Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Mediocrity	By : Redkenja Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 40276 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 14
Disclaimer: I do not own nor make money off of JKR's Harry Potter

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
This chapter has been quite a pain in the rear if only because I had to reach 12, 000 words [which I did and surpassed.] Because it is so long, it is detail heavy and probably has things in it that are better off omitted. Oh well. Final word count is 14, 133 words.

Chapter Ten is dedicated to RebeliousOne. Without her this would not have turned out nearly as well. She is an awesome sounding board.

"Rrrooowwlll" a throaty voice howled in the night.

The full moon cast a blue glow throughout the forest as three dark shapes sprinted through the undergrowth using it's light. It was impossible to tell who was chasing who as one of the creatures would dart off in another direction at random causing the other two to follow, never far behind. Two had canid forms while the last had one rarely seen running on the lands of Great Britain, a form not seen since the last Great War between the muggles in the 1940's.

Sleek and powerful, it ran. It chased and was chased in turn. Streams and puddles of moonlight glinted off it's shiny coat, muscles wiry and corded beneath it's skin.

While it wasn't the biggest of the three, it wasn't entirely the smallest. The largest, a sandy-colored wolf, ran along the size of a draft horse while the smallest, a black dog, stood as tall as a man's chest. Just a smidgen taller than the dog, the silver-eyed beast had the front half of a wolf and the back half of a horse, all covered in pitch-black fur. It had large wings just as black resting along it's body while it galloped past trees.

The three creatures continued to play under the moon, jumping and running at full pelt until the sky began to slowly lighten with the rising sun. As if sensing the approach of the star, all three slowed to a trot and came together. The smaller two found the largest, their alpha, in a small glade and stood waiting on the edges of the clearing.

Peeking through the trees, the first rays of sunrise sparkled in the sky. As the sun became higher, light began to color the land.

Facing the rising star, the alpha stood still. Golden eyes tracked the sun's path on the forest floor as it steadily ate up the dark earth. Slowly, the light leeched into the still dim glade and approached the wolf. The rays touched the edges of his paws first.

A screaming howl tore from his throat as unbelievable pain thundered through his body. Just as a sliver of the sun appeared, his transformation was complete. In the place of the large sandy wolf was a nude man standing on his knees, vestiges of pain marring his handsome face.

Now amber eyes were wide open, he shut his mouth with a click. He breathed heavily through his nose once, twice, noting how the pain diminished nearly as quickly as the sun climbed the night sky. Far faster than it ever had in the past.

He released a deep breath and sat back on his heels. Shakily he looked at his companions.

Neither had changed just yet, a promise they made him. They wouldn't change until he gave the signal.

But that didn't mean they couldn't come closer.

The strange beast of two creatures had been restlessly moving, waiting. Catching the man's eyes, the beast padded forward to nose him. It breathed deeply to take in his scent, not even flinching at the approaching hand that was formed as if to claw him.

"I am fine, you can change back," he said hoarsely, petting the beast slowly, hands trembling.

Almost immediately the half beast changed into a small boy with equally black hair, silver eyes melting into an eerie green. Further back, the black dog morphed into a tall man. The child, ignored for now, scoured every inch of his companion looking for wounds.

"How to you feel Remus?" the man asked.

"Better than the last time, the pain is nearly all gone and I feel rather energized for once."

Without a care for Remus' bare body and finished with his appraisal, the young boy flung himself into the man.

"I don't like you in pain," he snuffled, burying his head in his guardian's chest.

He didn't like when something caused either one of his saviors anything less than contentment.

"I know Harry-pup, I know," Remus soothed, petting the now squirming boy.

Harry wormed his way out of Remus' arms. Darting part way back to the other man he stopped and growled. The boy was annoyed, agitated, and he didn't really understand why. Harry knew it was all due to his inheritance, and even though he tried hard to resist, the instincts were slowly winning.

Harry jerked back when Remus shakily held his hand out to touch him.

After a moment the older man sighed and dropped his arm. They were running out of time fast. Harry's nature would demand that he leave them soon, it was as inevitable as him phasing the next night of the full moon. Magic and instincts would always be followed over two old men and their wishes.

Remus looked to his mate instead of the young boy. Dressed as the Ancient and Noble pureblood he was, Sirius Black would forever make his blood rush. Even after a night of romping in the forest, not a single black hair was out of place but for the few leaves desperately clinging to him, as desperately as he would like to right at that moment.

Fortunately he had excellent control over his body, or else that damnable man would be smirking at him now.

"Are we ready to depart? There is some news we need to discuss before Harry leaves tomorrow," Sirius said.

"You've heard something already?" Remus asked, uncertain of how the other man got information during the night. Or better yet, how long he had been withholding said information.

He shakily stood, stumbling when his knees attempted to resist unfolding, and caught the small cloth bag thrown at him. Sirius didn't do or say anything else but watch Harry, who had scurried off to another side of the glade in curiosity and with a desire to have space between him and his caretakers.

After a quick spell resized the comfortable clothes he used for his post-transformation days, Remus dressed quickly while shooting his mate looks. When he was done, Sirius gave a short whistle to get Harry's attention. The boy froze, moving only to turn his head to look at his father figures. He had been in the middle of hunting down an interesting bug. Harry didn't think the fuzzy thing had noticed him yet and was ready to pounce on the creature.

Seeing the men ready to go, he stood from his crouch and darted back to them. Coming together, each of the trio touched some part of the cloth bag that had once held Remus' clothes. Seconds later they disappeared from the forest.

They had port-keyed back to their home at Grimmauld Place. Almost immediately after they appeared at their residence in central London, Kreacher was leading them to a small breakfast. The house elf even waved away the debris that still clung to them despite the use of magic to travel such a great distance.

"Do's the Masters have needs of anything else?" The elf asked, bowing lowly. His long nose nearly touched the hardwood floors.

"Please run the large bath, we plan to soak a bit," Sirius commanded tiredly, what little energy he had leaving him. He really didn't want to tell Remus or Harry what he had been told.

Kreacher bobbed slightly in his already deep bow and popped away to do as bid.

"That bad Padfoot?"

"Yes Moony, that bad. I fear you may rightfully want to strangle certain people afterwards."

"What could be so bad?" Harry asked around his favorite mug, his eyes half-mast with sleep.

The only thing keeping him awake was the thick hot chocolate it held. Between the sugar and the heat, Harry was managing to stay relatively alert after a long night of romping in the woods. Setting the mug down, he poked and prodded it in boredom.

It was the perfect size to hold in Harry's hands for tea or hot chocolate depending on his mood. Most cups were too small for hot chocolate or too large for tea, and some just didn't settle in his small hands.

"Well, it depends pup. You will have a chance to look for your mates."

At this, Harry perked up. He would be leaving for Hogwarts tomorrow and he still had only managed to see one potential mate earlier that summer. It was a fleeting moment for as soon as their eyes met, chaos had struck. Chances were the other male had forgotten him already. Since then the boy hadn't managed to even find another Wolsren near his age much less one that was interested in him in that manner.

"Really?"

"Yes and I'll not speak another word of it until we are thoroughly melted in the tub."

"But-" Harry wheedled, ignoring his mug. He nearly tipped it over when Sirius sighed heavily.

"Not another word," Sirius gave the young boy a hard look.

While he would never wish Harry to return to his previous habits, not that he was completely broken of them, sometimes his willful pup was too strong-minded. Sirius nearly pitied the five that would become Harry's new primary pack.

In the last year, though he hadn't literally grown very much, Harry had come into himself. He was more confident, his stutter was gone, and his body was ready to mate and have pups. Even though the boy certainly had gained more than his fair share of admirers since his restoration, none were of his kind just yet. Hopefully it wouldn't be much longer until he met more Wolsrens, ones that were available for mating.

If all else failed, Sirius was planning to rectify that.

First, he would take Remus and Harry on a scouting adventure for the holidays. They would be traveling through the northwestern parts of Europe in the upcoming winter in hopes to find interested Wolsrens for their pup. While they moved around they would also look at several Black estates. Preparations were already in the works at Grimmauld to move them into one of the many Black properties in Europe, closer to friendlier Wolsren grounds, during the next summer.

It nearly broke their hearts when they discussed and agreed upon the necessary move. After all of the effort to bring Grimmauld Place back to a habitable state and beyond, to make it into a home just for them, they would be leaving it. Grimmauld was more than just a home to them, it was a symbol of their new family, of coming from bad times to good. As the old townhome was repaired, so too did the pack members undergo their own needed restorations.

However, every day that passed since Harry turned fourteen, the boy was becoming more restless and even a little snappy. Soon he wouldn't be their sweet little boy anymore. Instead, instincts would swamp his mind demanding the he leave, fighting if necessary, to find potential mates. Ones that would not be found anywhere in the United Kingdom.

Between the Ministry's laws and the Dark Lord, very few Wolsrens, whether in a pack or not, remained in Great Britain over the years. The last pack had died recently, most likely making Harry the only one of his kind on the Isle.

While Sirius had been mulling over his depressing thoughts, slowly eating his meal, his mate and pup silently finished their own sensing his turmoil. Clearly what the man had to say wouldn't be enjoyable in the least. Even with the prospect of meeting other Wolsrens.

"Sirius?" his mate questioned.

"Yes," he replied absentmindedly staring into the dregs of his tea cup. Sometimes Sirius wished his tea had all the answers, that or his oldest bottle of Odgen's finest firewhiskey.

"Are you finished?"

"Yes, let's go."

Grunting, he heaved himself up from his seat. Though the physical damages from Azkaban were erased, his body still remembered them sometimes. His mind, it too relatively well healed, remembered them also. Sirius would likely never escape the ghostly aches in his body.

The warm features of the renovated Grimmauld cheered him slightly as he left the kitchen, especially knowing that it was the home of his pack. Happier memories, few they were from the little time spent in the old townhouse, were attached to everything. A few pieces in particular crossed his mind, though the front table would always be his favorite next to the master bed.

His rear tingled faintly in agreement.

Trudging up the stairs, the trio slowly began stripping. Their clothes littered the short hallway and the stairs, knowing Kreacher would gather the articles once they were ensconced within the bathroom. The elf was surprisingly dedicated when appeased. A few bribes and threats certainly helped.

Fully nude by the time they reached the third floor, their wands being the only thing on them, the trio slowly trudged down the floor meant for family and very close friends.

Wisps of scented vapors leaked out of a door that was at the end of the dim hall. It was on the same end as their personal rooms due to it's frequent use.

The scent that filled the hall, and growing stronger the closer they got to the dark door, curled in their noses. Practically in a trance, the trio stood before the door barely remaining upright.

They sighed nearly as one when the wall of steam hit them, the door opening of it's own accord.

One feature they unanimously agreed to be worth the effort to install was the steam bath. It was a large room covered in stone tiles with a sunken tub in it's center. The tub itself was nearly as big as a small pool, going as deep as two meters in the middle. One wall was covered in a wide selection of scents, oils, and soaps, and another in luxuriously soft and large towels.

The wall directly to the left of the entrance held several instruments, potions, and pots that one would normally see in a wizarding spa or salon. Even though Harry's room and the master bedroom that Sirius and Remus used had their own full baths, this room was used for pampering the trio of wizards.

After their many poor life experiences, hygiene was of the utmost importance to all of them. One task never denied or rushed, and always enjoyed. Usually in this particular room.

Soothing lavender and mint, now strong enough to identify, filled their noses causing them to relax. Even the moist, hot air served to bleed the tension from their bodies. Kreacher had made a good choice with the bath oils. The lavender would relax them while the mint served to sharpen and refresh their minds for the upcoming heavy conversation.

One by one they crossed the tiled room and entered the hot water, each dunking themselves completely to wet their heads. After a few moments spent soaking their hair, each member of the small pack found their favorite perch.

For Sirius, it was one of three spots that had a head rest-one in particular sized just right for him. Remus preferred to be in the deeper end, still close to his family, but where he could sit and be submerged with the hot water just below his nose. Harry on the other hand, like to have the water covering only his lap.

When asked why, Harry would merely stare back and never answer. As much as he loved bathing, it was a sensitive topic for the young boy.

For a time they merely soaked in the heat, breathing in the steam, eyes hooded in pleasure and relaxation. They let the oils do their job until some unvoiced queue brought them back to their senses, ready to delve into the serious business that distressed Sirius.

Sitting up, their eyes sharpened.

Sirius took a heavy breathe and held it for a moment. Slowly, he breathed out to calm and fortify himself.

"The Minister has deemed it necessary to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament."

Sirius didn't like to mince words, and he wouldn't dishonor his mate or pup by sugar coating his news. Not that there was a way to make it seem any better than what it was.

"The what?" Harry asked sharply, nerves tingeing his soft voice. He sifted slightly, eyes completely focused on his godfather. Green orbs flitted over to Remus, waiting for the oncoming explanation he correctly assumed the other man had.

"The Triwizard Tournament, think of it as the Roman Gladiator games or the modern muggle Olympics. Three schools, traditionally Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang, compete in this tournament held once every five years. One student from each institution is selected through a magical object for a chance to represent their school through three very dangerous tasks. It was banned in 1792 due to the deaths of all three champions during a single task," Remus answered in what the other two thirds of his pack called his 'Professor Voice.'

"Then who, why?" Harry trailed off. Indeed, who and why? To reinstate such a dangerous tournament was ludicrous!

"Who knows? Bottom line is that the tournament is reinstated and it is being held at Hogwarts this upcoming school year. Students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving on the 29th of October and forty eight hours later, the champions will be announced during the Halloween feast."

"Who told you?" Remus asked.

He knew he would have known, that he would have been told if he were still apart of the Hogwarts Staff. They would need to know of such a disrupting event happening during the school year in order to plan around it. The sheer gossiping and distraction caused by the tournament would necessitate different strategies to keep the students in line, and not to mention the safety precautions to protect the students. It wasn't unheard of for audience members, largely the student population of the host school, to become injured during a task.

Remus sighed, thinking of his terminated professorship. It appeared as if there really was a curse on the DADA position. Remus felt the magic trying throughout the entire year but he couldn't find the source to break it. The curse finally succeeded when Professor Snape assigned homework that just so happened to coincide with an Astronomy project that several of the year levels had to complete. Between the two, many put together his affliction.

Not even the promise of Wolfsbane and a secure room within the bowls of Hogwarts calmed the parents into allowing him to stay. Safe to say even gentle Remus was displeased with Snape. The man's only saving grace was the fact that the year was nearly over and that another full moon wouldn't occur until the final exams were over.

"Amelia Bones, she knows of Harry's inheritance. Lucky she hasn't reported him."

"Fortunate indeed" Remus sighed.

None of them knew how wizarding Britain would react to Harry's change. The laws restricted Wolsrens severely and demanded that any Wolsren in Britain went to the Ministry of Magic to register themselves with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Not only was the registration insulting to a race older than the organized wizarding world, the registry was open for public perusal.

Wolsrens only had luck in that they were practically worshiped amongst the old pureblood crowd. Those who followed the old ways made sure to protect the race as best they could, but many a potions master would froth at the mouth at a chance to harvest parts from a living Wolsren. A young, virile boy who recently completed his transformation into a pure Wolsren and who was also magically very powerful would be impossible to resist.

A temptation that many would follow through.

There were some questions as to how Britain's last known pack died. It would never be investigated, for as soon as it was announced, harvesters and potions masters raced to the still cooling bodies, intent on salvaging usable parts from the ancient pack. They would kill for a chance to get at Harry. As it was Marius and his pack were required to regularly present themselves to the magical creatures' department, submitting themselves to demeaning tests and to allow select individuals collect samples from the mateship.

Fortunately they had left no evidence of having met Harry other than a few items in a discrete will enforced by Gringotts. Not only would the boy face fines for not registering, chances were great that he would disappear into the ministry system.

"How could this be a good thing for me?"

"Durmstrang has a decent population of Wolsrens attending. So does Beauxbatons, though much smaller. The packs tend to live in the heavily forested, colder areas of Europe," Remus said in his special voice.

"But how would it work?"

"Easy, the tournament will take most of the world's attention while potential mates begin the courting process. Chances are extremely likely that each school will bring several Wolsrens thinking, correctly actually, that they would have a higher chance at being picked and winning."

"But I am a Wolsren, what if I get picked for the tournament?"

"Don't worry pup," said Sirius as he moved closer to his godson to wrap him in a wet cuddle. "You have to enter yourself into the tournament. The magical object, some sort of goblet I think, will not allow someone to enter a name that is not their own. Not to mention that there are going to be dozens of spells and whatnot preventing those under the age of seventeen from entering. And you, my dear, are only fourteen."

Facing the boy, he gave him a nose to nose kiss as he often did in his animagus form, chuckling. Even in the steamy room, Harry's nose remained stubbornly cold.

The boy wrinkled his chilly nose and pulled back from Sirius a little.

"But-"

"Knock on wood pup, don't worry."

Remus joined the cuddle. By now all three of them were on their way to resembling prunes.

"If, for some Morgana fearing reason, you are entered into the tournament, Remus and I are here to help you."

Harry sighed deeply and gave in. He curled up in Sirius' arms

"Scrub my back?" he asked finally, breaking the silence.

"Only if you get mine, though we ought to finish soon," Sirius hummed, reaching for the washcloth and soap that were waiting nearby.

He gently turned the boy around and wet him again.

"Hm?" came the sleepy question.

"We've been in here nearly an hour and we still have to prep for tomorrow."

"We can do that later," Harry replied sleepily. Sirius had magical hands as far as he was concerned. The man sure knew how to scrub away all of his worries and the knots in his back.

Harry started, water sloshing around him.

Thanks to magic, the steaming water never cooled and constantly refreshed itself. This was fortunate as the trio had fallen into a light doze after they had thoroughly scrubbed themselves clean.

Harry's body ached slightly. His skin had taken in far too much water, making movements slightly painful as the nerves were compressed from the absorbed fluid. Slowly he moved from his perch and went to wake his saviors. They too winced due to their prune-like forms as they stretched.

Remus managed to exit the bath first, staggering sleepily to snag a towel to wrap around himself. Blearily the man grabbed several more.

He set them on a dry spot near the tub before helping his yawning mate out of the steaming water. Carefully he reverently dried the smaller man, giving loving attention to every bit of flesh. After rubbing Sirius from head to toe, he discarded that towel and used two more on him. One was used to give Sirius some decency, not that they particularly cared, and the second to wrap up the still dripping black hair.

The two then turned to Harry. With help from Remus and Sirius, he exited the tub and was subsequently wrapped in a large fluffy towel and dried perhaps more carefully than Remus did Sirius, if that was even possible.

Now dried and wrapped up, the trio stumbled to their respective bedrooms, silently communicating their desires to reconvene in the family room after dressing in pajamas.

Said room had large, cushioned areas just right for a cuddle-filled nap.

Together they trudged back down the stairs and went to the cozy room towards the back of the house. A few spells later and it was set to the perfect temperature and to wake them in an hour's time for a late lunch.

Now stumbling, they moved to a large mat. It was soft yet supportive, just what they needed to fall into a restful sleep. Slowly, the lights in the family room dimmed. Though even in the darkened room, one could see Remus and Sirius lay protectively around Harry.

Minutes later, they were warm, comfortable, and nestled together for a nap.

As if everything was under a spell, even the house ceased its creaking and seemed to rest with them. Kreacher, finished with his duties and having their lunch resting under stasis spells, popped into his cupboard for his own well deserved rest. After an hour, though all too soon if one were to ask the occupants of Grimmauld, chimes filled the air causing the house to stir. As usual it took effort from Sirius and Harry to wake their third.

Being so close to the full moon, Remus still had a few of his wolfish traits. He growled and huffed, squirmed and rolled as his mind clawed for sleep. His bleary mind resisted his pack's attempt to wake him. They poked, rolled, and practically made Remus into a trampoline in several attempts to drag him from Morpheus' realm.

Remus clung to sleep like a starving dog did a meaty bone.

"Come on Remmy! It's time to get up, we need to help Harry pack for tomorrow- Remmy!"

The still sleeping man whined, slowly and reluctantly coming to consciousness. He really didn't want to leave such a comfortable state.

"Moony!"

BOOM.

"YOOOWWLLL!" Remus howled.

Something had barreled right into him, throwing the two of them off the comfortable chaise lounge, tumbling them onto the hard floor. Groggily he looked around.

A few feet from him lay their voracious pup.

He was sprawled over the floor, rear in the air and arms out, and peaking at him through his black bangs. A mischievous twinkle in his eye alerted Remus to the second attack. The man had just enough time to look behind him and see Sirius in the air, flying towards him. His mate had jumped, or rather was in the process of jumping at him.

"Oouf," he grunted, catching his squirming mate.

"Canine pile!" shouted Harry with a laugh, springing up to flop on top of the small man-mound.

"Oh come on you two!" he grumbled, thankful that his condition made them feel light as feathers.

"What? You were the one who didn't want to wake up!" Harry squirmed some more.

"Harry get your bony body off me!"

Remus managed to roll out from under his pack mates. Plucking Harry up and cuddling him close like a baby, he smiled at the betrayed look Sirius gave him.

"Remmy!"

"Siri!" he whined right back with a smile.

"Daddies!" Harry piped up still squirming to get out of Remus' grasp.

Carefully the man adjusted his grip on Harry so that the boy's rather sharp body wasn't pinned uncomfortably to himself or causing Harry discomfort.

"Indeed," Sirius dead panned.

"Alright you lot, whats'it you're wanting now?" Remus yawned, revealing sharp teeth. He huffed and rubbed his head into Harry's, placing his scent over the boy.

"Siri said you had to help us pack for tomorrow," a muffled voice informed him.

"So what you're telling me is that the two of you are incapable of packing what one boy need for Hogwarts by yourselves?"

"Yes," Sirius and Harry said together.

"And that you couldn't finish this yesterday before the full moon?"

"Yes," they replied again.

One raised eye brow and a change in stance was all Remus did.

"Well, you see…"

"Sirius wants to pack half the house!" Harry shouted quickly.

Sirius gave the boy a betrayed look.

"I keep putting things back and he just throws them in!"

"Because you need them!"

"Not my entire room! I don't want to bring everything and you shouldn't keep putting stuff in my trunk!"

"But you take so much out; you need your bed-buddies! You know you can't sleep without them!"

"I'm fourteen Sirius, I can't take them. The others will laugh at me!"

"But-"

"Alright, enough!" Remus commanded.

Two pouty faces looked at him, chins tucked and arms crossed.

"Why didn't you tell me this yesterday?"

"Because you were sick," Sirius huffed.

"Yeah, and by the time you felt better, we had to leave!" Harry interjected.

Remus just sighed and looked upwards. Someday the ceiling would have the answers he needed. In the meantime, he drudged up his patience and shored his temper.

"Harry, do you want to bring your bed-buddies with you?"

"Yes," the boy said sullenly.

"And Sirius, did you bother to suggest any of the numerous privacy spells that you know?"

"No," an equally sullen man said.

"There is your solution. Let's get to packing, bedtime is early tonight."

With that they took off to Harry's room. Painted in a few dark colors and with splashes of lighter ones, the large room was cozy and soothing to the boy. The room itself was neat and orderly, only the items Sirius must have been trying to pack were flung around, a trunk with the initials 'H.J.P.' in the center of the explosion.

"Really Siri, I thought you stopped making messes ages ago!" Remus chided lightly.

The look on his mate's face was worth any punishments.

"Remus!"

Giggling, Harry darted past them and began sorting through the mess of things. He made three piles next to him. One of things to go with him, one for items going with him but he wanted spells on, and the last for things that were staying here at Grimmauld.

"Should I take my books?" he asked, sorrow flitting across his face lightning fast. A faded black leather book rested in his hands. Idly, he flipped the worn cover over to read the inscription he knew by heart.

'To our dear Marius, record your deepest thoughts and your many adventures. With this, may you remember your life, your loves, and may you teach others the history of our race through your words. Love, Your Birth Pack'

Each of the many diaries had their own loving inscription. The blank books gave Marius a chance to decompress and reason through his fears as he searched for his mates. Later in his life they gave him reason to live through the horrendous ministry policies that plagued his kind in Britain.

Marius, the only other male Wolsren submissive that he knew of, had gifted them to Harry when they met during the holidays last winter. The books began from when he was thirteen and documented his yearlong inheritance, his courtships, and the many long centuries with his pack. Interspersed between the personal entries was a written account of their race starting from their creation.

They were a great help to Harry, this one in particular as it explained exactly what the boy went through as he gained his inheritance over the year since his thirteenth birthday.

"You should, you know Marius gifted them to you and maybe you might need it to understand your mate's courting," Remus said gently.

The old submissive had given all of his diaries to Harry. There were over one hundred of them, though many of the books coming to the boy after his death having been willed to the young Wolsren.

The books were a wealth of information and not to be kept locked away or destroyed. Marius and his mates were the last Wolsren pack in all of the British Isles, and he was one of the few known male submissives. They had managed to live through several wars and had died at the beginning of this summer.

It broke Harry's heart when he heard of their deaths.

Despite over two centuries of age difference, Harry and Marius were close. The sub had helped Harry the moment they met during Harry's winter holidays in his third year, teaching the young boy how to control his features. All five of the man's mates spent time with the boy too. They taught Harry all the dirty tricks they knew that a dominate could use to get Harry, even telling the boy the various things that would attract a dominate to him. It was one of the few times Harry was glad to have lived with the Dursleys.

While every Wolsren in the mateship had a job and helped maintain their chosen dwelling, doms rarely knew how to care for a household. Many chose to devote themselves to attracting a mate, they often preferred to become stronger or enhance their income rather than learn how to make food beyond the basics for example. Once settled, at least one or two others would begin to learn the finer points of home-making.

"But-"

"Harry, he gave those to you to help you. We have weaved the best spells possible to preserve them. Would you rather risk us owling them if you find need for the books?" Remus cajoled.

Harry sighed and placed them in the keep but spell pile. He couldn't risk anyone opening them and discovering his secret.

Carefully the trio worked their way through Harry's room and Grimmauld to find everything he would need or possibly want. Even Harry's bed-buddies, a stag, a wolf, a dog, and a doe to represent his pack and parents, along with his favorite pillow, made their way into the trunk after a series of privacy spells were cast upon them by Remus.

Pausing to survey his mate and pup argue over some detail or another, Remus patted the last toy as if it were alive.

Originally they were given to Harry to comfort the boy, but instead of needing them less, he clung to them increasingly as he gained more of his inheritance. Remus had a sneaking suspicion that Harry used them as a faux pack at night, unable to sleep on his own due to his newfound instincts. He had detected a few sloppily cast wish spells from Harry that made the stuffed animals give off heat and the sensations of having beating hearts, making his own heart tighten. Time was ticking away faster and faster for their pup.

Carefully placing the black dog amongst the other toys, Remus was glad that he was the one to deal with them. In the midst of the spells he put on the toys, he fixed and strengthened the ones Harry had cast and added another. This spell in particular would cause the toy's to smell like the person the represented using his own sharp memory of the scents.

By the time the trunk had been packed and Harry's clothes were chosen and laid out for the morning, Kreacher had finished dinner. The trio was too tired even after all the sleeping they had done throughout the day to do more than eat a few bites and crawl back to the master bedroom to sleep early for once.

As a pack, they slept together for the last time. Three hearts beating as one, they enjoyed the calm before the brewing storm.

The future showed signs of being treacherous, but it showed just as many promises of happiness. It would be difficult and most likely at times appear desolate, however they were not discouraged.

For now, peace prevailed.

Said tranquility calmed the agitated beast within Harry. For now, the boy was back to being the sweet child he was before his birthday. Harry didn't even feel too agitated at leaving his pack behind only to be locked away in a castle filled with humans. Calmly he watched them wave, sitting in a scarlet train with hundreds of other students, not one of them a Wolsren.

As the Hogwarts Express snaked away from King's Cross Station towards Scotland, Harry took the ride to reflect on the mental changes he had undergone in the last year. The most upsetting was his desire to leave Remus and Sirius.

In part, it was due to the fact that he was now old enough to begin creating his own pack. It didn't mean that he wasn't ever going to be interested in them again, or not seek them out for advice or parental comfort. A Wolsren turning fourteen was mentally and physically equivalent to a wizard or witch turning seventeen. He was at a mental maturity to begin seeking his independence and looking for others to form a pack. Physically, his body was ripe and begging to be seeded.

Nearly done growing, his body was producing high amounts of pheromones to attract potential mates that only those with particular creature inheritances could even pick up.

All of this had been explained in the first little book from Marius. Back when he was young, Marius was like many other Wolsren who turned fourteen. He was driven out of his pack and left to fend for himself. A Wolsren either died searching or survived and found their own mates. Once settled in their new pack, the Wolsren's relationship with their birthing pack picked up again if they were alive and interested. Though the connection tended to be nowhere near as close as what it once was.

By now the separation was biologically ingrained within the species. Harry knew and understood it on a conscious level, but it never stopped frustrating him. Even now he felt the need to leave the speeding train, whispers in his mind begged Harry to flee the large island and find others of his kind.

However, greater schemes demanded he stay where he was-on the train to Hogwarts to complete his fourth year.

Harry could only sigh. Partly in frustration and partly in acceptance. Someday he would be free of schemes and their creating, no longer forced to bow under another's will.

Stretching, he flushed the heavy thoughts from his mind and instead turned his mind towards the flood of friends entering his compartment. As students flitted in and out of the small room, Ron and Hermione staying the longest, Harry couldn't muster the will to be interested. He barely had enough to hold passing conversations with them about summertime adventures. As usual, Hermione nattered on about the new course books and eventually demanded a status update regarding their summer assignments.

Ron, on the other hand, talked over their female friend.

He had an amazing time over the summer. Or rather, one amazing instance that was later fouled.

His father had won another of the ministry's monthly drawings. Last year had been a prize of seven hundred galleons that took all of the man's family to visit his eldest child William in Egypt. This time Arthur Weasley won Top Box tickets for him and all seven of his children to attend the Quidditch World Cup, a game between the Irish and Bulgarian National Quidditch Team. The man even had a spare ticket for Hermione, as Mrs. Weasley refused to go, and offered to get one for Harry as well.

The Potter Heir could only decline. Unbeknownst to the Weasley Clan, Sirius had already gotten three tickets to the game. Instead of Top Box, Sirius chose a private box so that they could watch the game without the hassle of dealing with other people. The man also managed to swing the Bulgarian team into letting the trio speak with them privately after the match.

It was a wonderful surprise to Harry when, as the stadium was clearing, instead of being directed into the swells of the departing crowds, he was guided into the actual quidditch pitch.

Over excited with their narrow victory, the Irish team had left for their tent to party. This left the pitch, and the stadium, empty for the Bulgarians to run their cool down routine. The twenty one players- seven starters, seven in the second string, and seven reserves- went through several sets in the air. Many of which were familiar to Harry, especially those completed by the three seekers on the large team.

As Harry watched the players with keen eyes, a heavily muscled man approached them and spoke rapidly with Sirius in his native tongue. After the team had finished their sets, they too joined the small pack on the ground. Despite their defeat, they were focused and even a little interested in the tiny boy standing before them.

As Harry looked at the team, most dripping with cooling sweat, he froze. One man, hardly old enough to be called a man, stood near the back. He was paler than Harry with black hair and blacker eyes. Standing at least six feet tall, the man-child had broad shoulders and a muscled body yet he was as lithe as a swimmer otherwise. He was Viktor Krum, first string Seeker and the youngest player ever for the Bulgarian National Quidditch team.

Most importantly, the man-child was a Wolsren. An unmated, dominant Wolsren.

Harry could smell it thanks to the pungent odor of pheromones rolling off in his sweat.

The man speaking with Sirius stopped and looked at the team, he gave them a few sharp words in their tongue. He then took the lead and introduced Harry to the players in English before inviting him up into the air with the main team. Giving a wide eyed look to the men he considered his parents, Harry was met with his firebolt.

Grinning, he followed the tired but energized team into the air for a scrimmage. Thanks to Sirius, they already knew his position. Even though the team was exhausted, and a few had to be switched out with reserves, they surprisingly enjoyed themselves during the game.

While Harry was only an upcoming fourth year at Hogwarts, he could play extremely well. Keeping up with their star seeker, they boy matched Krum turn for turn on a broom not even tuned for national quidditch standards.

Just as Harry and Krum were racing neck and neck after the practice snitch, screaming and loud bangs came from outside the stadium. Immediately they and the other players stopped. Someone, most likely the captain, called out the safety word for the practice equipment causing all of the balls to drop from the air.

Down on the field, the team managers and Harry's pack screamed for them to land.

Following the directions, they landed as quickly and safely as they could and were immediately ensconced within the stadium. They followed the built-in back passages used for emergencies. Despite offers from the players and the team's managers, the trio left them in Bulgarian locker room.

As Remus carried Harry in his arms, he grabbed his mate's hand and ran out of the stadium. He practically flew into the surrounding forest and away from the screams. Remus later told them that even though the stadium was newly built and heavily warded, if you didn't know the power of those attacking you, the forest was safer. At least that way they had places to run, and between two animagi and a werewolf, they would have higher chances of being victorious if attacked.

After things calmed down, Harry and his pack mates returned to their campsite only to collapse their tent. They wouldn't stay the last few hours until dawn, none of them would have been able to sleep anyway. Instead, they returned to Grimmauld Place using an illegal portkey and Viktor Krum still on Harry's mind.

Meeting another Wolsren his age was enough to distract Harry, and later Sirius and Remus, into forgetting that his broom was still somewhere on the stadium field. Later, Harry convinced the duo to put off buying him another broom if only because he didn't need it just yet now that he had his own wings. Eventually the matter was laid to rest.

Sirius, the one most likely to get him another broom, put off the purchase when he learned of the Triwizard Tournament. Hogwarts Quidditch was to be canceled for the events, thus Harry didn't need a new broom for the quidditch season. With the move next summer, he planned to spoil his pup with the latest model out there. One of the better, European makes designed just for seekers.

As Harry pondered how a European model would handle differently based upon reports Sirius had read to him, he noticed the window. The sky was now dark, lit only by the stars and moon. There were a few lights in the distance that told him that the train was almost at Hogsmead.

Turning his attention back to Ron and Hermione, both of them now arguing with each other, he sighed in annoyance. Barely six hours into the new school year and they were fighting already.

Harry wanted to growl, badly. They were getting on his nerves quickly. With another huff, he turned back to the window.

They weren't Wolsren his mind whispered.

They couldn't be pack it said.

Eventually he stood and grabbed his uniform. Without another word, he left the compartment for the washroom aboard the train. Changing quickly, Harry chose to wander up and down the compartments instead of returning to his arguing friends.

Something in his mind continued to whisper the fact that no one at Hogwarts was a Wolsren, that none of them were worth his attention.

As he exited the train and took a carriage up to the castle, the whispers continued. Throughout dinner the voice kept reminding him of his difference, how none of them would ever, could ever match him. He was so distracted that he could barely focus on anything else. The fact that he was the only Wolsren in Hogwarts was pressed into every thought, dropping a large, cold rock into his gut.

They would never work.

Why was he even here?

Harry wanted to leave, now. To be anywhere but at Hogwarts where there were no Wolsrens.

So consumed with his thoughts, not even the welcoming feast didn't get the usual reaction out of him. His housemate's chatter merely left him wishing for Grimmauld's quiet. Well, as quiet as a home could be with two Marauders, one of which being Sirius Black, living in it.

Sitting through the sorting and the feast, through people attempting to goad him in to conversations and eventually talking around him, Harry sat quietly. They weren't Wolsrens, he didn't want to talk to them much less acknowledge them.

They weren't Wolsrens

When the last spoon was set on the table and the students finished eating, the headmaster of Hogwarts stood.

"Young ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to welcome you to another year at Hogwarts. As you may have heard…"the old man delved into his usual opening speech regarding the Forbidden Forest and Filch's list.

After a few words about a new year and studies flowed from the old man's mouth, he finally dismissed them. Harry perked up slightly at that.

Dumbledore had not once mentioned the Triwizard Tournament being reinstated or the fact that it was going to be held at Hogwarts. In fact, the more Harry looked, none of the other professors looked like they were upset at the man not mentioning it. Usually if the ancient wizard forgot something of that magnitude, Professor McGonagall at the very least harangued the man with a sour face and biting words that the students could only guess at.

If Harry had to bet, the man probably hadn't mentioned it to them at all yet. A quick glance around the room to certain students told Harry that they knew of the tournament. There was no way Malfoy Senior hadn't told his son about it. The young Malfoy even had a look of surprise and disdain upon his face, most likely at the fact Dumbledore hadn't said anything.

A few other children with parents in the ministry had the same looks of confusion or irritation. The man was going to ruin their chances at winning if he didn't say anything soon. Doubtless Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had owled their students as soon as it was decided so they could begin to train for the tournament.

However, it didn't matter to Harry what Dumbledore did and did not do. Hopefully by this time next year he would be at another school with five mates planning their future pups.

Mates, he wanted mates. It was time for him to start searching for other Wolsrens, which Hogwarts didn't have. But the two visiting schools would bring potential mates to him in two months' time.

Harry decided he could wait that long.

Instead, he would use that time to prepare himself to attract strong potential suitors, like Krum.

Between refining himself and his studies, time would and did pass quickly. It was relatively peaceful, even with the near constant harassment that faced Harry, as Dumbledore still hadn't told the school about the upcoming Triwizard Tournament.

In the passing weeks, many of Hogwarts' residents noticed Harry's general lack of any interest in his fellow students beyond frustration and the mild interaction classes required. The boy had his instincts practically screaming in his ears now that no one in Hogwarts was a Wolsren. To keep from attacking the many students pestering him, Harry had taken to keeping away from them. Including Ron and Hermione much to their frustration.

Several had actually set out to stroke his infamous temper into displaying itself just to see something other than his new found apathay and disdain for the Hogwarts population. It was so distracting between the betting, the attempts, and the detentions and loss of points, that the residents of Hogwarts had quite a shock one night.

During the evening meal of the twenty-seventh of October, Headmaster Dumbledore off-handedly told the preoccupied school of the impending arrival of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang in the next two days. He proceeded to tell them what an honor Hogwarts was being bestowed by holding the first tournament in over two centuries, how everyone needed to be on their best behavior and maintain decorum and proper dress while the visiting schools were still residing at the castle.

That sent every creature from student to staff, house elf to owl into frantic motions. Hogwarts was cleaned and polished from the depths of the dungeons and storage rooms to the highest rooms in the tallest towers. Letters and packages were sent and received in such a large and continuous mass that many an owl landed itself in Hagrid's gentle care. The giant himself was kept busy with preparing the grounds for their guests.

Everyone was in a flurry except, of course, for Harry. The boy merely sat and watched the school scramble. He had been told and prepared long before school had convened. While students frantically gathered their best attire or for some, ordering better robes, Harry was ready. Simple but immaculate robes hung in his armoire. Some were extravagant evening robes; he had robes for balls, robes for walking on Hogwarts' grounds, and even better quality, fancier school robes so that no matter the situation, Harry would always look enticing to any visiting Wolsrens.

For once, Harry reveled in the fact that he was the one to be the one well informed and well prepared rather than his usual lack of knowledge and tools while everyone else scrambled. Now he could be at ease while the school's residents tittered and fluttered to and fro wondering about their guests, the tournament, and if they had any decent robes to impress the visiting foreigners.

Everything culminated on the evening of the twenty-ninth of October.

Perhaps in a misguided attempt to show a welcoming but competitive spirit, or more likely to show their forces and intimidate the competition, all the students and staff were required to stand on the stairs leading to the main entryway into Hogwarts. Each student had on their best school robes and had been directed into place meticulously by Professor McGonagall. Not even the staff escaped her hissed commands, directed by her wand-cum-baton.

The old woman arranged them as if they were a large bouquet of flowers in a vase. Nearly frantic, the witch ordered them to stand in a particular way with their hands clasped in front of them and to stop fidgeting. Merlin help the one who acted out.

McGonagall's threat reminded them that she was a Gryffindor Witch who had survived war. No one, not even the twins, dared to defy her for just that one instance.

As if sensing the first school approaching, McGonagall whirled around and pasted a stern but welcoming smile on her face. Standing next to Dumbledore, the Deputy Headmistress didn't look like the spitting cat she had been only moments ago.

She was just in time as the first school appeared in the sky, causing many students to gasp and stare. It was a large, blue thing flying through the sky. As it got closer, the students were able to pick out several large beasts pulling the light blue carriage towards Hogwarts.

Twelve winged horses beat their wings in unison, coming to land on the grounds gently. Without anyone to guide them, the horses pulled their burden closer to the school before stopping on their own with the carriage door centered on the waiting students.

Again, without someone physically moving them, the little door decorated in gold with what had to be the school's crest opened on it's own. As it swung out, three golden steps descended from the pastel blue coach.

'If magic hadn't been used before,' mused Harry, 'it certainly is now.'

The door was not amazing and in fact was rather small, especially compared to the rest of the carriage and the beasts that pulled it. The woman who came through it first was quite the opposite indeed.

Magic had to be at play in order for the gigantic woman to exit the coach without contorting herself or even ruffling one of the many black feathers on the trim of her robes. With a blank look on her face, she took in the waiting students and staff.

Harry heard her give a small huff, unnoticeable to those without enhanced senses.

"Welcome, my dear Madame Maxime! I do hope your travels have not tired you too greatly," boomed Headmaster Dumbledore. The man had his arms spread wide in greeting, a large smile on his face that was just as obnoxious as his robes.

As he stepped forward, so too did Madam Maxime. Her large size was only due to her height, only a little taller than Hagrid thanks to the heels she wore. Thin, shapely, and graceful, the woman presented her right hand to Dumbledore who took it and placed a light kiss upon her knuckles.

"Has Igor arrived yet?" she asked, barely sparing a passing look at the headmaster. Her voice was clear as a bell with only a hint of a French accent

"Not yet my dear, he is due to arrive in the next ten minutes. Why don't you and your lovely young ladies go rest in the Great Hall where it is warm?"

"Very well, we shall accept you offer. Garçons, filles, venez!"

At her words, twelve slim girls exited the Beauxbatons carriage. Each girl was dressed in a uniform of the same powder blue as their transportation from head to toe. A fitted blue jacket was placed over a white button up shirt with an A-line blue skirt, and blue, low heeled pumps decorated their feet while blue berets were precariously placed over meticulously styled hair completed the ensemble.

To Hogwarts' surprise, three boys in the same beret and suit coloration also exited the carriage.

Placing themselves into two neat lines, the twelfth girl, a tall blonde, led them towards their headmistress.

"Madame," she curtsied.

"Venez," Madame Maxime repeated, placing her large but narrow hand on the girl's shoulder.

Without a backwards glance at Dumbledore, she led them up the stairs and into the castle.

As soon as the door shut behind the last pair, Hagrid left his spot behind the amassed students and approached the carriage. Carefully he grabbed the halter of one the flying beasts the Beauxbatons arrived with and lead the team of twelve and their burden away. With each step he took, whispers broke out amongst the students.

"How much you want to bet that blond girl is Beauxbatons' favored?" whispered Ron, eyeing the disappearing blond with a red face.

Many of the boys were watching her with red faces and glazed eyes and it certainly had nothing to do with her power.

The girl was clearly respected by her peers. She commanded them with few words and was the only one not to look around wildly as the others did. Instead she appeared uninterested in the grand castle and the students that inhabited it. But that was not the reason why so many males stared lustily after her.

Plainly put, she was gorgeous.

Delicately shaped, she had long and lean legs. Pale skin, with a rosy hint to her skin, glowed in the evening sun that also lit her blond hair into a golden halo. Moving with more grace than a cat, the Beauxbatons girl was stunning.

She was also not human.

As she passed the step where Harry and his friends stood, the nippy October breeze brought her scent to him. She had a similar smell to the veelas at the quidditch world cup.

Harry exhaled deeply. Several of the girls had the same veela scent to them. It was going to be a long year based upon the reactions of the Hogwarts' male student population. Ron would be especially troublesome considering his lack of control and the powerful feelings brewing between himself and Hermione.

Speaking of his best female friend, Hermione apparently hadn't heard Ron's comment for she was too busy staring at the three males the French school brought. She, like many of the other girls, was entranced by them. However, they were not veelas and, unfortunately for the girls, they wouldn't be interested in them.

The Beauxbatons boys, though they weren't veelas, weren't human either. Instead, all three of them had the distinct scent of unmated, dominant Wolsrens.

His mind spinning and demanding that he follow them, Harry had to fight to stay in his spot.

There was still one more school to come.

It was only after what felt like ages passing that the signs of Durmstrang arriving appeared. The waters of Black Lake were receding and becoming violent in the lake's center. Eventually the movements became loud and violent enough to attract the attentions of the students. Pointing and shouting excitedly, the students shuffled to get a better look.

A loud crack came from the heart of the frothing water. At first, what appeared to be a long stick speared out of the water only, a large mass followed it. Like it was being shot out of the water, a large wooden ship jumped out from the depths of Black Lake.

The ship righted itself, violent rocking turned into gentle floating as the ship steered itself towards the shores closest to the school entrance.

On the main deck of the ship, sharp eyed students noticed the human forms standing strong and unbothered. Six of the forms on both side of the ship lined the grand rails of the ship while a thirteenth stood in the middle appearing to command the massive ship.

It stopped several meters from the beach, the waters now back to their calm swirling along the rocky shores. The two anchors on either side of the bow dropped without an audible spell. Boards from somewhere on the ship lifted themselves into the air and formed a narrow gangplank that lead from the side of the ship to far enough on land that it would not be buried under water at high tide.

As one, the twelve forms lining the sides of the ship gathered at the lip of the gangplank in two neat lines. It was only when the one that stood in the middle of the ship took a spot in the front did they literally march down the wooden bridge.

Just like Beauxbatons, Durmstrang stopped in front of the Hogwarts' headmaster to great the older man, for Durmstrang's headmaster was definitely younger. He had to be at least as young as Snape, the youngest professor at Hogwarts. The man was just as black haired and pale as the foul professor, though unlike the dour potions master, he had a spot of dark hair on his chin.

"Igor, what a lovely boat you have!" exclaimed Dumbledore.

It was only the small but violent twitch of the goatee that gave away the other headmaster's ire.

"Albus, my ship," he emphasized the word. "It is one our dear founder built himself."

"And it is a splendid and quite useful relic indeed!"

Another violent twitch moved the goatee.

"Thank you. If we may? My students need to rest soon if they are to acclimate to your time schedule."

"Of course, of course. There is a grand feast tonight to fill their bellies, courtesy of our hard working staff," the man smiled congenially.

Six low growls, below the human hearing range, filled the air. Harry couldn't withhold the high responding whine that came from him. It too was out of a human's hearing range.

Immediately the six growling students stopped though they didn't look around. None of the twelve males that Durmstrang brought broke the militaristic composure they held. Fitted, high-collar red robes with golden buttons showed off muscled physics and slim forms. Not a single one of them, including their headmaster, was out of shape.

As they passed by Harry, led by their headmaster, he was able to scent out the six creatures. Two were in the front and four in the back, perhaps as a silent defense tactic for Wolsrens tended to be stronger and faster than their human companions.

It was only by luck that Harry noticed the boy in the back of the right line, the one furthest from his sight. The boy that stood there rang familiar to him. Tall with black hair and pale skin, similar to the other eleven boys, he stood out amongst his peers. Broad shoulders and a small smirk in his direction told Harry who it was.

Viktor Krum was a student at Durmstrang and he was here at Hogwarts to compete in the tournament.

As soon as his eyes caught Harry's and the smirk flitted on and off his face, he returned to the blank mask that his peers held. The twelve boys passed Harry, marching in unison behind their headmaster.

The feast that night saw a change in Harry. For once the boy was participating in conversations much to the surprise of the Hogwarts' students. Seated in his usual seat, back to the wall, he chatted with his friends and fellow Gryffindors as his eyes roved the seated guests. His peers were able to overlook the lack of eye contact, their own focused on the new comers as well.

It had been a little over one day since the arrival of the other schools. Like Sirius had told him during one of his many letters, Beauxbatons brought three dominants with them while half of the Durmstrang delegation was a dominant Wolsren, amongst them Viktor Krum. Almost all nine of them had approached Harry already to introduce themselves. Only two from Durmstrang had withheld themselves.

Perhaps one was already courting a mateship. As for the other, Harry had no idea why Krum hadn't introduced himself yet. The man-child certainly had his gaze set upon Harry so it wasn't as if he held no interest in him.

Halloween morning saw Harry walking towards the Great Hall for breakfast deep in thought about the quiet boy. He was contemplating the presence of Krum and potential reasons why he hadn't spoken to Harry yet. The Durmstrang student was quite the catch out of the nine Wolsren at Hogwarts and one that made Harry sad at the lack of reciprocated interest other than his persistent gaze over him the few times they were near each other.

Still wistfully thinking of the man-child, Harry traveled through the school unaware of his surroundings. It didn't cause a problem as few students were up so early and Harry knew Hogwarts better than any other, often better than their famed headmaster. It wasn't until he floated down the main staircase that his lack of attention got him into trouble. Simply put, he was accosted.

Professor Dumbledore had apparently lain in wait, engaging the clueless Divination Professor in a conversation, for him to appear. The man knew of Harry's habits and he also knew this was the best time to catch him without too many witnesses.

"Harry my boy, do you have time to spare a pot of morning tea with an old man?" asked the Headmaster of Hogwarts now ignoring a gaping Professor Trelawney.

A few students, awake enough to notice the interaction, stopped in their tracks causing the rest of them to freeze. Slowly they all moved to the walls and shadows, aware that something serious was going to happened. Besides Harry's lack of interest in Hogwarts, the students had noticed his cooling relationship with the headmaster.

Neither of them noticed the student's movements, too wrapped up in each other.

The ancient man, dressed in puce colored robes with glaring yellow lemons on them, smiled congenially. Harry sincerely hoped that the headmaster wouldn't wear those tonight at the feast. Since it would be the first act of the tournament, reporters and ministry officials from several countries were likely to be in attendance.

"I'm sorry Sir, I'm afraid I don't have the time," Harry replied in a low, respectful voice. While he didn't have anything pressing to do, he certainly didn't have time for barmy old fools.

More students gathered in the nooks and shadows.

"Are you sure my boy? I'm afraid I have some important news to share with you."

"Oh, on what sir?"

"Your inheritance."

"Oh, that. I have everything I need sir."

"I doubt that young Harry. We really must have a discussion," the old man tried to cajole, still smiling.

"Really sir," Harry grit. "I am fine. Sirius and Remus have taught me well."

He just want to be one his way. Between Viktor Krum and the Headmaster, Harry felt like his head was about to explode.

Looking around Harry noticed the students. Hidden in plain sight, they watched him and Headmaster Dumbledore, their faces surprisingly blank. Even the young first years, one or two from Gryffindor, were stoic.

"But there are Minis-"

"Sir, please I know already," said Harry backing away. "Now please, if you'll excuse me I really must be getting to breakfast."

He turned towards the Great Hall, intent on eating breakfast quickly, when he felt something hit him. It made his body burn momentarily and his mind rend and stab itself. Immediately he stopped. Hunching over and shoulders near his ears, Harry barely felt a few tears leak out of his eyes.

Just as quickly as it came, whatever it was left.

An odd floaty feeling washed over him, soothing his aching head. It told him everything would be okay, everything would be better and he would never hurt again. He just had to turn around. That's all he had to do, just turn around.

Slowly, stiffly, Harry turned.

Behind him stood the Headmaster calmly watching Harry with a little smile on his face, nearly hidden amongst the whiskers of his long beard.

Every student had their eyes one him. He could see them now, staring at him. A glimmer of confusion slithered through many of their forms.

'Come here Harry, that's all you have to do. Nothing will hurt you ever again, just come here.'

He didn't like hurting. In fact, the voice made him feel good. It was so warm, so nice to him.

'That's a good boy, just come here. Stand right next to me.'

Harry's brow wrinkled. Why would he want to stand next to the headmaster? The man had lied to him, stolen from him.

'That's a lie Harry, he hasn't done anything. He's helped you, all for the greater good.'

That phrase stopped Harry cold. Pins stabbed down his spine and his head spun, the pain coming back.

For the greater good.

For the greater good.

FOR THE GREATER GOOD!

Harry gnashed his teeth, biting his tongue. The pain shut out the voice that was now demanding him to go to the headmaster.

For the greater good his lily white ass.

He wasn't going to go near the old pedophile if he had any choice.

Backtracking to keep the old man within view, Harry sidled back to the grand staircase to escape. An infuriated look bled into Professor Dumbledore's face. The man looked ready to bare his teeth at the boy.

Once his foot hit the bottom step, Harry whirled around and ran up the stairs as whispers chased him. He ran all the way back to the Gryffindor tower and straight up to his dorm. Harry gasped, feeling lucky that his roommates had yet to rise, even Neville.

Though he had only himself to blame.

Even after leaving the Dursleys and unless under the influence of spells or potions, Harry would regularly rise with the sun if only because it was a habit ingrained for at least a decade. If any sunlight hit his eyes Harry would wake, usually with a loudly thumping heart thinking he overslept.

Harry just wanted to escape from the blasted castle. Between the students, the foreigners, and the professors, he was feeling trapped. He just wanted a bit of time on his own, no interruptions and certainly no more whispering.

In fact, that is what Harry was going to do.

Skipping breakfast wouldn't kill him, he'd been through worse. Perhaps sitting in the empty pitch was exactly what he needed. It would keep him out of the old coot's hands. It had also been too long since he last flew. There were few opportunities at Grimmauld, it being in the middle of London, and black owls just didn't fit in. Hedwig barely managed if only because the smart bird tended to blend in with the clouds.

Quietly, he tip-toed towards his window being careful not to step on any of the numerous school items littering the floor so he didn't wake the other boys from sleep. Unlatching the simple lock, Harry opened the window and stuck his head out. The weather was a tad chilly but the sun was out. It would warm up soon enough.

A quick look at the room assured him that the other four boys were still asleep and another look outside showed that no one was out there. With some maneuvering, Harry managed to get out onto the tiny ledge. Standing on the narrow stonework, wind whipping around his hair, Harry sucked in a great breath and stepped off.

He free-fell for a few seconds, the green ground below closing in quickly.

Using strength mostly from his quidditch skills, and certainly aided by his inheritance, Harry curled up and transformed.

Inches from the ground, Harry pulled out of the deep dive in owl form. He flew up and away from the castle, towards the pitch.

Casting a fleeting glance at the disappearing stone structure, his enhanced eyesight saw that of the few people out, no one seemed to have noticed him.

Uncaring at the thought of voyeurs noticing his black form, Harry continued on to the quidditch pitch. Pushing his wings to their limits, Harry zipped around. The forces tore at his feathers but they held.

He flew and flew, not paying any attention to the few students and adults that wandered in and out of the stands. Even fewer noticed his daredevil acrobatics in the air.

Fortunately it was a Saturday, meaning he had no classes to miss or work to finish. A vow he had made during his third year assured that all work was done as soon and as thoroughly as possible. That meant he would finish much sooner and get better grades while not having to redo the work multiple times to scrape an approval from his demanding friend.

As the day went by, he continued to fly. Hunger never once raged at him from his belly. Only the wind tugged at his feathers, stinging his eyes.

By the time the sun had reached it's zenith, Harry had landed in the bleachers to enjoy the warm rays. Practically dozing, he started as another form joined him on the bench. Harry, barely functional, only noticed a dark figure sitting next to him. The form, much larger than his though lithe in it's own right sat next to him.

Harry made as if to he hadn't noticed him.

He stole little looks at the other male without turning his head. Black eyes caught his attention immediately. Harry jack-knifed into a sitting position, whipping his head around to look at the intruder fully. The other person proved to be the boy who had caught his attention at the world cup. Eyes flashing silver Harry grinned and stretched to removes the kinks in his body.

The other flashed silver eyes too, a complete opposite from his normal black coloration, and grinned. He looked lasciviously up and down Harry's body. Stretched out on the bench, and clad in well-fitting robes, Harry knew his body was practically on display for the other boy.

It bothered him a little but taking his own looks at the tall but muscled body dashed his apprehension away. The broad shoulders clad in a fitted red robe the other had made his throat dry out.

He swallowed hard.

Both of them, still staring at the other, had unknowingly moved to stand closer. Now looking face to face, they never took their eyes off each other, devouring each other.

"My name is Viktor Krum, an unmated dominant Wolsren from Bulgaria. And you are?" He spoke first rumbling with his thick accent, trailing off in an invitation to meet properly.

"Harry Potter, completely unmated submissive."

"Goot to meet you, Mr. Potter."

Lips curled to reveal white teeth.

"You handle your broom very vell."

"As do you. When I watched you during the game it was amazing."

"Indeed, it makes me vonder how vell you can handle other models."

"Maybe someday you'll get a chance to see."

"Vhy not now?"

Shyly looking away, Harry bit his lip. The man would think him uncaring of his possessions or perhaps unable to think or react in an emergency situation.

"I-my broom it-it was left on the pitch. When the attack happened I-" Harry stopped, cheeks gaining a rosy tint.

"Is understandable. My teammates and I found your broom amongst ours. Ve tried to return it but apparently your guardians used false information vhen zhey got you the opportunity to fly vith us," the man soothed Harry.

"They-"

"Shh," he interjected. "Don't vorry about it. Our reserve seeker recognized you after a few days, and I knew I vould see you here, at Hogwarts."

The man-child reached into his pockets. Revealing his curled hand, he showed Harry one of the red and gold brooms the team had used at the cup covered in dark marks. Another hand brought out his wand. A short flick later enlarged the broom.

It's size revealed what had to be twenty-one signatures, three larger than the rest. Right below where Harry would grasp the handle, Krum had signed his name in the small spot that Harry would be able to read if he were flying. The other two names below it were not written as large, but they were certainly bigger than the other signatures scattered around the broom. They had to be the other two seekers on the Bulgarian team.

Harry looked up at Krum, his eyes wide as the man-child passed it to him.

"It vas my broom from the game, and now it is yours."

"But, it's your broom! What are you going to fly with now?" Harry gasped.

Deep laughter spilled from the man-child.

"Easy there. All professional teams do this. Ve get a good broom and used it throughout the season, getting the same type if it breaks. Once the season is over vith, ve move on to the next, better model."

"Oh, but surely you want it for a keepsake?"

"No, ve lost. It is time to start vith a new broom for a new season. It keeps the bad luck away."

Harry clutched the red firebolt closer to him.

"Why me?"

"Vhy not? You are a good flyer, one that I vould like to fly vith again. I haff no one else close to me who flies, and I vould never fly vith it again. Not even for leisure. The spellvork is no longer fit for professional standards and it cannot be fixed."

"So it doesn't fly well then…" Harry looked at the broom.

"Oh no! Not like that," Krum rushed to say, his hands raised in a placating manner. "I vould never give the broom to a beginner, it is far too powerful. Is just not enough for my training or matches anymore. In fact, if you veren't such a good flyer, I and my team vouldn't haff agreed to give it to you!"

Harry swallowed and wiggled his nose. A professional grade broom for him.

"So brooms come in levels then?"

"Yes, and the latest models you see in the shops have caps on them. You cannot buy a professional grade broom in any shop. You must order them vith permits. They are dangerous vithout proper handling."

"Am I-am I able to ride it?" Harry held his breath, looking at Krum.

While he didn't need a broom to fly anymore, he would never give it up. Especially for quidditch.

"Of course! If you don't mind, may I ride vith you?" Krum asked, a sheepish but hopeful look on his face.

"Oh-uh yes! Yes, please do. I may have had a firebolt but nothing as powerful as what you have given me," Harry attempted to stay calm, but it was hard.

Not only was Krum exceedingly handsome, he was also sweet and knowledgeable.

Harry grinned.

Krum's returned smile morphed wonderfully into a look of surprise and panic as Harry tossed himself over the safety rail. Laughing, he fell down towards the pitch grounds. With a small kick he propelled himself away from the walls of the stands.

"HARRY!" Krum's shout was barely heard over the roaring winds.

Meters above the field, a strong band of iron wrapped around his stomach and pulled him away from the closing ground. Krum's arm was wrapped securely around his waist practically shivering with adrenalin.

Harry laughed. Squirming, he barely managed to get his new broom into position before another twist got him free of his captor. He zipped away, marveling at the power under his command. The maneuverability of the broom was enough to make him sigh in bliss. If his firebolt was good, Krum's was god-sent. It made him want to try out a finely tuned professional's broom, the spellwork on that had to be absolutely amazing if a shot broom was this good.

Still flying around the pitch Harry began to run through the various drills he did during in-season practice. Each set went smoothly and quickly, the broom responding in synch to the barest thought. Only when he finished did he become aware again to the dark eyes watching him.

Krum had regained his composure and had been watching him fly with an eagle eye.

"Impressive," he complimented. "I know of few who could command such a broom as vell as you haff that aren't professionals themselves, however they do haff more experience than yourself. Again, impressive."

Harry slowed to a stop near the man-child and cleared his throat.

"Uh thank you."

"Let's see how vell you can keep up!" Krum challenged with a wild grin.

Taking off, he didn't give Harry a chance to refuse. Not that he would have. With his own grin, Harry shot off after him.

Turn for turn, they raced around the pitch. Each boy kept up with the other easily, Harry behind Krum by less than a second. They flew together for well over an hour. Working up a sweat, the salty fluid burned their eyes and weakened their grips upon the broom handle.

At that point they began to slow. The need to compete and show off had finally left their systems. Now they flew gently, orienting their bodies so they could look at the other unhindered.

As one, the slowly began to descend. When their feet touched the ground, they dismounted while still staring at each other. Neither wanted to look away just yet.

Now standing so close together, Harry could tell for sure that the other boy was at least six feet tall if not a little over. Thanks to the wind picking up and changing direction, Viktor's scent curled in his nose. It was a pleasant musk, one that didn't burn him as the scent belonging to many of the males he knew.

"We should go," Harry said reluctantly. "The feast will begin soon and I fear I must clean up."

"Vhy? I like you as you are now."

Harry laughed.

"As much as I would rather stay out here and fly, or at the very least go to dinner in these clothes, as the heir to two Ancient and Noble Houses I must be presentable. Especially with the media and political powers that will be present tonight."

"Hm, you speak truth. I suppose I too should become clean, if only to impress you."

Heat poured into Harry's cheeks again and he knew he was blushing.

"Th-there is n-no need!" flustered, he broke out into stuttering.

Like Viktor Krum would ever speak to him again after this.

"Vhy? You speak truth about tonight. The ceremony vill draw many and they vill come vell dressed. The others vill look better than me."

Viktor took three steps forward, standing only inches away from Harry. He bowed down low enough to look the smaller boy in the eyes. Carefully, he took Harry's hand and brought it up between them.

"I vant your attention on me."

Harry gasped as Viktor pressed a chaste kiss to the back of his hand.

"Vill you allow me to escort you to the castle?" the man-child held his arm out.

"Yes," Harry breathed, eyes wide.

Placing a delicate hand on the offered arm, they took off.

As if on a stroll during a fine summer evening, Viktor Krum and Harry Potter together with their brooms walked away from the empty pitch arm in arm. The few students out on the grounds, most of them being from the visiting schools, stopped and stared. They glided across the fields and past Black Lake, even though that was where Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students were staying. The black ship, moored on the lake's rocky beaches, wasn't terribly far from the castle. Certainly close enough for Harry to make his way there on his own.

Once they reached the threshold of the main doors, the Wolsren stopped and faced each other.

"I look forvard to speaking vith you more, perhaps another flight if veather permits?"

"I would be honored by your attentions Mr. Krum" Harry replied, cheeks still red.

"Call me Viktor please."

Black eyes stared into emerald ones.

"Harry then."

"Of course, until tonight sweetest Harry."

Viktor pressed another chaste kiss on the back of Harry's hand, still keeping their eyes locked together. Slowly he stood to his full height and gave a bow. Harry returned it with the strange bow-curtsy that Marius had drilled him with over and over.

A small smile flitted across Viktor's face before the quidditch star turned and left for the Durmstrang ship. Once he had made it past the stone steps, Harry turned and went into the welcoming warmth of the castle.

Eyes of all ages blinked out of existence, moving away from where they had watched the couple. More had just been fed to the gossip mill beyond Harry's fight with the headmaster that morning.

One particular blue pair narrowed in anger before leaving in a swirl of robes. The blasted boy and his pack were worming their way out of his grasp. This was most unfortunate.

Madame Maxime's words in French simply mean "Boys, girls, come!" and "Come."

Just so you know, I never plan to force writing such a large chapter ever again. I hate forcing my work as I did here and it is just plain silly.

As for the reviewer who wrote about walking to King's Cross. When reading the fifth book, JKR writes that Grimmauld is within walking distance of the visitor's entrance to the Ministry as well as St. Mungo's. To me, if you have that it stands to reason that this society puts important places near each other. Based upon Voldemort's plans to take over Hogwarts, it also logical to assume that Hogwarts is very important to this society. Therefore it is logical to have the train station near the ministry, near St. Mungos which means that it is near Grimmauld and probably within walking distance. Certainly not a two second walk but one that is reasonable for relatively fit people to make
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Mediocrity