Everyone needs a hobby. That's what they say isn't it? Truth is, I've always been interested in art and this evening class is the perfect excuse to indulge that passion while getting me out of the house for a few hours each week. Much as I love my husband, we all need a little personal space now and again.

Clutching my drawing materials, my heels click steadily along the tiled corridor of the local school which hosts the lessons. The eerie quiet of a school during evening time is not something I think I will ever get used to. My gaze moves disinterestedly over the various posters and flyers pinned to the noticeboards advertising after school clubs and other scholastic activities. I sniff as the faint whiff of bleach permeates the area.

I walk head back and erect. It is amazing what being short does for one's posture -- anything to gain that extra inch or two. I'm 5'0 without my heels, slim, large brown eyes, brown hair down to my shoulders and 34C breasts which are slightly too big for my frame...although I don't often get complaints about that, I admit.

The balmy warmth of the summer air is detectable even in the usually cool hallways. My pretty summer dress is white with large blue flowers printed erratically across it and is made of a light, breathable, material that floats pleasantly against my bare legs beneath, hem tapping rhythmically just above my knees as I walk.

As I approach the door to room 3C I catch sight of one of the other class regulars approaching from the opposite direction. We are into the second month of lessons, and I know most of the members of the group as we often go for a drink together after class. The fact that most of the other students are male does not hurt, although a few are rather boorish for my taste.

"David, how are you?" I ask pleasantly as we arrive at the door together. I catch his eyes quickly flickering up from scanning my lightly tanned, smooth legs as he smiles.

"I'm great Mrs. Sarah, really looking forward to tonight's class. Allow me..." He replies, pulling open the door to let me pass into the room as I note his unusually high level of enthusiasm.

Upon entering we both pause as the class is much busier than usual. Most of the hard-core regulars are sat at their usual places, but they have been joined by an array of semi-familiar faces that have only attended one or two of the previous lessons and seem to have all chosen to mysteriously rekindle their interest in art at the same time. Also, and even more surprising, the other female members of the class seem to be entirely absent.

Frowning, I make a beeline for one of the empty chairs, David following and slipping into the seat next to me. Having a little more time to process the attendees I reflect on the fact that I am the only woman this week and can't help but wonder why.

"I knew it would be busy this week." David leans over and nods wisely, looking around the room and waving at a few of the men we know. He even seems to receive a wink from Jason, one of the most arrogant and chauvinistic amongst the group.

"What made you think that?" I ask casually, as I also acknowledge the regular students and am rewarded with friendly smiles in return...and the occasional smirk from the more laddish contingent -- including from Jason, obviously.

I pause as I sense David looking at me in surprise. I turn to him and raise my eyebrows quizzically.

"Don't you remember the schedule we got in week one? It is the life drawing class tonight." He prompts as he grins, giving me a nudge and eyeing me closely as the words sink in. Only after hearing the explanation do I notice the set of solid, low, wide boxes creating a make-shift stage with a solitary, lonely chair in its centre, and a small stand-alone folding screen behind.

"Ah that explains it" I sniff, irritated that the men are here for such adolescent reasons instead of for the love of art. I pout as I huffily pull out my paper and pastels, setting the coloured sticks neatly in the narrow, grooved ledge of the provided easel. Still, I think, surely the women haven't all stayed away because of that, have they? Very strange.

I ignore David as I sense his grin remains as he watches me for a few seconds longer before breaking the spell and sorting out his own kit. As he does so, the clock on the far wall moves to 8pm and, simultaneously, the instructor, Mr. Perry, enters. A stickler for punctuality, we often joke about his metronomic arrival each week.

"Evening class" he says gruffly. A shortish man, Mr. Perry fits the starving artist cliché perfectly. Disheveled and scruffy but with an intense peering gaze trained to observe all details, he clatters to the front and stumbles onto the boxed stage-like construction to address us more formally.

An expectant hush descends on the room. I look around to see if anyone else has followed him in, but he is alone and clears his throat to say, somewhat sheepishly,

"Uh, frightfully bad news you know -- awfully sorry and all that -- I'm afraid the model has had to, well, that is to say, she is not able to...tonight...uh, she isn't coming." Dropping the bombshell with a fluttering of hands and stuttering of words.

I look down and consciously suppress a smile as I listen to the sighs and grumbles of the men. 'Serves them right for only being here to stare -- perverts' I think to myself, amused and -- to some extent -- relieved that tonight will revert to a standard art class, one more in my comfort zone. The moans continue and sound rather over-done to my ears, almost like a bad actor over-playing their part.

"But we were promised life drawing!" The exclamation coming from Jon, one of the more irritating members of the group. The wheedling, almost child-like plea is highly satisfying to me, and I can't stop my smile appearing as I look at his forlorn expression. He catches me smirking and is about to smirk back but seems to catch himself and, instead, he scowls darkly.

"Well, uh, as you see that, well best of intentions and all that...you get the idea but fear not dear aspiring Michelangelos...and Michelangeloesses of course..." he adds as an afterthought, bowing theatrically in my direction "for I have, that is we always have, some, uh, excellent -- what I like to call...STILL LIFE!"

"Maybe you could get a volunteer" states Jon firmly, glaring at the instructor and the unappealing thought of spending the next two hours painting an apple. After the words hang in the air for a second, he looks directly round to where I am sat -- the eyes of the class following his gaze.

I freeze as all attention turns to me. My mouth opens then closes as I cross my arms defensively over my chest, the movement pressing my dress against the lace bra beneath. "Well, I hardly think..." I begin, indeed finding it hard to think before I alight on an excuse "...in this modern day and age that it needs be a woman -- why don't YOU do it?" I say, satisfied, as I turn everyone's attention back to Jon.

"I suppose that's your feminist principles coming through Sarah?" he responds evenly, trying not to let his emotions show. "I know from our debates you are all for equality so why don't we draw lots for it." He finishes, leaning back and watching me as I realise it is almost impossible for me to refuse.

"To be fair we should all put our names in" I insist, certain that at least some of the group will refuse and the whole idea will be abandoned. To my surprise, however, there is instant agreement from everyone, one might even describe it as enthusiastic agreement. I feel startled but calm myself with the thought that the odds are well in my favour now -- maybe 12 or 15 to 1 against my being the chosen model.

"Splendid, uh, yes indeed splendid, spiffing work all, let me hand these out -- write your names on the paper please and drop in the metaphorical hat, by which I mean this cardboard box." The instructor chortles happily, rapidly handing out small, pre-prepared, rectangles of paper to us all and placing the box at the front of the stage.

My fingers tremble as I take the proffered slip of paper. 'How did this happen?' I ask myself. Logically I know the chance of being chosen is small, but logic holds no sway against my body's fight-or-flight instinct. I feel my pulse rate increasing as I scrawl my name using one of the pastels, fold the paper, and drop it into the box.

I close my eyes for a second to compose myself. My mind fills with the sounds of the room as chairs are scrapped back and heavy footsteps trudge to the box and back. I exhale evenly and slowly to calm myself and re-open my eyes as the instructor lifts the box, shakes it a few times and dips his hand ominously into the scraps of paper.

With a flourish, he pulls out a single slip and holds it aloft as he carefully places the box on the table to the side.

"And the winner...." He jokes, smiling around the room and being rewarded with delighted chuckles from some. He pauses dramatically as I hold my breath. I look left and right but the men seem far more relaxed than I about the situation -- perhaps that is just the way men are -- showoffs.

"...is..." he grins, enjoying his moment of power. I narrow my eyes in annoyance, and, as I turn my head my gaze meets Jon's who is, for some reason, smiling at me. A smile that only widens a second later as we all hear,

"SARAH! Oh well done my dear, uh, splendidly well done I must say! Many congratulations my baby girl!" Enthuses the teacher as he quickly drops the slip of paper back into the box along with the others.

Time stands still. I hear the happy mumblings of the class and observe Jon's gleeful smirk of triumph. These observations suggest that time must be moving -- but it also stands still. My mind shrinks back in its skull looking for a safe place to hide. I might have sat frozen like that forever had it not been for an eager nudge from David alerting me to Mr. Perry's outstretched hand.

I reach for the hand, the only steadying presence in my world, and am led behind the rickety screen on the makeshift stage. I can hear him speak but must force myself to register the meaning of his words.

"Thank you so much Sarah, and I think I speak for all the men here, when I, uh, say that we are extremely pleased you volunteered as it were. Now just pop all your clothes off there's a good girl -- all in the name of art, eh?!" He smiles, leaving me behind the screen, partially hidden from the rest of the class.

I blink as I gradually come to my senses. Hearing the noise of my classmates shockingly, intimately close as I fumble with the zip at the back of my dress, the sudden loosening of its hold results in a soft whoosh as it slips over my body and puddles around my ankles and heels. I gingerly step from it and pick it up, glancing around but seeing no obvious place to put it I hang it over the top of the screen aware that it can now be half seen by all.

I bite my lip to steady myself once more, stood just in heels and underwear in the suddenly draughty art room, I reach behind my back. The familiar bra clasp defeats me for a moment. Like a young man's fumbling attempts to discover the mystery of female underwear I tug helplessly at it for a moment before muscle memory kicks in and I feel the restraint give.

This second loosening is much worse than the first. I feel the sensation of my chest falling forward, the usually supportive material sagging off them. I glance down at my exposed breasts, harsh in the light of the room, small nipples tingling at their unexpected freedom. I quickly look away, the sight of their wanton roundness worsening my nerves. I look at the useless strip of material in my hand and hang it up over the screen on top of my dress. It may have been my imagination, but I thought I heard a scurrying to and from the screen then a low, whispered, '34C'.

I pause for a second as I attempt to steady myself. Inhaling deeply and forcing my breathing to slow as I kick off my heels. The resulting reduction in height emphasises my reduction in confidence as I grip the waistband of my black lace panties with my thumbs and strip them down my legs and off. The ball of lace in my hand takes on a mind of its own and snags and falls back against my face as I attempt to lay it over the top of the screen. I scowl but my second attempt is more successful and my panties balance precariously on top of the rest of my clothes.

My hopes for a few extra moments to collect myself are instantly dashed as the appearance of my panties upon the screen signals my full state of nudity and acts as a siren call to Mr. Perry who pops his head around the screen.

"Ah there we are now Sarah, that's a girl, eh?" He smiles at me as his eyes dart over my newly exposed form, whether to appreciate the artistic possibilities or for other reasons I cannot say.

"Now, I'll put your personals away for safekeeping" he continues as he collects my clothes and places them in a wooden cupboard at the back of the room a few feet behind me. "If you'll excuse me, I'll just..." I watch as he bends down directly in front of me to collect my shoes, his face mere inches from my exposed shaven pussy. I can't help but place a small hand over myself, covering between my legs as he rises once more and locks everything away, pocketing the key in his worn jacket.

"There now" he smiles "out you pop and sit on the chair -- the men are eager to get started!" says Mr. Perry. I can imagine they are indeed eager but, trying not to think of that, I purse my lips and gather my courage before moving to the side of the screen and quickly padding to the chair, careful to keep my legs jammed together as I sit, arms crossed over my chest in a somewhat unnatural position.

Silence rules for a second. The dozen or so men in the room taking in my exposed skin with their triumphant gazes. All thoughts of art seem to have deserted them as the moment extends tensely before Mr. Perry, the first to remember why we are here, continues,

"Right, well then, there we are, isn't that just, I mean isn't Sarah...that is we should start drawing! ART! DRAWING! Come along now gentlemen, let's get those pictures going -- you wouldn't want to miss taking a record of this would you?" He jokes to some polite chortles.

As the silence of the room is replaced with soft scribblings of pastels on paper, I begin to feel my heart rate return to normal. Slowly I come to terms with the situation, glad that the instructor let me keep my chosen pose. Here I am, nude in front of all the men in a school room but at least I am partially covered. The feel of my nipples pressing against my covering arms provides some comfort as I stare directly at the front wall.

Moments pass and the strange situation begins to feel normal. As it does, I decide to take a chance and move my vision from a fixed point on the wall and direct it cautiously around the room. I catch sight of the first few men focussed on my form and their drawings and I begin to wonder if this is not so bad after all when I make the mistake of catching Jon's eye. He is looking directly at me then slowly moves his eyes up and down my exposed body before giving me a cheeky wink -- the nerve of the man!

I frown and look back to the blank wall. Slowly I start to count backwards from 100 to distract myself and pass the time until this is all over. From my current position I can't see the clock, which is behind me, and my phone is still in my handbag which I left by my seat in the earlier confusion -- not that I would be allowed to move to retrieve it anyway. My self-hypnosis drifts me into a reverie until Mr. Perry breaks the spell.

"Right, I think we have just about exhausted that pose -- so to speak -- so let us, er, you know, have a different one shall we.... now then, what would be good?!" He says, pausing with a thoughtful look upon his face, finger tapping at his lips as he ponders his (and my) next move.

"Perhaps one foot lifted onto the seat of the chair?" Suggests Jon innocently, looking at the instructor but only after a sly grin in my direction.

Mr. Perry looks over at the unexpected interjection "Oh Jon, yes, well, er, interesting idea I suppose, what exactly...? That is, how exactly do you envisage the, uh...Well, why not come up and show us...position her as you envisage, please."

Before I can object Jon is up out of his seat and towering over me. He pauses for a second until I meet his eye then calmly, slowly, reaches down and runs his hands down my lower leg until he grasps my ankle. Half bent forward he looks back up at me as he begins to lift it causing my knee to bend and leg to rise.

I feel my chest tremble in alarm, my arms instinctively folding tighter in surprise as my leg begins to lift, moving to the side a little and parting from the other. I look at Jon, but he is still grinning as he places my foot gently but firmly flat onto the seat of the chair. The movement has opened my legs a little but also moved my body position so that my pussy is now on show to half of the room.

"Ah yes!" exclaims Mr Perry "I see your intention -- extending the leg muscles just so.... Gives a certain dynamism to the whole tableaux! Wonderful!"

I am highly sceptical that that was indeed Jon's intention but hardly have time to think about it as Jon turns back to the instructor,

"...and then the arms like this?" as, without waiting for reply, he lifts my arms from their protective position and moves them behind my head. The resultant movement of my torso pushes my naked breasts forward and presents them fully to the room.

"Wonderful Jon, you have an eye for these sort of things -- that's perfect -- back to your place now and let's draw!"

Jon smiles at the instructor's compliment and nods, turning casually, his trailing hand moves lightly across my breasts, the touch innocent and accidental looking but having the effect of hardening my already sensitive nipples and causing me to wriggle slightly.

"Don't fidget Sarah -- stay still!" admonishes Mr. Perry firmly and I, chastened, freeze in place once more.

This time is different. Acutely aware of how much more I am showing, my mind refuses to be distracted by the wall or the time or counting or...anything that isn't my current situation. I swallow as I try to bring some moisture back into my dry mouth.

I know I shouldn't, but I look over at Jon, almost desperate to irritate myself further as I see my nemesis's enjoyment of the situation he has put me in. Of course, he lifted my leg that was furthest from his side of the room, so he now has an unobstructed view of both my breasts and my bare pussy. He lounges back in this seat as his eyes move down to rest between my legs. I gulp as I feel my pussy respond to the attention and quickly avert my eyes before it gets too involved.

"Uh Mr. Perry?" asks Jon "I'm not sure I will have time to finish this sketch during the class, would it be all right if I...?"

I hear his words but am no longer looking in his direction so miss his intention completely as he takes his phone out of his pocket and lifts it as he waits for a response.

"Oh, why yes, well, this is, er, normal, to work from materials, I mean we can't expect to perfect everything immediately can we now? Not even our star pupil." as he smiles indulgently at Jon "Go on, my sweet Caravaggio...as you will! Perhaps you could share it with the WhatsApp group for the class? -- useful homework for the men who couldn't make it this evening...and the women of course" he adds with a chuckle.

Wondering what they are referring to I turn my gaze back round at exactly the moment when Jon's camera phone clicks, thus presenting him with a full frontal -- of both my nakedness and my face. I gape in surprise and can hardly react before I see him quickly tap at his phone and suddenly the familiar WhatsApp chime emits from several phones in the room -- including the one still in my handbag.

I bite my lip in fury and frustration, wanting to object but knowing there is little point now that the picture is out there never to be retrieved. I shudder, realising that any future visits to the pub after class will be with men who can dip into their pockets at any point and review my naked, exposed body at their will. The heated arguments will have an extra edge to them.

Mind gnawing on this unexpected development I pay no attention as Mr. Perry glances at his phone. The picture has arrived along with a text. A second later his phone starts ringing.

I jump as the sudden ringtone echoes off the bare walls of the art room. The instructor quickly lifts his mobile to his ear and talks into the line "What? Oh yes of course, well that is, er, yes, it is, I will come right away". Hanging up, he hurriedly makes a beeline for the door "Sorry class, slight emergency -- I need to step out for a moment -- back in 5 -- take a break -- have coffee!" he calls over his shoulder as he rushes out in a whirlwind of arms and legs.

I blink at the sudden exit. A moment later I gasp as I realise he has left with the key that unlocks access to my clothes. I jump up, nude, forgetting myself, as I move to the door and peer out...but he is already gone. I look helplessly left and right along the deserted corridor before a sudden voice brings me back to reality:

"Here you go Sarah, I got you a coffee..." says Jon smoothly as I turn back to him, taking it automatically and only then understanding that holding the cup prevents me covering myself with my hands.

"She does a great job modelling, eh guys?" he grins as the other men happily gather around my naked frame leaving me no option but to stand and chat. The illusion of a professional, above-board model now destroyed as I must engage with these men I know, have sketched with, talked with, socialised with, drank with, debated with, and argued with.

"Sure does!" enthuses Jason as he quickly, lightly slaps my naked ass -- the resulting sound adding to the general mirth. I'm about to complain as I would when clothed but it seems far more difficult to do so while nude.

The shadow feeling of his bare hand on my bare ass is difficult to shake. My mind senses where he spanked me, the skin burning hot from shame rather than pain. I feel the small plastic cup of coffee shaking a little in my grip as my gaze moves back up to meet Jon's.

"Look! Nice, eh?"

He smiles as he lifts his phone, turning it as he does so, presenting me with the image he captured a few moments ago. I look at the smaller version of myself - nude, surprised, easily recognisable, captured forever, future viewers entirely under the men's control.

"Yes"

I hear someone answer. A beat passes before I recognise the voice as my own. Horrified as I realise my instinctive response has bypassed my brain. The answer catches them all by surprise and I see Jon's gaze move down to my breasts and, as it does so, I feel my small sensitive nipples harden dramatically.

I close my eyes for a fraction of a second. My brain chewing on the situation, aware of all the men in the room, all the cocks in the room hanging or hardening between their legs. I can almost smell the masculinity and desire emanating from each male. I open my eyes as I feel a finger and thumb delicately gripping my left nipple.

"You are not drinking your coffee." Jon states while he calmly holds my nipple, watching me, gauging my reaction.

I stare back, lifting the trembling container to my drying lips as I try to keep control. I feel his grip tightening slightly as I do so, pulling a little, teasing. I swallow -- the liquid and my excitement -- as I part my legs slightly to balance myself.

"She's loving it!" gloats Jason in amazement as the parting of my legs shows the clear glistening of my pussy. The undeniable bodily responses act as an invitation and he caresses my other breast as I squirm into, not away from, him.

"Let's give her what she's missing at home." Jon nods to the surrounding men in a signal understood by all.

A soft moan leaves my body as I feel the strong hands lifting my naked form. My body pliant as they lay me back on the table, ensuring my legs are fully spread, shaven, tight, married, wet pussy explicitly, obscenely, on display.

No sooner am I positioned than I feel it. A thickness rubbing between my legs. A hardness probing urgently around my eager pussy lips. I grit my teeth at the sudden pressure there followed by a satisfying give, a shunt, and he is inside me.

My back arches as my desperate pussy receives Jon's big thick cock. Much bigger than I am used to, the cock fills my pussy, presses against the sides in a deliciously satisfying way. His rapid thrusts pushing his shaft up and causing my clit to respond, tingling with the motion.

I know he is bare, deliberately so, but I don't care. My arms extend to the sides, hands opening to welcome two further cocks. I grip their throbbing hardness tightly, steadying myself and exciting them.

I can guess at least one owner of a cock now in my hand. I confirm my suspicions as I glance up, seeing Jason, looking down at where my small fingers hold his solid erection, playing with it, pulling at it. Never during all our conversations could he have dreamed that one day I would be naked in front of everyone giving him a hand job.

I moan as I feel Jon's big cock moving inside me, pushing, throbbing urgently. I try not to think of it being him, him of all people, fucking me now, but I can't help my mind fixating on the idea -- the fact we have never gotten along is surprisingly exciting for me and I can feel my orgasm hinting at its approach.

An echo seems to fill the room before I realise the repeated moan is not mine but his. Instinctively my hands tighten around the cocks they hold, my fingers feel the tension there, the urgency...my eyes widen as I feel them both release within seconds of each other. The grunts of the men and the thrust of their members alerting me to the orgasms a second before I feel their cum splatter warmly against my naked body.

"Oh fuck" gasps Jon as the sight of me being covered in their seed is the final straw. He thrusts hard into me, pressing his big cock fully into my married pussy as he starts to shudder. The sensation of his cock beginning to unload inside me triggers my own orgasm and it thunders through my body in sympathy, crashing in waves, obliterating all thought and action as its pleasure fills me completely.

When, a few moments later, I am recovered enough to open my eyes, I watch Jon as he gently pulls his shrinking penis from me. Expecting an expression of gloating triumph, I am surprised to see a relief, almost a gentleness there, a gratefulness for the pleasure shared. He exhales, placing his cock back in his clothing and suddenly leaves the room for a second, returning a moment later he hands me the locker key without a word.

I slip unsteadily off the table and rush to get dressed, glancing at the clock, I notice the time and jump into action. The class is due to finish in one minute and my husband promised to come and meet me for a drink after class. I only just manage to get my clothing on -- sticking slightly against parts of my body before the door opens and Keith walks in.

"Hey honey, had a good class?" asks my husband as he glances around, sensing some tension in the air "Ready for a drink?" he asks.

"Why don't we all go and get one?" Smiles Jon, shaking hands with him "We can tell you all about it!".

************------------************

Mr Perry sits back in his chair at home and opens the envelope. He smiles as he flicks through the sheaf of banknotes.

"Not bad for a day's work." He thinks as he sets it aside, recalling the events in the pub last week after I had left; Jon devising the plan and encouraging the other men to go along with it. Truth be told, he would have happily done it for nothing but there was some work involved after all.

He had had to let the model know she was no longer needed, prepare the box and slips of paper, send out an e-mail to the other female members of the class telling them the class had been cancelled, and a further mail to all the less regular male class members letting them know of the special fun to be had this week and so not to miss it!...Not to mention acting innocent as he declared the 'winner' - fully aware that every slip of paper had 'Sarah' written upon it.

He stretches as a soft chuckle emits from his lips. He remembers the private text he had received from Jon along with the picture during class "gr8 work Mike, ur quite the actor, we have left ur money in the first locker in the hall, leave the key there when you go, will ring u now" and then the moment later when Jon dialled his number and quickly slipped his own phone back into his jacket leaving Mr Perry to talk into the empty line as me made his excuses and left.

"God, I loved taking that snooty bitch down a peg or two." He laughs to the empty room, lifting his whisky and taking a satisfied sip as his mind recalls the sight of my naked body, the pert breasts and shaven, vulnerable, tight pussy.

"Which reminds me!" He exclaims, taking out his phone and pulling up my naked picture. Taking his time, he undoes himself and pulls out his thick cock, already hard at the explicit photograph before him, as he begins to stroke.

"Ah, it's a hard life being an artist."


“Rise and shine, slave.”

Katara’s slow, unsteady return to consciousness was abruptly hastened by the feeling of the golden collar around her neck digging in tight, roughly pulling her up and to her knees.  Sputtering, it took her a moment to focus before she realized that Azula was before her, and unlike yesterday seemed to have no interest in giving her time to prepare.

Instead of being either fully clothed or naked, this time the Firelord wore a slimming corset in bright red leather that emphasized her modest curves, along with silken stockings that went up to her thigh and matching leather gloves that stopped at her shoulder.  Her cunt was fully exposed, and it took a moment for Katara to realize she’d been staring before turning away, her shame at having given in so easily yet again last night filling her less with anger at her captor and more at her own weakness.

She’d had a private interest in women that she’d known of for a few years, but this particular woman, and in this situation?  That was madness she didn’t dare entertain if she could help it.

But then she thought, noticing the glittering gem of her mother’s betrothal necklace already on Azula’s neck, for now she didn’t have much say in the matter.  Patience offered little comfort, but she could hardly afford to be picky.

With every day the full moon came closer, and the chance for her freedom with it.

“On your knees,” Azula finally declared, and compelled by her subconscious programming, Katara immediately complied.  “I have something special in mind for you today.”

At first, Katara could hardly imagine what would qualify as ‘special’ given what she’d already endured at the Firelord’s hands, but when Azula turned to face her, she held only a simple red sash, doubled over into a bandanna that she held between her, as if to give it a significance to her prisoner that was lost on Katara until Azula simply placed it over her eyes and fastened a knot securely behind her head.

Katara could now see nothing—blackness with the slightest crimson tint—and being robbed of one of her senses gave her a renewed feeling of anxiety.  She hadn’t realized until this exact moment how much at least a vague idea of what was coming from her captor had given her even a small bit of twisted comfort.  Any sort of knowledge was better than absolutely nothing.

“Plant your face on the floor and stick your ass up for me.  Hands behind your back, slave.”

Katara felt herself gasp as her cheek abruptly smacked against the cold tile, the odd feeling of being completely helpless to control her own body magnified as it simply did as Azula commanded.  A cruel, satisfied ‘hmph’ from off to her left indicated that the Firelord had confirmed what Katara herself had surmised: the programming Azula had imprinted that caused Katara’s movements to conform to her will didn’t require her to have constant visual awareness of the betrothal necklace to function.  Seeing it on Azula was the only trigger the conditioning had needed to kick in.

She isn’t prepared at all when there’s the slightest, gentlest touch of leather-clad fingers along the inside of her knee trailing ever-so-slowly up her thigh, and the way her body tenses in anticipation elicits the slightest smug chuckle from Azula, leaving Katara to grimace shamefully into the floor.

She’s even less prepared for the firm open-palmed slap on her left butt cheek that makes a loud crack in the air, knocking the wind out of her from shock so fast she doesn’t even have the chance to shout out in pain.  But just as the pain had begun to settle in, a pair of Azula’s fingers were teasing between her legs, and unable to control herself Katara let out a little mewl of pleasure.

There was hardly a pause as Azula smacked her ass again—this time on the right side—before stroking her fingers along Katara’s clit again, and the Water Tribe girl felt herself respond positively to the motion.

“How does it feel, slave?”

Katara bit her lip as Azula hit her rear again, horrified to realize that while it hurt just as much as before, there was something else mixed in with the pain… a sensation she tried to fight off even as it redoubled from the feeling of smooth leather on her nerve center once more.

“Answer me.”

She had to obey, Katara grimly realized.   Her conditioning wouldn’t allow her any other option, no matter how badly she wanted to hold her tongue.

“G-good…”  She managed just as Azula spanked her twice on each side of her ass, making Katara jerk her hips up as her voice died in a high-pitched yelp, leaving her so disoriented she couldn’t hold back the deep moan that tumbled out of her as Azula’s hand cupped her pussy, firm and possessive but steady.

“Hmm.  Good girl,” Azula praised her mockingly, and as she spoke again Katara felt that same hand pull away from her (she couldn’t help jerking her hips back, almost instinctively chasing that touch) before it smacked with an audible clap right between her legs, directly on her swollen clit.  “I’m glad to see you being so honest.”

Katara felt her eyes bulge behind the blindfold, her body going rigid before collapsing onto the floor in violent shuddering, her lungs filled with a deafening gasp that never quite left her mouth.  She could feel herself nearly go right over the peak of orgasm, held back only by the virtue of her conditioning, and the sensation was utterly maddening.  She could feel herself twitching, soaking the ground, but the distinctive feeling of release was simply… not there.  Somehow, this was even worse than being made to come at Azula’s command, and in the face of such a distressing state her gradually crumbling resistance and defiance quickly faltered.

“P-please Master, let your Slave come,” Katara muttered, body shuddering and squirming even as she raised her ass once again, nearly automatically.

“Such a good, good girl you’re becoming,” Azula replied, clearly pleased with Katara’s ‘progress.’  “But you’re going to have to be patient a bit longer, Slave.  Now don’t move.”

Without another word from Azula, Katara dimly heard her rise to her feet and walk off to some other part of the room, feeling her back begin to ache the longer she stayed in place until there was the patter of Azula returning to being behind her, followed by the slow but unmistakable squelching of liquid, the friction of a hand moving rather deliberately up and down.  Moments later Katara gasped as she felt something cold and oily sliding down the crack of her butt, yelping as Azula’s fingers slowly began to tease around the rim of her asshole.

Katara squirmed instinctively at first, snapped out of her lustful stupor by the boldness of Azula’s actions and the decidedly foreign sensation of having her ass played with, but as the Firelord continued—her pace steady and deliberate, almost considerate even—she gradually felt herself relax bit by bit, the tension and reflexive fear melting away, replaced by a dull sort of arousal that tickled somewhere deep in the pit of her stomach.  Even as Azula pressed a single finger into her sphincter, then a second, before spreading and scissoring them inside her at that same maddening pace, Katara felt a low moan rumbling in her throat, breathing even but shallow as she felt herself begin to dampen the floor anew.

“That’s right.  Just relax, Slave.  I’d like this to go as smoothly as possible.”

“Wh… wha…?”

Azula said nothing, but somehow even with her vision obscured, Katara could almost feel the smirk she was certain the Firelord was making.  After a moment, she stopped and withdrew her fingers, but just as Katara was starting to almost miss the oddly arousing pressure, she felt something hard, cool and slickened with oil press against her now-stretched anus, Azula’s long fingernails digging into her hips as her hands settled on either side of her waist.  Somehow, Katara felt a strange sort of anticipation well up inside her, amplified by her blindfold and the almost possessive way Azula was holding her in place.

“Now… would you care to repeat your request from earlier, Slave?”  Azula asked, the smugness palpable in her voice.  As she did so she shifted forward ever so slightly, the cold smooth object she was pressing against Katara’s sphincter sliding in just a bit with her motion, and she knew almost immediately what was going to happen at the Firelord’s slightest whim or movement.  “If you do a good job, I just might reward you.”

Katara was silent for a long, long moment, before she finally spoke, quiet but certain.

“Please Master… let your Slave come.”

And with that, Azula grunted as she thrust forward, and another glass phallus—much like the one from yesterday, Katara realized, but textured and ribbed instead of smooth—slid deep inside Katara’s ass, only stopping once Azula’s hips met her own buttocks with a powerful clap of skin against skin.

“Come, Slave.”

Katara had been mid-gasp, just barely starting to process how Azula was fucking her, when the order hit her and she simply came undone, practically howling with a bit of pain, but far more pleasure than she’d anticipated—and combined with the climax she’d been denied before, she was far from capable of downplaying the intensity of her honest physical reaction.  She was profoundly aware of how hard she was coming, leaking all over the floor as she trembled violently, her tongue lolling as she struggled feebly to calm herself.

For the longest time, Azula simply stayed where she was, hilted inside her, almost as if she was giving her time to adjust to the sensation of being penetrated like this.  But soon enough Katara felt her pull back, the phallus inside her drawing out until only the head remained within (the feeling of Azula withdrawing was nearly as overwhelming, and she may very well have come even without being ordered to) before she thrust in again.

“Come, Slave.”

Katara came hard again, audibly squirting on the floor, her toes curling as she arched her back, her moaning more guttural and deep than before.  She heard Azula chuckle darkly behind her before there was a sharp pressure against the back of her scalp, and through the sudden added rush of intense sensation realized that Azula was pulling her braid, forcing her to bend back until she held her firmly in place, spine aching from being forced into such an awkward position.

And yet somehow for Katara, as Azula began to set her pace and firmly, steadily began to properly fuck her, this didn’t feel humiliating or shameful.

It felt… amazing.

To be certain, the humiliation and shame were there, but rather than overwhelm the maelstrom of reactions and sensations Katara was losing herself in, they complemented the raw pleasure, along with the physical pain as well.  All she had to do was… simply do as she was told, and come when she was ordered, and it was almost enough to make her forget that this was a punishment of sorts; that even slightly indulging this was practically a betrayal of everything she had believed in and fought for up to now.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Azula’s signature cruel laughter, and the sweet added sensation of the Firelord’s fingers messily playing with her sopping wet cunt, juices flowing freely over those slender digits.

 “You really are born for this, my little Water Tribe whore.  Even the best of my little pets didn’t enjoy getting fucked in the ass the first time this much.  You’re just loving this, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes, Master,” Katara stammered through Azula’s now-brutal pace, surprising herself with the immediacy of her response.  “It… It feels so good…”

“I’m sorry, it’s simply too funny to me,” Azula mocked, pulling Katara’s braid just a bit harder, eliciting a squealing, strangled yelp of arousal as she brought her free hand up to lock her fingers into Katara’s mouth, clawed fingers stroking her extended tongue, giving her the slightest taste of her own liquids.  “Such a strong, prideful Bender like yourself—I hate to say it, possibly even a match for me in a fight—and yet here you are, coming yourself silly like the masochist slut you really are.  Don’t you agree?”

Maybe the arousal was simply too much for her to focus, or some hint of her old pride had resurfaced at the slight, but Katara said nothing aside from her own moans and whimpers of pleasure, at least until Azula clutched her firmly by the jaw and craned her head back so their faces were mere inches apart, the heat from Azula’s own face apparent to Katara even through her blindfold.

“Answer me properly, or I’ll stop.”

Katara hated the idea of giving Azula the satisfaction of her admission, but there really was no choice; the conditioning thanks to the trigger of her mother’s necklace was going to force her to speak the truth anyway, and somehow that gave her an odd sense of comfort even in as depraved a situation as this.

This wasn’t her.  Not really.  This conditioning was forcing her to behave this way, and all she had to do was endure just a little longer.  Even if all this was starting to make her realize things about herself that she’d never have admitted to with anyone, things she hated and was ashamed of, soon she’d be free and all this would be a bad memory.

What was the harm, then, in giving Azula what she wanted, so she could indulge herself just a little bit and pass it off as being out of her control?

“Y-yes.  You’re right… Master, you… you fucking my ass feels so fucking incredib--!”

Suddenly Azula returned to railing her, even faster than before, and combined with three fingers hammering away inside her cunt, Katara felt herself go from simply passively accepting Azula’s ministrations to actively meeting them.  Giving into the situation, Katara began to bounce back against Azula’s pelvis, resting her weight on one arm so she had a hand free to play with her own clitoris while Azula continued to finger her.

Steadily, Azula ordered her to come, nearly once for every time she bottomed out inside her rear, until finally she simply collapsed on the now soaking wet floor, completely spent.  As Katara panted weakly, her eyes rolling back in her head behind the scarlet blinder, she felt Azula finally pull out of her with a slick pop, punctuating her dominance over the utterly exhausted Katara with a final smack on her abused ass.  There was a commotion as Azula shuffled around the room—no doubt collecting her clothing—before she felt the Firelord’s presence close to her once more, and the slight tug and loosening of the sash around her face indicating that Azula was finally taking it off.

 Katara blinked hard as light flooded her senses for the first time in what felt like hours, and as her sight came back into focus Azula was looming over her, her face inscrutable as her clawed fingers brushed along her jaw in a gesture she might have even considered affectionate if she didn’t know far better.

 “Good girl,” Azula leered, and Katara felt almost ashamed at the spike of lust that pooled weakly between her legs at those words.  She felt like she could drift off for hours, days even, right then and there, but then she realized something rather peculiar the longer she looked up at Azula.

Or rather, it was the absence of something that brought back a touch of lucidity.

“Wh… where’s the necklace?”

 “Hmm?  What’s that, Slave?”

“My… mnh…” Katara struggled to sit up, her exhausted body barely cooperating, fingers struggling to find purchase on the slickened floor, before ultimately giving up and laying back down, gazing up at the kneeling Azula.  “My mother’s… necklace.  The one… you’ve been using on me…”

“Ohhh, you mean this?” Azula inquired with mock astonishment as she produced it in her hand from behind her back.  “Hmm.  I suppose it must have come off at some point, silly me.”

Katara blinked, and too worn out to put much effort into disguising her reactions, the look of slow, absolute horror that crept over her face seemed to bring a warped smile to Azula’s own.

“Wh… What do you mean?  Haven’t you been wearing it this whole time?”

There was a desperation in her voice now that Azula appeared to be doing her absolute best to not gloat over too obviously.

 “Well, it’s hard to say, isn’t it, Slave?  I definitely had it on when we started, but… well, you were so… ‘enthusiastic’ that I simply can’t remember.  Best not to dwell on it too much, hmm?”

A stunned silence hung in the room, and after Azula gave Katara a moment to absorb the weight of her implication, she simply moved to the door.

 “Sleep well Slave,” Azula called mockingly as she exited, and once the door had shut Katara felt her hand slip over her mouth, her breathing quicken as she be began to panic.

She was absolutely certain that Azula had made her mother’s betrothal necklace her conditioning trigger.  There was no doubt at all about that.  And she was equally certain there was no way it could have simply fallen off.  Which left only a pair of questions that for the first time in this ordeal left her shaken to the core.

How much of this—her reactions, her behavior—had been the conditioning?

And how much of it had been her?


Alessandra sat behind the moderate sized desk reading through correspondences that Winky had placed on her desk that very morning. Things were finally getting into some semblance of order since she and her counterpart Mercy had been hired on as personal assistants to Lord Black-Potter.

Mercy was far busier than she at the moment with dealing with the mess that was Lord Black-Potter fan-base. Mercy was working diligently with the Potter-Black legal counsel on the illegal use of the Potter name for products that were sold since the first war ended.

Alexandra however was his personal assistant for his business dealings as well as the foundation that he was trying to get off the ground. At some point in the future she knew she would have contact with his legal team as well as the people working for the foundation.

Draco entered the office with his usual flare. His hair was hanging loose around his face. He had grown out of slicking his hair back from his face. It had grown significantly over the last two years.

He had arrived at Devonsgale Hall only to find out Potter had relocated his office. He had been by on multiple occasions to speak with him however, he was always out. He had just exited the floo network into the main sitting room as Alessandra was exiting the kitchen area with a steaming mug in her hand.

She observed him as he took in the room. Although his expression remained blank she knew he was curious as to what her boss was up too.

“Good morning Sir how can I be of assistance this morning,” Ambrose greeted him as he neared the welcome desk.

“Draconius Malfoy to see Lord Black-Potter,” He informed the witch with an heir of arrogance.

“I’m sorry Mister Malfoy; Lord Black-Potter will be out of the office today,” Ambrose informed him.

“What do you mean he’s out of the office? Didn’t that Marcy or Mary or whatever her name is tell him I needed to speak with him,” Draco questioned annoyed at Potter’s blatant disrespect.

“I cannot say Mister Malfoy as I wasn’t the person you spoke with. Now would you like to schedule an appointment to speak with Lord Black-Potter?”

Alessandra held back the giggle wanting to escape. Mercy had ranted for thirty minutes after his first impromptu visit to speak with their boss. He was just as arrogant as he is being now.

Mercy had taken great pleasure in telling him that Lord Black-Potter didn’t have a clear appointment until for another three weeks. Of course it wasn’t a lie at the time but the repairs at Hogwarts had been completed faster than he’d anticipated. The war hadn’t mellowed him out any.

It was quite amusing to see the blonde wizard storm back to the fireplace flooing out without setting an appointment. She guessed, for Draconius Malfoy, he wasn’t used to being told no.

“What’s his issue?” Ambrose asked noticing her standing there.

“I’m guessing the pampered Prince isn’t use to be denied what he wants,” Alessandra chortled causing Ambrose to fall into a fit of giggles.

“Should I schedule him an appointment?” Ambrose questioned.

“There really isn’t a need I’m sure he will be back again tomorrow,” Alessandra assured her before heading towards her office to get some work done.

The outcome of Lord Black-Potter’s meeting today will determine how they would be handling his business interest.

________________________________

The Wizarding Nations Building was fairly empty when he arrived by floo except for the lone security person sitting at the desk to check the wands of visiting witches and wizards entering the building.

“Welcome to the Wizarding Nations Building. All visitors are required to have their wands checked,” the guard informed him.

Harry handed over his wand without question. The guard placed his wand in a square magical device. Moments later a slip of paper appeared with his wands’ information. (Holly with Phoenix core in use since 1991 bonded to Hadarian Potter-Black)

“What is your business here today Lord Potter-Black?” the security wizard questioned as he handed Harry back his wand.

“I’m here for Britain’s Wizengamot Session?” Harry replied slipping his wand back into its holder on his arm.

The British Wizengamot has been assigned to Meeting Chamber 10 located on level four,” the guard said directing him towards the correct lift.

“Thank you,” Harry replied quickly walking in the direction of the lift. The lift opened when he reached it the door closing as soon as he entered.

“Welcome to the Wizarding Nations Building press your destination please.”

Harry was startled by the voice before snorting in amusement as he touched the four key on the key panel on the wall of the lift. It was much like its muggle counterpart.

It had taken them weeks to get the necessary information on the separation of magic between beings and magical humans. Harry had tried requesting the creature restrictions and classification laws several times without success. He was being blocked at every turn. However, he had been determined and with the help of his personal assistants Alessandra and Mercy, he got all the information he needed before they would be able to approach the Magic Council.

He had nearly given up. It was Alessandra that suggested they seek out the Goblins. In that moment Harry could have kissed her. Chief of the Goblin relations was very reluctant to allow him and his assistants, access to the information until Harry thoroughly explained what access to the information could mean to the magical community and its importance to wizarding law. The goblins; May the Goddess show them favor, were more than helpful. Their archives were even more extensive than the Ministry’s and Harry was able to get around all the red tape that the Ministry Department was trying to force him to go through.

He wasn’t surprised at the skepticism received by the goblins. History of Goblin Wars proved the relationship between magical beings and magical humans was a long fought battle. A battle, that Harry was hoping to end, if they were able to get an invitation to the Magic Council in the Outer Realm.

Now all they needed was for the Wizengamot to vote in favor of the new magical covenant. The restructuring of the laws would take some time but Harry was sure they would be able to find common grounds with the other magical beings of the magical world. It was time the world of magic reunited as the Goddess meant for it to be.

“Level four,” the ethereal voice announced a few moments later before the door to the lift opened. Quickly exiting the lift Harry walked through the small waiting areas towards the main hall.

“Harry,” Kingsley called spotting the younger wizard.
Harry turned spotting Kingsley he headed towards the older man.

“Good you’re here early, I can go over a few things with you before things get started”, Kingsley stated.
“Sure,” Harry readily agreed following the older man. Andromeda and Kingsley had prepared him as much as they could for today and he hoped that he was able to keep a level head with dealing with not only the strictly light families as well as the supremist dark families.

Harry sighed running his hands along the deep burgundy dress robes that he was currently wearing with black tailored slacks and black silk dress shirt under it. Today his hair was pulled back with a leather strap and his wand was in an invisible holder on his right arm.

“I know that you’re nervous Harry but you’re going to be fine,” Kingsley assured him.

Harry looked at him in astonishment, “I honestly feel a bit nauseated,” he sighed, “my stomach is total knotted up. Why did I let you and Dromie talk me into this?”

“You were born to do this,” Kingsley kindly reminded him, “it’s in your blood and don’t let anyone in there tell you that you don’t belong.”

Harry sighed, he really truly didn’t want any of this but he knew that he would never deny his heritage.

“You’ve researched this issue and with the help of the order you have the information you need to argue and win,” Kingsley assured him with a smile, “do not doubt yourself and have confidence in the research and work you’ve put into this. I owe your girls a gourmet meal for their efforts.”

“I’m sure Alessandra and Mercy will hold you to that,” Harry chortled thinking about his personal assistants. He had been skeptical about the two women at first but neither seemed to think him any different from any other wizard. He was just their boss and that was it. he hoped one day that he could consider both young women his friends.

“I will put forth the motion to repeal and review for the creature laws and classifications after you have gotten the Magical covenant to a vote. This will pave the way for the laws to be reviewed and repealed,” Kingsley informed him,
“Lord Prince will put the motion in for Hogwarts.”

Blowing out a breath Harry sighed he wished the queasy feeling would pass. Deciding to read over the information he was presenting while he waited for the meeting to begin. Nodding his head in understanding, he wondered if Snape was nervous at all about this mission of subterfuge.

He was sure the Wizengamot would be outraged if they were aware that Kingsley sought the help of what many considered a vigilante group to investigate and research what he needed to get the magical world where it was meant to be.

“In a few minutes I will lead you into the small anti chamber in the meeting hall. Try to relax yeah” Kingsley said before leaving the room.

Harry looked skeptical at the advice. He wished he had forgone breakfast that morning. His stomach was completely knotted with anxiety. He never felt this nervous or unsure before not even when he faced his imminent death he didn’t have this fear. He probably should have taken a calming draft before he arrived.

As promised a few minutes later Kingsley returned leading him into the small anti chamber.

Severus was surprised when it was revealed to him that Potter had ended his friendship with the other two-thirds of what Hogwarts deemed the golden trio. Hermione was still dealing with the loss of her friends; she had tried to keep her melancholic episodes from him. However, on more than one occasion he had came upon her curled into herself as silent tears streamed down her face.

A part of him ached for her; he understood how, our decisions could have an unexpected impact. He learned that very hard lesson at sixteen years old. Lily had forgiven him for uttering the cruel words yet she had ended their friendship.

The same as Potter, he hated to think that he was the cause of her losing her friends. Yet she had assured him, through her tears that the fault was her own. The promises she made and failed to keep had ruined the friendship she had with Lord Black-Potter, a friendship he believed that she regretted losing.

Greg acknowledged his entrance by a slight bow of his head. Harry nodded in kind. Harry noticed he had lost a lot of weight since the war but he still looked healthy but had a deep sadness around him. Harry thought it was partly due to losing his father and seeing his best friend die as a result of his own spell.

Snape’s brow rose at Goyle’s subtle greeting towards Potter. He wondered what led to the respect that his former Slytherin student was showing the former Gryffindor. He was proud however, to see that many of his students had survived the war intact.

Pansy Parkinson was sitting engaged in a conversation with Nott and they had yet to notice his entrance.

“Lord Black-Potter,” Neville greeted him as he entered the room. His grandmother Augusta sitting in a comfortable arm chair looking over the young ones who are going to take their place among people far older than them.

“Lord Longbottom, it’s great to see you again,” Harry replied in kind shaking his hand.

Neville was dressed in khaki colored slacks with a matching dress shirt and elegant deep forest green robes that flowed around his form.

“Dowager Longbottom,” Harry greeted kissing the older woman’s hand before releasing it.

“Lord Black-Potter, it’s a pleasure to see you again. Neville speaks of you often,” Augusta Longbottom replied.

Harry was surprised to see several of his now former school mates. “Kingsley didn’t mention anyone else taking their family seats today.”

 “Are you ready for this?” Neville asked quietly not wanting to draw attention to them.

“Honestly no, but what choice do I have Kingsley is depending on us to push this stuff through to better our world,” Harry replied noticing they had eyes on them.

“Have you told your grandmother anything?” Harry asked, wondering if the older woman would agree with what they were trying to do.

“No, I thought it best if she had deniability you know,” said Neville sheepishly.

“Good thinking,” Harry said with a mischievous smile.

Augusta sat observing her grandson with the wizarding world’s hero. The pair had developed a very close friendship, much like the friendship her Frank had with Gideon and Fabian Prewett before the war had decimated entire family lines.

Although both were young in age, they had a maturity about them that spoke of the impact the war had on them. The ugly battles of war leaves a person changed in ways they would have never thought possible.
_________________________

(Chamber outside of Meeting Chamber Ten)

Kingsley entered the meeting room taking his place among the members of the Wizengamot waiting for the new members to enter to take their place among them.

Dimitri Flint had been appointed interim Chief Warlock until a proper election would be conducted. There had been many speculations about the man’s ties with Voldemort however none of rumors were founded. Being born to a family with a dark inclination for magic did not make one a death eater.

As Kingsley took his seat waiting for the others to be seated Dimitri stood quietly waiting to make the opening call for the meeting.

“The 35th Session of the 505th year of the Wizengamot on this 28th day of October in the year of 1998 is now in session. Is there any new order of business?” Dimitri questioned.

“This governing body recognizes Minister Shacklebolt,” Lord Higgs announced from where he was sitting.
“There are several requests to claim inherited seats on this governing body,” Kingsley in formed them before retaking his seat.

“Very well, step forth;” Flint ordered, wondering who could be claiming seats on the first meeting since the war.
Lucius Malfoy found he was curious as well to find out who could be joining their mix. The families who are considered pureblood supremist were in the majority over the light families and Lucius hoped that didn’t change any time soon. He feared what kinds of damage the blood traitors and muggle lovers would do to the magical world. Lucius took pride in with his vote counting for not only the Malfoy seat but the Lestrange and Black seats as well.

“I Severus Dominic Snape-Prince, Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Prince, here by claim my rightful seat on this governing body on this 28th day of October in the year of nineteen hundred and ninety-eight.”

“This governing body recognizes your claim Lord Prince please take your place,” Flint replied. Muttering was heard from the light families that the murderer of the Albus Dumbledore would be able to take his inherited seat on the governing body.

Lucius held in his shock at seeing Severus. He hadn’t seen the man since he heard the man had survived the war. Severus had avoided contact with any known deatheater families not that he blamed the man.

Severus however surprised him further when he took the empty seat beside him; acknowledging him with a simple nod of his head but nothing more.

Snape ignored the mutterings of those loyal supporters of Dumbledore even after the man had been dead two years passed.

Theodore let out the breath he had been holding before stepping into the room. “I, Theodore Delanius Nott, Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Nott” here by claim my rightful seat on this governing body on this 28th day of October in the year of  nineteen hundred and ninety-eight.”

“This governing body recognizes Lord Nott”, Dimitri replied and recognizes your claim please be seated.
Theo could hear muttering coming from what he thought to be older witches and wizards. He wasn’t sure if it was to do with his age or because his father is a convicted deatheater. Theo walked towards the seating area not really sure where to sit.

Lucius watched Theo with an appraised look wondering which side this young man would choose to vote with. Lucius was well aware that the young man escaped the Dark Lord’s ranks; however, he was from a pureblood traditionalist family.

Theo took a seat in the middle where mostly families who were more gray than dark sat. Lucius wasn’t too worried about that, however, he was sure the young man would see to vote with their side of things.
Greg found himself nervous. He never was truly good with speaking before a crowd; releasing the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, “here goes nothing he muttered to himself before walking from the small chamber.

“I, Gregory Maximus Goyle, Lord of the Most Valliant House of Goyle, here by claim by rightful seat on this governing body on this 28th day of October nineteen hundred and ninety-eight.”

“This governing body recognizes your claim Lord Goyle please take your place,” Flint replied.
More muttering was heard, as Greg took the seat beside Theo. Interesting Lucius thought watching the pair with an inquisitive gaze.

Pansy sighed she truly didn’t want to sit on the Wizengamot she didn’t have any desire to vote on any changes in the government but she was the only direct member of the family now. With her father kissed, her mother killed during the war and her brother dead she had very little choice in the matter.

With a sigh Pansy entered the meeting room.
“I Pansy Lorelei Parkinson, Lady of the Ancient and Noble House of Parkinson here by claim by rightful seat on this governing body on this 28th day of October in the year of  nineteen hundred and ninety-eight.”

“This governing body recognizes your claim Lady Parkinson please take your place,” Flint replied.
More muttering was heard, as Pansy took the seat between her two former class mates. There was definite unrest among the members now.

Lucius couldn’t hold in his smirk. The light would have a time getting any bills passed now that the dark families truly had the majority vote. It was a good day indeed.
Mean while in the anti room
Harry paced the floor out of nervousness.
“Calm down Harry you’ll do fine,” said Neville holding his dear friend hand briefly before walking out leaving him alone in the room.
Harry nodded his head yet he couldn’t help but feel nervous his stomach felt as it were filled with worms.
Augusta followed her grandson into the meeting room giving her unyielding support.
Neville walked in the room nervous his grandmother standing beside him with an encouraging smile.
“I, Neville Lysander Longbottom Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House Longbottom, on this 28th day of October nineteen hundred and ninety-eight hereby claim my rightful seat on this governing body. I also claim the inherited seats of Crouch through blood right and Lestrange right of conquest.”
The muttering rose to high levels. “Preposterous,” An old man who Neville didn’t recognize, but his grandmother however did.
“Lord Higgs I would advise you to hold your tongue,” Augusta Longbottom stated, coming to stand beside her grandson.
“Surely you aren’t relinquishing your seat to your grandson,” another asked.
“The Longbottom seat is my grandson’s birth right” Augusta stated simply. “I however will still be apart of this body make no mistakes about that. I will just be controlling the Lestrange vote.”
Lucius sat his face calculating. “I’m sure there is proof of this claim” Lucius Malfoy questioned his voice drawled out.
“Of course,” Neville stated handing the papers over to the Chief Warlock.
“Is this your wish Lord Crouch Longbottom,” Chief Warlock Flint questioned.
“Yes, I do request my grandmother Dowager Longbottom to sit as head for the Lestrange vote,” Neville Confirmed.
Flint looked over the documents. He knew about the damage the Lestrange family had done to the Longbottom heir and he was granted not only their inherited seats but their estates and vaults in reparation.
The Crouch seat however surprised him, but He was the most directly link descendant to that particular line of the Black family.
Dimitri Flint handed the documents back to Neville. “Everything is order Lord Longbottom this governing body recognizes your claims please take your place.”
Neville followed his grandmother to where Lady Marchbanks was sitting. Are their anymore request for claiming of seats? Flint questioned.
“Are there any other’s?” Lord Flint asked
Harry stepped before them.
“I, Hadarian James Orion Pyrite-Peverell-Black-Potter, Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter, Black, Pyrite and Peverell on this 28th day of October nineteen hundred and ninety-eight do here by claim the seat of Potter, Black, Peverell and Pyrite by birthright on this governing body.
“The floor recognizes Lord Pyrite-Peverell-Black-Potter,” Flint stated shocked.
There was an immediate uproar.
Lucius paled, those two brats had just pushed the votes into their favor. The light side now had the majority vote.
“I questioned the legality of seats Black, Peverell and Pyrites,” Lucius stated waiting to see how the brat would get out of showing the necessary documents.
“Do you have proof to support your claim Lord Potter-Black?” Flint questioned.
Harry handed over a blue file filled with documents. He paused at seeing that Potter was in fact a pureblood. Interesting Higgs thought to himself. Flint looked over the remaining documents.
“It says here Lord Potter-Black that you are the direct descendant of the youngest Peverell brother. Therefore you are entitled to the seat. The Black seat you are also entitled too because you are a Black by blood. I’m aware that you are related to the Blacks distantly however you would not be entitled to the seat because the most direct blood would be Lord Malfoy’s son through his mother Flint stated simply reading further through the documents.
Lucius smirked so the brat can’t claim the Black seat after all he thought holding back a cackle of glee.
“If you read further I’m sure you will see that I’m not only entitled by will but also by blood…” Harry assured him.
“Indeed,” Flint stated after viewing an updated birth certificate that proved his blood line. “Lord Potter-Black is by birthright entitled to the seat of Black due to blood adoption by way of the congnationen hereditatem potion since July of 1981.”
“He is also entitled to the Pyrite family through the direct line though Lady Phoenix Cassiopeia Potter ne Pyrite-Black-Evans and Peverell through his father James Potter,” Dimitri Flint’s voice rang out in the chamber.

Flint returned the documents to Harry. “This governing body recognizes your claims Lord Potter-Black please take your place.” Harry walked over taking the empty seat beside Neville.
Harry looked at Lucius Malfoy with an innocent smile on his face before heading towards Neville and his Grandmother. This would be interesting,” thought Harry. He felt light at having gotten one up on Lucius Malfoy. It gave him a warm fuzzy feeling inside.
“Next order of business,” Flint stated once Harry was seated.
“The floor recognizes Lord Higgs.”
“The Department of Child Welfare as put forth a proposal, for a protective ordinance for magical children. This ordinance will provide protection for magical and non-magical children born into all magic wizarding families to prevent abuse and placement within proper wizarding families.”
It reads as thus: This Law concerns the welfare of underage witches and wizards who are orphaned or in abusive homes or non-magical children who are born into magical families.

1. Any magical child suspected of being abused must be removed from the family until an investigation can be conducted. Should the allegations be proven false the child will be returned to their home until they are of age. Should the allegations be proven true the child is to be placed into magically run orphanage or foster care provided with another wizarding family.

2. Any non-magical child born into a magical family must remain within the magical world. They can be placed in foster care with a squib family who will care for them or be placed in an orphanage within the magical world.

3. All magical children currently living in muggle ran orphanages are to be removed and relocated into a magically run facility. All magical children who are born to non-magical parents in the muggle world should be monitored to ensure their well being. If it is deemed the child is in danger of abuse the child should be removed from the home and placed in a magically run facility.

Lucius frowned; squibs being born into magical families were viewed negatively. Parents often abandon those children some had even killed the child to prevent their family being shamed.
“I will back this proposal Harry said in a calm voice that could be heard clearly throughout the chamber. I Second Neville replied. I third his grandmother stated wondering what her grandson and Lord Potter-Black were up too. I fourth that Proposal Kingsley stated before retaking his seat.
“What do you suppose the wizarding world do with squibs that are born? Wouldn’t it be more prudent to put them with muggles who are more like them,” Theo questioned.
“I agree with Lord Nott,” Lucius stated, “it would be far kinder to place squibs into the muggle world where they will be with non-magic users.”
“I disagree,” Harry replied. “Although squibs do not have active magic they do not belong in the muggle world. They are from magic and capable of producing magical children even though they don’t have magic themselves.”
“Placing squibs into the muggle world not only opens the opportunity for magical children to be produced with muggles which opens the door for a magical child to be abused and the potential breach in the statute of secrecy,” Harry continued.
“That leads me to wonder if supposedly muggle born wizards and witches aren’t simply the by product of squibs producing magical children.”
“That’s preposterous!” Lord Higgs voice could be heard throughout the chamber.
“It isn’t really,” Harry replied, “My mother is living proof that two non-magical children born in pureblood families can produce a magical child. My maternal grandfather Marius Black was the squib brother of Dorea Black who was abandoned in the muggle world for being a squib and Ortilya Pyrite also a squib born into the Pyrite family.”
“What do you suggest be done Lord Potter-Black,” Flint questioned curious as to what the wizarding world’s savior would have to say.
“I suggest that we fix the mistakes that we in the magical community have yet to correct. Magical children do not belong in the muggle world. They are misunderstood, mistreated and often abused by those responsible for their care. Allow families who have lost their heirs and are not capable to producing another heir to blood adopt these children making them theirs by blood rite.”
“All magical children should be removed from the muggle world that are in orphanages and allow families who are without heirs to magically adopt them. There were a lot of families lost during the war on both sides. I don’t think that the magical community can afford to allow family lines to end no matter which side of the war the families were on. If that isn’t possible I have another solution,” Harry continued

“Are you suggesting that we allow death-eaters to adopt these children.” A woman snarled.
“Madame I must warn you about placing your thoughts or words into my mouth. What you may not have contemplated is that many who joined Voldemort’s cause were not aware of the deeds they would be force to commit. ”
“I’m in no way absolving their crimes. What I can do is understand that sometimes we make bad choices and those choices can affect the lives of not only ourselves but our families. I also know that Voldemort wasn’t a wizard that they could walk away from with their lives if they refused to serve him.”
“Yes we were at war and the light suffered many losses but so have those families who are considered dark. So don’t talk to me about loss because I’ve lost greatly for the wizarding world. Prejudice has never gotten anyone anywhere and if we continue on the road that we are traveling Voldemort’s terror will be but a chapter in wizarding history because another will follow.” Harry snapped his magic crackling around him like a whip, breathing trying to calm himself down Harry pulled his magic back within himself without trouble.
He really hated losing control of his magic.
Snape looked over at the Potter heir, he knew the boy was powerful but the way the boy had control over his power was unimaginable. He never seen anyone control their power the way he just seem to pull his magic back within himself after it seem to whip around him so fierce and overwhelming not even the dark Lord’s magic felt so imposing.
“What is it that you suggest Mr. Potter?” Septimus Weasley questioned shocked by the young man’s power display had brought an odd sort of calm in the chamber.
“I’ve been working with Gringotts and the Child Welfare Department at the Ministry to set up my foundation. This foundation is dependant upon the child welfare proposal.” Harry replied.
“Why is that?” Lord Flint questioned.
“The Coventry Foundation will provide services for the international and local covenant for magical child welfare and children orphanage for the magical community. The Coventry foundation, will comprise of counselors, case workers who will work directly with the Child Welfare office here in the wizarding world, and the social services department in the muggle world so that we can keep track of magical children to ensure that they are healthy and being properly cared for. It will also provide the monetary assistance needed to send each child to a magical school.”
“Coventry Hall” has already been cleared by the ministry and is ready to accept all magical and non-magical born wizarding children. Here in Britain and around the world.” Harry replied. “We can not afford to have another Tom Riddle.”
“How is the ministry supposed to finance such a venture? Amelia Bones questioned. “Surely you’ve considered what this sort of galleons this course of actions will take?”
“I have indeed considered the cost effectiveness of this venture. However, this will not cost the ministry in a monetary sense. All I request is that the Ministry provides me with a competent qualified unbiased person to train my staff so that they will be able to handle child welfare cases.”
“The sole purpose of this foundation is to provide proper care and guidance for young squib, witches and wizards, by placing them in suitable homes where they will thrive and be loved. Donations are welcome and can be sent directly to Gringotts in care of Apponox who is the account manager for the foundation but at the moment the foundation has enough funds to run itself,” Harry replied.
Lucius had a calculating expression on his face Potter was proving to be intriguing.
“I put forth that all magical children entering the wizarding world from the muggle world be given the blood inheritance test to determine which family lines they come from. Mr. Potter has made some valid points, if his mother was the byproduct of two squibs producing a magical child we have to be able to confirm the rate and stop it from happening going forward,” Amelia added as a addendum to the ordinance.

“All in favor of the child welfare ordinance raise your hand, Flint called, all against he questioned. 38/22 for, Amelia stated the child protective ordinance bill is passed.
“Next order,” Flint stated waiting.
Snape stood, “The floor recognizes Lord Prince”

“I’m here representing the interest of Hogwarts and Headmistress Minerva McGonagall requesting amendments to the schools charter and curriculum,” Snape began.

“Although Hogwarts is a great school, they are far behind in magical standard then other prominent magical schools, in Greece, Australia, the United States, and Brazil.
“The proposal reads as thus.”

“All magical children who are of age are invited to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This honor is extended to all children, witches, wizards and magical beings.”

Muttering could be heard from a group Harry thought to be former Dumbledore supporters. It seemed to Harry that light families prejudice was just as bad if not worse than the dark families.

“All first years who are muggle raised will be required to take the following classes.”

Magical theory class before they are allowed to take classes that require magic. This is to better prepare them to learn.

All students who are muggle raised will be required to take Wizarding Traditions classes so that they will better understand the world to which they now belong.

All students will be required to take a writing mechanics class to teach them how to properly research and write essays for class.

Elective Classes that start third year will now include Art which will train students to draw, paint sculpt and photography and music arts which will include learning to play an instrument and singing in the school choir.

Electives being offered in 6th Year will include theory of offensive magic, ancient studies, elemental magic, alchemy, advance arithmancy and introduction to spell weaving.

Hogwarts will also incorporate classes such as archery, sword fighting, elemental magic, theory of blood magic, theory of dark magic, spell crafting, lost arts and runic magic courses,” Snape finished reading retaking his seat.

“Preposterous!”An older woman shouted, “We can’t condone dark magic being taught at Hogwarts.”

‘I don’t think the proposal said anything about dark magic being taught at Hogwarts it says theory of offensive magic. Which means it is a non-magic use class,” Harry replied.

“Be that as it may Mr. Potter,” a man argued.

“Lord Potter-Black,” Harry corrected the older man, “I haven’t given you permission to address me with such familiarity.”

Lucius smirked at Potter's rebuttal, "Familiarity indeed." he thought.

“Dark magic is against the law and as such a class such as that will circumvent the laws around dark magic use,” he continued not willing to listen.

“When are we as wizards going to accept that people can not help their magical inclination? We are born in an affinity for different types of magic, whether it light, gray or dark. Magic isn’t dark or light,” Harry stated, “it’s the intent of the caster that makes it so.”

Lucius brow rose at Harry’s forceful words. This had Dromie written all over it he was sure of it. The woman’s intellect was far beyond her years.

“Are we going to continue to make unscrupulous laws outlawing every spell that is used negatively so that it can’t be used again or are we going to start punishing the actions of the individuals using the spells to cause harm? The spell it self isn’t evil it’s the intent of the caster. These laws make no more sense than the numerous irresponsible magical decrees that stifled the magic at Hogwarts,” Harry finished retaking his seat.

Many members winced at their actions three years prior.

“You’re suggesting that we abolish laws that protect the community from curses that are so heinous that they can end a witches or wizards life,” Another wizard questioned.

“The real question is; are you suggesting that only a dark spell can cause harm or death?” Harry retorted silencing the man. He never thought he would be among the most prejudice members of society that seemed so far in their fear and beliefs that they couldn’t accept the reality of what magic was.

“No light wizard would use spells to cause harm to anyone,” an older man with salt and pepper hair replied.

Harry's expression darkened, "You sir are delusional in your views. Light does not mean innocent and dark definitely does not mean evil. You've proven a point, light witches and wizards are just as prejudice against dark wizarding families as dark families are against presumed muggle borns. A bit hypocritical isn't it."

Neville snorted in disbelief. Even he wasn’t stupid enough to believe that light wizards were exempt from wanting to cause someone else harm. The number of hexes that were fired over the years in the halls was enough to quall that notion.

“And light wizards call dark wizards prejudice and self centered,” Neville thought to himself.

“The wizarding world is outlawing spells that one person used in anger to cause harm or the death of another person. The spell didn’t change, the intent of the wizard did,” Harry rebutted calmly.

“What is your point Potter,” Nott questioned irritated by the Gryffindor’s ignorance.

“My point is that it’s never the spell that is good or evil, light or dark, it is the intent of the witch or wizard who uses it. Healers used spells that could be viewed as dark but there are accepted. Outlawing the spell isn’t the solution, punishing the perpetrator is.”

Harry sat down and allowed them to think on his words.

Snape remained silent he wasn’t worried about the ordinance being put to vote. He was sure the golden boy would get it to the vote.

“I will back this proposal,” Neville stated. “I second,” agreed Augusta Longbottom she couldn’t’ fault the young man’s logic. “Intent Indeed,” she thought.

“I third,” Septimus Weasley stated. “I fourth,” Lucius Malfoy stated shocking the entire assembly. Even Snape brow rose at Lucius agreeing with Potter of all people.

“Call this to vote,” Flint stated, “32/28 for the proposal, Hogwarts proposal bill is passed.”

Over the next hour Harry spelled a dicta quill to make notes on the session. He was anxiously waiting for the proposal on the magical ordinance for all magic wielders.

A woman that Harry didn’t recognize stood, the Department for the Control of Magical Beast puts forth the motion to revisit the classification of magical beings and the laws of their restrictions.

“I will back the proposal,” Harry announced, causing the witches and wizards from the light families to mutter in outrage.

“I second the motion,” Neville concurred.

Dowager Longbottom watched her grandson and Lord Black-Potter with a curious expression. It seemed the pair had formed an alliance of sort. It was rare for a person to win an argument let alone be taken seriously. These two would be formidable once they have learned a bit more, not that they were doing badly now.

“Lord Black-Potter, surely you misunderstood what she is suggesting,” Lord Doge questioned.

“I assure you Lord Doge, I’m well aware to what she was referring. I’ve completed extensive research on the classifications that was developed after the disaster of the all magical council in the 1400s,” Harry retorted.

“Those classifications are for the protection of the wizarding world,” Higgs insisted.

“Those classifications were made out of prejudice nothing more. Magic is not meant to be separated. The increasing number of squibs being born in all magic families cannot be blamed on inbreeding alone. Magical separation is a factor as well. You may suffer under the delusion that your blood is pure, but there isn’t a family alive that can honestly prove they do not have some type of magical being blood in their family history no matter how diluted the blood may be,” Harry challenged.

“What does that have to do with anything?” a grizzly looking wizard snapped in irritation.

“You can’t predict if a magical born will manifest that gene and become the very magical being that you scorn and detest. The lack of new blood is stunting the magical ability of the next generation of witches and wizards. You all are harping so much on purity of blood that you would marry your cousin just to keep your line pure, when in fact it isn’t pure by any means,” Harry continued before retaking his seat.

“I third the motion,” Amelia Bones stated with a thoughtful expression on her face. She always thought that the magical populace lacked logic.

Snape watched Potter, overwhelm the governing body with pure logic. He almost made it look easy. He wondered if the boy had applied himself to his studies as he’d done in this governing session, how he would have turned out.

“Call this to vote,” Flint stated, “33/27 for the proposal

The rest of the session passed without comment from Harry. They had done what they had come to do. They would work towards changing the laws and better the wizarding world a battle at a time. Harry thought as he stood to leave the chamber.

“See it wasn’t so bad,” Neville said as they were heading from the chamber.

“Wasn’t so bad,” Harry questioned with an incredulous expression, “were we in the same meeting?”

Neville laughed in amusement. His friend wasn’t aware of his ability to get people to listen. He knew if Harry ever desired to run for Minister of Magic he would succeed.

“I’m just glad it’s over,” Harry admitted, “I’m sure Dromie is going to grill me on how I think I performed.”

“Not bad for your first session Lord Potter-Black,” Septimus Weasley stated, as he passed heading towards the floo network.

“Thank you Lord Weasley,” Harry replied, “We’ll meet for lunch tomorrow, say around one, bring Daph” he suggested.

“Sure, that will be fine,” Neville responded, “Shall I make the reservations or will you?”

“I’ll send you an owl with place and time,” Harry said cheekily.

“Dowager Longbottom it was truly a pleasure meeting you,” Harry said taking her hand kissing it briefly before wishing them both a nice evening.

He noticed that Snape hadn’t stuck around after the meeting had let out. He figured the man had returned to Hogwarts to give Professor McGonagall the good news.

__________________________

Snape stepped from the fireplace into McGonagall’s office, “Well Headmistress the boy wonder does it again,” he said by way of greeting the older woman.

“Tea,” McGonagall asked as Snape approached her desk sitting in the comfortable arm chair.
“Please,” he answered allowing himself to relax for the first time that day.
Dumbledore’s painting was empty at the moment and Snape couldn’t help himself to wonder where the old man could possibly be. This was his first time in the office since before the war and he felt disconcerted and unsettled.

“That’s wonderful news,” McGonagall replied with a large smile on her face. She was truly excited about the prospect of the school becoming a school the founders could be proud of. She was determined to bring the school from the depths in which Dumbledore allowed it to fall.

“We’re going to have our work cut out for us arranging the dorms to house the magical influx of students. This is going to be a huge undertaking,” Snape mentioned sipping the hot liquid.

“Things should be easy enough,” McGonagall insisted, “I will run the ad of all the classes that we are now going to provide and open the positions up to the magical community. We only have to worry about the influx of employment applications.”

Snape snorted into his tea, “Indeed.”

“We will have a better idea of school attendance once we send the letters out.”

“Are you expecting a large number of students to return?” Snape questioned.

“I can’t be certain,” McGonagall admitted “however, we will move forward with the reopening.”

Snape nodded at her reasoning. He wondered that Dumbledore’s thoughts were about the changes being made at Hogwarts? He was sure the older woman had spoken with the portrait on matters dealing with the school not that Dumbledore could prevent any of it from happening.

The pair enjoyed the afternoon over a game of chess with Snape telling McGonagall about Potter’s foundation and how the foundation could help students who need help with tuition to attend Hogwarts and get their school supplies.

When Snape was ready to leave he was surprised when McGonagall hugged him. “You’re truly a remarkable wizard Severus Prince, and I’m honored to be able to call you a friend.”

Snape couldn’t help but feel humble. It was with McGonagall’s thoughts of praise that he left the castle disappearing with a displacement of air.