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The Dormant Power ch.1
🕑 Added 2024-06-10 16:45:12 +0000 UTCThrobbing bass beats pulsed through Harry Potter's chest as he stepped into the party, his first since leaving Hogwarts to attend the University of Magic. His dark hair hung messily over his wire-rimmed glasses, and his average height did nothing to detract from his introverted nature.
“Get ready, Harry,” he muttered to himself. “Tonight, everything changes.”
The party's atmosphere was electric, colorful lights illuminating the makeshift dance floor, and the laughter of inebriated revelers filled the air. The costumes ranged from the typical to the downright bizarre—a testament to the creativity of the students who had gathered to celebrate Halloween.
Being a fan of obscure comics and Muggle anime, Harry chose a costume that reflected his interests—a character from a little-known series that only a true fan would recognize. The costume was intricate, with papier-mâché and fake fur clinging to his body like a second skin.
“Hey, Harry!” a familiar voice called out over the din of the party. He looked around, searching for the source, but it was hard to make out any faces amidst the dim lighting and elaborate costumes.
“Over here!” the voice called again, and this time he spotted her—Hermione, his friend from Hogwarts, who had blossomed into a beautiful woman. His heart raced as she pushed her way through the crowd of sweaty bodies.
She was dressed in a tight-fitting costume, with cat ears perched in her long, styled hair. As she walked, Harry noticed a springy tail swaying with each movement of her hips. Her whiskers twitched as she smiled, adding an extra layer of charm to her already adorable appearance.
“Hey, Hermione,” he replied, trying to keep his eyes focused on hers instead of letting them wander to the enticing curves of her body. “Nice costume.”
“Thanks,” she beamed. “I like yours too! It’s so unique. You’ve always been passionate about your comics.”
“Thanks,” Harry mumbled, feeling his cheeks warm at the compliment. “I just wanted to wear something that represents who I am.”
“Definitely,” she agreed, running a hand down her hip. Harry’s mouth went dry. “That’s what costumes are all about, right? Expressing yourself.”
“Exactly,” he agreed, feeling a bit more confident now that he had gotten past the initial awkwardness of the conversation.
“Come on!” Hermione smiled and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go have some fun!”
Up until the end of Hogwarts, Hermione and Harry enjoyed books, comics, and cosplay. That was before Hermione blossomed into the wonderful creature standing before him, and he faded into the background, trying to avoid being noticed. But Hermione had invited him to this party, and he couldn’t refuse.
Harry had let his old cosplay creativity give way to caution, and his enormous, round costume made of papier-mâché and artificial fur was one of his best. Still, he was nervous as he stepped into the crowd of dancers, the scent of alcohol and sex hanging over the group like a fog. He held Hermione’s hand like a lifeline.
“Who’s that supposed to be?”
A stunning blonde emerged from the crowd. Her sensual body was on full display in a tight nurse outfit, the short skirt revealing long, firm legs that were tanned a golden hue.
Harry recognized her immediately. It was Hermione’s roommate, the former Slytherin Daphne. Her cold, blue eyes bore into him, challenging him to explain his costume choice.
“A hug, interesting,” she said, as if Harry were the least interesting thing she’d ever seen. “Hermione, have you seen our boys anywhere?”
“No,” Hermione replied. “I’m sure they’re around. Maybe you should look for them?”
“Good idea,” Daphne sneered at Harry. “See you later, Garry!”
“My name is Harry,” he started to say, but Daphne was already drifting into the crowd, swaying her hips.
“Sorry, Harry,” Hermione said. “She’s probably drunk.”
“Right,” Harry nodded, though he had dealt with girls like Daphne his entire life. She took a disdainful stance towards any guy who showed interest unless he fit her ideal partner’s image. Usually, that meant being handsome or wealthy. Preferably both.
Harry, unfortunately, was neither and knew it. Still, he had a good friend like Hermione who pulled him out of the dumps. Hermione wasn’t like Daphne. She was beautiful and intelligent, and his innate geekiness never seemed to fill her with contempt as it did with girls like Daphne. Instead, his awkwardness made her kinder.
Not that Harry thought she was interested in him romantically. Despite her kindness, he knew he wasn’t her type. Throughout Hogwarts, he had to watch her date guys more handsome than him. Usually, guys from the Dueling or Quidditch team, better-looking and more charming than he could ever hope to be.
When it came down to it, maybe she wasn’t that different from Daphne.
“Hey,” Hermione said, as if sensing where his thoughts were headed. “Don’t worry about her. Just dance with me.”
Damn it! Harry was at a party, with Hermione by his side, and he was missing it. He took a deep breath, letting the throbbing rhythm of the music fill his senses, allowing him to relax. As he danced with Hermione, the party seemed to come alive around them. The pulsating music and vibrating atmosphere ignited a freedom in him he had never experienced before.
He should have known it was too good to last.
“Look who we have here!” a voice pierced through the noise like a knife. A large blond loomed over Harry, his muscular frame clad in a chilling killer costume with a bone-white mask and a bloody wand. His presence sent a shiver down Harry’s spine as he approached, his predatory grin revealing cruel intentions behind his eyes.
“Who the hell are you supposed to be?” The killer lifted his mask, revealing a chiseled jaw and a cold but handsome face.
Draco Malfoy. He was part of Hermione’s circle of friends, a rich kid with money, birth, and looks that let him do whatever he wanted, and now it seemed he wanted to mess with Harry. Guys like Draco were why Harry hated Hogwarts.
“T-Toto…” Harry managed to stammer.
“Toto? You mean that little dog from 'The Wizard of the Dark Forest'?” Draco let out a high-pitched laugh that drew several looks from the crowd. Harry felt his cheeks burn with shame as he tried to come up with a retort.
“Leave him alone, Draco!” Hermione snapped, but as she stepped forward to stand between them, an arm shot around her waist and held her back.
“Yeah, Draco,” another voice said. “Leave him. Harry’s fine.”
Harry winced as he recognized his savior. It was Cedric Diggory, Hermione’s boyfriend. He was an athlete, tall and lean, exactly the sharpshooter he was. He played on the Quidditch team and was precisely the kind of guy Hermione loved: handsome, charming, and athletic.
Still, Cedric had always been nice to Harry, which made him hate him even more, especially now, as he held Hermione. Harry watched as his friend’s eyes sparkled with love as she looked at Cedric with a smile of adoration on her face. To her, Cedric was a hero, a knight in shining armor who stood up for her friend.
Cedric smiled at Harry over Hermione’s shoulder. A smile that said, “Thanks for making me look good, Harry. This should guarantee me a blowjob tonight.”
“You’re welcome!”
Harry watched as Daphne emerged from the crowd, slipping under Draco’s arm and possessively wrapping herself around his waist. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
And there he was, the fifth wheel in a grand costume that no one understood. Draco and Daphne, slasher and nurse, began making out in the middle of the dance floor. Even Hermione had all her eyes and hands on Cedric as they started dancing.
Forgotten, Harry slunk off to the bathroom, thinking the night couldn’t get any worse.
“Look who’s hiding in the bathroom,” Draco’s voice came from behind him, sending a frosty shiver down his spine. Draco stood in the doorway, his skull-like mask and bloody wand giving him a sinister look as he grinned malevolently. “You’re not so brave without your little protector, are you?” "Draco, leave me alone," Harry muttered, trying to sound assertive, but failing.
"Poor little Harry," Draco mocked, stepping closer and pinning Harry against the sink. His breath reeked of cheap beer, and his eyes glinted with malicious intent. "Did you really think that costume would impress Hermione? Do you think she cares about you? She just feels sorry for you."
"Fuck you, Draco," Harry spat, though deep down, he feared Draco might be right. He was tired of hearing his laughter, tired of hearing the truth about his place in the world. His hands clenched into fists.
"Ooh, look at the balls on this teddy bear!" Draco laughed cruelly, grabbing Harry by the collar of his costume and lifting him off the ground with ease. Harry's heart raced as Draco slammed him against the edge of the toilet, the impact knocking the wind out of him. "Do you know what I used to do to losers like you?"
"Please, don't..." Harry winced, trembling under Draco's grip, his mind racing with fear.
"Time for a swirlie, bitch!" Draco growled, tearing the paper mache costume around Harry's shoulders and shoving his head into the toilet bowl. Harry struggled as his face hit the cold, dirty water, Draco's hand pressing down on the handle. The water swirled around him, flooding his nostrils and choking him as he desperately fought for air. He felt his dignity stripped away with each spin, the cold water a brutal reminder of his helplessness.
"Stop!" Harry screamed internally, his vision blurring and darkening as the water continued to engulf him. But there was no one to hear his silent cries, no Hermione to step in and save him from this nightmare. It was just him and Draco, two opposing forces locked in an eternal struggle for dominance.
"Maybe now you'll learn your place," Draco sneered, finally releasing Harry, whose head slumped lifelessly onto the porcelain edge of the toilet. Gasping for breath, Harry stared into the murky water, his reflection mocking him with a tear-streaked, distorted image.
"Fuck you," Harry whispered hoarsely, the words barely audible even to himself. The humiliation burned inside him like a fire, threatening to consume everything in its path. His only thought at that moment was to escape, to flee and hide from the overwhelming shame. Stumbling, he left the bathroom, his heart pounding as he pushed through the crowd of costumed partygoers, desperately trying to outrun the laughter that seemed to follow him like a sinister specter. The memory of Draco's mocking face lingered in his mind, a cruel reminder of the humiliation he had just endured.
"Wait, Harry!" Hermione called after him, her voice full of concern, but he couldn't bring himself to look her in the eyes. The sight of pity and compassion in her gaze would only increase the weight of his shame.
"Leave me alone!" he snarled, ignoring the guilt twisting his gut at the thought of the hurt his words would cause. His hand found the door handle, and he threw open the front door, desperately craving the cold embrace of the night air.
"Fuck!" Harry cursed under his breath, stepping into the darkness, his soaked and torn costume falling off his body onto the dirty ground. The chill of the night air was like heaven on his flushed cheeks, but it did nothing to quench the fire raging inside him.
"Merlin, Harry," Daphne's mocking voice rang out behind him, followed by Draco's booming laughter. "You really know how to make an exit."
"Shut up, Daphne!" Hermione said, and Harry felt her presence as she approached him. "Harry? Are you okay?"
He didn't look at her, couldn't look at her. Instead, he spoke in a low, angry voice. "Get away from me."
"Harry, I...
"GET AWAY FROM ME!" Harry screamed, shoving Hermione away from him. She slipped on the remnants of his costume, falling on her butt and scraping her cat tail.
He looked at her through the tears of shame. He saw the hurt on her face and wanted to reach out to her, but Draco and Cedric burst through the door, followed by other kids eager to watch the action.
"What are you doing?" Cedric shouted, stepping towards Hermione and helping her up.
"I... Draco advanced with a big, meaty fist ready to strike. Harry backed away, bracing for the hit.
"NO!" Hermione screamed, grabbing Draco's arm. "I'm fine."
Cedric slid between Draco and Harry, grabbing Harry by the collar and lifting him onto his toes.
"Get the fuck out of here, Harry!" Cedric hissed into his face, and for the first time, Harry saw the real Cedric hiding behind that all-American charm. "Get the fuck out of here and stay away from my girl, or I'll really fuck you up. Got it?"
"Cedric, I...
"No," Cedric cut off Hermione's words. "I've seen the way he looks at you, and it's not okay."
Cedric didn't take his eyes off Harry.
"Hermione will never want you, got it? She's mine, so you need to leave. NOW!"
He threw Harry to the ground, and Harry fell back. He looked up at the three of them, standing over him like specters, their faces grotesque in the harsh light of the alley.
Harry glanced at Hermione, seeking forgiveness, but she looked down and clutched Cedric's arm.
"Go home, Harry," she said, pulling Cedric back towards the party. "Come on, baby. Just leave him alone."
"Whatever," Daphne replied dismissively, wrapping her arms possessively around Draco. "That loser isn't worth your time, babe."
"You're right," Draco scoffed, and then the beautiful, awful pair started laughing as they headed back to the party.
As Draco and Daphne's derisive laughter faded into the cacophony of music and voices, Harry knelt in the darkness, shaking with impotent rage. He wanted to strike back, to make them feel even a fraction of the torment they had inflicted on him. But how could he do that? He wasn't strong enough to beat Draco and not handsome enough to steal Hermione from Cedric. He was a man, but he wasn't really a man. He was weak. Pathetic. Worthless.
