Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 2
- 3
- 4
Main Story Idea and betaed by: SuirenAngel
Written by: NeuroticNeko
This contains no Dumbledore bashing (and he's still alive), no Weasley bashing. This is boyxboy- and HAREM.
WARNING: Harry is the DOM in this fic
If you don't know what that means then you shouldn't be here.
Edited 27/10/2017
Harry had a headache.
He had a very, very bad headache.
The-Boy-Who-Lived felt like a million centaurs and trodden over him and his mouth tasted like a cat had pissed in it and his tongue felt like a shriveled fig. When he tried to open his eyes, he felt like they had been sealed shut with hard cement and had to struggle through what felt like someone was trying to wax his eyelashes off before he cracked them open.
Everything looked normal, or, at least the ceiling did. Harry stretched out his arms and winced when the muscles twinged in pain.
Something wasn't right. The sense of wrongness worsened when Harry tried to sit up. Forcing his panic down, he took a long look around the room.
For the life of him, he couldn't figure out what was wrong. Harry swallowed, mildly despairing of ever recovering from the paranoia that had almost become instinct to him following the end of the war. Just as he was finishing his careful inspection of his bedroom, his eyes landed upon his glasses - which were perched upon his bedside table - and performed a spectacular double take. He passed a hand over his face - no spectacles.
What?
Out of sheer habit, Harry reached over and put them on. The room blurred and his brain immediately complained in the form of a headache.
What the fuck is happening?
Harry jolted out of bed like a newborn colt and stumbled around his room, trying to get a bearing on himself. He looked down and saw his feet.
They were too far away.
His feet were too fucking far away.
Harry was going crazy. It had finally happened. He had finally gone around the bloody bend.
He started to groan in distress - but the gruff sound shocked him into silence.
There was something terribly wrong.
Harry stumbled into the bathroom and saw a stranger staring back him with their mouth wide open.
Their eyes, his eyes; they were greener, brighter than they were before and - he leaned forward. Gold, the glint of gold he had been noticing lately. A ring of gold surrounded his cornea.
A hint of black peeking out of the collar of his shirt abruptly caught his attention. He pulled it off and gasped. The dots were no longer dots. Instead, intricate runic symbols ran from one arm to another. He turned around. The symbols continued on his back, linking shoulder to shoulder and forming a chain around his torso.
Harry watched as (what could only be his own reflection paled.
Who was he? What was he turning into?
Kreacher felt the sudden drop in magic concentration in the upstairs bedroom.
With a sigh of relief, Kreacher Apparated to where Harry had fallen down; he had sorely missed the ability to use magic around the house during Harry's inheritance. The house elf levitated Harry onto his bed and patiently waited for his Master's 'friends' to arrive.
Several months later - one week before the new Hogwarts term.
"Why is it so bloody hot today," grumbled Ron, who was sitting on a stool inside Madam Malkin's.
It was decidedly hot and sunny today. Ron didn't fancy the idea of staying inside a stuffy clothing shop and being baked to death. Wizards weren't big on air conditioning and couldn't be bothered to cast cooling charms on their shops.
Harry was smiling awkwardly at Madam Malkin, who tittered excitedly over his new physique as she measured him.
Damn it, Ron thought in slight jealousy.
Harry pulled at his robes, feeling decidedly uncomfortable. Madam Malkin's magically directed measuring tapes were hugging him in an obscenely tight manner and the pig-tailed girl in the other fitting-stool kept licking her lips salaciously. The girl smiled - and revealed row upon row of pointed teeth.
The hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood up and almost uprooted themselves.
Harry's Scáth recoiled in disgust as a strand of mottled orange magic wafted past.
No, a definite no.
Hermione coughed and cast a warning look at the girl.
"Harry, we still need dress robes for you. I'm thinking of getting some for Ronald too. His robe is just- ugh- unacceptable and they also don't fit him anymore."
Harry grinned and sat down as Madam Malkin went to find some appropriate fabrics. A draft from the bottom of the door swirled around Harry, bringing in a eclectic mix of smells and scents from Diagon Alley.
An electric current ran up his spine. Harry stiffened, body vibrating and on high alert. His heart starting pounding so hard he thought it would break his ribs. The sound of his blood rushing along his veins nearly drowned out all else. Harry breathed deeply, trying to find the smell that had wrecked him so thoroughly.
The fragrance blew away with the next draft and Harry was left sitting there; eyes dilated, teeth bared and heart still beating wildly. He turned to the street beyond the store windows - magical folk swirled about the street, indistinguishable from each other in the midday crowds.
If he had been listening, he would have heard the soft, despairing whine that escaped his throat without his notice.
At that moment, Madam Malkin returned with two robes.
"For you- and you," she handed them to Harry and Ron. Harry ripped his eyes from the window and focused on the fabric in her hands.
After an hour of trying on dress robes, both guys decided on their purchase and headed for Flourish and Blotts. Pushing the door open with a tinkle, they were hit with the unique and unmistakable scent of newly printed books. Immediately reinvigorated, Hermione pulled out a list and they went searching for seventh year textbooks and materials.
After paying for their books, Harry was dismayed to find that he only had a galleon left on his person.
"Guys!"
"I need to go to Gringotts. I only have a Galleon on me."
"I'll go find you two at Ollivander's in an hour, then," Hermione said in lieu of farewell.
Ron's wand had broken during the battle at Hogwarts, for months now he had been using an old wand that he had found in The Burrow's attic. As for Harry, his repaired phoenix feather and holly wand had simply become silent to him. After botching a lumos badly, he'd realized it would probably never work for him again as his magical signature had changed too much. It was a deeply depressing discovery. This wand had followed him since he was eleven and first discovered magic, after all.
By the time he arrived outside the lopsided walls of Gringotts, Harry was nervous and sweaty-palmed. It seemed as if every person on the street was staring him. Snippets of conversation floated into his ear.
"It's him!…Potter. Look at the scar"
"…hot…who?"
"..this?... handsome and… You-Know-Who"
"Ooh! Look… scar! Can't…"
"...can't be natural..."
The probing strands of magic that unconsciously reached towards him were started to alarm Harry. At high speed, Harry walked into Gringott's marbled space and past the aisles of busy goblin clerks. When he reached the front counter, he politely coughed.
An old goblin with an owl-feather quill sat there. His hair was shoulder length and could only be described as tendrils of mist, which, hung from the sides of his head.
It was the same goblin that Harry head met all those years ago.
The goblin glanced at Harry for a moment and returned to his calculations. Uneasy silence drifted on. With a put-upon sigh, the wizened goblin rubbed his eyes tiredly and put down a pair of half-moon glasses.
"I suppose I cannot call on Griphook anymore. What… is it that you want, Harry Potter?" the Head Goblin's voiced drawled, lingering on his name.
Harry started.
Remembering his manners in time, he replied.
"May your vaults ever flow with gold - Honorable sir, I am here to ask a withdrawal of 100 galleons from my vault."
The goblin looked down at his pile of papers and shifted through them.
"You have your key, I suppose?"
"Yes, sir" Harry confirmed.
Shuffling some more, the goblin looked down on his nose at Harry and looked back at his papers. Gesturing to his new apprentice, he gave a short and to the point order.
A few moments later, his apprentice, a rather sharp nosed goblin, strode back with four aged parchments.
"Thank you, Igneous. You may return to your duties."
Without a word, he descended from his very tall chair and his assistant assumed his post.
"Harry Potter... come with me"
Harry obediently followed, despite being goblins taller than the Head Goblin. They hurried through many musty tunnels before they arrived at Harry's vault.
"Sir, I thank you for accompanying me to visit my vault, but I wonder if it is necessary for a simple withdrawal of a hundred Galleons," Harry said, as politely as possible.
The goblin held up the parchments. "I have more to discuss with you"
The hook-nosed goblin came to a stop outside of Harry's vault.
"What's in those parchments?"
The goblin ignored him, as goblins tend to do, and started talking at his own leisurely pace.
"During last year's - madness - I was unable to inform you of the - changes. Indeed, last year when you came for Hufflepuff's Cup and Gryffindor's sword, I was unable to contact you due to… circumstances. Unfortunately, my assistant did not have the papers that were required, so I was forced to wait until the next time you visited Gringotts.
However, I was not expecting it to take a year, Mr Potter, what have you been doing all these months? There are matters that cannot be left so late!"
Harry was intrigued; the Head Goblin had personally taken charge of Harry's situation. What that situation was, he was not exactly sure, but he listened on.
"Now, we've got quite a few things to discuss, so withdraw your galleons." Harry did so.
"Please, follow me." The goblin started walking briskly towards a seemingly innocent hole in the wall.
A few minutes later, they arrived into a large hall where many old goblins were sitting in high chairs, sipping their tea, while their younger assistances or apprentices scurried beneath them, hurrying to catch a falling paper or dashing for another pot of ink.
Harry looked around in awe. The place was huge and the deep-earth smell of the room was almost as intriguing as the age old halls of Hogwarts. As the Head Goblin walked into the room, however, the scuffling settled and the goblins on the higher seats gestured towards their underlings to behave and keep still. Almost as one, their eyes turned to the pair.
Harry broke into a cold sweat, if there was anything that Harry was still afraid of, it would be the stares, the stares of the people who regarded him as a freak and hero alike.
They soon arrived in what seemed to be the Head Goblin's private office. It was starkly furnished, with a few stands for precious looking items. Probably all goblin crafted.
The old goblin sat down and seemed to collect himself. Shoving a few papers into a pile, he spoke.
"I don't believe I've introduced myself yet. How ungracious of me. Greetings, Harry Potter, I am the Head Goblin of Gringotts, Tungstern Goldhand. Mr. Potter, here are your papers"
Harry looked down at the parchments, unable to glean meaning from them.
"They are proof of your inheritance."
Harry's head snapped forwards, "Inheritance, you mean-" He gestured helplessly at himself.
The goblin nodded slowly.
"Yes, but not only that. You have also inherited the Potter vaults and as your godfather's will proclaims, the vaults of the Noble House of Black."
Harry nodded, he had assumed as much. He gazed blankly at the papers - it was just more money to him. The Noble House of Black - Harry felt sick, this money wouldn't have been his to have if Sirius hadn't -
He probably would never use it anyway.
Tungstern's eyes were lasers as the probed Harry's face. Seeing the blankness there, he put his sheaf of papers down.
"I'm afraid you don't understand, Mr. Potter. You are not only inheriting the vaults. Bloodlines do not just give their vaults to whomever; them giving their vaults to you mean that you are now their Lord of House.
And for two Noble Houses, no less - this means double the responsibility. You will have to take care of not only the debts of the Potter's but the Black's as well, the people of both lines and the property of both, which may include businesses and property, etcetera."
Harry slumped into his very hard chair, feeling overwhelmed. Just seven years ago, all he had to his name was an assorted jumble of Dudley's hand me downs and several banged up toy soldiers.
"So I now have to take care of the affairs of both lines?"
"That's right; no Lord must shirk or take his role lightly"
The Head Goblin fixed his eyes onto the still form of the Lord of both Potter and Black.
"I understand that this is a lot to take in, however, this is not the end."
Harry just sighed tiredly and rubbed the hair from his eyes. The Scáth within him made him want to growl in frustration.
"Go on" He gestured, drawing himself up.
"Being the Lord of a bloodline that you are not directly descended from requires some… procedures. I will not try to gold-coat this, Mr. Potter, what you are required to do is take a potion of a slightly dark persuasion."
Harry sat up. "Why? What does it do?"
"Being the heir of a bloodline requires you to have children, of course. The fundamental job of a lord is to continue and strengthen the existence of that bloodline. This potion will strengthen your Black blood, enabling you to pass on the genes of that Noble House.
It is an ancient procedure and will change you, your blood and maybe even your magic so that your blood will carry the Black gene. It is Ministry approved but not for distribution, it was made strictly for situations where the heir is not blood related and only us goblins have full knowledge of its brewing process.
I will not push you to undertake this process, but realize that if you choose to reject us, we will have no choice but to pass the title of Lord of Black to Lord Malfoy."
"When must I come back?"
"Two weeks after Hogwarts starts. It will be ready by then."
Harry nodded and took the proferred parchments. Looking through them, he was amazed to find that both families owned so many properties.
"Wait…what's this?"
The goblin, who had gotten of his chair, looked at the paper in Harry's hands.
"Oh, that is the vault for any person in the Noble House of Black who inherited the Scáth gene. I'm sure you will find many things in there."
Harry looked, wide-eyed at the parchment.
Finally! Some answers!
"Thank you, Tungstern."
He bowed formally and left the room.
When Harry finally arrived at Ollivander's his friends were very, very cross.
"Harry! How could you make us wait this long!?"
"So…hot", Ron whined.
"What kept you so long?" Hermione asked.
"Nothing much," Harry murmured, feeling it would be odd to reveal that he was suddenly the Lord of the Noble Houses Potter and Black.
Ollivander squinted at the arrivals, "Oh, Hullo Harry. It's nice to see you again"
Harry grinned, "Hello"
"Holly, Phoenix tail feather, 12 inches, very supple" Ollivander clapped his hands together, "Your wand was most eager for me to coax it out of its birth-wood once it's brother emerged."
The wand-maker turned to Ron.
"Ah! Vine wood, Dragon heartstring, 10 ¾ inches and this young fellow here, Ronald Weasley, If i'm not wrong?"
Ron looked down at his randomly-found-wand and sighed.
"That's me. My wand was broken during the war, and I need a better replacement than this crappy wand."
The old man tsked him, gently prying the wand from Ron's fingers and patting it.
"Wands are very sensitive you know - there, there, yes, you were very generous to let young Ronald borrow your powers for so long."
Before long, Ron was sighing in contentment. The old wand that he had found in the attic never did what Ron wanted it to do, worst of all, it seemed to consume more magic that it could perform.
Harry was happy for his friend. The shopkeeper was about to walk back to the counter when Harry touched him on the arm.
"Um… sorry, I need a new wand too"
The wandmaker's eyes sharpened as he looked properly at Harry for the first time.
"I see..."
Wandmaker's were, and had to be, people with exceptional perception for magic and extremely attentive to detail. With one look the Ollivander knew that Harry undergone an irreversible change. Humming to himself he brought over four boxes. Placing them down in a row, he gestured to Harry.
"Place your palm over each box and choose one."
Harry wanted to ask why. They hadn't down this before.
"What is it supposed to mean?" he asked Ollivander after giving him a full description of what each had felt like.
The old man gestured at the boxes.
"They are the only wands in this place that will suit your needs, the second one seems the most likely but is not reacting the way it should. Are you, perhaps, going to experience another change soon?"
Harry thought about the blood magic potion.
"Yes?"
Hermione looked at Harry sharply.
"Then that one will probably be yours after it. Wands have a knack for predicting things"
Harry nodded. It made sense.
"Now… 50 galleons for that wand Mr. Potter'
Harry's eyes grew as round as saucers.
"Hawthorn, Scáth hair and scales, 13 inches. Let me tell you, Scáth is very hard to come by."
Seeing Harry's face, he added hastily.
"The Scáth gave it to me of his own accord."
"What's in the other wands?"
"Scáth as well, they probably didn't suit you because of the potent magic's of the individual Scáth"
Eyes still wide with disbelief he slowly sunk his hand into his purse.
"Accio fifty Galleons" he grumbled, discontent.
Please R&R!
... NO, not read and run, READ AND REVIEW!
:P
over and out - NeuroticNeko
NEXT CHAPTER: OFF TO HOGWARTS
- 2
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- 4
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Dark Knight