What if Ginny is the only girl at Hogwarts?

CH.12 - The boys' new plan

This night was charged with a nervous, illicit energy that crackled through the Gryffindor common room like a live wire. Word had spread through the boys’ dorms in hushed, excited whispers, a secret passed from bed to bed until every male Gryffindor from first to seventh year was aware that something unprecedented was happening after lights-out.

The usual evening chatter and chess games had died down unusually early. Boys lingered on couches and sprawled on the floor, pretending to read or study, their eyes constantly flicking toward the large, blank tapestry wall that Harry, with a cleverness born of dark intent, had charmed to function as a screen. The five conspirators—Harry, Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean—stood near the fireplace, trying to appear nonchalant but radiating a palpable mix of anxiety and arrogant pride.

“You’re sure the spellwork is undetectable?” Ron muttered to Harry for the tenth time.

“Positive,” Harry whispered back, his green eyes gleaming in the firelight. “The orbs are invisible. She’ll never know.”

Without Ginny's knowledge, Harry had put a couple of magical orbs in the girls' bathroom. The orbs will display everything happening in the bathroom onto a tapestry in the Gryffindor common room.

A hush fell over the room as the clock ticked past the hour when Ginny usually began her bath. Then, the tapestry flickered to life.

The image was startlingly clear, as if they were looking through a window into the girls’ bathroom. Steam was already beginning to rise, clouding the edges of the ornate tub. Ginny stood with her back to the “camera,” humming softly to herself. She was wrapped in a fluffy white towel, her fiery hair piled loosely on top of her head, exposing the elegant slope of her neck.

A collective, sharp intake of breath swept through the common room. Dozens of boys froze, their textbooks forgotten, their games abandoned. Every eye was locked on the magical screen.

They watched, utterly transfixed, as she let the towel drop.

It fell to the tiled floor in a soft heap, revealing her naked form in full, glorious detail. The curve of her spine, the swell of her perfect, round buttocks, the long, toned legs—she was unveiled to them all at once. A low, unanimous groan seemed to vibrate through the room, a sound of pure, awestruck desire.

Ginny, completely oblivious, stepped into the bubbling, fragrant water. She sank into the tub with a soft sigh of pleasure, the water sloshing around her. She leaned back, closing her eyes, letting the heat soak into her skin. The water was clear, offering a tantalizing, blurred view of her body beneath the surface—the shadow of her small, firm breasts with their pink tips, the gentle curve of her stomach, and the dark, enticing triangle between her legs.

The common room was silent save for the crackle of the fire and the ragged sound of a hundred boys breathing. Some sat motionless, their mouths agape. Others shifted uncomfortably, their faces flushed, their hands subtly adjusting their trousers. The air grew thick and warm, heavy with the scent of wool, firewood, and the collective heat of their arousal.

Ginny began to wash herself. The simple, mundane act was transformed into the most erotic performance they had ever seen. They watched the soap glide over her shoulders, down the valley between her breasts. They saw her hand dip beneath the water, between her legs, and a hundred imaginations ran wild, picturing what her fingers were doing out of sight. She cupped water and poured it over her chest, the droplets tracing paths down her skin.

She was their goddess, and they were her devoted, hidden congregation. She was every fantasy they’d ever had, made real and displayed before them. The knowledge that she was completely unaware, that she was performing this intimate ritual in believing privacy, made the violation unbearably arousing.

When the prefects finally, reluctantly, called for lights out, the image faded. The common room remained silent for a long moment, the afterimage of her naked form burned into their retinas.

Then, the dam broke. A wave of excited chatter, nervous laughter, and awed whispers erupted. Boys clapped Harry, Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean on the back, their faces filled with a new, reverent respect.

“Merlin, Potter, that was brilliant!”
“Weasley, your sister is…”
“I’ve never seen anything like it!”
“You’re legends, all of you!”

The five boys basked in the worship, their earlier anxiety replaced by a powerful, intoxicating sense of ownership and privilege. They had provided this. They had given every Gryffindor boy access to their private treasure.

“Every night,” Harry announced, his voice carrying over the din, a promise and a decree. “The show will be on every single night.”

A cheer went up, quickly stifled by the prefects. As the boys filed up to their dormitories, the energy was electric, the air buzzing with whispered plans and shared, secret knowledge. In the first-year dorm, the conversations were hushed and giggly, about seeing a girl naked for the first time. In the upper years, the talk was darker, more explicit, fueled by the graphic memory of Ginny’s body and the promise of seeing it again.

Back in their own dorm, the five conspirators didn’t even need to speak. They simply looked at each other, grins spreading across their faces. They pulled out their cocks in unison, the common, silent action a new ritual of their brotherhood. They stood in a circle, stroking themselves, each lost in his own vivid replay of the night’s show, their shared secret binding them tighter than any spell ever could. They had made their private pleasure a public spectacle, and the power was more addictive than any magic.