Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9913670.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage, Graphic_Depictions_Of
      Violence
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Lily_Evans_Potter
  Additional Tags:
      Explicit_Language, Incest, Out_of_Character, Sexual_Content, Drama,
      Horror, Supernatural_-_Freeform, Romance
  Collections:
      HPFandom
  Stats:
      Published: 2006-06-13 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 10964
****** Oedipus Flower ******
by vash the unholy [archived by HPFandom_archivist]
Summary
     Did Harry really get his Slytherin qualities from Tom Riddle, or were
     they always meant to be? [AU, Dark, Heavy Sexual References, not a
     Children Story! Complete!]
Notes
     Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally
     archived at HP_Fandom, which was closed for health and financial
     reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its
     works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I
     e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but
     may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator,
     please contact me using the e-mail address on HP_Fandom_collection
     profile.
***** Part One *****
Oedipus Flower; Part one.
 
-----
 
To the average observer, I am simply your normal magical teenager. My parents
are kind and loving to my brother and sister, as well as myself. My mother is a
stay at home kind of parent who enjoys reading and has a Slytherin personality,
though she was a Gryffindor. My father doesn’t work simply because he is
descended from a wealthy pureblood family, the Potters. Naïve, brave, and rash;
he is a Gryffindor to the core. My younger brother, Blakemore, is a Gryffindor
as well, taking after our father in every aspect. At fourteen, he is five foot
ten inches tall, a hair taller than me. He is broad and his movements lack any
grace to them. He is better at transfiguration than many in his year, but far
from the best. His third year at Hogwarts he made the house team, chaser just
like daddy dearest. His obsession with emulating our father is beyond annoying.
 
Our sister, the middle child, looks something like our mother. She is five foot
seven, just shorter than me, with brilliant red hair. Her eyes are those of our
father, smooth and soft hazel. She is a Hufflepuff. She is intelligent enough
to be a Ravenclaw, but too shy to be open about it. Her grades are average
theoretically, but nearly top notch practically. She is the one who takes
highest marks for Transfiguration in Hogwarts. She is petite and can usually be
found slinking in shadows and other out of sight locations. Honestly, I expect
so much more of the fifteen year old girl.
 
Mother, like most witches her age, is still exceedingly beautiful. Unless the
lot of us were around, one would never know she had three children already.
Even I find it hard to believe her thirty seventh birthday is just two weeks
beyond my seventeenth. She stands as tall as I do, reaching five feet nine
inches tall. Her hair is the same brilliant red of Calla, my sister, and her
eyes are similar to my own, though much lighter. Her body isn’t entirely
petite, but she doesn’t round anywhere. Her breasts are not large but not
entirely small either. She is considered one of the smartest in her generation,
which I cannot deny. Aurora Sinistra, our Astronomy professor, attended with
her and pales in comparison to Lily Evans.
 
James is my father. I dislike him. Not because is a bad person, but because he
has what I want and I cannot simply ask him for it. He is tall, reaching six
foot even. He has hazel eyes, as I mention before. His was in the auror academy
for a short time, before dropping out. He, like I, was spoiled by his parents.
Don’t take that as something it isn’t, now. My parents treat us all equal.
Meaning simply, we are all spoiled. He was captain of his house quidditch team,
a chaser for his entire time on the team. He liked to pretend he was better
than he was, carrying a snitch and telling others that seeking was simply too
easy. He was considered one of the top students of his year, being the top in
transfiguration. How the hairless ape was better that my mother at anything
aside from posturing and preening is beyond me.
 
Myself, I look like my father, loathed as I am to admit it, with my beautiful
mother’s brilliant jade eyes, though darker in color. These unnaturally green
eyes have led me to the beds of numerous women, both in and out of Hogwarts.
Most are pleasing, physically, but still leave me longing for something they
don’t have or can’t give. My wand is thirteen inches, Hungarian Horntail
heartstring, made of yew. I excel in Charms, most notably illusionary and
enchanting. I am rather talented in the mind arts, having completed Occlumency
training to the point that I can withstand an attack full on from my mother, as
starting to learn Legilimency as well. Rather than quidditch like father, which
I am naturally proficient at, I obsess over knowledge. More than likely why I
am seeker for the house team, Ravenclaw. I remember how proud mother was when I
told her I made Ravenclaw. Her beaming smile is still one of my most prized
memories.
 
What isn’t so normal about this teenage wizard is that I am considered the Boy
Who Lived. Spoken with capitals if you don’t mind. What this means is that,
simply put, I am the only known survivor of the killing curse. The dreaded Dark
Lord Voldemort took it upon himself to attack out home after one of father’s
friends betrayed us in 1981. I wasn’t really surprised it was one of his
friends, given that he lacks the ability to properly judge the character of
others. Sirius Black, my godfather is another example of this. He is just as
arrogant and stupid as father. Both are bullies, hiding behind flimsy excuses
of pranks in the name of harmless fun. They annoy me nearly as much as those
two twits, Fred and George Weasley.
 
Needless to say, Voldemorts attack failed, and I lived. No one truly
understands how I survived. My father’s friend, Remus Lupin, hadn’t though. He
was my guardian while my parents were at St. Mungo’s giving birth. The
unexpected arrival of Calla had saved their lives. If she had come on time,
three weeks down the line, none of them would be alive. It is for this reason I
keep her close to me, helping and protecting her. She isn’t really a bad girl,
I’ve come to find. Now I am a figurehead for the fight against Voldemort,
leaving my sixth year, a celebrity given everything he wants.
 
Which is why I am stalking angrily off the Hogwarts express. I want something
bad enough that I can taste it, yet I cannot have it. He has it. But I have
decided that tonight, I would do the only logical thing I could. I would simply
take it from him. I studied in the restricted section all year long, owl
ordering books through darker allies within Ravenclaw, until I found the things
I needed. The dark magic left an addicting buzz when I used them, but it was
worth it to acquire my treasure.
 
“Hello Harry, dear,” Mother greeted, her voice soft and caring. “Why so angry?
Did something happen?” she asks in a concern filled voice as she hugs me. I hug
her back, relishing in her touch and scent.
 
“Nothing really,” I tell her smiling, though frowning mentally at the loss of
her touch. “Just Malfoy being a twat like normal.”
 
She gives me a hard look at my language. She has never approved of such obscene
words in parental presence. I try to control it most of the time, but my temper
gets the best of me at times. “Have you seen your brother and sister?”
 
“Calla was right behind me. I expect she went off to bid some friend a final
farewell,” I tell, resting the back of my hand on my forehead in a dramatic
pose.
 
Mother snickers slightly, trying to hold it in. “Oh, behave you.”
 
“It isn’t my fault teenage girls are overly dramatic about everything. Blake is
probably off bullying some first year. The intelligence of a rock, that one
has.” I tell her a frown on my face.
 
“Be nice,” she admonishes, “You weren’t always the brightest boy either you
know.”
 
“He still isn’t very bright,” A mocking voice calls. Turning I see Calla slowly
walking up, her posture declaring she wasn’t willing for ideal talk with
strangers. Megan Jones, a Hufflepuff from my year, trailed behind her.
 
“And Empress Calla of the most ancient and intelligent house of Hufflepuff
knows all.” I drawl sarcastically.
 
Mother laughs open quietly while Megan cracks a smile. Calla wears a playful
smirk. “Glad you have recognized that, brother mine.”
 
“Bah,” I breathe, turning my attention to Megan. “’Lo Megan,” I greet embracing
her.
 
Megan is a pretty girl. She has all of the elegance and beauty that purebloods
breed their children to have. She was small, five feet six inches tall, and had
a small chest. Her skin is tanned, something that most purebloods aren’t. I
know Megan enjoys working out doors and dirtying her hands as well. She isn’t
the typical pureblood; that is for sure. Her personality is quiet and reserved.
She doesn’t talk much to those she doesn’t know, but is quite friendly.
Privately amongst friends, she is far more open and talkative. She can be quite
excitable and hyperactive in some other private… activities as well.
 
“What’s this?” My mother asks in a amused and curious voice. “My son has his
first girlfriend?”
 
Megan blushes while I give mother a bored look. “No, Mrs. Potter. I’m not
Harry’s first…”
 
“No, but the overgrown bat does have a taste for Hufflepuff girls.” A voice
interrupts her. Blakemore and his ever faithful sidekick Colin Creevy are not
far away. Colin has a sort of obsession with me. I can’t count the times I have
found him hiding round corners waiting to snap pictures of me.
 
Mother frowns deeply at him. She never liked that James or Blake seemed to look
down on one house or another. “Come along you three, we should get home for
dinner. It was lovely to meet you… Miss…”
 
“Megan,” The girl answers. “Megan Jones.”
 
Mother smiles at her kindly. “Lovely to meet you, Megan.”
 
----
 
Dinner was a lovely affair. James had missed it as he was off with Black doing
one thing or another. Mother was rightly angry at him for it as well. She
didn’t let it show, however, and smiled happily, joking with those of us around
the table. Blake ran off in one direction while Calla headed in another. I
assisted Mother with the dishes before heading to my own room to plan. Being in
the home of two adult spell casters gave me a loophole to the laws about
underaged magic. This helped me tremendously. At quarter to nine, I got up and
prepared myself. Navy blue sleeping clothes on my slim frame, I left my room
quietly.
 
My first stop was Calla’s room. I had no intention of hurting my favourite of
my siblings. Simply keeping her out of my way. She lay on a couch in her room,
reading a muggle novel. Slowly pushing the door, I slid into her room. She
looked up and smiled at me, greeting me kindly. Closing her book, she stretched
herself, several popping sounds echoing in the silent room.
 
“That felt lovely,” She sighed contently, leaning back into the couch.
 
I grimace. “That is disgusting.”
 
“Maybe, but it still feels great.”
 
I smile at her and poke jokingly. “You wouldn’t have that problem if you didn’t
read all these trashy romance novels.” I pick the one she was reading up and
flip through the pages. “Written pornography is all these things are. I don’t
see why mum lets you read them.”
 
She poked her tongue out at me childishly. “She lets me because I am a mature
young woman who can handle such graphic material.”
 
“Meaning she doesn’t know,” I snort.
 
Calla grins sheepishly. “Something like that, yeah.”
 
I wrap an arm around her small frame and hug her to me. “Don’t worry; I won’t
tell.” She smiles her thanks at me. “Calla,” she looks at me questioningly.
“You know I’m sorry, right?” My voice is sincere as I ask her this.
 
“Sorry for what?”
 
“This,” I tell her simply. “Consopio,” Calla fights the sleep that threatens to
swallow her valiantly, but ultimately succumbs to its blissful grasp. I lay the
book down on the couch next to her, level my wand on her once more and whisper.
“Obliviate.”
 
When she wakes she will think she simply drifted to sleep reading her book. Her
dreams will be filled with thoughts of her latest crush sweeping her off her
feet romantically. Passionate sessions in romantic locations. All of her
fantasy’s will play before her sleep filled mind. The Consopio charm is a
powerful charm that induces sleep and holds the victim by playing their
fantasies for them. The downside is that after four hours, they begin to become
less realistic and its hold over the victim lessens quickly.
 
With Calla asleep for at least four hours, I move to find the rest of the
houses occupants. Various house elves scramble about mindlessly. Being the next
heir, a few words ensure they don’t interrupt me. Upon reflection, a few
further words and I have all of the information I need. The master, my father,
is out of the house still. Something the mistress is none to pleased about.
Blakemore is in the library, while Mother is in the drawing room. Smiling
slightly, I walk towards my annoying brother. Just outside the library I lift
one of the hereditary axes from the axe and shield display. I slip in and find
him sitting facing the door. As I move closer, he looks up at me.
 
“What do you want, almighty one?” He sneers his best Gryffindor sneer. I smile
sickeningly at him and his eyes glance warily over my being. I watch his eyes
stop at the large axe I have enchanted to be feather light. “Dad is going to
kill you when he finds out you had that.”
 
I bite back a sneer at the mention of the fool, and send an amused look at poor
little Blakemore. “I’m afraid not, Blakey boy. The only one dying here is you.”
 
“What?” He asks confused, standing and backing away as I heft the axe into the
air. “Come on, man.” His voice is laced with fear. “Don’t play around like
that.”
 
Half a foot from him I look directly into his hazel eyes. “I’m completely
serious.” I swing the large axe like a cricket bat directly at his chest. Its
light weight lets me put more force behind it, traveling faster than I could
normally swing it. Before he has a chance to move, the axe lodged itself deeply
into his chest. Blood sprayed forth, coving the floor, table, and books. Even I
was not free of the shower. His body sunk to the floor as he strained to
breathe, his lungs and heart severed by the metal within him. It took five
minutes for him to succumb to death, his eyes wide and full of fear.
 
Meticulously, I clean the library. I am the first thing I clean. A wand wave
and the blood no longer stain me, flesh or clothing. The books are far more
difficult to handle than simple cleaning charms. Being old and susceptible to
damage, great care must be taken to avoid damaging the preservation spells on
them. Specialty charms had been invented for such purposes, and I, being a man
who loved to read, knew them. They simply were incredibly complex things to
cast. The floor and tables were easier to clean. They, like my clothing, were
rendered pristine. Glancing at the body I remove the axe. A debate runs through
my not so right head. Transfiguration is the answer, I decide. I may not be
very good at it but I manage. A few failed attempts, more than I am willing to
admit to, and I manage to transfigure the body into a beat up old book.
Randomly, I throw it onto a pile, and leave, the clean axe in its proper
resting place.
 
In the drawing room, Mother sits fuming in a chair, staring at the fireplace.
“Stupefy.” The spell catches her from behind and she slumps down onto the arm.
I smile. That was simple enough. Now, I had the …simple… task of overcoming her
mind.
 
“Creofames.” A white wave of magic left my yew wand, delicately touching her
temples. The magic wormed its way forward desperately as her magic fought it.
The electric pleasure of the dark magic grew stronger and stronger as moments
passed. The spell was one without a name. Its purpose was simple. It was to
leave a vision in the subconscious mind. The subconscious would read this
memory as a fantasy. The stronger you pushed the stronger the fantasy became. I
had no false hopes that I could craft a memory strong enough that she would
willingly act out, nut I had that angle covered as well. Five minutes I fought,
and won only from sheer power. No one in my family could deny I was more
powerful in the area of raw power.
 
A tired smile flits across my face as I whisper an incantation. “Oneirataxia.”
A purple haze drifts from the tip of my wand, slipping into Mother’s nose and
slightly parted lips as she breathes it in. The more of it she breathes, the
stronger the spell will be. When the cloud is gone, I obliviate and enervate
her.
 
Standing over her, I place my hand on her shoulder and shake her gently. “Mum?
Are you alright?”
 
She looks up at me, confusion in her eyes, before looking around the room. “I’m
fine, dear.” Her voice is soft and melodic. “I must have dozed off.”
 
Concern fills my eyes as I look at her. “Are you sure, because I can call Mrs.
Longbottom if you like.”
 
“No, I’m fine, Harry.” She smiles softly at me. “Really I am, but thank you for
being so concerned.”
 
I slide into a chair across from here. “So where is dad? Did Professor
Dumbledore call him for something?”
 
She heaved a frustrated sigh as she glared at the fireplace in front of her.
“No, he doesn’t know where he is, and neither does Sirius.”
 
“…Would he notice if there was a dragon in front of him?” I ask dryly. Mother
knew my opinion of the great womanizing twit of a prankster, so I felt no need
to hide it from her.
 
She didn’t seem to feel the need to defend him tonight however. “Somehow I
doubt it. But he and James are always attached at the hip.”
 
“If that is so, and he was supposed to have plans with him, why doesn’t Sirius
know where he is?”
 
She shrugged, her glare intensifying. “Apparently, he wasn’t ever with Sirius.
Black didn’t even know anything about plans today.”
 
“Hmm,” I hummed.
 
Beyond the room, in the foyer I could hear feminine giggly along with my
father’s deep laugh. My eyes narrowed instantly and glared at the door.
“James,” My Mother’s sickly sweet voice called. “Would you mind coming in
here.” Anger stormed through her normally calm jade eyes.
 
James entered the room slowly and, I noticed with irritation, alone. “What
about your guest?” I ask staring at him.
 
“Pardon?” His smooth voice fills the room. I would believe it genuine confusion
if I hadn’t known him.
 
“Your guest,” I repeat. “The female that was giggling out there with you. Calla
is asleep. Mother is here. You had to have brought someone home.”
 
He blushes in embarrassment as I call him on his bluff. I can’t tell if it’s
that he was it is because he was caught or that he is genuinely sorry. I
sincerely doubt it is the latter, however. A young girl, slightly older than
myself enters the room, face hidden beneath her hands, humiliation running
across her entire body. A very familiar body, I might add.
 
“Hello again, Patricia,” I greet her coolly. Mother’s eyes are on me in an
instant, asking silent questions. “Patricia Stimpson is a former girlfriend of
mine. The only thing I remember about her is she has a very odd shaped
birthmark on her left buttock. The only problem is…” I pause dramatically. “...
We only dated for two months.”
 
“I see,” the words come out in an angry growl. “And what the hell is she doing
with you. James?” She glares harder at him, anger radiating off of her, but I
could see fear mingling with her thoughts. She thought the worst, and was
probably right, as well. I wouldn’t have put it past the fool, given he went
through women like tissue paper in school.
 
James shifts about nervously, while Patricia seems to get a sort of irrational
courage. She latches onto his arm, glaring at my mother. “He is my boyfriend.
James is bored with you, and wanted someone else.”
 
Anger, hatred, hurt, sadness; many emotions flicker across my mother’s eyes.
“Get out, you little tramp. “ Her voice is gold and not a small amount
threatening. “You as well, Potter!”
 
“Lily,” the ignorant man presses, shaking the teen from his arm. “Don’t do
this.”
 
“Do what?” she snarls. “Throw you into the street where you belong? I want you
out of my house, now. I will send your things to Black tomorrow. You aren’t
welcome here any longer.”
 
“Lily, you can simply cut me out of my children’s lives.”
 
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Why would any of us aside from that little twit,
Blakemore, want anything to do with you?”
 
“Oh shut up, you hypocritical bastard.” I glare at Patricia. “You’ve had enough
women to be called a womanizer as well, so don’t pretend to be innocent.”
 
“Maybe I have,” I admit. “But I have always respected them and never once in my
life have I been dishonest or cheated on any of them. I,” I begin, my eyes
flicking to James. “Have the courage to tell my partner when I no longer feel
things will work between us, whatever the reason may be.”
 
“I don’t care,” My mother snarls at something James says. “I want you out!
Now!”
 
A sullen and defeated James Potter slowly turns and leaves. Patricia glares
once back at us before latching to his arm, playing the comforting wench. She
is immediately shrugged off and he apparates away. I slide an arm around
Mother’s shoulders. “Mum?” I question softly.
 
In an instant, the anger and hatred floods away, leaving only the dominating
waves of sadness and betrayal. Tears spring instantly to her eyes, and a sob
falls from her lips. As I wrap her in a comforting hug, she buries her head
into my shoulder, crying unabashedly. I run my hand through her silk hair, the
other drawing comforting circles on her back as everything flees her. Whispers
of soft nothings leave my lips, filling her ears. Gently, with deliberate care,
I lead her from the room to a spare guest bedroom. She weeps for nearly twenty
minutes, long after her supply of tears has failed her, before drifting to a
restless sleep. Some time along the way, I drift into an uneasy sleep as well.
 
“Harry,” I heard some time later. It was just a soft whisper. “Harry,” it came
again, stronger, shaking me this time. My eyes slide open and notice Calla
standing before me. I stand and slowly creep out of the room, careful not to
wake Mother. She followed, mocking my attempts at silence.
 
“Yeah?” I ask her once we are out of the room.
 
“Where is dad? Or Blakemore, for that matter?” Concern stains her voice as she
speaks. “It’s almost four in the morning and neither of them are anywhere in
the house.”
 
Anger streaks through my unnaturally green eyes and Calla recoils slightly.
“James,” I sneer hatefully, “Will not be returning in the near future. As for
his clone, I have no idea. He was here last I checked… Although…”
 
She looks at me in surprise and curiosity. “Although?”
 
“James and Mum got into a fight earlier. James was apparently cheating on
Mother.” My eyes are tainted once more by my vindictiveness and anger. “He
could have heard it and followed him.”
 
“Dad was cheating on mum?” Calla is in complete shock. Outwardly, James always
seemed happy with his wife. He was never satisfied with a single woman, though.
I’ve seen him flirt with others before. But that is neither here, nor there.
All that remains is for him to be taken care of. I intend to do it myself, as
well.
 
“Yeah.” I answer quietly. “Look, just go back to bed. It will all be sorted out
soon enough, I’m sure.”
 
She looks to protest before yawning. “Alright, but I expect the full story in
the morning.”
 
“…Very well,” I placate her. “Now off with you.” She bids me a good night
before heading off to her room once more. I’ll have to do something with the
book that was once my brother soon. I’ll take care of it when I deal with
James, however.
 
Turning, I re-enter the guest room, closing the door behind me. Sliding back
onto the bed, an arm snakes its way around my waist when I have gotten
comfortable, holding onto me tightly. Turning, I notice mother is awake. She
lay on her stomach, staring at nothing. Her eyes close when I run my hand
through her hair. She murmurs something into a pillow that I can’t quite make
out.
 
“Pardon?” I ask, staring at her in concern.
 
“Why?” she asks, her voice quiet and strained. “Did I do something wrong?”
 
“No,” I tell her with conviction. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” I pull her to
me, hugging her, pushing all of the feelings of caring and love I can through
my touch.
 
“Then why?!” she asks desperately.
 
I give a helpless shrug. “Some people don’t need reasons.” I venture. “You were
in the same year as him, so you know him better than I do. I’m sure you
remember what a womanizer he was.”
 
She squeezes her eyes closed, “But he changed so much.”
 
I smile sardonically. “Muggles have some saying about zebras and stripes that
fits, but I don’t know what it is. He can’t change his nature, and
unfortunately, this is his nature.”
 
She sniffled. “But you turned out so much better.” She protested. “And you are
his son.”
 
“But you raised me more than he did,” I inform her. “He took more participation
in Blakemore. Look how he turned out.” I stop gathering my words carefully. I
lean her face upwards to look at me. The purple haze in her pupils tells me she
is still affected by my spell. Excellent. The spell strips away a person’s
ability to distinguish between reality and fantasy. It should ease her into my
desires.
 
“Mum, you are a beautiful woman,” I tell her stroking the side of her face.
“Any man would be lucky to have you.”
 
She blushes slightly at my compliment. “Thank you,” She says simply, staring at
me.
 
Slowly, I lean down and gently press my lips to hers. I notice her eyes flutter
closed and after a moment she responds, pressing into me. My tongue dances
along her lips, begging entrance. She grants it, her tongue colliding with my
own. She tastes of the exotic teas she is so fond of. I find I enjoy her unique
flavour. She moans as I gently suck her tongue, pushing and prodding it with my
own. Suddenly, she pushes me away.
 
“Harry, no.” Her voice is but a whisper as she speaks to me, still in my
embrace. “We can’t do this.”
 
“Why not?” I ask, hurt in my eyes and voice.
 
She hesitates a moment, unwilling to hurt her own child. “Because I am your
mother, Harry. It isn’t right.”
 
“Says who?” I demand. “It happens all the time in nature and in people. Look at
purebloods,” I wave my hand in a vague gesture. “They’re all inbred twits.” My
eyes soften and I run a hand along her cheek again. She shudders under my
touch. “I love you, mum. I just want to make you happy and show you how much I
love you.” My thumb brushes across her lips and I hurt slides onto my face.
“Don’t you love me anymore?”
 
“Of course I love you,” she quickly protests. “But… Calla…Blake…”
 
“Blake followed James, and Calla is asleep.” I gently press a soft kiss to her
lips. “No one need know but us. Please,” my voice is pleading. “Won’t you let
me show you how much I love you?”
 
She hesitates longer, but soon gives into me. Her tongue dances across my lips,
the one begging entrance this time. Again I am overwhelmed by her flavour. Such
a sweet taste it is. I lean into her, laying her back on the soft bed. I
support myself on an elbow as a hand roams her beautiful body. The skin on her
soft thigh is so smooth. She breathes a moan as my nails drag across her bare
thigh. Her robes and shirt quickly found themselves discarded as were my own.
Naked from the waist up, I couldn’t help but admire her beautiful body. Her
breasts hung ever so slightly, but still retained the look of her youth.
 
Reaching out, I grasp her breasts softly. Her head sways to the side as I knead
them, flick, and pinch her nipples. Greedily, I capture one in my mouth. She
moans louder as my teeth graze across her sensitive and hardened nipple. I
swirl my tongue round it, suckling it with force. As I switch back and forth
between breasts, I place a hand beneath her black silk skirt. It took a moment,
but I find the spot I seek. Through her knickers, I massage her clit, causing
her to moan deeply. Her hand worms its way into my silk pants as I suckle and
fondle her. Her soft hand pulls me from my restraints, stroking me slowly.
 
Sitting up, I peal the now wet knickers from her body, displaying her neatly
trimmed flower to the world. Grasping her hips, I roll her onto me, her garden
just above my face. A long slow moan emerges from her as I apply my tongue to
her. My tongue attacks her clit while I penetrate her with two of my fingers.
As she drowns in the pleasure, she becomes a more willing participant. Slowly,
she stops stroking me, and takes as much of me into her mouth as she can hold.
I hold no conceptions that I am above average in size, but neither am I small.
Her tongue danced expertly around me, swirling around my head. Flicking the tip
ever so gently. Every movement she mad sent vicious and merciless waves of
pleasure through my body. It was a vicious cycle. As the pleasure became she
received became greater, she struggled to produce in me the same feelings. As I
was overcome by pleasure I pushed further and harder, threatening to devour her
in the bliss I created. Suddenly her body twitched and she let out a guttural
moan, sucking harder and pumping her hand faster. As she came, I pressed my
attack further and further, until I as well felt release. My seed filled her
mouth and she greedily swallowed it.
 
When we had recovered the strength to move, I lay her on her side, kneeling
near her garden. I rest one of her legs over my shoulder as she guided me to
her, into her. She felt so very good. My mind felt as if she fit me like a
glove as I dove deeper into her, ravaging her. I took from her every ounce of
pleasure she had to offer and gave the same in return. She moaned furiously,
dragging her nails across my chest, whimpering and begging for more.
 
“Harry,” She called, and I revel in the sound. “Harder! Faster! Give mummy more
of your love.” She pleaded, voice tainted by pleasure and lust. Her fingers
found her clit as I pushed on deeper into her, her flower clenching and
unclenching. Roughly, I shove it away, digging my own fingers into her red
bush, my thumb finding its way to her spot. I pinched it and she clenched
around me suddenly, tightly; given a violent moan. “Harry!” She cried aloud.
Rougher and more violently my thrusts became as I reached my peak. I freed
myself from her and she grasped me, pulling me to my release. My seed fell onto
her body, staining her stomach. Dressed only in her silk skirt, she snuggled
into me as I lay behind her. In moments she was asleep, but I lay awake. My
eyes were focused on the cracked door.
 
----
 
The light in the dining room was low, but the figure at the table was easy
enough to make out. Calla sat in a long sleeper shirt. In front of her was a
glass of some unknown liquid. Perhaps it was milk. She always did prefer milk
to anything else. She sat, staring ahead of her at nothing. It appeared that
she hadn’t noticed my entrance, but I was willing to be she knew I was here. I
slipped into a chair next to her, requesting a butterbeer from one of the house
elves. She didn’t look at me or even acknowledge my presence. I frowned and
sipped the liquid.
 
“Is something on your mind, Calla?” I ask after many minutes of silence. She
looks at me, an odd glimmer half hidden in the back of her eyes that I can’t
identify. She says nothing. “You saw mother and I.” It isn’t a question or a
statement.
 
“Why did you do that?” She asks after two full minutes of silence. “It’s….
wrong.”
 
“She needed comforting.” I tell her simply. “She wanted physical comfort.” I
look at Calla, “She has done so much for us all of our lives that I couldn’t
turn her down.”
 
“But… It’s still wrong.”
 
“Maybe,” I concede. “But it doesn’t stop other purebloods from doing it. It
didn’t stop our family from doing it. Our great Grandfather married his cousin
after all.”
 
“But that isn’t his mother!” She hisses angrily.
 
I stare at her for a moment and she fidgets in her seat. “You know,” I say ever
so slowly. “I think I know why you are so angry about it.”
 
Her eyes flash at me. “Why?”
 
“You are jealous that it wasn’t you.”
 
Shock streaks across her face. “What?”
 
I rest my hand on her tanned, smooth thigh and run it beneath the oversized
shirt. “You wanted to be the one beneath me, filled with me.”
 
She leaps from her chair, staring at me in shock. “Don’t be ridiculous, you are
my brother.”
 
I stand and grab her wrist, pulling her toward me and sitting her on top of our
two century old table. She struggles but I hold her by the waist, standing
between her legs and leaning into her. “But it doesn’t stop you from wanting
me. I know it was wrong to make love to my mother, but oh the pleasure I felt.”
She has stopped struggling, knowing she cant get away from my stronger grasp.
“I can give you that same pleasure.” I tell her kissing her on the neck softly.
 
In a smooth motion, I pull her shirt from over her head. Her arms instantly
cover her small breasts. I kiss her neck again and continue examining her body.
Tanned and petite, she is an excellent specimen of the female species. Her
breasts are much smaller than our mothers, but still quite lovely. Her slim
legs rise to white knickers.
 
“You naughty, naughty girl,” I coo seductively. “You’re all wet.”
 
“No I’m not,” She whispers in response.
 
“But you are,” I tell her, grasping one of her hands. Slowly I drag it across
her wet panties. “I can feel it, can’t you?” I smile seductively at her. “Did
you get off watching us, Mother and I?”
 
“No,” she denies.
 
“It’s alright,” I whisper to her. “You can admit it to me. I know it was more
arousing than your pitiful little novels. Taboo fetishes are always more
pleasing because you aren’t supposed to enjoy them.”
 
I kiss her throat, pulling her arm away. She leans back as I take her nipple
into my mouth. I am not nearly as patient with her as I was with mother. As her
hands dig into my hair, trying to pull me away, I free myself from the silk I
wear. She whimpers quietly as I force her knickers aside. Without pity, I
plunge into her depths completely. She gasps loudly, throwing her head back. My
descent was much smother than I had expected. She wasn’t as pure as I had
thought.
 
“Who?” I demand.
 
She stares into my eyes, confused for but a second. “Smith,” she answers
breathlessly.
 
I growl angrily, taking my frustration out on her small body. My thrusts are
rough and unforgiving as they pound into her with all of the force I can
manage. She moans in pain and pleasure with her eyes clenched shut. Tears
slowly slide down her eyes as she begs. Her body begs for more, pulling me
deeper and deeper, while her words begged me to stop. I ravaged her without
mercy, subjecting her to both the pain and the pleasure. She reached her climax
first as I put the years of practice I had to great use.
 
“You see,” I coo softly in her ear. “You enjoy being wrapped around me.” I
release her hips and she leans back onto the cool table. Her hips buck wildly
into me as I slow my pace. I take a sadistic pleasure in her fight for more.
“You want more do you?” She whimpers pitifully. “Not until you tell me.”
 
“Please, I want you.” She begged.
 
I smile before leaving her, yanking her from the table. A gentle push and she
falls to her knees, my erection standing in front of her. Without words, she
swallows it, clumsily emulating the actions my mother used. Though less
precise, she has her own talent. The occasional soft contact of teeth excites
me some how and I thrust harder onto her tongue. Her head no longer moves as I
entwine my fingers in her red hair, fucking her mouth wildly. Her slim fingers
work the base of my shaft as best they can with my sporadic tempo. Still riding
the pleasure of her body, it takes only a small amount of work before my
release comes. Jerking backwards, I leave her welcoming mouth, spraying
outward. The sticky liquid coats her chin and dribbles down onto her chest and
breasts.
 
At my commands, she stands and faces away from me, bending over the table. I
run a hand across the soft skin of her bum. She shivers in anticipation as I
move closer, spreading her cheeks. She looks back over her shoulder, confused
for a moment, but her mouth shouts open in a quiet painful groan as I enter
her. Her anus is tighter around the entrance and I feel it trying to push me
back out again. Slowly, I push all the way into her hole. Her eyes are screwed
closed as she struggles to keep calm. It takes several minutes but she relaxes
into my rhythm and begins to enjoy the feel soon enough. Her hand dives into
her completely shaven hole, stimulating her clit, as I enjoy her. She reaches
climax again before I spill myself into her.
 
----
 
James Potter lay on the couch in the drawing room on one Sirius Black,
pondering many things. The first of which being his extra marital
relationships. Patricia had been the second, and he wasn’t entirely sure what
he had saw in the young raven haired girl. She was nervous most of the time and
very high strung. Hestia Jones, the mediwitch that had taken care of Blakemore
when he broke his arm over the summer two years ago had been the first. A past
lover of his, he felt a desire to reconnect with her. It had simply gone
farther than he had anticipated, he ending up in her bed twice.
 
Sirius sat glaring at the man he called a friend. Sure, Sirius Black may have
had many lovers, but he had never once cheated on any of them. His glare was
interrupted by an owl entering the room. It was one of the owls generally found
in rent-an-owl post offices. In its talons was a book. Tied to the book was a
single small piece of paper.
 
“James,” Sirius called, tossing the book in his lap. “It’s yours apparently.”
He watched as he unfolded the paper and read the small note. Confusion crossed
the hazel eyed man’s face. “What?” He asked James as the other man pulled out
his wand. Silently James handed him the paper. It read:
 
You should keep a better eye on your children. This one was found wander about
the streets. Finite the book.
 
M.
 
“M?” Sirius questioned as the other man placed the object on a table and
stalked across the room.
 
“Finite,” James said firmly, pointing at the book.
 
The small, black, leather book that once lay on the table across the room
vanished. In its place now lay a body. Pale and wide eyed, the corpse of
Blakemore Francis Potter lay before them. Across the boy’s chest, a huge gash
could be seen. Sirius stared and James fell to his knees, eyes wide as well.
His hands soon hid the tears that made their way down his face.
 
---
 
Notes:
 
Thanks to Rain and LT2000 and everyone who helped. This will be a two chapter
oneshot for now. Maybe later itll turn into an actual story but for now its
just a two chapter one shot.
 
Dedicated To Exiled Rain from darklordpotter(dot)net
***** Part Two *****
Oedipus Flower
Part Two.
---
Notes:
Thanks to Syao, Rain, LT2000, and everyone else who helped. Im still not sure
if this will continue further than it does, but this is the ending I had
planned all along so it leaves a road open if I want to. Enjoy.
Tri-dedication To Silent (My beta) Raven and LT2000 from darklordpotter(dot)net
-----
Sometime later in the week, I head for the Stimpson household. Having dated her
for a period, I know where she lives as well as the address to her private floo
within her room. The reason I am going to her home is quite simple. She is a
liability. She knows, even if she doesn’t know, what I’ve done. I am not
willing to risk months of planning because of one high strung Gryffindor.
During Christmas break I slipped a potion to lower James’ inhibitions. I also
ensured he would be where I wanted him at the time. Patricia played her part of
the pawn, rather unwillingly. With a handy dandy Imperious curse, she was my
servant. I obliviated her for safety reasons afterwards. No need to get caught
simply because she reacted badly to a curse. Controlling her was simple enough
given her low willpower.
James went to replace Blakemore’s stole broom one evening, and Patricia, haven
already left Hogwarts, was already there. James could never get enough of
someone stroking his ego, and Patricia, under my instructions, did exactly
that. An hour later, she was ridding him in a dirty room at some shabby pub in
Knockturn Alley. It was disturbing to hear as she reported it to me as I asked,
in detail. I nearly slapped the taste out of the nasty little harlot’s mouth.
After numerous other… accidental …meetings James had fallen into a semi-regular
sort of relationship with the poor weak minded girl. And now, the girl had
lived out her usefulness.
Green flames erupted from the fireplace as if from a Dragon’s mouth and I
stepped from them gracefully. The room was coloured in a deep red color, maroon
I suspect it’s called. A four poster bed similar to Hogwarts own, occupied by a
startled Patricia, line one wall. At its foot lay a black trunk, no doubt the
one she had used for her schooling. Bookshelves and a desk stood against the
remaining walls. White carpet lined the floor. It was a nice room. Pity it
would go to waste.
Releasing the subtle magics I held in the girls mind, I greeted her as fear
welled up within her blue orbs, “Hello again, Stimpson.”
“Harry,” she whispers in horror. “Oh my god, I am so sorry, Harry! You have to
believe me!” She got up and moved to me, clutching my hand in hers. “ I don’t
know what came over me. I swear I didn’t mean to do it.”
I smile kindly down at her, giving away none of my darker thoughts. “Hush,
sweet. I know you didn’t. I’m not angry.” She looks surprised momentarily
before hugging herself to me. “In fact, I am quite pleased.”
She pulls away from me, confused blue staring into dark green. “What do you
mean?” She asks ever so slowly.
“You did everything I wanted you two, of course.” I tell her, removing my wand
from the black dragon hide holster it was in. “Amomeri,” I whisper,
concentrating on the memory charm I placed on her. I can’t help but smile at
the gasp and fear that spreads through her.
“Why…” She begins stuttering. “Why would you do that? To me… to your parents…”
“Parents?” I ask sarcastically. “My father is a whore, nothing more. My Mother
is better off without him. I was helping her, saving her.”
“That isn’t your choice to make!” she sneers, fear temporarily forgotten.
“But it is, you see. It is my choice. It directly involves my life, so it has
to fit my standards!”
“You arrogant bastard,” she growls. “You arrogant little bastard. You would
ruin their lives just to make yours perfect.”
Rage seeps into my being. How dare this scarlet woman call me an arrogant
bastard! Without thinking, I pin her to the wall by the throat. “You little
slut, you dare chastise me! I fucking killed the dark lord, Voldemort! I can do
whatever the hell I fucking please! Those pathetic people owe me their lives!”
“Harry,” she gasps, clawing at the hand that restrains her. “Please, you’re
hurting me.”
Sadism manifests it self into my smile, my eyes looking visibly darker in the
dim light of the corner. “Oh, I intend to do so much more than hurt you.” I
look down at her body. It is covered in silk clothing much like I wear to bed
as well. She does have such a nice body, even if she was a lousy lay. My tongue
absently drifts across my lips as I gaze at her. “I intend to humiliate you.” A
cold smile crosses my lips. “And don’t be afraid to scream, my little pureblood
princess. No one will hear you in this large manor.”
“Please don’t,” She begs, tears forming.
“Shhh,” I whisper into her ear, waving my wand. An imperturbable ward swirls
into existence, protecting the room. A second flick and her silk pants tear
away from her. “It will all be over soon. I promise.” A third flick removes
troublesome knickers.
“Please no!” Her voice is desperate as I slip my wand away and reveal myself to
her.
“No?” I ask. “I remember a time when you practically begged for it, dear
Patty.”
“Gods, no! Stop! I’ll do anything! Just stop!” She pleads as I turn her to face
the wall and pin her there.
Her pleas are cut off as I enter her without hesitation. She isn’t wet in the
slightest form, so it is painful even to me. I press further into her as I hold
her from behind. She fights to get away, screaming and pushing back, trying
vainly to move my stronger body. Slowly I pull back to the tip and slam myself
deeper into her. “Behave you little bitch, and you’ll get away with just a
memory charm.” I growl at her. She doesn’t calm down and I am no gentler to her
as I ravage her body. Slowly she becomes wetter and clenches tighter around me.
It isn’t because she wants it, however, simply because her body is trying to
fell the painful stimulation. It becomes more pleasurable to me as she does,
however, so I don’t complain. I don’t slow for my climax, shooting it deeply
into her battered body.
“Can you feel it?” I whisper from behind, still fucking her. “Can you feel my
love flowing into your pathetic little body?” Tears stream down her face freely
now as she no longer fights. Pulling myself from her, I turn her and force her
to kneel in front of my. I stand erect, in all of my glory, before her face. A
fist in her hair, I position her head as I stroke myself before her eyes. My
eyes drift close momentarily as I release for a second time. Her tear stand
face being so close to me is covered. She snaps her eyes closed and twists her
head to get away, but I still make my mark. Roughly, I throw her onto the
ground by her hair.
Watching her sob on the ground, I still wish her to suffer. Kneeling I force
her onto her stomach as I take position behind her. She tries to crawl away,
but resting a single hand on her back with all of my weight stops her. The
second hand directs myself to her ass. Again, ruthlessly I enter her. I reveal
in her cries as I furiously pound her flesh. I release into her again before
pulling her to her knees again. I glare down at her as I readjust my trousers.
My wand is once more in my soon as finish.
“Anything to say?” I question quietly.
“Rot in hell you bastard.” She sobs.
“Hmm,” I hum. “Not in my plans for the near or distant future I am afraid. You
on the other hand? Avada Kedavra.” She slumps to the floor soundlessly. “You
will be very soon.”
----
The green flames of the floo roar to life around me in their dragon like way.
It has been two days since Stimpson was found dead in her room. Like my trip to
Patricia’s house, I am arriving via public access floo. It is traceable yet
untraceable all at once. James is at one of the homes Sirius inherited from his
family. The Black scion might have hated his family, but he certainly had no
qualms about using their things for purposes they would have loathed. I think
his only regret is that none of them aside from Malfoy’s wife are alive to see
it used to aide a blood traitor.
“Hello?” I call. “Anyone home?”
“Harry?” A quiet voice calls from down the hall. Its James’ voice. Following
it, I find him in a sitting room. My face scrunches in disgust upon seeing him.
Smell, I should say.
“Nyx Below,” I curse. “You fucking reek. When the hell did you shower last?
1980?”
“I spent the week cleaning this dingy old home.” He tells me. I couldn’t care
less, I think as I bring the sleeve of my robe to cover my nose. “Found a few
awful smelling potions that spilled on me while I was doing it.”
“So you decide to wallow in your filth?” I sneer at him. “How can you live like
that?”
His eyes turn towards me, a cold look in them. “I spend all day cleaning and
you greet me like this? Pah! I think I like the silence better.”
“Boo fucking hoo.” I drawl. “I feel heart wrenching sorrow and pity for you,
adulterer.”
He glares at me. “I didn’t want to cheat on her, Harry. Someone…” He trails
off. “Someone did something to me! I swear! I love your mother, Harry.” A dead
look takes to his eyes. “I love all of you; Calla, Lily, you, and….”
Blakemore’s name dies on his lips. I fight the smirk that threatens to tear
open my face.
“What?” I question in concern. “Did something happen to Blakemore?”
“Blakemore is… is….”
“IS?” I ask impatiently.
“…Dead.” He sobs.
“Dead?” my voice is quiet as I repeat this. He nods. “How?” he hands me the
note I wrote in response. “M?”
“Malfoy, I think.” He answers dully. “Though we have no evidence.”
“Maybe its Mordred,” I tell him offhandedly. I have no desire to play the
caring son any longer. I simply wish my fun to come and leave quickly.
“Who?”
“You know, Mordred. He was King Arthur’s son or some such nonsense.” Ideally I
slid my wand from my sleeve. “Also happens to be a nickname of mine. Only my
closest friends know it. Patricia knew it, though she wasn’t meant to.”
Fear, suspicion and as well as an array of dark emotions flick through the
hazel gaze directed at me. “Mordred?” He repeats. “Why Mordred?”
“At the time I simply wanted a more interesting name. There was no reason
behind it, aside from the fact that Harry was so… dull. Not at all fitting for
someone like me.” I pause thoughtfully. “But now I see it has an ironic twist
to it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Morded is most well known for killing his father and marrying his wife.
Granted I can’t marry her, but you see where I’m going.”
The color is gone from his face. “Blakemore…”
“It was the axe hanging outside the library, if you must know. Took five
minutes for him to die. Lack of blood or oxygen, I suspect.” My voice is casual
as I inspect my wand’s tip, as if I were talking about the weather.
“Legilimens!” I look into his eyes as I whisper the incantation.
Half a foot from him I look directly into his hazel eyes. “I’m completely
serious.” I swing the large axe like a cricket bat directly at his chest. Its
light weight lets me put more force behind it, traveling faster than I could
normally swing it. Before he has a chance to move, the axe lodged itself deeply
into his chest. Blood sprayed forth, coving the floor, table, and books. Even I
was not free of the shower. His body sunk to the floor as he strained to
breathe, his lungs and heart severed by the metal within him. It took five
minutes for him to succumb to death, his eyes wide and full of fear.
James shakes his head as I withdraw from his mind. “What the hell?” He blinks.
“Why?”
“He was too much like you. You are just wasted air as it is. No reason to keep
either of you fools alive.”
“But he was your Brother!”
“Pity I must claim him as such as well.” I drawl, my displeasure not hidden. “I
suppose you wont like this either. Legilimens.”
Lily stood on her knees before me, her mouth working furiously at my erection.
My head lulled back as waves of pleasure crashed over me. A hand reached under,
cupping me, the other stroking me as I left her velvet mouth. A tongue danced
along my head, expertly flicking in just the way I liked it. The hand cupping
me left suddenly, a tongue replacing it. It licked along my shaft where a hand
once stroked. Looking down I saw twin read heads attending me. Two tongues
mingled together, tasting one another while serving my. The sight drove me to
my point, my seed begging to escape. It coated both tongues, which lapped at it
greedily.
James shook his head again, forcing me out of his mind. It was annoying that
someone like him could push me out, even if I was a beginner. “We aren’t done
just yet. Legilimens!” I growled angrily.
I watched as tongue met fiery red bush. The young, inexperienced tongue
experimented, licking here, flicking there. She stood on her knees, face buried
between two legs. I gently stroked in and out of her. Orgasmic screams praised
her inexperience. Clenching muscles drove me to release, my seed covering her
bare cheeks.
“Legilimens!”
Deeper and deeper I drove into her, her older slit gripping and releasing at
just the right times. My name passed her lips in a blissful moan. Her hand
reached down, stroking me as I shoved myself into her relentlessly. Her nails
digging into me ever so slightly brought so much more pleasure. My release came
too soon, she held me in as I released, urging me beyond my point. Begging me
to give her release as well. I complied. Again I released all too soon,
covering her chest. Sweaty and sticky, she panted, stroking me softly, to give
pleasure rather than release.
“LEGILIMENS!” I scream at him, all of my might forced behind it.
Her begging and pleading filled my ears. Hard, Harry, she called. Faster,
Harry, she demanded. My hips collided with her cheeks as I penetrated her anus.
Mother’s encouraging voice drove me deeper into sweet little Calla. Her hand
danced expertly in her fire, giving her just the right stimulation. She knelt
over sweet little sister, who lay on her back, massaging herself. Her orgasm
dripped from her, staining her junior’s face. The Younger tongue leapt forward,
eager for a taste, but received none as I held her in place, violating her
hole.
“Stop!” James screamed, falling to his knees, blood dripping from his nose.
“Don’t you want to watch more?” I ask, twirling my wand. Rage permeates my
voice. “I know you enjoyed it. I enjoyed it. The beauty of Legilimency is it
doesn’t just transfer memories, but feelings as well. Did you cream yourself
from all those orgasmic waves?” I notice the blood running finally. “Ah, it
seems I’ve over done it. If too many attacks come too quickly, it has the
downside of crushing the mind. You seem to be bleeding.”
Standing shakily, he wipes his nose, looking at it. His hand flies forward, and
only now do I notice the wand in it, “Stupefy!”
A gold shield shimmers as the red spell slams harmlessly into it. “You want to
duel me?” I ask incredulously. “Weak as you are from my attacks on your mind?
PAH! Pitiful! AVADA KEDAVRA!” The sickly green light passes over him as he
rolls, throwing his had forward.
“NAI DREXEIL!” A purple spell tears through my red shield. My off arm, the
left, is hit. I gasp in unexpected pain and then nothingness. I’ve lost feeling
and control of my left arm. Shit.
“Mortifics.” I growl in frustration. The black, cruel feeling spell slams into
a white shield, tearing through it easily. His left hand is caught as well. I
grin in sadistic pleasure while he screams as the flesh is torn from the hand.
“An eye for an eye, father. Or rather, hand for a hand. Tistops.” A grey flash
and bang leaves my wand, a beam of magic tearing the air towards my father. He
dives behind a couch, obviously recognizing the curse. The couch erupts into
grey flames, devouring the piece in an instant.
“A bit young to be playing with such advanced dark magic, aren’t you?” James
asks, standing. “Ekans!” The spell hits and I am suddenly vomiting
uncontrollably. I fight to control it as my father walks closer to me. “You are
a bit too young and inexperienced to beat me yet, boy.”
“Bastard,” I gasp, spittle dripping onto his foot. “I’m going to fucking kill
you.” My wand is inches from his stomach. “Crucio!” The spell misses. As I
brought my wand up, he had already begun to move. Fuck. Failed he might have,
he was still in the auror’s academy.
“Stupefy!”
I bat the red spell down and glare hatefully at him. “Damn it, stop playing
with me!”
“You wouldn’t last a minute against me if I did, boy!”
“STOP CALLING ME BOY!” I roar. “AVADA KEDAVRA! AVADA KEDAVRA! AVADA KEDAVRA!”
The three spells pass harmlessly by him as my rage affects my aim. “You won’t
hit anything with that pathetic aim, Harry.” His wand moves in a complicated
pattern as he whispers an incantation. ERNAV!”
I suddenly can’t move. He moves toward me as I struggle against this strange
spell. “Let me go, damn you! You cant fucking do this to me!”
“Can’t I? He asks angrily. “You’ve bloody well tried to kill me and you tell me
I can’t?”
I glare at him. “Just like a Gryffindor,” I sneer. “Always taking the coward’s
way out! YOU’RE JUST LIKE THE TRAITORUS COWARD, PETTIGREW!” I roar, before
suddenly falling to the floor.
“You have no idea what your talking about, Harry!” He screams. Loathed as I am
to admit it, he is very intimidating. “You don’t want to play? Fine, lets not!
CRUCIO!”
I barely roll away from the curse, flinging one of my own. “The Mighty
Gryffindor poster boy James Potter using unforgivables? How the mighty have
fallen.”
“Shut up, you little bastard. Serapheth!” A dark blue spell crashes before me,
sending splintering wood into the air.
“Pathetic! Golonbs!” A wave of energy distorts the air as it flies at him.
“Cant even cast a spell properly,” I continue to stoke the fire of his rage.
“I’ll bet you’ve never even been able to please your wife the way I have.
Tolleris!” The spell flies much quicker than the wave of energy. The energy
serves its purpose of collapsing the shield while the second spell shatters
both his wrists.”
“FUCK!” James screams.
“Klans!” His knees shatter as well. He is soon lying on the ground, unable to
move. I pant as I stand over him. “You’re a hell of a lot better than I
expected a pompous ass like you to be.” I support my weight on the shelf behind
me. “Pity you weren’t a better person or I might regret killing you.”
Its quite surprising to see his leg flung at me, trying to knock me off
balance. Due to the weakened knee, it wouldn’t do much however. “Sectumsempra.”
The leg is severed at the knee. “I’ve wasted enough time on you, bastard. Avada
Kedavra!” Being right above him, and he so severely injured, he can’t escape
this time. His angry hazel eyes stare at me, accusing me of the ultimate
betrayal. I sneer, kicking him once, before leaving, flooing somewhere public.
I take my time returning to my home. Having accomplished my goal, I am quite
pleased. The injuries I sported from the event were most irritating. I had to
travel to a healer, I chose one in Knockturn alley for their secrecy, to return
the feeling to my arm and stop myself from randomly vomiting. It took four
hours even with the assistance of a trained healer. I was most displeased and
eager to return home to work away my frustrations. I had weaned mother from the
spell slowly, though it took a bit of coercion to keep her as my pet. She
couldn’t deny the pleasure she felt and had already become as deviant as she
could, haven been my partner on many occasions. She had even devoured my sweet
little sister before I completely removed the effects of the spell.
When I arrive, seven men and Sirius Black stand with my mother and sister. All
seven of them are dressed in auror’s robes. When I enter, they immediately
drawl there wands. Even Sirius does. My mother and sister are in tears. What is
going on, I wonder. I voice my question.
“Harry James Potter, you are under arrest for the murder of your father, James
Potter.” The lead auror speaks in a loud and powerful voice.
“What?” I gasp in shock. “No!” I look at my mother as she walks up to me.
“You bastard.” She sobs, slapping me in the face hard as she could. I gape at
her. Never once in my life has she even spoken a harsh word to me, and now she
has slapped me. I feel tears sting my eyes.
“Mother, no!” I sob. How pathetic I have become, though I twist my own
heartache to my advantage still. “I didn’t, I swear. Please believe me, I
didn’t do it!”
She looks conflicted, torn between her love for me, and punishing me for my
crime. “Harry, you were seen!”
“They’re lying! I swear!” I whisper desperately. I grab her hand, gripping it
for dear life. “Mother please, you know me better than this.” I fall to my
knees, staring up at her, hugging her around the waist. “Please,” the chocked
sob echoes in the room. “You have to believe me!”
“I saw you, Potter.” Sirius growls at me. “Swaying out of the room like you was
some sort of GOD! I may have been too late to save James, but I’ll be damned if
you walk free!”
I dry, humourless laugh escapes my lips. “Why aren’t I surprised someone of
your intelligence could be so easily fooled! Haven’t you ever studied sixth
year potions? Have you forgotten about Polyjuice potions?”
The lead auror, I recognize as Dawlish, speaks. “There is one way to find out.
Give us your wand, boy.” Without thinking I toss it to him. In retrospect this
was a bad idea. “Prior Incantato.” The ghostly image of my father appeared from
the wand.
All emotion drained from me as I could only think and say one word. “Fuck.”
And thus began my life sentence in Azkaban. But I swear to all the powers above
and below. I will get out of here. I will have what is rightfully MINE! And I
will have my revenge on Black. My world would have been perfect if not for him.
He will suffer a thousand hells for this. I will rape and murder whatever
family he has when I am free. He will watch and beg for the mercy of death. I
swear this on my blood, on my magic, and on my life! Fear me, Sirius Black, for
Mordred will have your blood!
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