Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I know JK Rowling is okay with us playing in her universe, but let's not tell her about this particular story and make me be the one to ruin it for us, yes?
Preface: I'm still writing, though my muse is all over the place (including original fiction and non-writing projects), so it's slow going. Here's something to tide you over while you wait for better stories.
As I've mentioned in footnotes and other commentary about the Potterverse, JK Rowling, perhaps unwittingly, inserted a number of potential story-breaking elements into her books. Most of them stem from her piecemeal magic system, which she clearly made up as she went along without considering the consequences. Now that's not necessarily a bad thing (clearly, since she's a bajillionaire), merely frustrating for readers that put too much thought into it. This story features a number of those elements, plus a healthy dose of exaggeration of other characters' traits to the point of absurdity. You know, for good measure.
Warning: there are gratuitous and completely unnecessary sexual situations in this story, though nothing too explicit. If that's not your thing, you are definitely in the wrong place.
Harry Potter and the Story Breakers
"Just...don't think too badly of me when you've seen it..."
Any other time, the pathetic look on Professor Slughorn's face would have torn at Harry Potter's heartstrings...especially because he purposefully steered the conversation toward his deceased mother. Under the influence of Felix Felicis - Liquid Luck - however, all he felt was an incessant tug in the direction of the castle as he pocketed the silvery vial of memory right next to the still-half-full bottle of Felix Felicis. "Yes, yes, of course, of course, gotta go, thanks Professor! Thanks again!"
He stuck around long enough for the Professor to blink drunkenly at Harry's manic behavior before the young Gryffindor dashed out of Hagrid's hut. If he stopped to think about it - if he could stop to think about it - he'd wonder why this tug was so much stronger than the one that had led him out to the greenhouses, where he caught Professor Slughorn to entice him with the prospect of extracting a rare and powerful Potions ingredient from Hagrid's old pet acromantula.
But no, the thought didn't even cross Harry's mind as he sprinted down the steps, because he got the sudden urge to pull his wand. Within seconds, his trusty Firebolt broom, a gift from his late godfather, tore through the night toward him. Harry didn't stop running, and just before his ride reached him he slipped on a rock and flipped backward. When his legs were pointed straight upward, his broom slipped between them and flipped him upright before rocketing him toward the castle.
A pair of Hufflepuff seventh years, sneaking outside for a moonlight stroll, exited the huge double doors just as Harry buzzed their heads on his way past. Half of a shouted obscenity followed him up the first spiral staircase before it faded away. Thanks to the luck potion, the rest of the staircase to the headmaster's office was free of students. Free of students...but not professors. Professor Snape had to duck behind the gargoyle guarding the path up to Headmaster Dumbledore's office.
Harry heard the surly Professor since he had to come to a screeching halt inside the door, which hadn't yet closed. But Felix told Harry that wasn't important. "Headmaster Professor Dumbledore sir," Harry said in the same breathless yet repetitive voice the potion seemed to make him use, "you'll never believe what I-"
Suddenly Fawkes the phoenix exploded into flames on his perch. Harry instinctively knew it was his day of rebirth, but the suddenness of the conflagration caused him to stumble. His hand jerked out involuntarily to regain his balance, but, as it had been stuck in his pocket from reaching in for the memory vial, it ripped the stitching and sent both vials flying. He caught a flash of silver first as it flew toward Dumbledore, but then he tripped over his Firebolt. His forehead smashed into the corner of the headmaster's desk and Harry saw stars. As his body spun away with the momentum from his stumble, he felt blood welling up in the wound just before his flailing arm swatted Fawkes' perch so hard that it shattered the display case holding the Sword of Gryffindor and sent that flying as well. He hit the floor with a faceful of phoenix ash, and just as he wiped his glasses clean, he saw a small flash of gold as if he spotted a Snitch, a larger flash of silver - the sword, he realized - and felt the remainder of the Felix Felicis splash against his forehead.
Harry had a brief moment to consider the odd, tingling sensation of Liquid Luck mixing with the phoenix ash and blood right on top of his curse scar, then he was distracted by the familiar weight of the sword pommel smacking into his palm, then he exploded in flame and disappeared.
"What. The. Fuck."
Headmaster Dumbledore registered neither Snape's befuddled execration nor baby-Fawkes' indignant squawks as he stared at the jumble of ash, blood, and glass, on top of which laid a pristine holly and phoenix feather wand. When he realized what must have happened - impossible though it may seem - he stood and strode briskly from the room to find Harry Potter.
The first thing Harry noticed, as reality righted itself and the heatless flames winked out of existence, was the moaning he heard. Wherever he was smelled...old; like the woody musk of Ollivander's shop, so the dust he felt wasn't surprising. All of this he took in even before his vision cleared of flames to reveal walls of clutter around him - the Room of Requirement, Harry idly noted - and the source of the moaning: two very naked women vigorously snogging against a wardrobe.
Or, at least, they were, until they turned to see what disturbed them. Twin yelps, one from the thin, small-breasted blonde on the left, one from the more busty yet butch brunette on the right, snapped Harry's eyes away from the hypnotic quartet of breasts to identify the women. Tracey Davis, the short-haired brunette, threw her arms around herself in an attempt to cover up, while Daphne Greengrass stomped her way toward him, fiery murder in her dark blue eyes. Then her eyes traveled downward and she stumbled to a halt.
Harry's eyes followed hers, and he realized he was completely starkers...and his reaction to stumbling upon the scene quite prominent. He looked up to see the two Slytherin girls flushed just as red as he probably was. Tracey was clearly further embarrassed, but Daphne only looked angrier. With her hesitation providing a moment to think, she stomped over to her clothes. Harry once again became mesmerized by the various body parts he hadn't had the pleasure of seeing so openly swaying as Daphne moved.
His enjoyment was cut short by the most terrifying incantation Harry had ever heard. "Castrato!"
Harry jumped out of the way and crashed into the nearest wall of junk. His arm had flung itself outward even before he realized his hand still gripped the Sword of Gryffindor, and he sliced a large, upright, rectangular cabinet in half. In a bout of cognitive dissonance, he actually felt inordinately pleased with himself, as if he'd done something important.
The feeling lasted about three-quarters of a second, at which time he jumped away from another burst of light that he was sure would hurt way more than he could possibly describe. Felix told him his best chance was to grovel, but he didn't feel very hopeful. "Wait, please! I'm sorry! Can we talk about this?"
Sure enough, the only reply came in the form of silent spells intended to make him an easy target. Stunner, Impediment, Jelly Legs...
"It was an accident, I swear!" That only made her angrier, but on the plus side, she fumbled her next silent spell.
Before he could further ponder the strange ways in which Felix Felicis worked, Daphne caught him with a rather powerful Knockback Jinx, lifting him up flipping him back through the air. The Sword of Gryffindor flailed around with him, and in midair he suddenly felt it strike something solid and heard an unholy scream. After a rotten wardrobe covered in thick blankets disintegrated beneath him to gently break his fall, he looked up to find he had cleaved a marble bust wearing some discolored old tiara in two. The two halves of the tiara clattered to the floor and released a blast of inky black mist that smelled oily and evil.
The three nude students stared, transfixed, until the mist dissipated. Then Harry made the mistake of looking up at the girls again.
Daphne's momentary astonishment disappeared. "Castrato!"
Harry felt a familar yet undoubtedly odd sensation of being pulled in all directions at once, and the horrific, angry-looking, pinkish-red blob disappeared along with the two women in orange flame. He was glad for the former, though he wouldn't have minded sticking around with the latter for a bit longer...if it hadn't involved dodging several of what could only be a Castration Curse.
His musings on whether or not to consider it a wank-worthy or a cringe-worthy experience were cut short by his appearance in a pitch-black room, the smell of which reminded him strongly of Petunia Dursley. He wrinkled his nose at the memory and blinked rapidly, realizing that there was light, it was just rather dim compared to the constant background light from nowhere that illuminated the Room of Requirement.
Just as his vision nearly adapted to the dark, light spilled out from a newly opened door, and Harry was treated to the vision of a short, squat, and almost entirely naked Delores Umbridge emerging from the bathroom. Before his mind shattered into madness with the sheer horror of the sight before him, his last shred of sanity clung to the Felix Felicis-based certainty that the reason he appeared here hung about her neck. At least, that's how the expression usually goes...the chain of the necklace simply traced the most natural path around the upright, flabby mounds of flesh surrounding Umbridge's head.
A head whose eyes raked up and down Harry's body, then grotesquely licked her lips. "Mmm, I thought you were all out of his hairs, Cornelius." Then she began waddling toward him in a way she undoubtedly thought seductive, but reminded Harry more of Uncle Vernon stalking toward a freshly-baked chocolate pie topped with a mountain of whipped cream.
Forcing the bile back down his throat, Harry screamed and brought his arms up to shield him from the charging blob, once again forgetting that he still clutched the Sword of Gryffindor. Umbridge jumped back and the locket jumped off her spongy flesh like a trampoline, which allowed the tip of the sword to slice right through the center of the locket. The same unholy scream from the tiara pierced the air from the locket, and though sans-Felix Harry might have been frightened at this, he merely felt...rightness.
"Cornelius!" Umbridge said, sending the feeling of rightness running and screaming. "You are going to pay for that!" From the folds Harry vaguely recognized as breasts, she pulled out what Harry thought looked like several rather short but thick pearl necklaces. "You have to do four this time."
Harry didn't rightly know what that meant, but he knew he had to get far, far away as soon as possible. Right on cue, the world dissolved into flame.
And righted itself into what Harry intuitively understood was a vast, dimly-lit underground chamber. Torchlight flickered from behind a pile of...stuff, most of which he couldn't distinguish since the light was on the other side. The metallic smell reminded him of Gringott's, so he felt quite certain that was where he landed. The throaty moans floating over the mounds of treasure made him freeze with déjà vu. Overcome with curiosity and hope that this was indeed more like his first experience rather than...the hole in his memory afterward...he began carefully picking his way around the mound blocking his vision. Before long a strange, squelching sound he couldn't place reached his ears, followed by a woman's voice, deep and lascivious. "Oh, yes! Oh, fuck me, daddy V! Fuck me!"
That stopped Harry in his tracks once again as he felt his blood rush to his face. He struggled silently with indecision - he wasn't sure he wanted to peep in on a couple having sex, especially if the woman looks like...something he can't remember. But Felix decided for him: his feet kept resumed their careful movement through the vault.
Just as he caught a glimpse of the alabaster skin of a once again fully nude, thin but beautiful woman and black hair wilder even than Hermione's, the woman cried out again. "Yes! Give it to Mama Bella, daddy! Fuck me harder!"
Harry immediately understood and saw red. No longer did he see or hear a beautiful woman in the throes of passion; he saw the murderer of his godfather, and heard the woman who taunted him for his weakness and crowed her victory through the halls of the Ministry of Magic. The Felix Felicis within him hummed in resignation to his bloodlust, and with a feral scream, Harry launched himself at Voldemort's most trusted and most dangerous lieutenant, heedless of the large goblet whose conveniently-shaped handle she was, until that moment, humping with wild abandon.
He made it two steps before his toe crashed painfully into a silver tea set, causing the Sword of Gryffindor to fly from his hand before he tumbled head-over-heels into a pile of very expensive-looking and very solid-feeling dinnerware. Said dinnerware promptly began multiplying and pushing him toward the still nude, still frozen-in-surprise Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry, riding on the wave of rapidly replicating dishes, cups, and trays, stopped his somersaulting just in time to see Bellatrix begin to stand, only to be impaled through the stomach by the airborne sword. Jutting out the other side of her body, the Sword of Gryffindor neatly cleaved the makeshift dildo in two, filling the vault with the now quite familiar, high-pitched scream and accompanying oily black mist.
Harry grasped the hilt a moment later, and for a split second, the Felix Felicis engendered a strong and bizarre desire to crack a joke about his sword being buried to the hilt in Bellatrix Lestrange's womb. Then the world turned to flame.
He spent precisely one point eight seconds in an Auror holding cell kicking an astonished, nude, bloody, and now slightly singed Death Eater off his sword before disappearing once again.
This time, the feeling of wetness assaulted his senses. The flowery, clean smell of shampoo and soap hit him even before he realized he was sitting in a shallow, swirling puddle of water. When his vision cleared, he found himself in an unfamiliar but large shower, occupied by a single woman. Just like the first two naked women he chanced upon, this one also jumped back and covered herself in surprise, so he quickly locked his eyes on hers so as not to stare and anger her. It didn't take long for Harry to recognize Katie Bell, and he couldn't help but scan her once more. "You're back," he said, happily surprised.
"I am," she said, recognizing him at the same time just before her eyes flicked downward and widened. Yes, he was very happily surprised.
Words came unbidden to his mouth. "Wow, Katie, if I'd known you were hiding that..."
She blushed prettily and stopped covering herself. She struck a pose, hands on her hips, leaning forward slightly, just like she often did on the Quidditch pitch. Harry would never shrink from that pose again, in more ways than one. "Harry Potter, you little..." Her eyes flicked down again as his reaction became even more pronounced. "Or not." Her smile sent a shiver down his spine. "You know I've never properly thanked you for saving me," she said, closing the distance between them with two sensuous steps. She knelt down and reached between his legs to grip him. "You made me wait this long into my seventh year for this?"
When he opened his mouth to stammer out some reply, she pounced, knocking him onto his back and extending her tongue as far into his mouth as it could go. It took him a moment, but his competitive nature asserted itself and he flipped her on her back to counterattack. She growled deep in her throat against his tongue and flipped him back over and pinned his hands with her own. Harry's head swam when he felt her toned, soapy-slick body slide up and down against his. He couldn't help but think this was a much more pleasant form of attack than the others he'd endured that night, and this was a battle he was fully prepared to lose. He knew the strange fire would not be returning to whisk him away for some time, because for the first time in the last hour filled with such incredible absurdity, Felix was telling him he was exactly where he needed to be.
This would probably work as a one shot as-is, but I have more story breakers to lampoon before I'm finished.
Someone read my Harry Potter self-insert Curse of Truth and said the main character acts like he has Felix Felicis instead of blood. I figured, if that ain't a fantastic idea for a Harry Potter fanfiction, I don't know what is. 'Course, you have to put up with me writing it. Sorry about that.
So, let me know what you think!