Harry Potter NR.0 - Sex Stories

Harry Potter NR.0

... you for stealing her boyfriend. What year was that, 1938?" "'39," she replied, showing an unheard of blush. "However, I feel quite flattered that I am what you think of when you think of safety. Be sure to tell me that when you wake up, as I won't remember." "Because this isn't real?" she asked, feeling like a child for the first time in decades. "Precisely!" Dumbledore said, laughing as he stroked his beard. "You're just as insightful as always, Minerva. Although you are also just as vain, even if you rarely show it." "Vain? Why do you say that?" she asked, slightly hurt. "Why, because you just complimented yourself using me. I am you, after all." "You insufferable old man! Even in my mind you speak in riddles!" "Self-loathing is unhealthy. And who is the one that is truly speaking in riddles, Minerva?" he said, laughing maniacally as he ascended through the ceiling like a ghost. "I want a new inner voice," she said to herself. x x x "Oh, Mum, I think she's waking up," McGonagall heard someone say. She sat up and looked around. No evil headmasters in sight. "What happened?" she asked. "You fainted while we were showing you our spells," Harry said as he gave her a glass of water, which she took gratefully. "Sorry. It's just that you just did spells on the level of the highest wizards, who are hundreds of years old," she explained. "And you did it with hardly any effort and no wand. You gave me quite a shock." "Sorry, professor," Hermione said. "We've never met any other ...

... magic users before. At least, no human ones. We didn't quite know the standard." "Don't worry about it. It is a good thing. Although some people will not exactly appreciate being outdone." "Yes, Harry's mum already warned us about them. She warned us about a lot of people, actually." "Yes. Harry's mum," McGonagall started. "You were going to tell me about that." "I can take it from here, Hermione," a familiar voice said. McGonagall's head snapped to it. It was Lily Potter, just as she looked in her seventh year. "Lily?" she asked almost desperately. "Could that really be you?" "Not quite," Lily's clone said. "I'm Willow. This is my tree." McGonagall looked around for the first time. When Harry said that living in the tree was better than at the Dursleys', he wasn't exaggerating or being dramatic. This place was a wooden palace. While it wasn't overly big, it was more beautiful than anything a person could create. Flowers grew out of the walls and the furniture was growing out of the tree. The bed she was sitting on was the softest bed she had ever felt. If she could choose to live here over a stuffy house full of judgmental muggles, there would be no doubt in her mind what her choice would be. "Your tree?" She looked at the woman who had introduced herself as Willow. The only difference between her and Lily was that Lily would never wear scanty clothing made of leaves. As she made this observation, she remembered Hermione's comment about dryads not liking clothes, and she ...