Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Mediocrity	By : Redkenja Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 40273 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 14
Disclaimer: I do not own nor make money off of JKR's Harry Potter

Chapter List
- 10
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Here is chapter eleven, Choosing the Names.

As soon as he could, Harry ducked into an empty alcove. Krum’s gift to him was amazing. It was something he would cherish and keep long after the spellwork collapsed. Unfortunately, the broom was very recognizable. One glance and anyone would know it’s origins. Even if someone hadn’t attended any of Bulgaria’s games, if they saw the broom they would immediately think of the team thanks to it’s coloring. With publicity and Durmstrang’s presence, Harry would be immediately connected to the foreign seeker.

If that happened, rumors would fly and he would be hounded endlessly. It would be a nightmare.

Harry also knew that, as much as the other boy supported him, Ron would become jealous and question how he got it knowing that his broom was gone and he hadn’t gotten a replacement. He would then demand how he met the team. In short they would fight, Hermione would be irritated with the both of them, and by the end of the day the trio wouldn’t be speaking with each other.

No, it was better to hide his gift from the denizens Hogwarts.

With that in mind, Harry carefully shrunk the broom and pocketed it. He walked out of the alcove with an air of nonchalance and headed up towards Gryffindor Tower to prepare for the night. On his way he passed only a handful of curious students scurrying through the halls, none of which he acknowledged. They too were in a rush to prepare for the festivities.

By the time he reached the common room, he only had a little over an hour to clean up and fortify himself for the night’s circus ring. It was more than enough time if he didn’t spend too long in the shower. Harry had thought ahead and already had what he needed set aside to help speed things along.

He planned to wear one of his best formal robes, the ones Sirius demanded he get. It was done in black satin with a white inner layer that he could charm into different colors.

Trimmed to fit him like a glove, the robes were sewn such that his lithe body was defined elegantly, the hem falling down to his ankles. A mandarin collar would cling to his neck with numerous small black buttons running down his front, stopping at the widest part of his hips to secure the robe snugly to him. It then flared out a little at his hips thank to the discrete slits that ran up to on both sides of his body to the same height as the last button. Beneath the robes he would wear an equally tight, high collared white dress shirt. It would provide a thin strip of white just a few centimeters wide around his neck and wrists. Finally, skin tight black trousers and smooth fitted black boots that reached up to his knee would complete the ensemble.

The first time he had worn the outfit, Harry had felt like he was being suffocated and bound, unable to move. It was far too tight for the boy who was used to his large cousin’s larger castoffs. While his clothing had become far more fitted since he went into Remus and Sirius’ care, nothing came as close as that.

Passing the announcement board on his way up, Harry paused to reaffirm the night’s events.

Two notices had appeared on the board the other morning. The largest gave the feast’s sequence of events while the second, smaller note stated that the students could wear appropriate robes other than their uniform if they so desired.

And Harry so desired very much.

He hadn’t had the chance to really present himself since the arrival of the foreigners in the two days since they had come to Hogwarts. The same style of school robes and the messy ensemble he wore during today’s fiasco wouldn’t compare to tonight’s look.

Quickly, he scurried up the stairs to his dorm.

Inside, the circular room was a mess. Chaos reigned as his four roommates riled themselves up trying to find a decent set of robes for the night. The four boys were still altering bits of clothing in an attempt to look decent despite the approaching hour of the feast.

Harry bypassed them and went straight into the shower. He scrubbed himself quickly and thoroughly, taking time to apply the three potions Sirius had sent to him. One would make his hair manageable and glossy. The second would cause his breath to be minty as well as make sure his teeth where pearly white. The last did multiple things.

First it would soften his skin, hydrating the organ to induce a gentle glow and remove any blemishes. Second, it would remove any scents but his own to allow his natural pheromones to cloud around him. Lastly, as Harry took a wash cloth and wiped himself down, avoiding his head, each swipe revealed hair-free patches of skin. The potion removed the unwanted black downy hair from his body.

He stood under the spray for a few more moments to rinse off the last vestiges of potions from his body.

Taking another few seconds to collect his thoughts, Harry left the shower stall and wrapped himself in a large towel. Quickly and efficiently he dried himself, checking to make sure none of the fine black hairs remained where they shouldn’t. Satisfied, he went to the fogged up mirror that was placed over the sinks.

A quick charm later, one he heard Sirius use often, and the mirror was clear. He meticulously scoured his face looking for errant hairs. It wasn’t safe the use the potion on one’s face, there was too great a chance for it to get in someone’s eyes or the hair they wanted to keep. Harry also knew he shouldn’t have to worry about his face. One of the many cosmetic applications Sirius had performed on him prevented facial hair from growing and kept his brows from becoming anything other than the elegant arches that they were.

Satisfied, Harry left the steamy room just as his four roommates burst in. They hurried over to the mirrors for their own facial and oral care.

Alone in their room, Harry took his time dressing. He studied his robe as he buttoned up and tucked in his white shirt to the dark trousers. The Durmstrang delegation was clad in red several shades darker than the bright Gryffindor shade that decorated the tower. With that in mind, harry whispered the charm to change the color of the inner layer imagining that same blood red color.

Fortunately, no one would think anything of him for the color other than he was proudly supporting Hogwarts and hoping for a Gryffindor Champion. Pleased with the color, Harry slipped the garment on and began to close the many buttons.

Now all he had to do was figure out his head.

Harry reached into his trunk and pulled out a small black box no bigger than one of his textbooks. It contained a few Potter heirloom pieces and the two cosmetics Sirius had been able to convince him to use.

Ignoring his hair for now, the young Wolsren focused on his face.

‘Remember pup,’ Harry could hear the man in his head. ‘Bring attention to the green orbs that express your soul, make them jealous of every word that passes through your lips, and draw them to your neck!’

Carefully, he took the stick of kohl and used it to line his eyes. A minute later and each green orb had a black line on both the upper and lower lids. Next Harry took another stick. This one would stain his lips to a natural deep red, the shade of lips that had been bitten one too many times.

Harry had to admit the makeup brought attention to his eyes and lips. Exactly where he wanted roving gazes to linger.

Digging around in the box, Harry shifted through several trinkets. Most of the pieces were in his family colors of red and silver. Finally, he found what he was looking for. A single earring that would make it appear as if his ear was shedding a drop of blood. He put it in his right ear, guiding the silver metal into the tiny hole in his lobe using the mirror on the lid of the box.

He grinned. This would definitely draw them to his neck. The red drop hung down nearly five centimeters from the connective silver ring that held it to his ear. If he leaned his head to the left, it would seem like the drop was sliding down his neck. Tilting his head that particular way happened to be one of his most used nonverbal gestures.

Glancing at the mirror, Harry had to sigh at the damp black mass he called his hair. He still needed to style it, something that would pull it away from his right side. Perhaps he should do a simple braid. That wouldn’t take very long and it would keep his still wild mane under control.

Reaching into the top drawer of his bedside table, Harry pulled out a black lacquer comb. The fine teeth were spelled to withstand thick hair such as his and ease tangles without causing any pain. Carefully, starting at the bottom of his wet mop, Harry quickly but thoroughly ran the beautiful comb through his locks. After a few moments he was able to run it from root to tip without it catching on a knot. He drew the black wood through a few more times to ensure all the knots were gone.

Making sure to avoid his earring, Harry gently combed his hair so that all of it lay neatly over his left shoulder. He set the comb down and smoothed his tresses down. Collecting the black mass into one hand and splitting it in half, Harry began the process of weaving a fishtail braid. With his fingers moving nimbly, his mid-back hair was in a tidy and detailed braid that hung over his left shoulder.

Completely dressed and satisfied with his appearance, Harry checked the time. Twenty minutes left until the feast started.

The four boys in the bathroom had yet to leave. Harry could hear them cursing through the closed doors.

“Guys, I’m off!” he shouted into the empty room.

Harry didn’t hear any replies. With a shrug, he took off at a leisurely pace to the Great Hall through empty corridors. Thanks to the two day notice, few students were ready despite having less than twenty minutes until they had to be seated for the opening ceremony. Even the Great Hall was rather empty. Slytherin had the most students at their table, though the occupants were from the younger years. Older Slytherins and others considered to be part of the “upper crust” pureblood society slowly meandered into the hall in small groups of twos and threes.

If he had been the old Harry, he might have rolled his eyes at their pretentious nature. Now, however, he too had the same regal walk and beatifically blank face as he crossed the large stone hall.

Sitting at the mostly empty Gryffindor table, the wall at his back, Harry let his gaze wander. A few of the professors sat at the Head Table whispering harshly at each other. Not one of them were the housemasters. Most likely the four were in their respective common rooms to make sure that every student left with enough time to get into the dining hall before the event kicked off. All of Hogwarts had to be seated no later than a quarter to six. After that, the guests would be let into the ancient school. Assorted officials and reporters from various news and magazine agencies across the globe would enter and situate themselves around the hall last, the reporters confined to the outskirts of the room to take pictures and notes during the night for their articles.

Then, at six sharp, first Beauxbatons followed by Durmstrang would enter the large room. Both of the visiting schools had prepared a performance to display their might as they made their way in.

Only once the last dessert spoon was placed on the table would the champions would be picked from the Goblet of Fire. The magical object had been placed on a pedestal in the entrance hall to allow easy access by both Hogwarts and the visiting schools. It was also very public and many knew who had entered. Even now it stood there waiting for last minute entrants.

Personally, Harry was silently rooting for Cedric Diggory as the Hogwarts Champion. As for the other schools, he wasn’t sure. No doubt that it would be a student with a creature inheritance rather than a pure witch or wizard. Creatures were had far more strength than the average human. They would do better on the physical and magical strength side of the tournament.

Pulling himself out of his wandering thoughts, Harry started a little when he noticed how full the Great Hall had gotten while his thoughts wandered. Each table was bursting with place settings and students, many of which were still dressed in their school clothes as they had nothing to change into. Only a few had decent dress robes on.

Reporters now also lined the sides, scurrying about to take pictures at the seated students. Harry could tell that they mainly focused on the affluent students such as Malfoy and Zabini. They even photographed the adults present, flitting about the ministry officials to snap photos. More than a few took shots of Harry sitting calmly amidst the chaos.

Finally, when the noise level had risen to a painful volume, Dumbledore strode into the room wearing purple and silver robes. The old man moved to stand in front of his chair at the professor’s table as the hall went deathly still.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen, guests and students. Tonight is the first official night of the Triwizard Tournament! Before I speak,” he paused to survey the room, “our visiting delegations would like to give a demonstration!”

In a dramatic move, the man sat down in his gold high-back chair. As he settled himself, a strong but warm breeze ripped through the hall causing the candles to frantically wave.

Elegantly, the fifteen students from Beauxbatons glided into the room with visibly swirling magic dancing at their feast. As the girls flitted and spun through the center aisle, their magic formed itself into little creatures. Someone strong enough managed to send a little pearly white butterfly to Harry. With a small shower of sparks, the magic burst into a familiar could of magic front of his nose. A small smile curled at the edges of his lips. He had an idea of which male sent it to him.

The girl that led the French students, who Harry found out earlier to be the French Minister’s daughter Fleur Delacour, was in the middle of the twirling students dancing across the floor seamlessly switching partners with each of the three Beauxbatons boys. Harry could hear many a romantic sigh from the Hogwarts girls and the angry mutters from the boys as all fifteen of the French delegation danced down the hall. Their magic, still visible, flared and the creatures became more impressive the closer they got to Dumbledore.

Despite what some thought, this wasn’t an easy feat. To make your magic be seen and to form it into such detailed shapes, especially large ones, without an uttered word or showing visible strain gave proof to not only their strength but their endurance and control. The last of the Beauxbaton delegation to calmly cross the hall was their headmistress, Madame Maxime. She too had her magic swirling about her, forming itself into grander magical creatures than her students.

Applause roared through the hall once they finished their dance only to stop abruptly.

A low rhythmic beat thundered through the still open doors.

The candles flickered this time, dimming the large room. In a flurry of swirling red, the twelve students from Durmstrang entered the room using short staffs to strike the floor and other staffs to form the rhythm they moved to. Between their boots and staffs, they created a violent and militaristic air as they moved surprisingly agile across the floor. They didn’t merely march either. Instead, with the aid of each other and their staff, the Durmstrang delegation managed to twirl and flip themselves in powerful acrobatic movements.

Fire began to fly through the air from the heads of the twelve staffs and red sparks burst and bounced on the floor and in the air every time someone landed on the floor or stuck their staff against anything.

They too moved from the large doors to the staff table, fire dancing and flickering around the Durmstrang students and their calm headmaster.

Thunderous clapping boomed throughout the hall once they bowed to end their performance.

Harry grinned at the subtle flirting presented to him from the Durmstrang Wolsrens. As each of them passed by, they had made sure to flash a strong pose to the small omega. It was hard for the fourteen year old to not react. He nearly did when Krum, the last in the procession, struck his pose and smirked at Harry s his black eyes bored into green.

He wasn’t the biggest potential mate there nor the most attractive. Viktor Krum just had something enticing about him. So far, there were only two other males that interested him, both from Durmstrang, and they barely held a flame to Krum. He was only helped by his fame. As horrible as it was, Harry already knew thanks to Krum’s fame that he would be able to provide for Harry and any pups they had together. Watching the man play quidditch at the World Cup also assured him not only of Krum’s competitiveness but his strength as well. Harry knew from his own experience how hard it was to be the youngest on the team, to get back up after a hard hit from an opponent pissed at being beaten by someone younger than them.

Krum was very tempting.

But Harry would wait. He may have been quick to judge in the past, but not anymore. Choosing his mates was far too important to be so rash. He would wait and see what the others had to offer. If anything, the names the goblet spat out would help to steer his attention. It would be another proof of strength in a well-rounded sense of not only physically and magically, but strength in mental, emotional, and character abilities.

Fighting and being hunted might not be as big a deal as it used to be for Wolsrens, but Harry knew that the amount of metaphorical baggage he had meant he needed strong mates to help him work through his issues.

He let his awareness spread out to the nine dominants in the hall as platters of foods popped into appearance on the tables and loud chatter rang from students and adults alike over the performances. He could feel them tasting his presence, tugging at it to begin understanding and testing him.

Barely aware of what he put in front of him, Harry ate delicately and slowly. The House Elves had outdone themselves this time. Eyes hooded and hardly glancing at his plate, he kept a blank face as he enjoyed his meal. Gently, he speared each morsel with the thin fork, barely applying any pressure to get the prongs to enter the flesh as moisture welled atop the piercing. Even less force was necessary to cut with the equally thin knife. Carefully he lifted dripping chunks of meat and vegetables from the table to his mouth, closing red lips around the silver tines that were dragged out of his mouth to make sure he consumed every drop.

If the thick scent of pheromones flooding the hall told him anything, it was that Harry’s performance certainly enticed many –even those he wasn’t seeking attentions from.

It wasn’t obscene but he certainly wasn’t playing innocent.

Harry ate his fill and picked at his desert, all the while exuding an air of nonchalance. He didn’t even bother responding to the petty and childish comments his housemates roared across the table. Their poor criticisms and lustful observations were meaningless as none of them understood what exactly had happened.

The students all thought the show was just that, a show to impress everyone else in the hall. It was to impress, however not under the same intentions as the students believed. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were showcasing their might in raw power and control. No one was on the delegation without a good reason. It was a fool’s bet to think they hadn’t practiced and that any unable to perform were cut from the selection pool.

At the same time the display was a challenge and a threat.

They were challenging Hogwarts and each other to rise up and meet them. It was a proclamation of a threat to beat their sister schools.

Hogwarts had no idea.

At least, most of the students and perhaps some of the professors were clueless.

Harry couldn’t give a damn. It was nothing more than a way to evaluate the nine Wolsrens present in the school. So long as nothing ruined his courting or his body, he was happy to look the other way.

By now, most of the students in the Great Hall were craning their necks around to see who was still eating. Not even guilty, Harry set his spoon down with a small clatter. As the ringing silver disappeared along with the rest of the dishes and platters, Dumbledore stood and beckoned at the closed doors with one hand.

Said doors creaked open to reveal a cleaned up Filch and his mangy cat. The grouchy old man was struggling to bring the cup and it’s pedestal up to the staff table.

Face red with exertion, Filch beamed at finally getting the Goblet of Fire to Dumbledore. A loud thunk vibrated through the hall when he set the ostentatious thing down. Everyone quieted. As soon as the keeper of the castle stepped away, the once cheery red flames turned blue and spat wildly.

“The Goblet is choosing,” Hermione whispered unnecessarily, fidgeting in her seat.

Her words echoed in the hall causing many to glare at the young girl before quickly turning their gazes back. The flames were violently licking at the empty air. Suddenly they burst up and out with a white flash only to settle back down into their cheery red state. In the wake of the flames was a single smoking piece of parchment. Powder blue in color, all of the French leaned in closer towards Dumbledore.

Calmly the ancient wizard plucked the still heavily smoking scrap from the air. Bringing it to his nose, he broke into a wide grin.

“Beauxbatons has it’s champion,” he boomed across the hall. “The lovely Fleur Delacour!”

The only ones to not react beyond polite applause were the Hogwarts girls, Harry, and Durmstrang.

Before anything else could be said, the Goblet’s flames were blue again. The second parchment shot out not long after the frantic fire changed colors.

Once again caught by Dumbledore but indistinguishable between the two remaining schools thanks to it’s standard cream coloring, the singed parchment caused Dumbledore’s smile to widen.

“For Hogwarts,” the school tensed, “we may congratulate our own Cedric Diggory!”

Cheers erupted as the Hufflepuffs surrounding the champion stood to hug him. The rest of the school cheered and the unrestrained floundered wildly to look at the second champion. As with the previous revelation, Harry applauded the choice daintily. Only the Slytherins remained calm in the face of their champion, the rest of the school having gone wild.

It didn’t take long for the visitors to display their distain towards their immature host.

The denizens of Hogwarts barely took hold of themselves once the Goblet changed colors for the third and last time to reveal the final champion.

Durmstrang’s parchment was the only one to remain relatively unharmed. Barely even a wisp of smoke curled from the cream paper. It was also the only one not to elicit a smile from the oldest headmaster.

“Durmstrang will cheer on Viktor Krum,” he said without enthusiasm.

A smattering of clapping came only from the Slytherins and their table guests, the Bulgarian students. The French joined in only for a few moments before they too descended into the murmuring that raced through the hall. At least Hogwarts was bright enough to notice Krum’s barely touched paper.

They busy hall soon roared with speculations and bets. Cameras flashed from every inch of the walls as the adults exchanged empty pleasantries and commendations for the three chosen students.

Just as Filch and his cat approached the now calm magical object, it surprised everyone by changing color again. A green parchment, and eerily familiar shade, launched itself from the depths of the cup unharmed. Without a tendril of smoke or a single mark upon it, the paper floated in front of the shocked headmaster.

Dumbledore didn’t even bother to take from the air as he read the name in a stunned voice.

“Harry Potter.”

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. From now on, and for a long while, the chapters will be short as I won’t have time for anything else.

On a side note, Marius and his pack are literally a side note. I am using them as a way to introduce Wolsren things through Harry. They shouldn’t need more explaining. All that you really need to know is that they were a complete pack with a male submissive, and the only pack still residing in Britain. Marius and Harry had a short relationship as Marius died. The two met through Remus during Harry’s Winter Hols and kept up correspondence through owls. Harry and Marius met several times in secret. The whole pack taught Harry various things about his inheritance. Unfortunately, in order to avoid suspicions, Harry & Co did not attend the pack’s funeral.

Don’t forget, soon the story will be different on FFN than the one found on AFFN so that I don’t face any TOS troubles.

As always, I am on facebook under Anicia Red. I usually put word counts and other story updates on there. At the very least it helps to keep me motivated.

Later,

Red
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Mediocrity