glans glistened now with precum. Harry's head lolled and he half-lay against the man, passively awaiting whatever his fate was to be.

"Allow the pleasure to wait, hovering in the distance," Dumbledore instructed, his voice suddenly calm and firm, as if he were sitting at his office desk chatting with Harry about the weather rather than impaling him fully with an enormous erection. "Separate yourself from your pleasure. Allow your body to be filled but your mind to be calm. Tell me when you are there."

Dumbledore waited for Harry to reply. He waited so long, so patiently, it may have seemed that the boy was too far gone into realm of ecstasy to respond, or even to hear Dumbledore's words at all. But finally the boy spoke.

"OK."

"Now just feel me inside you. Just realize, Harry, that what you feel is not my body alone -- it is the power that flows from me to you. Let me know when you can feel that."

After a moment Harry said, "I think I can feel it."

"How does it feel, exactly?"

"It's like a vibrating -- real fast, like something electric. Yeah, and hot -- really hot."

"Interesting. Now I'm going to slowly withdraw and go back in. If there is pleasure let it be there, but on the side, as it were. Focus instead on the energy, the power."

And slowly Dumbledore withdrew, inch after inch after inch.

"Uh," Harry gasped softly, feeling the sudden emptiness.

"Now as I go back in, focus on soaking up every bit of that energy, drawing it in forcefully, and feel it becoming a part of you, of your body, of your very cells. Ready?"

"Um, yeah, ready."

The boy gripped the shelf in front of him forcefully and bent over still farther.

Dumbledore began driving back into the boy, a bit faster than before.

"AHHH GOD!" Harry bellowed, arching his back to receive the man's erection.

"Feel it?" Dumbledore cried, as he continued to push the last few inches of himself into the boy's guts. "How does it feel?"

"It feels -- wonderful!" the boy cried, surprise as well as excitement evident in his voice. "It's just as you said," he cried, panting. "It feels good -- like, sexy -- but I can soak up the power too!. Do it again!"

"Here we go. You've got it, so we'll go faster now. Enjoy the pleasure but focus on the power!"

With that Dumbledore began withdrawing and thrusting forward more rapidly, at first just withdrawing about four inches, then six, then eight, then ten. With every thrust Harry threw his head back, jet-black locks tossing wildly, and gave a great groan.

As Dumbledore pounded the boy Harry's cock waved and bounced wildly in the air, having lost only a bit of its hardness, still a swollen, angry purple-red, and glossy with precum. After another few thrusts Harry's body glowed with perspiration, and the veins in his forearms and along his biceps stood out like small cords as they surged with blood.

"I can feel you in me!" Harry panted suddenly. "I mean, not just your cock -- YOU!"

"Do you feel strong?"

Harry actually gave a barking laugh at this. "UNSTOPPABLE!"

"Excellent," painted Dumbledore. "It won't be long then. Tell me when you're almost there."

"I think I can do it anytime!" Harry cried in glee.

Dumbledore grabbed Harry's organ just as a filament of precum flew through the air and onto the floor. The man drew his finger firmly over the boy's huge swollen glans, gathered more precum, and massaged it into the boy's glans, all the while driving even deeper into Harry.

"AHH! YAHH!" Harry cried. Then he yelled, "Do I have it all? I want it all!"

The man hesitated just as fraction at this, as if making up his mind. Then he resettled both hands at the boy's hips, gathered himself, and for the first of many times thereafter thrust every last inch of himself into Harry Potter.

"WAAAAHHHHH!!" The boy's cry began as a shriek then became a yell, and as it ended in a great sob, an enormous wad of cum flew from his tortured cock.

"Into the pensieve, Harry!" cried Dumbledore, pumping madly into the boy. "Dive in now, while we're both climaxing!"

Without a pause, Harry Potter and Dumbledore both tipped forward and, as Dumbledore's hips flattened against the boy and cum still flew everywhere from Harry's exploding cock, the two simply disappeared.

At the very end of the Harry Potter saga, when he and Professor Dumbledore said their final goodbyes at King's Cross Station, there was no one present but the two of them, along with the barely living something that may have been all that was left of Voldemort's soul. And yet we do know something of what went on because Harry relayed all of it to a third person -- someone who shall remain nameless but to whom he was very close. Indeed, this was a person from whom Harry had no secrets. Accordingly he even shared the very intimate details of what happened in the final few minutes of their extraordinary meeting.

Apparently the events of those last few minutes were unknown to Ms. JKR who, despite her incomplete knowledge of what transpired was still able to piece together a credible account of their last time together. However, as we complete the updating of the Potter stories to give a fuller picture of a very sexy young wizard as well as some of his fellow wizards we would be remiss to withhold the newly available information about the loving bond between master and student -- a bond that cemented itself through much more than mere words, as the reader will soon discover.

Readers will recall that the strange and otherworldly meeting between an almost certainly-alive Harry and an almost certainly-dead Dumbledore explained all the remaining mysteries of the Harry Potter tale. Once the unraveling of all the story's complexities had ended, all that was left was for Harry to decide to return to the land of the living in order to finish off Voldemort for good. At that point their final meeting apparently ended and the two parted. According to Ms. JKR.

But how could it be possible that a final meeting -- one which both participants knew to be final -- between two intimately bonded people could end with nothing but a long gaze and a last question? How is it that such an astute observer of human nature as Ms. JKR could possibly have thought that these two passionate and bonded men -- one so old and one so young -- would have parted so bloodlessly after all they had gone through together? After coming to a complete understanding of all that they had meant to each other, and how their destinies were ultimately so completely intermingled?

Perhaps it is because she knew nothing of the erotic aspect of their bond. This lack of knowledge not only caused her to leave out of the Harry Potter story everything to do with his sexuality, as has already been discussed. It may also have caused her to underestimate the passion and richness of their relationship.

We have attempted herein to correct this misunderstanding. To complete the job it will be necessary to revisit a final scene -- that farewell scene at King's Cross Station. Let us remember that the two of them were in a great white waiting room, rather like a very empty train station, and that Harry really had no idea where he was or what was happening.

The long conversation ensued in which Harry heard the explanation of all that he still had not figured out about his long ordeal. And it is true that Harry asked Dumbledore at the very end of that long conversation whether or not that meeting had actually been real, and that Dumbledore told him that the fact it was happening inside Harry's head didn't mean it couldn't be real. But it is not true that question ended things. Here is the rest of the story.

After tossing out this typically thought-provoking paradox, Dumbledore said to Harry, "Something more remains to be done, my dear boy."

Harry smirked. "It seems like whenever you get vague with me it always turns out to be about the same thing! D'you remember that first time in front of the mirror of Erised? You were really hinting around but never really saying what--"

"I remember," Dumbledore smiled.

A thought struck Harry suddenly. "You were protecting me then, in a way, weren't you?"

"Ah, you give me too much credit, Harry, as usual. I wasn't at all sure how to proceed discussing with an eleven-year-old boy the fact of his very rampant, not to mention very large, erection. I proceeded gingerly because I knew no other way."

"So much has changed since then, hasn't it?"

Dumbledore nodded, and his expression may have contained a hint of melancholy. Then he grinned broadly.

"However, I'm sure you still listen to what your body is telling you!"

Harry frowned, suddenly confused.

"It just hit me -- this is the first time ever when we've been together and I haven't been . . . "

The boy gazed at Dumbledore in wonder.

"What does it mean?"

"You tell me -- it's still your body after all, although I must say I have known it rather well."

Harry blinked.

"Our bond has served its purpose, I guess."

"I rather think so," Dumbledore agreed. "You got all the strength you needed from me. Although in the end I'm not completely sure how much you actually needed it. Anyway, henceforth you must listen to your body's messages when you are with others rather than myself."

Harry paused. "So that's it, then?" His voice sounded hollow.

"Is it?"

Harry paused for another long moment. And then he began taking off his clothes.

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up.

"Shall I join you?" he asked.

"Yes."

In a moment Harry was naked.

Still looking a bit on the young side of age 17, Harry Potter was in the full, perfect flower of adolescent beauty. He tossed the last garment aside and stood, fists on hips, proud perhaps for the first time to have Dumbledore admire his body. His shoulders, always a bit broad, were now capped with smallish but well-defined muscles. After spending most of his adolescence with a rather flat chest his pectorals had finally gained just a bit of luscious curving thickness. Veins twined their way down his biceps and forearms. Due both to his natural slenderness and years of strenuous workouts his six-packed belly showed not an ounce of fat. His pubic nest was certainly more than that of a young adolescent but was hardly the large bush of most adult men. His legs, slender but well-toned and curving slightly with muscle, showed only a faint trace of soft dark hair along his shins.

Then there was his cock, naturally. I describe it last, but of course, anyone would look at it first -- and many would scarcely look at anything else afterward, for they would instead continue to look . . . and look . . . and look! Of all the features of Harry Potter's body his cock may actually have been the most beautiful.

It hung more than 10 inches in length. Most enormously long wizard cocks have an odd disproportionality to them, for they rarely feature thickness to match their length, and the glans usually appears strangely small as well by comparison with the rest of the organ. But Harry's cock was quite thick, and the glans was remarkably long, making up more than two inches of his organ's total length. Although some penis lovers among us prefer a completely smooth and uniform organ, I believe most will agree that a bulging, twisting vein adds a deliciously nasty touch, as does a dusky pink color that suggests passion even when the organ is fully flaccid, and Harry's cock was both veiny and dark pink. Behind his cock hung two testicles in a pendulous sack. His balls, though not large, were large enough to not seem out of place behind a huge cock like his. As is the case with most wizards, his scrotum was of a soft, almost translucent texture, bright pink and utterly devoid of hair.

Dumbledore, also now completely naked, gazed at Harry.

"And what does your body tell you now, my dear boy?"

"It tells me -- hmm, yes -- it tells me to say the one thing I still have to say to you."

"And what is that?"

"I won't say it in words."

With that Harry stepped forward, dropped to his knees, licked his lips, reached forward, and slipped his mouth completely over the head of Dumbledore's partially erect penis.

"Oh my," Dumbledore exclaimed, his hand immediately going to the back of Harry's head and sliding it through his long hair.

It is not completely clear how Harry Potter developed his talent as a cocksucker. Readers will remember that even before he was 15 years old Harry had already impressed Dumbledore with his oral skills. In all likelihood he, Ron Weasley, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan had spent plenty of time developing their sexual talents by practicing upon each other. However it was, the boy wasted no time in bringing Dumbledore to maximum hardness. For many minutes thereafter Harry sucked and licked, twisted and nibbled, slobbered and rubbed, caressed and tickled until finally Dumbledore cried, "Now, Harry!"

At that Harry grabbed Dumbledore's thighs firmly, sucked in a lungful of air around the organ filling his mouth, and then plunged steadily, firmly down, down, down, inch after inch of thick wizard cock disappearing down Harry's throat. When he could take no more and finally stopped, Dumbledore grabbed his head firmly, arched backward, and poured blast after blast after blast of wizard semen straight into Harry Potter's stomach.

As he did so Harry wrapped his arms around Dumbledore's waist, and even after the old wizard has finished his long, long ejaculation Harry's face remained buried in Dumbledore's lap, arms still clutching him tightly, breathing a bit raggedly through his nose, seemingly unwilling to surrender his teacher's cock. Finally Dumbledore paced his fingertips gently on the boy's shoulders and eaed his slick red organ out of Harry in one slow and very long slide.

Harry, his face flushed and his lips a bit swollen, looked up at Dumbledore then.

"I could feel your gratitude completely, Harry. And indeed, you're so very welcome," the old wizard smiled. "But I should be thanking you too."

Harry rosę to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "For what?"

"Do you suppose you are the only one who was saved by this relationship? Do you think you are the only one whose destiny was fulfilled by what we had? Without you Voldemort could not have been stopped."

Dumbledore shook his head and continued. "I could not have done it on my own. All the mistakes I made out of arrogance, all my greed for power -- I could not have redeemed them without you. I could not have died a happy man. So I must thank you as well."

Harry swallowed and said nothing. Suddenly Dumbledore dropped to his knees and, just as Harry had done, leaned forward and engulfed the head of a very large penis.

Harry hissed in surprise and pleasure and rose onto his toes, clutching the man's shoulders.

Dumbledore then began giving Harry pleasure beyond anything the young wizard had known before. Whereas Harry had been frenetic as he sucked Dumbledore, gobbling and slurping like a madman, the old wizard was patient and measured, gradually taking Harry to higher and higher levels of ecstasy. First he concentrated on the boy's stalk, carefully licking up and down the shaft, occasionally rubbing Harry's many inches with his moist lips, at other times nibbling very gently with his teeth. At the same time he tugged gently on Harry's balls. It wasn't long before Harry erected to his full 12 inch length. The boy was puffing and moaning softly.

Eventually Dumbledore turned his attention to Harry's cockhead. First he slid Harry's foreskin back and began tonguing just under the rim of Harry's glans. Never a quiet boy during sex Harry began grunting and groaning steadily, as the man lashed his angry red cockhead with his tongue. Dumbledore wiggled his tongue quickly back and forth right on the little cord underneath Harry's rather large cumslit.

"Oh God!" Harry cried, running both hands through his own hair as he often did when in sexual heat.

Dumbledore then fisted Harry's foreskin up over his glans, completely concealing it in its tender envelope, and then began roughly massaging the end of Harry's cock, using the foreskin like a piece of cloth.

"SHIT" Harry cried, head thrown back, rising to his toes again.

As the wizard continued to mangle Harry's cock he began tugging more roughly at Harry's balls, milking them a bit like a farmer milks a dairy cow. Harry's knees trembled and almost buckled.

Before long Dumbledore began running his fingertips down Harry's slender, tensing thighs, scraping them just slightly with his nails, while holding Harry's big cockhead in his mouth and sucking it. Over and over he stroked the boy, eventually extending his stroking to Harry's tensing little butt, his calves, and even his feet.

Before long Dumbledore was ready to assault the boy's ass. Pulling off Harry's cock with a pop, he instructed, "Relax completely."

With that he sucked his long index finger, drove it between Harry's nates and then, with a quick twist, thrust it completely inside the boy, at the same time swallowing about six inches of Harry's flaming cock.

"UNGHHH!" moaned Harry, now tossing his head from side to side. Face flushed, eyes glazed, slight drool on his chin, he was the perfect picture of a boy losing his mind with pleasure.

Dumbledore then began to suck Harry in earnest. Cheeks hollowed, he took three, then four, then five inches of Harry's cock, all the while squirming his finger deep inside Harry's guts. Six inches, then seven, then eight. Then he began swallowing.

"SHIT! OHMIGOD! FUCK! FUCK!" Harry began babbling every obscene word that Hogwarts boys in ecstasy have ben babbling for centuries.

The man pulled off Harry, drew a lungful of air, and then plunged back down, swallowing vigorously as he took even more of Harry's hot thick inches down into his gullet. He withdrew his finger from Harry's butt then, made a cone with three fingers, and then worked all three of them firmly up inside the boy.

At this Harry's knees did buckle, and as smoothly as if it had been choreographed Dumbledore clutched Harry's shoulders with one arm while still keeping his fingers up the boy's ass and gently lay him down on his back. The he renewed his assault on Harry's cock, which was purple now with passion, shining and slick with saliva.

Dumbledore came off Harry's cock and with one fist roughly squeezed the boy's glans, forcing out several drops of clear sticky precum. The man wiped the fluid onto his finger and then raised it up and pressed it to Harry's lips, Eyes closed, head rolling from side to side, Harry compliantly opened his mouth and sucked Dumbledore's finger.

Then Dumbledore returned to his ministrations, sucking Harry with slowly increasing force, all the while stirring Harry's guts with his three very long fingers.

It must be pointed out that by the time Hogwarts boys are third years they all have plenty of practice restraining their orgasms in order to give themselves greater pleasure than muggle boys, who at that age typically rush to orgasm as fast as they can, in apparent defiance of the obvious logic that argues in favor of prolonging any pleasurable experience rather than ending it as soon as possible. After four years of practice, by the time a boy wizard reaches Harry's age he is a relative master of sexual self-control. The habits ingrained from years of sexual practice with his dorm mates -- and not infrequently with the forbidden opposite sex as well -- means the average Hogwarts boy automatically retains his climax for many minutes without really trying. The fact that many of them also make use of the Prolonging Charm means that there is almost no such thing in Hogwarts as a quick ejaculation.

And so Harry and Dumbledore were able to continue like this for many more minutes. The boy was now drenched with sweat, his lean body twisting this way and that in ecstasy, glistening. But finally Harry was at his limit.

"Lemme cum," he croaked.

Dumbledore pulled eight inches of Harry's cock out of his throat.

"Are you quite sure?"

"Yeah," the boy gasped.

"Very well, then."

At this Dumbledore did three things in rapid succession. With two fingers and a thumb of one hand he began very rapidly flailing at just the rim of Harry's cockhead. With the other hand he grabbed and brutally twisted one of Harrys nipples. And then baring his teeth, he carefully bit Harry's glans just at the opening.

With a shriek like a banshee Harry arched his whole body up off the ground so that only his heels and his head touched the floor.

"YAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!" he bellowed. And then it came.

As has already been mentioned, wizards usually ejaculate very large amounts of semen when they cum. At fourteen for fifteen they can generally produce a quarter cup or more of semen, and at sixteen as much as six tablespoons or so, and by seventeen even more. And Harry, in addition to his other remarkable sexual traits, had known himself to ejaculate so much cum that he sometimes literally coated the entire front of his body, while adding additional seminal decoration to chairs, desks, clothing, floors and sometimes other people's bodies. And this time certainly was no exception.

Harry gave another bellow and the first volley splattered Harry's heaving chest, and the second, a tremendous clot of steaming white goo, hit him square in the forehead.

"GAHHH! YAAAH! OH FUCK!! YAAH!"

Semen literally gushed from his tortured cock as Dumbledore beat it relentlessly. It jetted onto the boy's shoulder, then spurted clear over his shoulder and onto the floor.

"WAHHH! SHIT!!! YAAAH! FUCK!!!!"

Another wad hit him directly in the armpit. Dumbledore also received a baptism of Harry cum as well, and after a few second his whole hand and wrist and much of his forearm dripped and glistened.

And still Harry came.

"UNGHHH! UMPH!!!! UMPHHH! HUH!!! HUH!!"

His chest was now so covered that semen ran down over his ribs in rivulets. What had once been a smallish nest of pubic hair was now a mass of wet black swirls.

Harry arched up again and with a shriek shot the biggest blast of all completely up over his body, strings of white flying through the air, eventually landing in Harry's hair.

Harry's body banged back down to the floor, and his tremendous orgasm seemed to finally be finished. It had lasted over thirty seconds. Dumbledore squeezed Harry's iron cock hard and a good teaspoon of thick white cum drooled from his red, yawning cockslit. Dumbledore then fisted his cock at the base and, squeezing hard, slowly drew it upward, milking out what still remained of the boy's tremendous load. Almost a tablespoon of semen flowed from his cock over Dumbledore's knuckles.

Man and boy lay next to each other for awhile.

Finally harry turned to Dumbledore, his face utterly depleted. He managed an exhausted smile.

"You're welcome."

For the first and last time ever Dumbledore leaned over and gave Harry a long tender kiss.

Then he relaxed back, propping himself up onto one elbow.

"Now go put an end to Voldemort!"