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Nature\'s Nobility	By : Bespoke Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 17483 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I financially profit from this work

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Disclaimer: I do not and have not at any time owned the rights to Harry Potter or any associated property. I have not and will not accept any compensation for this work of fiction.

Author’s Note: I made this story as I’ve always wanted to write an unrepentantly evil character, and because I miss all the old stories that used to float around with that premise exactly.

This is a dark story, fair warning.

Nature’s Nobility

Prologue: The Legacy of Tom Riddle

            As I sit in my cell the light of a single flickering candle barely makes a hole in the surrounding darkness and it certainly provides no protection against the ever present cold. The guards took my fine robes of silk and gave me little more than rags in return. The captain of the guard quoted me some obscure regulation to justify it, but I know his reason. He wants me to die here, from the cold, from pneumonia, from something, anything, just so long as I never leave this place. They all want me to die here so they can forget the anger I stirred up, so they can forget the truth that I spoke, so they can forget that there are any problems in our world.

            I can feel the cold damp stone pressing against my flesh as I write. It’s cold, so cold. Always cold and wet. Together the cold and the screams of my fellow prisoners remind me that I’m human. It is too dark for me to see the other prisoners outside of my cell but I hear their fear and feel their pain. Perhaps if I was less deserving of this fate I would work up the strength to be angry. As things are however I know that on some level I belong here. I do not regret my many crimes fore they have been in the service of a greater good, but even I admit that justice was served when I was thrown in this cell.

            But now is not the time to be melancholy for today I am a king among prisoners. I have a candle, parchment, and a quill, these items alone make me the richest prisoner in Azkaban. They were given to me by a friendly jailer, yes it might surprise you my dear reader to know that even in this the winter of my despair I have not been abandoned by my loyal followers and yes even in this the stronghold of my enemy some of my ilk lurk.

            It is of course child’s play to keep these things hidden. I reside in the most secure section of the prison only dementors and the half blind hag who brings the food ever visit me. Oh and of course my loyal servant who nightly walks my way under the pretense of patrolling. When he leaves for home my words are carried under his cloak to the hiding place of my most trusted follower.

            Every man should endeavor to leave his mark on the world and this shall be mine. I hope that one day a copy of this; my biography will be in the hands of every wizard in Britain… A heavily censored version of course, only you dear reader will ever know the whole story.

“Does any man truly know who his father is?”- Homer, The Odyssey

            I do not know if any man ever truly knows his father, but I do know that I certainly never knew mine. James Potter is of course a well-known man, Head of Aurors, Chief of Magical Law Enforcement, The Lion of the Ministry. His name has graced the headlines of every major publication in our world. They do not tell the whole story however.

            James Potter is a cold and silent man. He has no friends and he desires none. He has one goal in his life and only one, the destruction of Dark Magic in the Isles of Britain no matter who practices it. I am told that he was not always like this, that in his youth he was a carefree and fun loving man who had more friends than he could count. That side of him was buried with my mother.

            My mother was Lily Potter, Fellow of the Ministerial College of Potioneers, and respected member of the community. She was killed when I was baby. No one knows who did it or why. One theory says a group of muggleborns extremist were angry over her marrying a pureblood. Another theory says that a colleague killed her over some petty academic feud and yet another says it was a simple mugging gone wrong. Suffice to say it is the great mystery of my father’s life. He spends endless hours poring over the old case files never any closer to success then he was the day she died.

            People have often expressed their sympathy to me; they speak of how hard it must have been to grow up without a mother. In truth I couldn’t care less, I never knew her, so how could I miss her?

            In any case I am told that after her death my father threw himself into his work and left everything else to its own means. Indeed he was rarely around when I was young, my care being handled entirely by our houselves. Occasionally a friend of his from the old days would drop by, he always ran them off inside of an hour. So in this manner my childhood became rather lonely. I was left with nothing to do but to read books and order the house elves around.

            I remember going to Hogwarts hoping for an end to my isolation, but this was not to be the case. At the time I couldn’t understand why the other children did not like me, in hindsight it was because I was odd, overly intelligent, and a bit of a tattletale. So it came to pass that for the first year of my stay at Hogwarts I was the pariah of Ravenclaw house. It was in my second year that I found the book that would forever change my life.

            I found it more by chance then design and I think that was the only possible way to find it for the owner of the book had cast his illusionary charms quite well. He must have for it to have escaped Madame Pince’s notice for so long. To anyone who gave it a passing glance it appeared to be nothing more than a book written in archaic ancient Greek. I have sense been told that to anyone who so happens to be learned in the Grecian tongue the book then appears to be little more than a study on the anatomy of mundane waterfowl.

            I almost passed the book by like so many people before me, but fate drew me to pick it up. And when I found that I could not read it, fate would not let me forget the book. I went back to that aisle of the library every day for a week without quite knowing why. Finally after much effort I learned enough of illusionary charms to see past the enchantments and to gaze upon the true nature of the tome.

            Inside the cover a note was hastily scribbled:

            The Aurors know. I don’t have long before they come looking for me. There is no way out of this school that is not being watched. I intended to purge this world of the impure, instead this diary is the only legacy I can still leave. With luck one day it will be found by someone who can do what I failed to do.

            When they threw me into this Azkaban cell I saw only one thing, but I had seen it once before in that book all those years ago. Etched onto the wall of my cell is the name of the one who came before me:

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

            I poured over that diary for hours upon hours soaking up everything that Tom had written, for he was truly a mastermind. By the end of my second year at Hogwarts I had completely adopted his mindset and I was quite prepared to carry out the purge of the muggleborns myself.

                Some might call it miraculous that my father did not notice my sudden fall to bigotry when I returned home for the summer but I kept it well hidden. Though in truth I seriously doubt that he would’ve noticed if I had sung the Grindelwald March in the living room, such was our estrangement from one another.

The relationship between man and muggle is not as some have suggested a case of kill or be killed situation. The powers that be placed two species of man upon this planet and so must have had a reason for this. The answer is simple one is meant to lead and the other is meant to follow. We wizards are the elder brothers and the muggles are simple cousins. It is our birthright and indeed our burden, but we must shoulder it for otherwise the muggles would surely destroy themselves and us along with them.

            Without our guidance have they not already built weapons far beyond their meager abilities to comprehend? Have they not already laid wastes to vast swathes of territory making them uninhabitable to both man and beast? The muggles are rabid dogs that must be brought to heel, and their muggleborn offspring are abominations half man and half beast. This is the truth I spoke and for this I am imprisoned. Dreadfully unfair isn’t it? But such is life.

            You must wonder how I may claim these things when I myself have a half blood mother. I admit that, that question has vexed me as well, and I have developed a theory I find adequate to explain this. You see I share an ability with Tom Riddle that is unique in the house of Potter, I can talk to snakes. It is I think likely that my mother was the last of the Slytherin Line, perhaps a descendent of Riddle himself, and if so she is no more a muggleborn then my father. Even in the unlikely event that some… lesser blood tainted her veins it must surely have been overpowered by that of a line as ancient and undeniably magical as the Slytherins.

            In any case shall I return your mind to Hogwarts, my Seventh Year, to be specific. Now I’m sure you’ve all heard the tales of my heroic deeds and I do assure you that they’re for the most part true, there is however much that is left out. And so I feel I tis best to start there.

            “I’m sorry, Ernie but nobody’s told us what’s going on this year,” the Head Girl Hermione Granger said as the rest of the Prefects listened to our beginning of year presentation on the Hogwarts Express. “All we know is that there are going to be guests of some sort and that the Professors want us to especially stress uniform wear and behavior.”

            I knew what was happening of course. Judging by the smirk on Draco Malfoy’s face he knew what was happening and of course if he knew then Pansy Parkinson knew and if Pansy Parkinson knew then everyone knew or would find out soon. Hermione excluded of course, she didn’t exactly run in the same circles as Pansy and Draco. I envied her for that, as I was forced to be in their presence far too often for my taste. They were loyal servants yes, but hopeless idiots.

I let Hermione prattle on for most of the meeting, even though I as Head Boy, probably should have played a much larger role. I had you see cultivated an image of relaxed competence, easy going but reliable and if little Miss Mudblood wanted to handle discipline that was fine by me. In those days only a loyal and handpicked few knew my true nature and only because they were people who I needed to further my aims.

“Harry anything to add?” Hermione asked after she had finished reading the first fourteen chapters of the Student Handbook.

“For those of you who’ve been Prefects before,” I began feeling rather miffed at being put on the spot like that, “you know the ropes. For those of you just starting… Moaning Myrtle likes to spy on people in the prefect’s bathroom.”

A small ripple of laughter came from those who like me had, had that rather invasive experience.

“All seriousness though, we’re meant to provide the example to the other students… to be the leaders. The badge isn’t an excuse to act like a know it all jack ass,” that was a not so subtle dig at Hermione. “Being a prefect is a responsibility to your house and to those beneath you, for the love of merlin act like it. Oh and don’t get caught in the showers with a fourth year,” I finished with a pointed look at Ernie McMillian who blushed something fierce while everyone else laughed at his misfortune.

What? Are Dark Lords forbidden from joking? By all accounts Grindelwald had an excellent, if somewhat warped sense of humor and I’ve always been considered the life of every party. Oh it is for the most part a ruse you understand, a touch of populism to keep the mob happy. That being said I truly don’t understand where people get the idea that I walk around cursing everyone in sight all day. I’ve always preferred more subtle forms of inflicting pain.

In any case after the Prefect Meeting let out I was patrolling my way along the course of the train when a pair of hands reached out and pulled me into an open compartment. Before I had quite registered this a pair of lips had enveloped mine and tongue was desperately trying to worm its way into my mouth.

Of all the women I’ve been with over the years, Daphne Greengrass has always remained my favorite. She has several traits that I find irresistible:

1.      Impeccable pureblood breeding.

2.      A Gringotts Account so big it requires three separate vaults.

3.      Beautiful flowing gold hair.

4.      A psychopathic glint in her lusty green eyes that never fails to send a shiver up my spine

5.      Perfect C Cup tits that fit right in my hand and an ass so perfect michangelo must have carved it from stone.

“Daphne, love,” I say with good humor, “not now we’re in the middle of a train anyone could walk in.”

            “That’s the fun part,” she says as she shoves me down into the bench, before she climbs atop of me.

            “Not now,” I reply my voice now cold. I dislike any of my servants thinking they have the upper hand over me even if that servant likes to think she’s my girlfriend.

            She stopped short, unlike others Daphne knows my moods and isn’t so foolish as to get on my bad side. Even so her eyes regard me with no small amount of longing, and I get the distinct impression I’ve just kicked a puppy.

            “Please, Harry,” She says looking at me with her brilliant green eyes. “It’s been nearly three months.”

            I don’t give in to my servants, not ever, but it had been three months for me too you understand… I couldn’t do what I wanted to, not then, not if she thought she would win, but I did know another way for me to release my tension, if not hers.

            “On your knees,” I said, as I locked the door with my wand.

            She gave me a thoroughly hurt look but complied with my order. You see proper pureblood women like my lovely little princess don’t suck cock, that’s for mudblood whores you know. But for me Daphne is smart enough to make an exception.

With some degree of familiarity she fishes my dick out of my pants and gazes at it with a look of wonder. She’s seen it enough times for me to know that she’s just putting on a show, but even so it’s the little touches like that, that keep me coming back.

Then with slow exquisite care she puts it into her mouth, her green eyes gazing into mine with a look of sublime submission. She sucked on it gently as she bobbed her head up and down, her tongue made a delicious circuit of the head. The roughness of the top of her tongue was exquisite but the soft velvety underside was indescribable.

Finally I had enough of her slow steady pace and I put my hand on the back of her head and forced it down deeper over my cock. I knew she hated this even more then she hated the act itself but that only added to my arousal. A powerful beautiful, pure, woman like this nothing but a sex toy, a warm hole it turned me on to no end.

Finally with one last grunt of victory I spilled my seed into her mouth. The first time I had done this she had spit it out, she knew better now and swallowed every last drop. Despite her attempts to look pleased I saw the look of disgust on her face as my taste filled her mouth.

“T-Thank you,” she said with small cough before kissing my dick and putting it back in my pants. The little things are why she’s my favorite.

We sat there on the bench for some time, she resting her head on my shoulder me reading a book on memory charms. At some began to run her hand through my hair, I usually don’t allow such liberties but her earlier performance had left me in an uncommonly good mood.

Eventually though there came a knock on the door and when I opened the lock Hermione walked in.

“Harry I just wanted to,” she began but stopped short at the sight of Daphne affectionately petting my head. The glare Hermione leveled at Daphne was endlessly amusing to me.

“You wanted to what Granger?” I asked pretending to be completely oblivious.

“Er... to remind you that we have to do the first patrol together right after the welcoming feast,” she said finally remembering her pretext for coming to the compartment.

“Splendid, wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I replied barely glancing up from my book. Hermione took the hint and left.

“I hate her,” Daphne said from my side.

“Yes most people do,” I said noncommittally. Daphne studied me for a moment perhaps to see if I would say anything more about Granger… It’s a testament to how deeply insecure I kept Daphne that she would be scared at the prospect of me leaving her for Granger, a mudblood of all things.

In any case the Welcoming feast was a relatively standard affair until Dumbledore stood to announce the Triwizard Tournament. Then there were the gasps and the cries of surprise, the groans once we realized Quidditch was also canceled. The murmurs of who would enter and who would win, I of course had already been formulating a plan to ensure my name would come out on top.

In any case the feast is not where my tale of debauchery manages to separate itself from the story rather it was afterwards. As I rose from the Ravenclaw table Daphne sauntered her way over and kissed me one last time, I dislike public displays of affection, but for her sake I tolerated this one. In any case with one last glare at Granger she left.

“Sorry about that,” I said to Hermione as we began our patrol. It was a pointless tradition for the Head Boy and Girl to do this considering no one ever snuck out the first night.

“It’s fine really,” Hermione replied clearly uncomfortable with the subject.

As we walked we talked about numerous things, Granger despite her heritage was intelligent. Not intelligent enough However to realize what I had planned for her, you see there was a ritual that Tom had created but had never done… I was going to do it. As we passed the room of requirements I stunned her, took her wand and levitated her in.

The room had created a distinct dungeon motif that I couldn’t help but feel complimented the ritual that I was about to perform. A table sprung up from the ground and I placed Hermione’s stunned form upon it, and with a wave of my wand I vanished her clothes.

I stopped for a second, it is odd how closely animals like muggles and their mongrel offspring resemble wizards. Indeed gazing upon Granger I felt my cock begin to stiffen. Her face was angelic, peaceful, and her skin was milky pale, unblemished by the sun and without flaw. Her breasts were slightly larger than Daphne’s and they ended with a lovely pink tip that I had the sudden urge to bite. Her legs were long, smooth and slender and her belly was beautifully flat. It is a shame she was porn the product of a lesser race for if she had Daphne’s breeding I may have made her my wife instead of my whore.

I tied her arms to the edge of the table and her legs to the legs of the table so that she was completely able to move or struggle. Then I touched my wand to her forehead and whispered “renverete.”

Her eyes groggily opened and fluttered for a bit before she realized she was laying ass naked on a cold table.

“Harry?” she asked her voice full of fear.

“Don’t be worried love it’ll be over soon,” that was a lie on my part, she would only think it was over soon.

“Harry please help me!” she cried pitifully as I began to take off my robes. Once I Was naked she began to let out a blood curdling scream that made me smile. I was doing her a favor you know, all those books and all that studying, it was wasted on her, mudbloods will never be able to comprehend magic. No the only thing a mudblood is good for is breeding stock, after a generation or two their children might be proper wizards but they’ll never be.

“Silencio,” I said with a wave of my wand as I positioned myself over her body. “As much as I love the screams, I need my concentration for this.”

Just then the moment sized me and I leaned forward and licked her tears, they were salty and I tasted her fear in them. Some cultures consider virgin tears to be an aphrodisiac you know… I can’t attest to all virgin tears but Hermione’s succeeded in getting me rock hard.

I brought my wand up to her forehead and with a gentle tap I began the chant the ritual called for. Then I thrust inside her, my voice never wavering as I was consumed by her tight depths.

My dick broke through her hymen tearing her dignity from her with cruelty. I almost faltered in my chant for Hermione was surprisingly tight, I have had virgins before but this was exquisite. Her attempts to break free only increased my arousal as I thrust forward, her pussy enveloping my raging hard on like a glove.

This was the life, I thought to myself as I thrust forward, this was what being a pureblood wizard meant capturing and dominating your prey, asserting your ancient creator given rights over all man. As I thrust into Hermione’s now bloody cavern I was reaffirming my place and the place of all purebloods in this world. It was more than pleasure that drove me to this depth; it was more than a desire for power it was a sacred duty.

            With that thought I plunged into the Mudblood one more time and as my seed filled her womb I said the final words of the chant;

            “Seed of the pure find your home within this beast and plant firm hold over its mind.”

            With that I blacked out, when I came too I still lay atop Hermione’s nude form but when I looked into her face I did not see hatred or fear but instead a look of contentment, had it worked. I slowly dropped my occulmancy barriers and suddenly I was hit with the full barrage of Hermione’s thoughts.

            My seed had created a connection between us, her personality remained unchanged but for one think a overriding devotion to me. It had come at a cost though, unless I warded myself my mind was an open book to her and that is why Tom Riddle had refused to use this ritual and why I only ever used it on a select few. I threw my barriers back up and then I spoke to her.

            “Granger?”

            “Yes, Harry?”

            I hauled my arm back and with all my might I slapped her right across her filthy little face. “In here I am your master, and you will address me as such.”

            “Yes sir,” she said cowering away in fear. Oh how I would enjoy this. Quickly I untied her and as she got to her feet I shoved her to the ground.

            “Kneel!” I commanded my voice full of steel. She did as I commanded and as I looked at my mongrel servant I knew that this was where I belonged.

            “Open your mouth,” and she did as I said. God bless her she was intelligent too for rather then wait for the command that she knew would come she enveloped my dick between her warm lips and sucked showing no signs of revulsion at her virgin blood that still coated my tool.

            Her mouth was enthuastic but not very skilled and I soon grew tired at her poor attempts at pleasuring me. “I knew mudblood bitches were dumb, but this takes the fucking cake,” I said as I stared down at her in disgust. “Can’t even use your mouth properly.”

            “Please sir, let me proof myself to you,” she begged. I must admit I liked the new Hermione much more than the old.

            “Belly down on the table I commanded,” without hesitation she did just that, I had originally intended to return to her once virgin hole but as I lay at her face down awaiting her fate I knew what was next.

            Stepping forward I pressed my dick to the tight rosebud of her anus, I heard a sharp intake of breath and I grinned in delight. “Something wrong cunt?” I ask dangerously.

            “No master,” Hermione replied her voice shaky, she would never rebel against me but that didn’t mean she relished the pain I was about to inflict.

            I thrust forward with all my might. The tightness of her anus astonished me to no end, it was like shoving my dick into the tip of a coke bottle. Hermione cried out in pain and that was music to my ears. I thrust forward again and again her tightness felt like heaven to me and hell to her.

            “This is where your kind belong mudblood,” I yelled at her as I thrust forward. She made no move to stop me but I could hear her sobs of pain and humiliation.

            “You should thank me for showing you your place, you little fucking whore. Cunt. Bitch. Mudblood skank!” words flowed from my mouth with ferocity and speed. If I had known Granger was that tight I would’ve fucked her ages before then, but I had plenty of time to make up for the lost opportunity.

            Finally with one last roar of “filthy mudblood!” I shot my load deep into her bowels. My breath was coming in ragged gasps but as I pulled out of her I said, “on your knees.”

            She did as she was told gingerly, too I imagine that the experience of having her mongrel ass taken was not as satisfying for her as it was for me. “Clean it,” I said with a grin as I shoved my penis towards her face. She did as she was told with a barely look of disgust.

            I too far gone to gain much sexual pleasure from it, but there is always something to be said for bringing a high and mighty bitch like Granger down to her knees.

            “Whose a good little mudblood whore?’ I asked once she was finished.

            “I-I am,” she said nervously not quite meeting my eye.

            “That won’t do!” I exclaimed with a manic laugh, “now look me in my eyes and say it!”

            “I’m a mudblood whore,” she said as she stared into my eyes a curious mix of slavish devotion and humiliation showing threw.

            That is what it means to be a wizard you understand dear reader, to dominate other beings with carefree ease. It is our natural right to claim mudbloods and there muggle progenitors as our slaves. For the creator made us superior so we could rule over the lesser genus of man. That is the thought I leave you with for now.
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Nature\'s Nobility