Chapter 2: Chapter 2
They landed on a narrow country road, stumbling slightly as they found their footing. The first thing Harry noticed was the hedge - a massive, perfectly manicured wall of greenery that stretched as far as he could see in both directions.
"Bloody hell," he breathed, craning his neck to see the top of it. "That's got to be fifteen feet tall."
"At least," Hermione agreed, walking over to touch the hedge. "And look at this - it's perfectly maintained. Not a leaf out of place. Definitely magically maintained."
They started walking along the road, following the hedge line. It seemed to go on forever, creating a natural barrier that was both beautiful and slightly ominous. Harry noticed how the hedge seemed to shimmer slightly in his peripheral vision, as if it were more than just ordinary greenery.
"How long do you think this goes on for?" Harry asked as they walked. "I mean, we've been walking for what feels like ages already."
"I have no idea," Hermione replied. "But given what Sirius said about the wards, I'm guessing this entire property is massive. The magical signature alone..." She trailed off, waving her wand in the air as if testing something invisible.
"What are you sensing?" Harry asked, noting the concentrated expression on her face.
"Layers," she said thoughtfully. "There are so many layers of magic here, Harry. Protection charms, concealment spells, maintenance enchantments... whoever set this up was incredibly powerful."
After what felt like twenty minutes of walking, they finally reached the end of the hedge line. In the gap stood an enormous wrought iron gate, its black metal worked into intricate patterns that seemed to shift and move when Harry wasn't looking directly at them.
But it was what lay beyond the gate that made Harry stop dead in his tracks.
"Blimey," he whispered, staring at the mansion that rose up from the grounds beyond. "It's huge."
The building was three stories tall and built from gray stone that had weathered to a shade of dark silver. Ivy crept up portions of the facade, giving it an aged, stately appearance. Rows of tall windows marched across the front of the building in perfect symmetry, and the structure seemed to stretch endlessly to both the left and right. Harry could make out intricate architectural details - gargoyles perched on corners, elaborate stonework around the windows, and what looked like a tower rising from the left wing.
"It looks like something out of a horror movie," Harry said, only half-joking. "All it needs is some dramatic lightning and a flock of ravens."
Hermione frowned and looked around. "What are you talking about? What looks like a horror movie?"
Harry turned to stare at her, his brows furrowed. "The mansion. The bloody great mansion right there." He pointed through the gate. "You can't seriously tell me you don't see that massive building."
Hermione followed his gesture, then looked at him with concern. "Harry, there's no mansion there. There's just... it's a bog. Marshland. I can see some old stumps and what looks like standing water, but no building."
Harry blinked and looked again. The mansion was still there, clear as day. "You can't see it?"
"I can't see anything except wetlands," Hermione said slowly. "Harry, I think the wards are keyed specifically to you. As the heir, you can see through the concealment charms, but I can't."
"Oh." Harry felt a bit foolish, running a hand through his already messy hair. "Right. That makes sense, I suppose. So you're just seeing... swamp?"
"Exactly. Boggy ground, some dead trees, a few pools of stagnant water. It's actually quite convincing - most people would take one look and decide this is a dead end."
"Clever," Harry admitted.
"Can you key me into the wards?" Hermione asked.
"I think so." Harry approached the gate and examined the lock. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen - a complex mechanism that seemed to be made of both metal and magic, with symbols that glowed faintly in the dim light. As he studied it, he realized the lock was actually warm to the touch, and the symbols seemed to pulse with a rhythm that matched his heartbeat.
"This is incredible," he murmured, tracing one of the glowing symbols with his finger. "The magic is so intricate. It's like the lock is alive."
He pulled out his wand and touched it to the lock, thinking about Hermione and willing the wards to recognize her as a welcome guest. The moment his wand made contact, Harry felt a surge of power rush through him, and for a brief moment, he could sense the entire network of protective spells that surrounded the property.
The symbols flared brightly for a moment, then settled back to their soft glow.
"Try now," he said, stepping back and feeling slightly dizzy from the magical feedback.
Hermione looked up ahead and her eyes widened. "Oh my God. That's... that's enormous."
"Right?" Harry grinned. "Told you it looked like a horror movie set."
"You weren't kidding," Hermione breathed, taking in the imposing structure. "It's beautiful, but there's something almost sinister about it. The architecture is Georgian, I think, but there are Gothic elements too. And those gargoyles..."
"Welcome to the Black family aesthetic," Harry said dryly. He touched his wand to the lock again, and it clicked open with a soft sound. "Ready to see what Sirius left me?"
"As ready as I'll ever be," Hermione replied, though she looked a bit nervous. "Though I have to say, Harry, I'm getting a very strange feeling about this place. The magic here is... intense."
"Feels like it's touching you, right?" Harry nodded as they walked forward. "It doesn't feel dangerous though."
"Speak for yourself," Hermione muttered. The magic felt uneasy and her heartbeat had spiked. She had mixed feelings about this.
They walked through the gate and up the long, winding drive. The grounds were as immaculate as the hedge had been - perfectly manicured lawns, carefully tended flowerbeds, and ancient oak trees that created patches of shadow across the grass. The pathway itself was made of crushed stone that crunched pleasantly under their feet.
"Someone's been maintaining this place," Hermione observed, kneeling down to examine a particularly vibrant patch of roses. " These flowers are in perfect condition. The gardens are too perfect to be abandoned."
"House-elves, probably," Harry said. "Sirius mentioned that the property comes with 'special features.' Maybe that's what he meant."
Hermione's face soured slightly at the mention of house-elves, but fortunately for Harry, she did not dissolve into another of her rants about fair treatment of underprivileged magical creatures.
They climbed the wide stone steps to the front entrance - a pair of massive oak doors that looked like they could withstand a siege. Harry reached for the ornate brass knocker, but before he could touch it, the doors began to swing open on their own.
Harry and Hermione exchanged a look of alarm, both reaching for their wands. But as the doors opened fully, their jaws dropped at what they saw.
A woman stepped out to greet them, and Harry felt his brain short-circuit slightly.
She was wearing what could generously be called a maid's uniform, though it was unlike any maid's outfit Harry had ever seen. The black dress was so short it barely covered her thighs, and the white apron tied around her waist only served to emphasize her curves. Her neckline plunged dangerously low, revealing an impressive amount of cleavage, and her long legs were encased in sheer black stockings that disappeared into a pair of impossibly high heels.
Harry's eyes, entirely without his permission, traveled the length of her body, taking in every curve and contour.
His gaze lingered on the way the tight fabric of her dress hugged her figure, the deep neckline that perfectly showcased her large tits, and how the white apron strings were tied in a perfect bow that drew attention to her narrow waist.
He'd seen attractive women before - hell, he'd dated Cho - but this was something else entirely. This woman was... well, she was built like a fantasy made flesh.
Her hair was a rich and deep crimson that fell in soft waves around her shoulders, catching the light in a way that made it look almost bloodied. Her face was classically beautiful with high cheekbones and full lips curved in a knowing smile. But it was her eyes that really caught Harry's attention - a deep, vibrant purple that seemed to shimmer with inner light.
He'd never seen eyes like that in real life. They were mesmerizing. As he stared, he noticed tiny flecks of silver in the purple depths, and the way they seemed to glow with their own inner fire.
The woman moved with a fluid grace that made Harry think of silk and honey, every step calculated to draw attention to the jiggle of her tits, the sway of her hips, and the length of her legs. There was something almost hypnotic about the way she carried herself.
Magic rolled off her in waves - not threatening, exactly, but powerful. Whatever she was, she wasn't entirely human. Harry could feel it in the way the air around her seemed to shimmer, the way her presence made his skin tingle.
"Focus, Harry," Hermione hissed under her breath, apparently having noticed where his attention had wandered. "Stop staring at her... everything."
"Easy for you to say," he hissed back, finding it almost impossible to look away. There was something about this woman that commanded attention, that made it nearly impossible to focus on anything else. His eyes kept drifting back to those full, red lips, the graceful curve of her neck, the way her hair moved as she walked, the confident set of her shoulders, and it was impossible to miss those twin globes of flesh that strained against that tight fabric, threatening to burst open.
Harry's gaze descended once again, and the woman's smile widened as she noticed his stare. She executed a graceful curtsy that somehow managed to be both respectful and incredibly sensual, and Harry's eyes followed every little movement.
The movement made her dress ride up slightly, and Harry caught a glimpse of more pale skin before forcing himself to look away.
"Master Harry," she purred, her voice like warm honey that seemed to hotly drizzle over his skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "Welcome to your new home."
Harry tried to find his voice, but it seemed to have disappeared somewhere.
The woman stepped forward and extended her hand to him, and he found himself taking it automatically.
Her skin was impossibly soft, like silk or satin, and warm to the touch. Harry remembered seeing his uncle Vernon greet important clients and their wives, and some dim part of his brain told him to be polite. He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles, the way he'd seen done in old movies.
"Thank you," he managed to say, though his voice came out rougher than he'd intended. He could smell her perfume now - something exotic and floral that made his head spin slightly.
The woman's eyes sparkled with amusement, and Harry found his gaze drifting downward again, drawn by the movement of her breasts as she breathed. The neckline of her dress was really quite dramatic, and Harry was only a young, hormonal male, after all... and a very stressed young, hormonal male, at that, with no possibility of relief around him.
He could see the soft swell of her breasts, the way the fabric clung to her curves, and he felt his face grow warm.
Hermione sighed audibly beside him, and Harry could practically feel her rolling her eyes. She really couldn't understand his predicament right now.
"And you must be Miss Granger," the woman said, turning to acknowledge Hermione with another curtsy. "Welcome to Grimmauld Manor. I am Celeste, and I am here to serve."
Even her name was beautiful, Harry thought. Celeste. It suited her perfectly - otherworldly and elegant.
"Serve?" Hermione asked, her curiosity overriding her obvious discomfort with the situation. "In what capacity?"
"I am the manor's caretaker," Celeste explained, her sultry lips curving into an amused expression. "I maintain the property and see to the needs of the Black family heir." Her gaze flicked back to Harry with obvious appreciation, and he felt his stomach do a little flip. "I have been waiting for you for quite some time, Master Harry."
"Right," Harry said, still feeling a bit off-balance. "That's... good. I think. How long have you been here?"
"Time moves differently for my kind," Celeste said mysteriously. "But I have been caring for this place since before it came into the possession of the Blacks, waiting for the day you would claim your inheritance."
"Your kind?" Hermione asked sharply, but Celeste just smiled.
"All will be explained in due time," she said. "But first, you must be tired from your journey. Please, follow me inside. I will show you to your rooms and explain the manor's amenities."
She turned and walked toward the entrance, and Harry found himself watching the hypnotic sway of her hips as she moved. The skirt of her dress was really quite short, barely covering her bottom, and those heels did incredible things for her legs...
He could see the muscle definition in her calves, the elegant line of her ankles, and he wondered absently how she managed to walk so gracefully in such impractical shoes.
"Harry," Hermione said sharply, grabbing his arm. "Eyes up here."
"Sorry," Harry muttered, feeling his face heat up. "I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me."
"You're eighteen and male," Hermione said dryly. "I think I can guess what's wrong with you. But try to control yourself. We don't know what she is or what she wants."
"She said she's the caretaker," Harry protested weakly, but even as he said it, he knew Hermione was right to be suspicious.
"Caretakers don't usually dress like that," Hermione pointed out. "And did you see her eyes? They're not natural."
Harry had seen her eyes, all right. Those incredible purple orbs that seemed to see right through him. "Maybe she's part Veela?"
"Maybe," Hermione said skeptically. "Or maybe she's something else entirely. Just... be careful, okay?"
As they followed Celeste into the manor, Harry couldn't help but wonder what exactly Sirius had left him. Because something told him that this was going to be a very interesting stay indeed.
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