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Dark Knight	By : xDAISUKIx Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 53701 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 15
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
Thank you to all the people that reviewed and all the people who are reading this chapter right now, even though I've been absent for such a long time. I had a great three weeks on holiday and hope you had a great time as well, even if all you did was stalk all the fanfiction websites, hoping for a juicy story :P

I also decided a bit of a change in writing style just for the first part of this story, it's nothing big, and not perfect. Just a little something I did to test my writing capabilities. I was alarmed to find that afterwards, when I switched back to my 'normal' tense and perspective, I found it much harder to censor my writing and had to go over the paragraphs repeatedly for a change in tense.

XTakesheX: Hrm, all will be answered in this chapter :P

Tobiismygoodboy: Good question, I will answer it to the best of my abilities without giving too much away…

First, you must remember, inside this story, it has only been two weeks since Harry came to Hogwarts (Yes, I know) I plan for this to be a pretty long story. But it won’t drag, I promise…

You can assume that Draco, Severus and Sebastian are reluctant to become a mate of Harry’s for obvious reasons… (Rival, Teacher, Teacher) Of course, there are other reasons, but they will be revealed along with the story. Nathaniel is a ‘?’ piece, for you guys much about him is unknown and will remain so until I feel like it. Ryr is…Ryr. He’s urm…shit, revealing wayyyy to much here, :P. Colin and Dennis would indeed be the first to ‘jump’ on Harry, but for fear of the unknown, they are not. Of course, they could also be plotting something along the sidelines or waiting for the chance to jump on Harry.

It is up to the people who read the reply to Tobi’s review, to interpret it however they like, and you must accept that all I have written may/may not be completely true.

Read on. *grins wickedly*

wednesdayfaye: I really, really, want to watch the Hobbit, but I’ve only just come back and school starts ridiculously soon. I’m going for a one and a half week holiday to the place they shot part of the Hobbit during April. New Zealand!!!

unneeded: I update regularly? *laughs* I’m two days late, this time…

Most are born with families… so…you can assume most families that are capable of having Scáth inheritances would be half/full-blood and therefore would know how to deal with their children.

Damnit, though, it was pretty easy to guess, wasn’t it?

KaylusCHU: Ohnoes!!! I’m back, this chapters not so juicy…but the next one is!!! *wink wink

jujukitty: Yeah, something along the line of ‘powerful’… I had a great time in China XD

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Main Story Idea and betaed by the patient: SuirenAngel

Written by the slightly crazy: NeuroticNeko

This contains no Dumbledore bashing (and he’s still alive), no Weasley bashing. This is boyxboy.

ALL OF HARRY’S MATES ARE MALE

If you don‘t know what that means then you shouldn’t be here..

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Imagine a castle, a really big castle. It’s a fairytale castle- with battlements and arched mosaic windows that stretch from floor to floor.

You stand there silently, as the light breeze rustles through the light green blades and small white flowers dot the hills around you.

Nothing but green meadows surround where you are and maybe you spy a forest of trees, but that is all far, far away.

You clutch your hat closer to your head as a strong wind blows and refocus on the castle.

It is really beautiful.

Silently, you walk towards it. Without knocking, you open the door. The place smells of old furniture and clean lilac. Carefully stepping through, you notice that it’s rather quiet in there, nothing so much as moves and maybe you can hear the soft clang of china.

Leaving the door open, you step into the hallway. The door snaps shut and you freeze, a cold sweat building up.

If you didn’t believe in it, you would have said that it was magic.

You can’t go back now.

You keep walking, letting your feet take you where they may go. You pass through countless more hallways- some shrouded with darkness and some with clear glass roofs that allow bright sunlight in to chase away the shadows.

You keep walking and somehow you stumble upon a large double door. You pause and listen, but you hear nothing. Cautiously, you press a hand to the impressively carved door and hold your breath as the door opens.

You almost shrink away, but then you press an eye into the crack and you the people in there haven’t seen or heard you.

Or they are acting...

Feeling a bit more daring, you push a little on the door to get clearer view. For a moment, you see nothing, only rows upon rows of chairs and a large circular space amid the chairs and pedestals- but then your eyes rove upwards and then there is a man, sitting with his hands gripping the polished wood of his mahogany throne.

Beside him, and kneeling down, is a slim man with dark curls- and he’s talking quietly, but rapidly. Quiet enough for you to not hear a word.

You watch as the man with graying temples frowns and sighs loudly, loud enough to be hear yards away.

Suddenly, the dark haired man’s gaze seems to pinpoint you and you flinch backwards. You turn around and hurry past the double doors, hoping that he won’t start chasing after you.

Quickly, your feet thud on the richly colored carpets and the paintings around you turn into a blur. Panting, you realize that you are lost. Frightened of the unknown, you look uncertainly back at the way you came from.

Perhaps?

A cacophony of shrill shrieks and roars suddenly resound through the castle. The sounds rip into your ears and the shrieks ricochet around your skull.

A cold hand wraps around your ankle and you scream, horror filling your every pore. Then there are cold and shadowy appendages clamping over your lips and you are unable to do anything as darkness steals over you like a velvet glove. It gently covers you, your eyes, your mouth, your ears, and your nose.

Frustrated and annoyed, you shake your head.

You haven’t had one of these crazy hallucinations in a while and had seriously thought that you had been recovering.

Sighing, you sit down on a large stone- barely a speck within the old castle ruins.

As soon as the other dominant’s claws reached him, Harry flung his body forwards and knocked the other one off balance.

The dominant screeched loudly before Harry raked his claws down the other’s chest, watching as spurts of bright red spilled out from the wounds. The other tried to get up but Harry wrapped his tail around its waist and the dominant yowled before going limp.

Harry bared his teeth in victory but then two other dominants were upon him, pressing him flat onto the ground under their combined weight. They tore at his flesh and restrained his arms and legs with their tails.

They ran their claws over the soft flesh near his neck, dug their nails into the tissue of his arms and clamped their teeth onto his collarbones.

Pain, bright and searing ripped through Harry’s flesh, his mind blurred with the pain of the razor sharp claws that were digging into his flesh and Harry yowled, in pain.

Desperate, Harry whacked one of them, with his tail and the one he had hit growled at the other, evidently thinking that it had been its partner that had whacked him.

Harry didn’t understand what was happening…but at least he would struggle till he gasped his last breath.

The Boy-Who-Lived was not going down without a fight.

Now that their attention was away from the Savior, Harry watched as one quickly took out the other with a swift kick to the head. Then, even as the other was cleaning out the blood underneath the nails, Harry leapt, taking it out easily as it was exhausted and bloody.

Quickly disposed of, Harry scanned the raucous room and ducked he narrowly missed the body of a Scáth chucked his way.

Harry narrowed his eyes. He had spied a Scáth who had itself into a corner, obviously waiting out the fight. Harry howled his way toward it and was rewarded with a shocked expression before Harry slashed and took him out.

The Boy-Who-Lived paused a moment and caught his breath, leaning against the corner of the chamber.

There were so many. There was no way that he was going to be able to take them all out.

Harry swished his shaggy head from side to side (woof!).

Using the corner as a stake out seemed like a pretty good idea. It was protected from behind and partially blocked attacks from the side as well.

He wasn’t going to relinquish this advantageous position any time soon.

Harry would let them come to him.

And come to him they did.

Harry fought with tooth and nail, with tail and limb, until finally, the crimson around him finally started to fade and the wails began to cease. The exhausted Scáth slumped against the wall exhausted. Shaking, Harry inspected his body.

Small teeth wounds dotted his neck, shallow enough to not penetrate the arteries but deep enough to bleed. His torso had numerous bruises where the opponents had grabbed him too tightly and large gashes where they had gored him with their knife-sharp claws. They were still dripping in blood, Harry noted in bitter fascination.

Then he scoffed but choked when he coughed up blood and spittle.

His venom had been stronger, Harry thought wryly as he wiped the corner of his mouth. The venom from the claws of these dominants weren’t strong enough to keep his wounds open forever; some of the gashes were already clotting up.

Harry smirked as a group of battered dominants slunk his way and growled warningly at him.

He probably had only one more fight in him.

Suddenly, one of them squealed and a golden blur descended on them. The stranger leapt lithely onto their backs and swung its arms at their backs.

For a while, Harry could only see blood and bone; could only hear screams of pain and anguish.

The smart bugger had probably waited this long just to take out the remaining, high-leveled dregs.

Harry bared his teeth and felt as answering rush from within his blood, filling him, pushing him up and numbing the pain.

The few remaining stragglers shrank back, eyeing the golden one warily and snapping their jaws. The golden one snarled back, as if in answer and strut forward, flipping its tail arrogantly.

A brawny Scáth lashed out its tail and growled back at the golden haired Scáth and roared in a show of power. The golden one grinned toothily and snapped its jaws.

Seconds later, the assistants were erecting their shield over its prone form.

The one with the golden mane flicked its tail lazily as Dha and Amhain walked back to their station, with another bleeding body to add to their collection.

The gold Scáth flicked its tail out tauntingly and quickly jabbed its claws into the next opponent.

Harry shook his head slightly to dislodge the noise filling up his brain and assessed his situation.

His leg felt stiff, his fur was sticky with his own blood. He had at least one broken rib and several deep gashes that were quickly draining away the blood from his body. One eye was drooping slightly because of a heavy fist from one of the other dominants he had been fighting and the only reason he could stand up was that the gold-colored Scáth had taken all the attention away from him.

But even Harry couldn’t stop the low rumble that vibrated past his lips when the golden one looked at him and seemed to deem him below his notice.

Harry could feel the faint desperation bubbling from within him now- the emotion that had been shining out of every single one of those he had defeated.

Harry wrapped his tail around himself and let the silver tuft rest assuringly on his cheek. Wincing in pain, he dissolved into the shadows in the corners of the room, waiting for the other Scáth to take out the competition.

With precise and deadly movements, the foes in the room fell and quickly and the remaining Scáth flicked its blonde curtain over its shoulder with bloody fingers, leaving smears of red on the otherwise flawless gold.

Quickly, it sauntered up to the two assistants, obviously expecting something. Amhain shook his head quickly, bangs swishing around his face. Muttering quietly he pointed to the corner of the room, where Harry was standing, clutching his gaping wounds- trying to get them to clot faster.

The golden one growled and shot an accusatory look towards Harry’s direction.

Harry ran his ivory tongue over his lips, tasting blood. Without wincing, Harry moved his aching legs and his tail whipped around, writhing in the air like a wary snake.

The golden one stopped in front of him, tail still and unmoving, face betraying no emotions.

Harry furtively scanned the area around him, looking for an advantage. There was nothing, nothing he can use, only open space and the few shimmering blue auras that indicated the spells that had been cast to measure each ‘Scáthling’.

There are the measuring tools, and the pointy things that he had been poked and prodded with.

Without a second glance, Harry took off, heart thudding in his ears as his feet flew across the room. He could hear the other, not far behind him, chasing him down.

Like an eagle, Harry swiped a pair of scissors, tweezers and a glass case which held a fine red hair off of the table. Barely pausing, Harry looked behind him.

The golden Scáth was only a couple of meters behind Harry, but that was enough. The Savior broke the glass tube with his newfound strength and with the same amount of force, chucked both halves of the glass at the pursuing Scáth.

The first one was dodged quickly with fast feet, but the second one came too quickly and it grazed the skin on its shoulder.

Harry paused to grab another glass case and in those precious moments, the other Scáth caught up by another few centimeters; which was probably why it wasn’t chucking random projectiles at Harry as well.

Like before, Harry broke the glass and both pieces hurtled towards the pursuer, but unlike before, the Scáth emerged completely unharmed, a smirk plastered over its features.

Without warning, Harry threw the scissors and tweezers and is rewarded with a dull moan. Sparing a glance behind him, he saw that the scissors had lodged themselves into the flesh right above the collar bone; the tweezers had similarly embedded themselves into the soft flesh of the Scáth’s hand.

Harry had almost reached the end of the room now, and he was panicking. If he turned around to run the circumference of the room, the golden Scáth would catch him easily, there was no ammunition this close to the end of the room, and Harry had already milked the other stations of glass cases and tweezers, and scissors.

Harry was tired.

He had only managed to harm the other Scáth twice more with scissors and glass before the other one had grown wiser.

-and he had nowhere else to run.

Harry was gasping when he touched the wall, everything ached, and everything burned. If anything, his gaping wounds were getting worse. The cuts only getting more agitated as Harry pumped his legs, gasped for breath.

Harry twisted all his straining muscles and turned. He bared his claws and the golden Scáth stopped in its pursuit of Harry, grinning, knowing that the silver-mane Scáth before it had nowhere to run.

Harry snarled at the other, hair flying wildly as spittle escaped from his teeth.

The golden haired Scáth did not growl though, even as Harry yowled like a cat whose tail had been driven over by a ten ton train. The other Scáth advanced slowly, tail wavering in the air and placing its feet carefully upon the marble flooring.

Harry shivered and battled his tumultuous desire to flee. This would only result in getting his head ripped off. He wrapped his tail around himself, its furry tip brushing the side of his face assuringly.

Although with the way that the assistants were, he'd probably not die.

Just feel excruciating pains for…a while.

The Scáth in front of the Boy-Who-Lived seemed to study him for a minute, its golden orbs flickering down to his chest. The golden pupils sharpened. Prowling again, the Scáth growled menacingly before roaring.

A beast made of shadows- unlike anything he'd ever seen before, leapt from beneath the ground and it hissed, its shadowy limbs flowing in indistinct shapes around its torso.

Its writhing black coils grabbed The Savior around the neck and he choked, wheezing as the air was squeezed out of his lungs.

The golden one watched in silence, waiting for the moment the fight would end.

Harry feels his limbs grow heavier- the blood seeping out of his wounds, the air seeping out of his lungs… the magic seeping out of his every pore.

The shadow beast- for there is no other word- gnashes its teeth before finally, finally… Harry can't feel, can't think and can't move.

~

Harry woke up feeling strangely stiff. If he had been feeling more alert, he would have said out loud to himself:

"How many times have I woken in the infirmary now?"

Except this time, Harry was not by himself.

Groaning, The Boy-Who-Lived pushed himself up using his arms and wind milled his tail to get rid of any cricks that may have appeared because of lying on the hard ground.

Around him, was every single Scáth that he had defeated and had been defeated by others.

Groaning like him, they all began to sit up and scratch their backs. Sharp eyes swept nervously over each other; their every feature betraying their emotions.

Twitching tails, stiff shoulders, shaking hands, flickering eyes; Harry brushed his gaze over the entire room, hiding himself behind the silver strands of his hair.

Suddenly, the golden one entered along with the two assistants and all the young Scáth in the room froze. Everything went still.

Harry bared his fangs and his lower chest rumbled quietly. No one noticed.

The golden-maned Scáth twisted his lips to the side, smiling.

Several of the Scáth in the room recoiled and shrank back, snarling under their breaths. Some sat silently and watched the golden one with unblinking eyes.

Harry narrowed his gaze and focused his being on the smirking, pompous Scáth in front of them, his tail swished silently on the ground and the Saviour dug his claws into the soft wood of the infirmary floor (There weren't enough beds. Although you would assume that after years and years of training injury, someone, would be smart enough to expand the infirmary)

The assistants coughed politely and the golden one stepped back, just before locking eyes with Harry. The Saviour felt something akin to his hackles rise and he glared back, still chafing at the recent loss.

Amhain delicately brushed his bangs back and stared at the back wall.

"Young Master Lewis William Northwode, second in line to the throne, tamer of the Shadow Beast, Nifilim, now officially outranks all of you in this room. Harry James Potter-Black has risen to the rank of Second-in-Command"

Amhain stepped back and Dha, whose dark gaze was unwavering, briskly broke everyone into groups, snarling when a few refused to move.

At last there were a few clusters of people ranging in size and density- and Harry, standing all by himself. On his right, there were two other Scáth. They gazed calmly back at him and the ones in the group furthest from him twitched nervously, one of them caught his eye

Second-in-Command?

The proverbial light bulb went off inside Harry's head and as his gaze travelled over the face, he recognised the first Scáth he had taken out.

Beaten

The Scáth that had looked up at him with pleading desperate eyes- the one that had kept getting back up no matter how many times Harry slammed him into the ground.

The other Scáth caught him looking and growled quietly while its tail flickered nervously back and forth.

A whirlwind of possibilities flashed through his mind and Harry gasped, his legs felt like they'd fall out from beneath him. But he didn't fall.

What had he done?

The Saviour’s silver hair bristled, the short hairs on the nape of his neck became stiff.

…That had been…a fucking RANKING contest.

Feeling sick to his stomach, Harry turned his head to avoid the gazes of those in the last group.

If he had known what the fight was for… he wouldn't have tried so hard.

Dha and Amhain walked towards Northwode Jr. The golden Scáth swished its tail before stilling. Black melted into pink skin and hair receded into the scalp, nails withdrew themselves into flesh and with some charm, all clothes reappeared. Faintly, Harry could remember Northwode Jr. as one of the young men sitting next to the throne. Quietly, the young man knelt and Amhain passed a hand over the king-ling’s collarbone. A brief glow surrounded the two and Dha withdrew his notepad and jotted something down.

Then, the two assistants stepped back respectfully. Northwode Jr. nodded his head and stood up. The king-ling basked in the moment and then turned his head to face Harry.

He smirked, white teeth flashing in the light.

The silver-haired Scáth took a moment to study the other.

Dressed in resplendent ceremonial robes, the other was of average height for a Scáth, but still just a little bit shorter than Harry himself. The contours of the face were familiar to those of the King, but his hair was a brilliant gold, and fell upon his face and neck in waves and ringlets. The eyes were just as sharp as his father's and were a faded forget-me-not flower pigment.

A lightning strike of pain later, his legs really did fall from beneath him and his sight blurred until the only clear thing in the room was the king-ling. Whose cloudy blue eyes were staring at him; compelling him, with a soft smile twisting the lips.

"My first and strongest vassal" the man whispered, eyes never leaving Harry's pained gaze.

"Harry"

Suddenly, his smile failed as his gaze dropped to the Saviour’s chest, where Harry's silver hair hid most from the king-ling's sight and pooled to the ground where he was kneeling.

Northwode Jr. shot a look at both assistants before he carefully stepped forward and lay a warm palm on Harry collarbone. Softly, he brushed aside Harry's hair.

"Ah" he whispered, eyes narrowing, eyebrows lifting.

Without so much as a sound, he stepped back again, golden hair swishing as both assistants knelt to Harry's level. The assistant lifted his velvet clad arm and did not look at Harry as he passed a cold hand over his collarbone.

Harry felt the heavy pressure ease slightly and was able to stand up by gritting his teeth, but just barely. Both lids slightly closed, he shot a glare towards the king-ling.

I'm not your bitch, he thought.

Northwode Jr.'s face only seemed to grow more gleeful and yet worried at the same time.

Harry shrank back to his previous place and watched as all the rest of the Scáth went forward and knelt down in front of the two assistants, fingering the small mark on his own collarbone.

Soon after, when all had been cowed into submissiveness, the General's vassal, Cecil Leradin came to collect his two assistants. With a dismissive gesture, he swept all out of the room.

UPDATED TO THE BETA-ED VERSION!!

NEXT CHAPTER: HARRY RETURNS TO HOGWARTS AND DRACO...?
- 14
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Dark Knight