Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor Chapter One

Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
Chapter One

Disclamer: Not mine, I own nothing. I’m not making any money either.

WARNING: Harsh Language, adult themes, sexual situations (i.e. smut), bad spelling and grammar.

Author’s Notes: This story is a broad farce with over the top humor (a good deal of it is crude and sexual) and OOC actions (that’s Out Of Character if you don’t know). Also, this is my first smut-ish fic. If you don’t like sex and sex-based humor, do NOT read this!

Chapter One Summary: Harry receives a helping… hand in his quest for Voldemort’s Horcuxes.


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As the sun crept into the smallest bedroom in the house at # 4 Privet Drive, Harry Potter fought the urge to wake up. Harry was having a nice pleasant dream. He dreamt that he was sitting on the shore of the ocean with his feet in the cool water, while reading a book about lighthouses. Two odd things about the dream stood out for Harry. The first was that he couldn’t place where he was in the dream, but it was somewhere between two hills with high peaks. And the second odd thing was that he could clearly smell the book he was reading but couldn’t smell the ocean; the book had an enticing musky odor to it. It was an curious dream, but Harry liked it because the horrors of his past weren’t revisiting him like they usually did during his normal dreams. The young wizard wanted to stay in this slumber-land for just a little longer. Of course, the sun had different plans and one cannot argue with the sun when its horrible, golden, life-giving rays are pounding down upon one’s face now can they? Lousy effing sun.

With a pitiful groan, Harry slowly woke up. He continued to lie in bed as he looked up at the ceiling without his glasses for a good long time. After he was satisfied that the ceiling had been stared at long enough, and after he had gotten thoroughly bored with said activity, Harry surveyed the room and it contents for a moment until his blurry eyes fell on his tiny desk. The desk was littered with bits of parchment, old newspapers and a number of framed photos.

His eyes tried unsuccessfully to focus on a picture of what appeared to be himself, Hermione, and Ron taken around their first year at Hogwarts. His vision then slipped to a picture of a raven haired man snuggling on a couch with a red-haired woman. Harry’s heart sank as his mind replayed his short relationship with that red-haired woman. At the beginning of his sixth year, Harry finally noticed that Ginny was a woman, a beautiful one at that, with boobs and bouncing, shiny hair. Of course he had to end the fledgling relationship at the end of the school year for Ginny’s safety. Harry knew that anyone who he considered his girlfriend would be a target for Voldemort and his asslick… err… that is bootlickers. He hated hurting Ginny’s feelings and being lonely himself, but it had to be done, for her sake.

After lying in his bed while somehow simultaneously berating and congratulating himself on his decision to break up with Ginny, Harry forced himself to get up. The young wizard stood and stretched his arms. After wiping the sleep from his eyes, Harry finally put on his glasses and took note of the time. It was barely half past six in the morning and his relatives wouldn’t be up for a little while. Not that it mattered anyway; his Aunt, Uncle and cousin had done their best to ignore Harry these past few weeks, and he did the same to them. It was mutually beneficial. Of course, Harry knew that the Dursleys were planning a very large “going away” party the day after his birthday, the day after he was supposed to leave their house forever.

His eyes fell back to the picture of Ginny and himself on the desk and Harry’s heart stopped beating for one full second. The man in the picture looked exactly like he did and the woman looked very similar to Ginny. The only problem was that it wasn’t Harry and Ginny snuggling in the picture. It was Harry’s mum and dad, Lily and James. Harry broke out in a cold sweat as a sudden realization dawned upon him:

‘Ginny looks like my mum!’

He’d lusted after a girl who physically reminded him of his mother!

Harry a spent a good portion of the previous school year snogging a girl that looked like his mother! Harry felt very ill. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear Freud giggling like a school-boy at the thought of Harry being attracted to a girl who looked like his mother! The room started to spin wildly and last night’s dinner threatened to escape his body in ways it wasn’t supposed to.

After rushing to the bathroom, Harry emptied his entire stomach into the toilet. ‘That’s odd; I don’t remember having corn last night.’ His mind kept remembering what Ginny’s (the woman who looked like his mother) lips felt like when he kissed them. That’s when the dry heaves kicked in. Harry tried to wretch some more but there was nothing left to vomit. An image of him cupping Ginny’s small breast ripped through his mind and a small thought was attached to that image: ‘Were mum’s tits like that?’

“Holy Christ!” Harry shouted and banged his head against the toilet in a futile attempt to rid his mind of the troubling images him fondling a girl who looked like his mother! That or knock himself out, which ever came first.

He suddenly felt very, very, very dirty. He remembered how aroused he was when Ginny had shoved her tongue into his mouth, but Harry now thought idly if his mother’s tongue moved like Ginny’s. Then the most horrid of question’s entered the young man’s mind: “If Ginny looks like my mother, does she taste like her, too?’

Harry groaned pitifully as he snatched a toothbrush off the counter. It could’ve been Dudley’s but Harry didn’t care (the corpulent boy hardly used it anyway). He squeezed a sizable dollop of tooth-paste on the bristles and began to brush vigorously. After Harry had used up half the tube of tooth-paste and thirty-five minutes of aggressively brushing his teeth, gums, and tongue, his cousin Dudley walked into the bathroom. The enormously fat boy looked in horror at the site (1) before him: his freak of a relative was hunched over the basin with a copious amount of foam covering the lower half of his face and dripping from his mouth.

Harry turned to his cousin and tried to shout: “GET OUT OF HERE!” Unfortunately, because of all the foam in his mouth, all Harry could muster was something like “GHTE TOOUE OV HERGELTH!” A fortunate side effect of this outburst was that Dudley’s rotund face was coated with spittle and mint-scented foam as Harry spat and sprayed his demand. Harry could hear Dudley screaming like a terrified little girl as he ran down the stairs, out of the house, and into the street in his pajamas and fuzzy slippers.

After a scalding hot shower where Harry not only used up the hot water from # 4, but conceivably the rest of the block’s hot water as well, Harry walked into his room and saw something quite unusual.