Vernon's heavy footsteps thundered into the house, followed by the high-pitched whine of Dudley complaining about something trivial. Petunia scrambled off the sofa, hastily smoothing her dress back down and trying to compose herself, but the flush on her cheeks and the disheveled state of her hair told the story of what had just happened. Harry stepped back, his cock still hard, still slick with the evidence of their forbidden tryst, but he couldn't wipe the grin off his face.
"What's going on in here?" Vernon's voice boomed from the hallway as he lumbered into the living room, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at the scene. Petunia quickly straightened, her face flushing with a mixture of panic and the remnants of pleasure still coursing through her veins.
"Nothing, Vernon," she said quickly, her voice tight. She shot Harry a look, silently begging him to keep his mouth shut. Harry just shrugged, enjoying the moment, knowing Vernon was too blind and dull to see the truth.
Vernon's eyes shifted to Harry, and his expression soured further. "What are you doing out of your cupboard, boy?" he barked, his face reddening as he glared at Harry. "Get back in there, now!"
Harry didn't argue. He simply nodded, slipping away with that smug grin still playing on his lips. He was happy to return to his cupboard, to the quiet and privacy where he could revel in his thoughts. The thrill of having his way with Petunia, the power of his desires, the utter freedom he now felt—it all made him giddy. He settled into his cramped space, leaning back against the thin mattress, his mind buzzing with the possibilities of this new world.
But then another thought slithered into his mind—a dark, looming presence that he knew he couldn't ignore. Voldemort. The name alone sent a shiver through him, but not of fear. It was annoyance. A threat. The Dark Lord could ruin everything if Harry wasn't careful, and Harry had no intention of letting some power-mad wizard get in the way of his newfound pleasures. If Voldemort returned, all this could end. Harry's libido and his desire to live this new life to its fullest burned brighter at the thought.
He needed power—real power, enough to crush Voldemort and any other threat that might stand in his way. Harry closed his eyes, trying to focus inward. The cupboard was silent, save for the distant sounds of the Dursleys bickering above him. He tried to clear his mind, to feel something deeper within himself. His magic. He knew it was there, but it felt like trying to grab smoke with his hands, elusive and fleeting.
Harry meditated, breathing deeply, steadying his thoughts. He imagined pulling the magic from within, coaxing it forward like drawing water from a well. It was slow, painstaking, but Harry could feel it, faint as it was—a tiny flicker of warmth deep in his core. He kept at it, determined to grasp the magic within him. Hours slipped by, and as the day turned to night, Harry finally let himself drift off to sleep, a sense of progress warming him from the inside.
The next morning, Harry was jolted awake by the familiar, jarring thump of Dudley's feet stomping on the stairs above his cupboard. He blinked blearily, stretching as the memory of the previous day's triumphs washed over him. He was still in this twisted paradise, and today was another day to seize. He stepped out of the cupboard, the early morning light filtering through the kitchen window.
Vernon and Dudley were already at the table, stuffing their faces with bacon and eggs. Petunia hovered nearby, trying to keep things in order. Harry grabbed a frying pan and began cooking, his eyes darting mischievously to Petunia. She avoided his gaze, busying herself with cleaning up the kitchen, but Harry could see the faint blush that crept up her neck when she felt his eyes on her.
Harry moved closer, brushing deliberately against Petunia's hip as he reached for the salt. She stiffened, but didn't pull away. Vernon and Dudley were too engrossed in their breakfast to notice the way Harry's hand lingered, trailing lightly along her waist before withdrawing. Harry smirked, enjoying the quiet thrill of pushing the boundaries right under Vernon's nose.
Dudley was complaining loudly about how it was his birthday, and Vernon was promising him all sorts of treats—a day at the zoo, a big cake, and more presents. "And what about Harry?" Petunia asked, her voice strained, trying to sound as disinterested as possible.
Vernon scowled, his eyes flicking to Harry with a look of utter contempt. "Mrs. Figg isn't available today," he grumbled, his mouth full of toast. "The little freak will have to come with us. But you stay out of the way, boy. Don't ruin Dudley's day."
Harry just nodded, not caring about the disgust in Vernon's voice. The idea of getting out of the house for the day, especially in this world where anything seemed possible, was appealing. Harry finished his breakfast, ignoring the way Dudley stuffed his face like a pig at a trough, and they all piled into Vernon's car, Dudley taking up most of the backseat with his bulk.
The zoo was busy, bustling with families and excited kids running around. Dudley was in his element, dragging his parents from one exhibit to the next, whining about everything that wasn't immediately entertaining enough. Harry trailed behind, half-listening to Dudley's constant complaints and Vernon's strained attempts to keep his son happy.
Then they reached the reptile house. Harry wandered along the glass enclosures, watching the snakes and lizards basking lazily in their heated tanks. Dudley was banging on the glass of a particularly large boa constrictor's enclosure, demanding that it do something interesting. The snake stared back, its eyes cold and unblinking, utterly unimpressed by Dudley's antics.
Harry stepped closer, feeling a strange connection with the snake. It was quiet, observing, biding its time—just like him. He leaned in, his eyes locked on the serpent's, and for a brief, thrilling moment, the glass between them vanished. The snake slithered forward, gliding smoothly past Harry and into the open, causing a flurry of panic among the zoo-goers. Dudley fell back with a yelp, and Vernon's face turned beet red as he grabbed Harry by the scruff of his neck.
"You little freak!" Vernon hissed, dragging Harry back to the car. The ride home was tense, Vernon fuming silently, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. As soon as they got back to Privet Drive, Vernon threw Harry into his cupboard with a force that made him stumble.
"Stay in there!" Vernon bellowed, slamming the door shut and locking it. Harry sat in the darkness, his body still buzzing from the rush of magic he'd felt at the zoo. He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes, and resumed his meditation. He focused, reaching inward for that flicker of warmth, feeling the edges of his magic slowly come into focus. It was faint, like a thread of silk brushing against his senses, but it was there. He grinned in the darkness, knowing he was just beginning to scratch the surface of his potential.
Harry let the sensation wash over him, that tiny sliver of power pulsing faintly, promising more. He couldn't wait to harness it, to make it his. Tomorrow was a new day, and Harry Potter was ready to take whatever this world had to offer. As he drifted off to sleep, he dreamed of power, pleasure, and the endless possibilities that lay ahead.
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