Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Secrets	By : Giovanna Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 12277 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 9
Disclaimer: We do not own Harry Potter & Co. We also do not make any money from this.

Chapter List
- 1-Secrets
- 2-Chapter Two-The Birth of The Goblin Prince
- 1
- 2
Secrets Ch 1-Betrayals & Inheritance
SUMMARY: Harry is a boy who has been lied to and kept in the dark. With a creature inheritance, he decides to embrace his true self. Harry will plot his revenge in the shadows until he is ready to reveal his true self to the Wizarding World. Drarry. Manipulative!Dumbldore; Ron, Hermione, and Dumbles bashing! Creature!Harry, Dark!Harry
NOTES: This was adopted from SuperwholockianfromHogwarts on fanfiction.net. We hope we do it justice! Unfortunately neither of us is JK Rowling. We don't own Harry Potter or any of the HP characters. We're just fulfilling our slashy fantasies! Warning there is a graphic description of violence in this chapter. If that is a trigger, read with care.
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Harry Potter watches the seconds tick by. In a few mere minutes, he will turn sixteen. As long as he can remember, Harry has spent these minutes before his birthday awake and utterly alone. Every year he celebrates his birthday the only way he can, by whispering to himself "Happy Birthday" in the dark. His supposed family has never once acknowledged his birthday. To them, he is nothing more than a burden, a slave, and a punching bag. Harry expects nothing but pain from the people that should love him. Hogwarts and finding out about magic may have expanded his mind and his life but still his every birthday is spent alone.
Harry's lip trembles as he remembers Sirius. He was the last link to my parents and now he's dead. Sirius is dead because of me. It's my fault. I should have known! How could I have not realized that the visions were nothing more than lies?!
Not only has he lost Sirius but his two best friends have not been in contact with him the entire summer. Hermione and Ron were the first friends he ever made. Yet, over the years Harry has questioned the sincerity of their friendship and he isn't blinded to their faults. Hermione is a know-it-all; she thinks she knows best in everything and treats Harry and Ron like toddlers at times. Ron is the opposite, unhealthily insecure; he is the sixth son of a poor family. He isn't the smartest or the strongest or the funniest or the best looking or the best at anything. Ron's insecurity will one day be his demise.
Harry wonders why his letters to Ron and Hermione have been sent back unopened. He isn't sure whether to feel hurt or simply resigned. Harry isn't the ignorant, love starved eleven-year-old boy he was when they met anymore. Hermione is not the only one who knows how to research. He did research of his own; he no longer is a clueless muggle raised wizard. Harry knows everything any self respecting pureblood or half-blood would know about the Wizarding World.
The years of being in Gryffindor and of having to hide his true self have taken their toll. More than once Harry has admitted to himself that the Sorting Hat was right. At his core, Harry is more Slytherin than Gryffindor and he tires of wearing the golden boy mask. Only two people have seen a glimpse of his true self and his friendship with them remains a carefully guarded secret.
He scoffs to himself as he remembers Dumbledore's explanation of why Harry had to stay at the Dursley's. The blood wards that are supposed to protect him have only served as an inescapable prison. Every summer since he started Hogwarts is the same: Harry being starved, beaten, and abused nearly every moment. Despite Dumbledore knowing of his treatment, his grandfatherly 'mentor' who claims to care for Harry, never once has tried to stop the muggles from abusing him. The wards may protect him from Voldemort but they do not protect him from Vernon or Dudley's fists. They do nothing to stop the cuts, the broken bones, bruises, and wounds.
Harry is more intelligent than Dumbledore gives him credit for. The Light side leader believes Harry to be an ignorant and trusting boy. He knows that Dumbledore's unblemished Light persona is a mask much like Harry's own. He may not know Dumbledore's secrets yet but he doesn't doubt that they are dark, horrible ones. Harry would have to be a fool not to see that Dumbledore doesn't care for him. The man pretends to be a doting grandfather but is willing to see Harry risk his life over and over with little or no help from the Light side. The Order seems just as eager to put all their hopes on a mere child, on him from the moment he found out about the magical world. Harry is to be the sacrificial lamb, a willing sacrifice to stop an evil wizard, and they all act as if there is nothing wrong with that. Harry doesn't matter to them, not really. They only care about what he can do for them.
Harry shakes off his grim thoughts. Glancing at the clock, he counts downs the seconds in his head. 10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2... In his mind, Harry readies to tell himself happy birthday. But the instant the clock strikes midnight, excruciating pain courses through Harry's body. It flows through every cell in his body instantaneously and without mercy. Harry scans the room, expecting to see a Death Eater standing triumphantly within his room but he is alone. The pain only grows stronger and it feels like he's been set ablaze with fiendfyre, the pain is overwhelming and relentless. Unable to hold it in, Harry screams. It feels like someone, something is inside of him trying to claw its way out. It is unending agony: the unbearable burning pain and sensation of being ripped apart by a being inside him. Harry passes out but awakens a few seconds later. He opens his eyes again and rides the pain. Living with the Dursleys, he has learned to conquer pain, to embrace it unflinchingly.
As suddenly as it started the pain vanishes. Harry pants heavily; his body still tingles at the memory of the terrible, agonizing pain. Using the meditative exercises he taught himself, Harry calms his breathing and his mind. Quieted, he concentrates on his body. It feels different. There is a heaviness to his back that he's never felt before. In the dark, Harry turns his head. There is something there…something on his back. He scrambles off the bed, shocked and confused at the sensations he feels.
Harry hurries over to the broken mirror on the closet door. He stares at his reflection in astonishment; the Harry Potter of just seconds ago is gone. In the broken mirror a stranger stares back at him but that isn't what Harry notices first. Wings. Big, black feathered wings flaring from behind him. Harry turns hastily, looking over his shoulder to see his reflection. From the middle of his back huge, midnight black wings have sprouted. Like black angel wings, they arch up over his shoulders with the tips of the wings brushing the floor. The size of them so large that Harry imagines they could likely envelop his entire body. It is no wonder he felt a feeling of heaviness on his back. With hesitancy, Harry reaches out to touch. The feathers are soft and smooth, like silk. "Oh." Harry can feel it, feel the caress in his wings. It is a new and very strange sensation.
He faces the mirror again, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from his new and very distracting wings. Gone is the untamable messy brown hair and in its place is flawlessly straight midnight-black hair the exact shade of his wings. It seems to have an unnatural glossy shine to it like his wings do and reaches just past his shoulders. Harry can't resist combing his fingers through his hair; the silky strands glide through his fingers with ease. He grins at his reflection, noticing he now has fangs too. Harry presses a finger to one of the fangs and he feels a jolt of pain as it easily punctures his finger. The fangs are obviously not just for show. Harry is startled as he realizes that his eyes have changed too. Lily's jade eyes no longer stare back at him. Harry's eyes are glowing amber now and despite not wearing his glasses, he sees perfectly. In fact his eyesight is more than perfect, almost inhumanly so. Harry's skin has changed too. Instead of an uneven tan he'd gotten from working outside for the Dursley's, his skin is naturally golden with no tan lines.
The scar on his forehead is red and Harry pokes at it. "Ouch," he cries, the scar is tender. His transformation must have affected his scar as well, although Harry isn't sure how yet.
"What am I?" Harry wonders aloud. He is thankful he researched the Wizarding World enough to know that he's come into a creature inheritance. What kind of creature he isn't sure. Curious as to whether he is able to hide his wings, Harry attempts and with a mere thought his wings disappear. He turns around to look. His wings are gone, yet not. "Wicked." On his back is the most realistic tattoo Harry has ever seen. In the middle of his back is a tattoo of his spine, starting just below his neck and ending above his arse. Flaring out of the spine are two dark wings. They arch up to his shoulders, every black feather is visible in amazing detail. His wings, smaller versions of them are inked into his skin. The feathers look soft and when he touches one, the tattoo flutters as if by a breeze. The wings trail down his back, the very tips of his wings ending just above his waist.
Harry rolls his shoulders, watching as his wings come out again and his tattoo disappears. He grins, "Awesome."
A second later, Harry starts packing. He silently summons his wand and shoves it in his pocket. Whatever his creature inheritance, the moment that the Durselys see the changes in him, they will try to destroy him. They've tried for years to beat the freakiness out of him and with the way he looks now, they will only be more driven to exterminate him. The little he owns is quickly packed in his trunk. Harry casts a silent wandless shrinking spell and puts his shrunken trunk and Hedwig's empty cage into his pocket. Last year he'd discovered that the Ministry can't trace silent, wandless magic. Harry is thankful for this discovery. He doubts he would have survived the previous summer without casting silent healing charms on himself after the Durselys' numerous attempts to beat him to death.
No one knows how powerful Harry really is. Not Dumbledore or the Order or Hermione or Ron. His convincing the Sorting Hat to place him in Gryffindor was the best thing he ever did. Harry couldn't have known then but being in Gryffindor made it possible to hide his true self. His 'golden boy' image is the perfect mask and he's worn it well for several years. Harry is more brilliant than Hermione could ever hope to be. Yet, no one knows. Harry has hidden his intelligence for most of his life. The Dursleys only beat Harry more for being smart; he quickly learned how to hide his intelligence behind a clueless façade. If Dumbledore had an inkling of Harry's true power and intelligence, the man would have long ago attempted some kind of dark spell to allow him to gain total control over Harry. But Dumbledore still believes Harry to be pliable and weak.
His creature inheritance has finally given him the push to escape the living hell the Durselys created for him. Harry won't stay here any longer. It is finally time for him to be free, for him to embrace his true self and he can't do that here. He can't do that as Harry Potter.
Harry stands in the bathroom mirror and admires his new appearance. He chuckles, fascinated with his wings and fangs. He moves his hands down and takes in his new physique. A six-pack with a "V" shape, muscular chest, toned arms; Harry turns and admires the curve of his back that leads to his bubble arse in the mirror. I will need to go shopping at the soonest possible opportunity; these big pajamas do nothing for my figure. I just need to get away from the Dursley's. Movement in the house distracts Harry; he turns to see his Uncle Vernon standing there with his mouth open, staring at him. "Boy! What the bloody hell did you do to yourself? You look like one of them poofs. Are you a poof boy?" His uncle Vernon says as he walks into the bathroom, crowding Harry's space.
For a second Harry feels panicked, his breathing coming out in short pants. There is a look in his uncle's eyes that he has never seen before. Harry is not sure what his uncle is getting ready to do to him. Vernon licks his lips then and moves his hand to his crotch, his fingers rubbing on his flaccid penis. Harry stands there disgusted at the sight of seeing his uncle rub himself. "You know Pet hasn't been giving it up to me lately." Vernon says, Harry sees his Uncle Vernon lift his hand as if he is getting ready to touch him when his wings flare out from his back as if sensing he is danger.
Uncle Vernon jumps back at seeing Harry's black wings displayed. All thoughts of touching himself disappear from Vernon's mind. "What freakishness is this boy?" Vernon yells.
"What's the matter Uncle Vernon, don't like what you see? Just a minute ago you were touching yourself with thoughts of fucking me."
"Shut your mouth Boy!" Vernon yells then backhands Harry across the face. "I would never touch you out of fear you would contaminate me with your freakishness."
Harry's face whips to the side when Vernon slaps him. This is the last time he will ever put his bloody hands on me. If only I had something, I would kill him this very minute. As soon as Harry thinks that his wings turns from soft feathers to black steel. Vernon does not notice, he is too busy yelling at Harry, calling him all kinds of names.
"You are trying to tempt me you little whore, is this what you do when you are at the freakish school of yours?" Vernon steps close to Harry and reaches out to wrap his hands around his neck when Harry's wings react in a flash and chop his arms off all the way to his elbows. Vernon screams as blood sprays all over the place hitting Harry in the face and chest. Vernon falls to the ground and scrambles backwards out of the bathroom. Harry ignores the blood that is everywhere; he also ignores the fact that his Aunt Petunia and Dudley come rushing out of their rooms from hearing Vernon's scream.
"Vernon, Daddy!" They scream together at seeing Vernon on the ground holding his bleeding arms to his fat chest as best he can. Aunt Petunia looks up at Harry and horror fills her face at seeing his changed appearance.
"What have you done you demon child?!"
Harry is surprised but does not show it, instead he turns to Petunia, "SILENCE woman! Or you will be next!" Harry yells. Dudley is cowering beside his father. He looks between the three of them: Vernon breathing heavy from blood loss, Petunia with fear clear on her horse face as she clings to Vernon, and Dudley, who is shivering. With his new enhanced senses, Harry can smell piss coming from Dudley's direction. "For seventeen years I dealt with your abuse. Mental, physical and emotional abuse, do know what that does to a child?" Harry asks rhetorically. All three frantically shake their heads. Sweat beads on Vernon body as more blood gushes from his amputated arms. To prolong his death, Harry bends down to touch Vernon's arms; he closes his eyes and the man screams, the smell of burnt flesh filling the room. Harry opens his eyes to see the bleeding has stopped but Vernon is still breathing hard. "Now there you won't die." Harry says then raises a brow, "Just yet." Laughing madly. The three other people look at him as if he has lost the last glimmer of his sanity.
"Now back to what I was saying." Harry tells them as he stands. "You three have made my life a living hell. I have cooked and cleaned up after your arses for the last time."
"W-what do you plan to do with us?" Petunia asks trembling.
"I have no fucking clue. For years I have dreamt of killing you three and now that I finally have the opportunity I think I have lost interest. Maybe I want to see you three suffer. Suffer for all the things you put me through."
Harry starts to pace the hall thinking of ways to make his family pay. He is not paying attention to them until he hears a feral scream; he turns to see his Aunt Petunia coming towards him with one of his steel feathers getting ready to stab him. In flash metal feathers fly towards her, catching her in the arms and legs, pinning her to the wall. Screams ring through the air; Harry walks towards her, his wings shaking with anger, he bares his teeth displaying his fangs. "You really want me to kill you, don't you my dear Aunty?" He says, grabbing her by the neck.
Petunia gasps and whimpers, "Here I am thinking of ways to keep you alive and you try to kill me when my back is turned." Harry turns and looks at Dudley and Vernon. "When you reach the afterlife blame your wife and mother for your deaths." Without another word Harry sends two sharp feathers in Vernon and Dudley's direction piercing their skulls, killing them instantly. How anticlimactic, thinks Harry. He turns back to Petunia. "The Headmaster has said on numerous occasions that you are my last blood relative and your blood is necessary for the blood wards to survive. However, the Headmaster in all his infinite wisdom has never said that you had to be alive."
Petunia starts to beg for her life but Harry ignores her pleas. "You should have protected me, comforted me, made me feel as if I was your own child. But instead you let that horrid man beat me and try to break me. Do you know what he wanted to do to me tonight? Because you haven't given him any in a while." Petunia's eyes widen further. "Yes, my dear aunt. Your pig of a husband planned on taking what was not his. Would you have stood by and watched or would you have stopped him?" Petunia shakes her head back and forth whimpering. "You know what, I think you would have let him do anything he wanted to me as long as it kept me docile and your slave. Did you hate my mother that much?"
Tears flowed down Petunia's face; Harry removes his fingers from her neck, standing and looking at her as if waiting for her to answer. Harry leaves Petunia nailed to the wall, walks into the kitchen and grabs a big pot then goes back into the hallway. He places the pan underneath Petunia legs. He plucks another feather and starts to make large, deep cuts on her arms and legs and watches in fascination as the blood starts to run down her body to the pan. "I am quite sure you have little time left dear aunt; is there anything you wish to say?"
Petunia's lips tremble as she tries to speak Harry makes more cuts within her skin in different places with the precision of a surgeon. Harry is so focused on his work he mostly ignores Petunia's mumbled words until he hears something he does not expect. "….Head..master…made us." Harry stops what he is doing and grabs Petunia's face.
"What did you just say?" He asks with an inhuman sounding growl in his voice.
Petunia's voice is raspy from her screaming, "…master….paid…us to beat you." She rasps out. "…to abuse you…"
Harry's whole world crumbles in that instant. He had suspicions about Dumbledore. Since his third year he had a feeling that the old man was intentionally sending him back here to have his family beat and starve him. Rage overtakes his mind, the Dursley's could have said no, could have chosen not to accept what the Headmaster offered but greed is the root of all evil. Coin was worth more to them than an innocent child. The feather in Harry's palm lengthens until it takes on the shape of a sword, his eyes glaze over as he raises it, swinging it in Petunia's direction, severing her head from her body and killing her instantly. Tears rolled down his eyes thinking of the injustice done to him.
Harry walks away and goes to his room. He sits on his cot and cries, blood and tears mixing together. An anguish cry erupts from his chest. His body shivers as if he is cold, yet he feels nothing. Why did it have to be him, what has he done to deserve all this torment in his life? He did not ask to be born. Harry sits up, wiping his face and eyes. With a determined look on his face, he makes a vow to make them all pay. Everyone that has wronged him will feel the sting of his blade, of his vengeance, as they die.
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Secrets