Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Breathe of Fire… or – whatever… this is a FAN-fiction site so if you do think I own them; I have to ask… what have you been smoking?
King of Bandit
The New King
It all started with a stupid prophesy. That was right! Prophesies were stupid, and anyone who said otherwise was stupider. The fortune wasn't very good, for two children anyway. It told of a child that would be born at the end of July with the power Voldemort, 'the Greatest Dark Wizard in a century', does not know, and that the child would be the only being able to destroy him, so it was pretty stupid, and anyone who believed in crap like it should have been shot to save the world from their stupidity. Yep, the 'light' was stupid enough to believe that they should rest their lives in the innocence of a child's 'power'.
There were three magical children born at the end of July. Well, it didn't seem to cross the wonderful people of the light to check the non-magical world for children of magic, or anywhere outside of the United Kingdom because they were that arrogant and even more ignorant or they would have found a further 376 children who were born at the end of July.
However, out of those 376 children including those in the UK, only five sets of parents had faced the Dark Lord and lived to tell the tell, three of those parent-sets didn't live in the UK, and they were unimportant anyway. You see the prophesy got really dicey when you knew that Voldemort wasn't the only self-proclaimed 'Dark Lord' on the planet, likely not even the strongest.
The prophesy never actually mentioned Voldemort by name, but the 'Great' leader of the 'light' Albus Dumbledore, Voldemort's greatest enemy heard the prophesy so of course he came to that conclusion, and honestly many would have too.
But there were other 'Dark Lords', and there were other parents of the 376 children who had survived one: nineteen to be exact; so technically there were twenty four possible candidates for 'A' 'Dark Lords' downfall.
It was just unfortunate that Voldemort was the only 'supreme overlord' wanabee who heard about the prophecy. There was a choice of three children. Neville Longbottom was an only child. He was a pureblood, living with his mother and father. Though, Voldemort prised purebloods as superior to half-bloods or muggle-borns, he chose to attack the half-blood twins.
Harry Potter and his slightly younger sister Rosette were like Neville were only fifteen months old at the time of the attack. Voldemort would never have admitted it, but he was a half-blood, so saw something; he was a threat, so too could they be, and he really hated their mother, Lily Potter for actually capturing Bellatrix that one time, and somehow breaking her as she returned, different, content even.
The Potter's and Longbottom's had been placed into hiding, under the watchful eyes of Albus Dumbledore when he wasn't watching Severus Snape and wondering why he had so many pets, but shrugged that off as unimportant after a while as they were all at least male, so the school wouldn't have to worry about hundreds of chickens, dogs, goats, and pigs running around his school; as headmaster-that would not do.
It was strange how fate could be a mean girl! That frightful night on New Hallows Eve was not the peaceful night where supernatural D-bags hung up their evil and throw a creepy party where he would make all his Death Eaters feel too uncomfortable to enjoy themselves.
No – that night Voldemort struck Godric's Hollow, home of the Potter family, afraid a wee little baby was going to grow up to murder him someday all because an old crackpot said so in a weird and creepy voice, but maybe that was what sold it for him.
Now any sensible couple hiding from the D-bag of D-bags would have used themselves as 'SECRET KEEPERS' for the Fidelius charm, or if they had magical powers, ran the hell away, moved to the mood, something like that, but no such intellect when someone was around. Albus Dumbledore was supposed the clever old man you could go to in crisis and he would know how to get you killed, or nearly killed at least.
He thought that running away where there were none of Voldemort's Death eaters, or Voldemort would be too dangerous. Therefore they decided to use Sirius Black, James Potters' best friend as the Secret Keeper to Dumbledore's old family home in Godric's Hollow. Sirius was even the best man at the Potters' wedding.
That however did not exactly happen, because Sirius knew all too well that everyone knew he was going to be secret keeper. He at least had some brains, the Potter's too as they agreed, but it was a shame they chose to trust the wrong man.
They chose Peter Pettigrew. Though the reasoning was sound, it was a shame they didn't count on the weak man's cowardice to have kicked in, and that he was a bad guy. You see Pettigrew was also a close friend of the Potter's.
However, he was considered a joke of a wizard, therefore in theory no one in his or her right mind would expect him to be the true Secret Keeper. That was a grave mistake. Pettigrew had already betrayed the 'light' and was already Voldemort's whipping boy.
That day changed the Potters' lives forever. The Dark Lord Voldemort went to Godric's Hollow, knocked out James and Lily Potter. He was going to kill them first, but he was inspired on the thought of how they would look watching their children's limp, dead bodies being toyed with.
He went upstairs in the small cottage house and into Harry and Rosette's bedroom, discovering the raven-haired boy and red-haired girl in their crib, looking up at him.
Harry was standing, his eyes a piercing emerald green colour like his mothers, and ironically the curse of death. Rose was sitting playing with a doll, her eyes hazel like her fathers. Her gaze turned back to her toy. Harry watched as Voldemort fired his deathly Killing Curse at him.
However, he should have probably stayed at home as a weird shield of runes blazed up in a bright light that was almost blinding. Then he heard the deep and powerful roar. The room exploded outwards, glass shattering, and the walls burning, bursting into flame of blue, green, and black.
He could see through the light into the symbols of colours like the reflection of a purl, pressure of magic burnt through the room, and tore the outside wall down, melting it away in emerald flames.
Then he was gone. He was dead, vaporised by his own stupidity. He never even saw what it looked like behind the runes. He was torn from his body and evicted from the Potter's home by a small child.
The light faded and little Harry fell to his knees, naked with burned covering his body, but they were healing instantly. His little sister had whimpered as she looked to see whether her big brother was okay, but other than a small cut on her forehead she was doing well.
However, soon Dumbledore came, and Harry got pushed to the side as he declared Rosette Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived because she had been marked. He didn't see that sometimes marks were far deeper than a silly little cut on someone's forehead, but maybe there was something too that, as nobody saw Rosette's little eye blink from the unearthly glow they sported, to her regular hazel.
Nobody even gave Harry a second glance as they began their praising and worshiping of his sister. Dumbledore did not consider Harry as their savoir, he just took one look at Rose's scar, and that was it. She was the girl-who-lived.
He wouldn't have been surprised if everyone believed Dumbledore if he said that a bird crapping on you was good luck. How was that good luck? A bird had just crapped on you!
Fifteen years later…
Harry sat, half bored as the train moved. He would stand at just six foot, but he slouched in his seat, not really doing much of anything. He wore black combat trousers with a black sleeveless tee shirt underneath is beige jacket, with brown walking boots.
His raven black hair was cut short, spiking out to the front, longer on top, while the sides were slightly shorter. His eyes were a brilliant shade of green, like emeralds that caught the light just right, which seemed to capture most girls' attention straight away.
He had not long since turned sixteen, and had been travelling alone… well nearly always alone for the past year, since his grandfather passed away. But Harry had learnt more than he ever believed possible in the short time they spent together.
It had been a bit scary, and daunting, but he had magical powers, and the magical world viewed things different compared with the muggles. So, he could get away with being a 'minor' on his own. Though, he had plenty of people he could go to. He wanted to follow in 'his' footsteps and find his own path, just like he did all those years back when he was a kid.
He had grown good at tricks, and even gained an aptitude for sleight of hand, or using his magical talents to give people the slip, or other things beside. His best friend, dubbed him the King of Bandits without knowing the half of it at the time, and it had kind of stuck as a running joke, with a twist of mock these days, ever since.
Though he travelled a lot, he had always wanted to settle a little more when he was younger, but that wasn't his grandpa. His family travelled a lot, searching for that great score from the ancient world. Something so magnificent to just take, not because they needed it, or the money it could fetch on the Black Market, but just to prove they could.
Harry King had learnt a lot on his journeys, and been to many different places around the world he knew he never would have seen staying with 'them'. His family by blood, but he didn't think he could stay mad at his sister for long; he didn't have it in him as she was just a child who knew no better at the time, and maybe she had grown up.
To his 'real' family he had been nothing but a big disappointment. That was why he ran away from home, fleeing the unfairness of it; the way they treated 'her' better than him, and he just could not hack it.
He had been four at the time, and in his four-year-old little head, he felt that running away was the only way. He knew apart of him only did it to get the attention. If they realised he had gone fast enough they could have easily found him. He did not know how long it took them to realise he had ran, but the thought made him cringe.
It had been scary when he was caught stealing by the old man. He had never seen him before in his life, and he was a muggle (non-magical person). However, the man knew of magic. He had been waiting for Harry. He didn't care that Harry was stealing. It was odd to have someone be proud of him for something that was supposed to be wrong.
"Are we there yet?"
Harry was startled from his retrieve by a sizzling hiss of a voice. It came from within his coat, sticking its small and slender black head out. It had twin red strips down each side of its body. It was a long thin snake wrapped around his neck and shoulders twice to stay hidden in his jacket. He had fangs and a hissing little tongue flickering out. He wasn't the most dangerous of snakes, he was the equivalent of a magical adder when it came to deadliness, though he would like to say he was more deadly, he did have his uses such as invisibility, and people tended to not notice him, except Harry, probably because he was a speaker. Anyway, the snake's invisibility didn't last long, and he could slither up vertical surfaces.
"Not yet, Kir," the young man hissed back. He had met his friend a few years back. He hadn't had a name then, but Harry offered him one, Kir, named after his grandfathers' old friend; a magical talking bird that turned into a canon.
Kir couldn't' actually speak human, but he had learned to understand it, but Harry was speaking his language, parseltongue. It was a genetic magical trait as far as Harry could figure. He hadn't known who's blood the gift came from, but it was nice to be able to speak to his friend. Wizards in the Western world believed that snake speakers were so rare and evil, but they weren't that rare, and they weren't feared as evil in the East, and even in the State, Canada, and North America.
"Come on, just do that jumping thing and presto!" the snake complained and begged hopefully, and if he had human lips would have been pouting. "We've been on this damn train for hours now."
Harry chuckled, rolling his eyes amused with his friends' inpatients. The snake seemed to love Complaining.
"It's only been two and half hours... we should be in Calais… in," Harry lifted his left sleeve looking at his watch, which was on a thick leather strap with a silver watch face. "... about twenty minutes," he said with a small grin. "You'll miss the world passing us by if we just jump everywhere like that, and I need some rest from the last few jumps anyway!"
Kir sighed dramatically. "This is so not fun. I hate riding the train… you could have gotten us to the UK anyway you wanted; jumping, portkey, even flying horse-!"
"They're called pegasus!" Harry interrupted while laughing, and thankful that their carriage was void of any other passengers to stare at him hissing away with a snake.
The snake looked at him, shaking his head in disapproval. "I don't really care what you call a pony with wings!"
"Well first I wouldn't call them ponies with wings unless you want to be trampled to death!" he retorted, "You abilities don't fool every creature you meet!"
Kir sighed, rolling his little black eyes. "Well I'm going back to sleep, try not to get into trouble… well at least until after you check into an inn where you can leave me to the peace and quiet for a while."
Harry sighed as he sat back while Kir went back to sleep. The world he used to belong to was so much more different to the one he belonged to now. So much so, he was not completely sure the wizards and witches even knew about it.
He was very much aware most creatures or beings that lived in the magical world were blind to the rest of the planet. However, knew that was not completely their fault, but mostly the purebloods fault, and the magical world's governments for believing they were superior, when in fact, they were far from better to the outside world.
While the scientific, or muggle world as witches and wizards called it moved on and advanced, the wizarding world stayed behind the times, almost living in the dark ages. They had so much power, yet they chose to waste it, and stay how they were, instead of advancing and bettering themselves. He had never understood that no matter how many times his grandpa told him it just seemed stupid and went right over his head.
"What you have to realise about wizards Harry," his grandpa's words rang in his head, a memory of the past. "Is most wizards are ruled by their fear, ignorance, or arrogance, sometimes all three." The raven-haired eight-year-old boy just nodded in fake understanding as the old man continued his weird ramblings.
"They either fear the muggle world," the old man continued ",– fear them finding them because of muggle creations… or they are arrogant and so very ignorant they don't look where they're going, but just stumble there, not realising that was where they were at the start of their journey. Lots believe in ancient traditions, and lore's, and that status of one's blood makes you superior."
"Huh? But that's silly grandpa," Harry remembered himself saying with a look of innocent confusion, and smiled thinking about it. "I love muggle things. I don't know what I would do if I couldn't watch my early morning cartoons." His grandpa just laughed at him in amusement.
Harry shook his head amused about that conversation. He doubted he would ever understand the wizarding community.
He sighed, shaking his head as he looked out of the window, watching the French countryside fly by. He was pretty sure they should be nearing Calais, and then it was just a hop and skip to the UK, if he felt like jumping, but he already had open tickets for the ferry so it seemed like it would be a waste not using them.
He did prefer to see the world and meet people, so teleporting around was a no-no for an adventurous spirit like his. Well, unless he had no choice in the matter, like a quick escape, but he couldn't believe how much the magical world warded against teleportation in the muggle world. It was crazy in some cities having to navigate around them.
It was impossible to get a ward map in such dark times, well there were a few 'Dark Lords' around, or whatever it was they called themselves in other countries. He had gotten into a fight with some guy calling himself the Nightmare Shogun in Japan – well that was his name translated into English.
He had started bothering so seriously disturbed magical school girls who were not equipped to deal with an actual threat. The man just liked to talk too much about how he and his men were going to abuse the terrified girls and keep them as 'toys' to 'relieve stress'.
Harry liked to relieve stress too, but he could go out and find cute girls so he stopped this 'Nightmare Shogun'. It was anticlimactic. The guy liked to monologue more than the schoolgirls. Harry just ran him through with his blade, and the 'Nightmare Ninja', in other words his minions ran away.
Harry set them up with some contacts he got from some friends, just in case they needed help, and they each took his number, just in case. He was a good guy and did his part to help out the citizens of Tokyo, so they could sleep soundly, and he liked rescuing damsels in distress. Sure he never got into their panties (wasn't their long enough and they were all shy, and kind of lovesick for their new hero).
He shrugged that thought off with a smile. It was kind of amusing though actually coming across such a weenie of a 'Dark Lord'. He frowned as he knew from experience that not all of them were powerless frauds. He wasn't just thinking about Voldemort either.
"Maybe I should settle down for a while," he muttered to himself thoughtfully. "Make some new friends, learn some sorcery?" he said in wonder. He hadn't hung around many magical people since he went on his trip of self-discovery, so it sounded like a plan, and sorcery was a subject that he lacked in.
Sure, he could conjure the odd flower without a wand or staff even, but that was just because he needed that trick to impress the pretty young ladies, and he would say he had gotten quite good at that.
However, his main companions had been muggles all the way, completely oblivious to any mystical realms hidden upon the Earth, some of which were blatantly obvious if you looked hard enough. You really couldn't have missed that stuff in New York a few weeks back. He had been glad he had been the other side of the planet. He still wasn't sure what that was about and nobody he knew could seem to get any answers.
It had to make him wonder sometimes, as even the 'magical'-world didn't see it, or maybe they chose not to, who really knew? But then they were crazy people who liked living, suffocated in their own little bubbles of ignorance.
Frowning was becoming a habit as he pulled out his copy of the French newspaper from his jacket, reading it over. Apparently, the UK was that news worthy. They had loads of 'unexplained' deaths happening all the time, muggle and sorcerer. Then that earthquake last week, and that bridge collapsed, and the hurricane destroying a whole town, so with that thing in New York some muggle crackpots were saying it was the end of the world.
But then, maybe it was the end of the world, so he figured he should find a cute girl to have some fun with just in case. Then if the world wasn't ending, he would be happy to know he got lucky and had plenty more time to get lucky until some idiot finally did destroy the world.
He read through, between the lines about; odd men wearing black robes and masks having been found brutalised. So some people were fighting back, and it was not the wimps in the magical world, or should he call it wizarding world, or witchy world – well, the second would bug them most, so that it was, in front of them at least.
This whole mess with Voldemort's return was partially why he was returning, because he couldn't stand letting these morons get their own way. Voldemort was on his 'yes it's okay to call this murder' list. That piece of crap royally screwed up his relationship with his parents. He just hoped that after he left that at least his mother took parenting Rosette seriously.
Since Voldemort's return a few months ago, he couldn't get a break (which was another reason to pay the UK a visit. They were getting on his last nerve). Wizards and witches of the not quite-dark (delusional nutter's), dark, and dark and evil variety being more brazen wherever he went in Western EU countries, and the closer to the UK, the more annoying and obvious.
Voldemort had been back in the public eye for around four or five months, and already morons wanted to join him in murder, and worse. The selfish jerks just wanted to commit crimes of murder and hate and whatever wherever they were as if life was so terribly cheap. The worse thing about that was they were getting away with it.
He had beaten the ten barrels of crap out of ten Death Eater wannabes in Italy, and got attacked by their aurors for 'taking the law into his own hands', even though they attacked him, it was self defence, but they didn't care. He had no choice but to beat them up too, not that it was hard. He found wizard and witch cops more useless than the muggles. It amused him as he was sure the muggle cops would have lasted longer against him.
You just had to be fit enough to run away from magical world cops and they would never be able to keep up, so just run into a heavily warded area, and you're home free. Or if they've put up a localised ward, outrun them through it and bingo was their name 'o, because they were your puppies, led on the leash. It was not just Italy or the UK either. They seemed to be just that ignorant in their own power, and that in arrogant weakness of others worldwide, except a very few places, but many places were different, some better than others.
He figured that going to the UK was likely the good thing to do since some of his best friends lived there. Then he had his bitch of a sister being the Girl-Who-Lived or whatever. He was torn about that, not her title, he did not care about that, but his sister could, and should be considered innocent, as she had not known better.
It frustrated him to think that he still cared about her and wanted to protect her, and be a big part of her life; they were twins after all. The magical world idiots would be putting a lot of pressure on her to be their saviour. They did not seem capable of just getting off their lazy asses and blowing the bastard Death Eaters to hell themselves and that would be easy.
If they stopped following the 'high road' principle, and took the 'low road' when called for, like dealing with the terrorist scumbags-smegheads all would be right, and the Death Eaters, even under Voldemort's orders would think twice before going out and having 'fun'. If they were smart, if not, then who would really mourn them!
The world he came from was so different, full of technology and magic, and everything the magical world stood against, he was for. He loved the muggle world, and lets us face it, muggle fashions were better, so much more to look at when checking out a cute girl, and he liked cute girls, muggle, witch, cute and hot are cute and hot wherever he goes.
Harry smiled a little; as he leaned his head back he took a deep breath of freedom. He let his mind wander as he had some time before the station, and they would probably have to wait a few more minutes to be allocated a platform or something.
He could remember the events that started this all those years ago. His grandpa was fresh in his mind. He slowly closed his eyes, pulling in a few deep breaths resting contently. His mind drifted back to his parents. They should have been his family, but instead, life fell to fame.
Twelve years earlier…
Four-year-old, Harry James Potter had short messy black hair and beautiful emerald green eyes. He was wearing old charity shop clothes: His sister Rose, the girl-who-lived did not like it if their parents bought him anything new. He was not sure why his sister was so stuck up and hated him so, because he loved her very much, even though she was horrible to him.
Last year he had even heard Albus Dumbledore, supposedly nicest person you could meet encouraging his parents to give Rose everything, and him nothing, if that is what she wanted. He said that she needed to know all of the love because she was special, and Harry wasn't.
However, Harry was not sure that was what Rose really wanted, because he had also heard the old man telling her, her parents would give her anything she wanted it, if she told them too not let Harry have anything because all of their love belonged to her, so that she could grow up to save the wizarding world.
Harry wondered why Dumbledore would be so cruel, so evil towards him but came up with no answers. He wanted Rosette to have all of the love and affection, and he knew anger for the first time. His sister was not exactly stupid, but not very smart when it came to getting things she would do nearly anything. He did not think he should blame his sister for this, but the idiots that gave in to her.
Harry's mother Lily fought Dumbledore at first, but that old man had a way of twisting words to make bad ideas seem good. He told them that Rosette needed all the love and attention if she was to survive Voldemort.
Harry often wondered why that name never scared him as it did everybody else. He guessed that it was because he thought the name was stupid. In all honestly, who in reality could fear a name, unless you were weak minded and pathetic… only a wimp and coward can fear Voldemort's name.
It was his and Rose's birthday and Harry was like any normal child on his special day. He was in good spirits, and hopeful for at the very least one small gift from his parents and a hug and kiss from his mum. However as the day progressed and guests started arriving for 'Rose's' birthday party he was ignored, by the end of the day all he wanted was a hug from his mum, that was all he really ever cared about, however none came.
How anyone could just ignore one child for another was just horrible. He had not eaten anything at the party, mainly because he felt uncomfortable. Every time he went to take something to eat, he sensed a glare aimed at him, and looking around it was always one of his parents, normally his dad, so he stopped trying to eat. None of the other kids at the party even spoke to him or gave his much of a look; he was just the pitiful unloved child nobody knew.
His family hated him… maybe even despised his very existence. What had ever he done to deserve such treatment he may never know? However, he did not hold it against them; not really, well maybe he held it against his father, the worse of them all. All Harry had ever wanted from his family was some love and attention, some kindness… to be happy like everybody else.
Harry had cried himself to sleep that night…
The next morning he had entered the kitchen for breakfast, starving after not eating at the party when his father demanded he go to his room and not to be greedy and stealing all of the cereal. He hadn't even opened the box yet. He was lucky when he did as he was ordered that a house elf came with some breakfast for him. He always' loved the house elves; they had always' taken care of him.
Imagine that, having the servants love you more than your family? At least he knew from the kind creatures what it felt like to have some kindness, some love, someone to talk to.
That whole week he was not allowed into the dining room or kitchen, therefore, a house elf kindly snuck him food, but it broke his little heart more and more each day. His parents hated him. He was confused, lonely and scared, why, what reason did they have to hate him? He could not take it much longer. It would be better to have no family rather than one that hated you.
Two weeks after his birthday, Harry James Potter left Potter Manor alone and was never seen again…
Kind of not...?
Harry startled away, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He sighed as he quickly checked on his phone as he woke up because he heard a tone. He was a little surprised to see he had missed a text message from his best friend reminding him to visit her, first chance he got once back in the country.
He was glad he had this new roaming contract or his and his friends bills would be sky-high. He replied to her message and put his phone back into his jacket inside pocket.
It seemed like only a minute before the train slowed to a stop and the doors opened onto the platform. He had snaked passed nearly everyone, disappearing onto the crowded platform, towards the gates and exit.
His ferry didn't leave until the next morning, so he had to find a place to stay for the night. Since he was not going to be in town for long he figured a comfortable, but cheap place was best since he didn't want to waste his limited funds.
He normally earned money here and there, using his talents where needed, or just doing honest work if he could, so he didn't have riches. Though, the thought of just going into Gringotts and using his 'families' money was tempting. He doubted they ever cut him off, thinking he was dead or something.
Thinking of that, he doubted his family would even notice the money missing they had so much, and who could 'steal' from Gringotts that they would regularly check? It amused him that wizards were that arrogant or just that stupid when it came to something as important as money that they would be so trusting of the goblins of Gringotts wizarding bank.
He took a few deep breaths as he headed towards the exit when he grabbed some scruffy looking kids wrist. The kid looked at him in terror as he took his wallet back. Still holding the boy, he pulled out a ten-euro note and stuffed it into the boys pocket before letting him go.
"This one's on me!" he said in perfect French, even emulating the accent so well most people mistake him for a native, no matter the country, language was his major talent when it had nothing to do with magic.
The boy stared at him for a moment before he ran off into the crowd while he put his wallet away. He could have as easily turned out like that kid, alone, picking pockets to get some food money. He knew there were probably other kids around, and that it was to share, but he couldn't go around giving out more than he could afford to lose at the moment, just because he felt an odd affinity to the kid.
He made it out of the train station and hailed a cab – well they were all parked up waiting for passengers, so he jumped in the front one, still speaking French asked him to take him to a traveller's inn, as he was not staying in town.
"A shame sir," the cab driver replied, laughingly. "Are you getting the ferry in the morning to England?" he asked, being one of those curious types, (nosey), as he pulled out into the street and started driving.
"Yes, I have some business to attend too," he agreed with a small smile, not really feeling like giving much more, emotion wise as he sat in the back, resting in the comfortable leather with his seatbelt on.
"Terrible luck they seem to be having over there... reminds me of those Freak storms that hit New York!" he said, gesturing to the newspaper on the passenger seat. It was that day's paper, the UK Mirror. He had left his French paper on the train for whomever, since he had had his fill. "Here, have a look… do you read English?" he asked, handing it over.
"You won't believe me, but it's my first language. I'm a somewhat linguist," he said, shrugging. "Full emulation of another language does wonders for comprehension," he added looking over the front page while the driver nodded, though looked confused.
He grimaced as he saw a full page of a village, destroyed in a freak 'storm'. The clouds floated around the place with a green hue, and he tried not to grit his teeth too much in anger as he could just see it, the cloud held the shape of a skull and serpent. It was the mark of the Death Eaters, but the muggle papers would overlook it as a coincidence and brush it aside.
"You sure you want to head there now, friend?" the driver asked as they pulled to a stop outside a lodge near the ferry docking terminals.
He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, unfortunately I have to take care of… well possibly my sister, and I have friends over there. It looks like it's going to be one of those years," he finished, chuckling he handed the man back his paper and paid him his fair.
"Possibly… but take care my friend!" the man called as he climbed out and closed the door behind him.
He gave the driver a nod and waved him off before turning to the lodge. It was getting dark so he quickly entered. He was lucky to find no queue, just a pretty older girl working at the desk, smiling nervously as he walked over asking for a room.
"Let's see here sir," she said with a nervous smile. "I'm sorry we don't have any free rooms available," she lied with this sweet fake smile, brushing back her long blonde hair back.
He detected the lie straightaway so went along with it, curious. "Oh, well, that's a shame; could you tell me where I might find an available room?"
She seemed to gulp and panic then before she quickly shook her head. "Sorry sir, I don't, but… no… that's too scandalous," she said as if talking to herself, but it was obvious what she was trying to do now, and from her lack of talent at it, it was quite obviously her first time trying anything like it.
"Okay, I'll stay with you," he helped her out, startling her, she 'brightened', hiding her grimace as she let him lead her away before taking his arm and leading him to her room.
A few minutes later, he had gotten comfortable, removing his clothes, leaving on his black boxer shorts. She had told him she'd be back in just a few as she left for the connected bathroom.
He was a little concerned, as she had gotten more nervous as she led him to her room, and he felt her shaking. It was her weird plan so what was he to do other than enjoy himself? He may be tired but when a cute girl just up and offers, and he's magic so knows she was clean of any STI's using a hidden charm.
Though, from her body language and everything else, not everything was going to be as meets the eyes. So, it was the gentlemanly thing to do, stay, get laid, and find out what the deal was later when some jerk was shooting at him or something like that. He learnt from the best after all, and that wasn't just from his grandfather, but a treasure hunting friend/brig brother figure, and the opposite sex seem to get his 'big brother' into trouble all the time, and still they both fall for the 'call'.
It might have seemed like an age when she finally opened the bathroom door, slowly and shyly stepping out. His eyes widened in surprise as he drank her in.
She walked out with a wiggle in her step, but it was clumsy in an unpractised sort of way. However, he really liked what she was wearing. It was a white silk nightdress with spaghetti straps over her shoulders that left nothing to the imagination. It was lacy, almost transparent, but not quite. He could still see the outline of her small breast and nipples poking through the thin material. It was short, so short in fact; he could see her tight white silk panties just barely covered.
Her long soft pale legs moved her forward almost against her own judgement, and her eyes held a sad uncertainty as she moved closer, crawling onto the bed with him. She gulped as she looked to the dark silver metal wrapped around his right forearm.
He could feel her shaking as her fingertips touched his solid abs. He pulled her into him, kissing her surprised lips with tenderness, as he pulled her into his body, feeling her on him. Her fingers moved to his arms, hesitant on the metal, before she ignored it.
She pulled back after a moment of kissing him, her chest pounding and her long blonde hair falling onto his muscular body. She looked scared, confused, worried, and even excited, and aroused, which was why he carried on.
He pulled her back to his lips and she was not resistant. She accepted his tongue, as hers met his. He wrapped his hands around her, taking hold of her solid butt; he felt the moan into his mouth. Her finger's starting to wander over his chest. She could feel the buzz of strength, the power hidden beneath his flesh.
She moved up, onto his lap. She almost gasped into him as the weight of her body pushed his large rucked up member into her butt. It was rock hard and nothing she had ever thought it would be. She could feel him pulling her down, swallowing her lips, her tongue, her saliva; she could not stop from rocking her hips into him.
He was smiling as she pulled back, gasping for air. She was startled as he rolled her over, lying gently on top of her. She could feel him pressed up to her burning crouch. She tried to hold in the pleasurable groan as he started nibbling on her left ear, down to her neck, suckling and nipping at her flesh but it was impossible, and felt impossibly good.
Moving down and round he made it to her throat, nipping and licking, her heartbeat raced. He was gentle but firm, soft and rough, contradicting her thoughts, her mind, her senses felt close to shutting down for a forced reboot. He stimulated her with his lips and fingers, his tongue making her shudder.
He was feeling her small breast, her nipples painfully hard as he lifted her sexy nightdress up and over her head, revealing her soft flesh. He was sucking her nipples in seconds, one after the other, hungry. She was whimpering and shuddering, moaning louder.
Continuing down, his lips and tongue left her sensitive little breasts to her tummy and navel, licking and suckling her firm body. He was careful while pulling her soaking wet panties off, smelling the delightful scent of her need. It was swollen and soaking with some sparse hairs trimmed above her entrance.
She was crimson cheeked as she looked down to see him taking a moment to admire her before her head shot back as electricity coursed through her veins and she cried out with a feeling she had never imagined before. He licked again, lapping at her she just could not take any more as she screamed out, squeezing her pale thighs around his head, her fingers in his hair pulling him tight to her.
He suckled and drank from her as her body convulsed and shuddered with a pleasure she could have never given herself. Her chest felt like it was going to explode as she calmed, stroking her fingers through his hair, her eyes glassy, unseeing.
It took her a few moments to recover when she saw him smirking as he kissed his way up her body after cleaning off the last of her delicious juices. She could not keep the smile from her lips as he kissed her deeply, tasting herself on his tongue.
She knew she could do this now. She wanted it so bad. She started crawling down, kissing her way down before he had even gotten onto his back, his boxers off seconds later. Her eyes went wide as she saw it for the first time, taking it in her hands her lips sucked it up into her mouth.
He almost shot his load early at her obviously non-experienced, hot little mouth swallowed as much of him as it could. Her tongue was doing its job well, tasting everything it could. He held back while she moved up and down, sucking hard and moving fast, her hungry tongue tasting everything, even pre when it dribbled out, and she could not get enough of the salty taste.
Then it happened, and she had never known one boy could ever have that much that she almost chocked and some went down her and shot out of her nose. However, like he drank from her, she swallowed every last drop and even licked it from her upper lips before he pulled her up, and nothing was going down as she thought it would have.
He lay on top of her, holding his weight back as he kissed her, not caring that he can taste himself. He was at the hot entrance, feeling the squirms of him and her as he gently pushed in. It was like a fire and he loved it as he slid further inside her body when he reached an obstruction.
This made him more suspicious, but her impatient humps saw that she wanted more in, so he pushed. She gasped as he broke through the barrier and slid straight in to the hilt. He kept it deeply buried; throbbing inside her, while she adjusted to the new sensations when her rocking hips told him she was ready.
He started pumping, slowly at first, but getting faster and faster, harder and harder. She was crying out in bliss over and over again. Her chest felt like it could explode, and she would not have minded. She felt dizzy, like a high that she wished would last forever.
She felt it starting to bubble up while she watched his expression, heard his pants and moans now as he enjoyed her body and she his in return. She screeched, her body arching in a zone she didn't know existed, and he was grunting out, pushed in all the way, holding his monster as deep as it would go, emptying himself into her body, she could feel it all and relished in every drop inside her body before they both collapsed onto the bed, exhausted.
He let her hold him while he felt her throbbing around him as she continued to enjoy the last remnants of the moments that she'd cherish forever.
However, she did not have long as moments later someone was banging loudly and dangerously on the door. They were shouting. Harry looked to her; he could see fear and confusion.
"Y-you're not him?" she asked, but knew the answer so did not wait. "B-but… I heard he was fat and old-er, but I thought they were w-wrong. I hadn't seen him before, and I-I had to… I had to give 'his' son m-my virginity for them to leave us alone…-!"
She had trailed off, having been so worried, the mood had left and she had not noticed that he had pulled out. He had softened, covered in her and him as he looked unconcerned as he grinned and covered her with her blanket, keeping her snug.
He winked, and she blushed as he pulled on his boxers and opened the door on the next bang. The man almost flew in. He was big with muscles, wearing a blue suit. He was with another three strong looking men in suits and a jumbo-sized fatty wearing shorts and a white tee shirt with food stains on it, and they all looked to be in raging tempers.
"Who are-!?" the first man demanded.
He went down with a hand wrapped around his throat and his head smashed through the brick wall, cracking mortar and plaster, shattering into some bricks, going down, out cold to lie at his feet, a crumpled mess of blood, completely ruining his suit.
"I'm Harry… Harry King; it's a pleasure to meet you!"
to be continued...