Edit: A few awful spelling mistakes
Harry Potter comes into his inheritance as an Incubus between his 5th and 6th year at Hogwarts. When he returns to school he discovers he's not the only one.
Warnings: Contains Slash, mild swearing and mentions of Mpreg towards the end. Rated M for safety.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no money is being made.
A/N: Well, this is my first attempt at a FanFic so I'm hoping it goes alright. I love flames as long as they're constructive and I know there are some mistakes because my spell check is spazzing out at the moment. I think I should warn you that this was thought up during work at three in the morning. Anyway, on with the show...
Harry Potter woke up on the 31st July to a large brown owl tapping impatiently on the window.
He checked the clock on the bedside table and moaned as the glowing 5:27 pierced through the darkness of his room. Rolling out of bed he wrenched the stiff window open, glaring daggers at the bird for daring to interrupt his birthday sleep-in. The animal hopped in lazily, ignoring the young wizard. Harry took the wrapped, rectangular parcel from its clutches, dumping a handful of owl pellets in front of the bird as thanks for the delivery.
He sat back on his bed and tiredly slid a finger under the neatly tied paper, tearing it away, expecting to find an early birthday present. Instead, what he pulled out from the package was a thin, leather-bound book with an envelope stuck on the front. Frowning in confusion, he eased the letter from the book, careful not to mark the worn but clean cover. Once it was removed, the bold title declared that the book was called Umuka ed Ihsagih. Completely puzzled, he put the book down to study the envelope and saw the Gringotts emblem on the seal and slit it open, reading the neatly printed parchment inside.
Dear Mr. Potter
This book has been in your volt since your mother put it there sixteen years ago. On her request we have sent it to you on your sixteenth birthday, with the message 'it will open whenever the time is right'.
Manager of the Gringotts Wizarding Bank of England.
Harry reread the short letter, wondering what his mother's message had meant. He picked up the book, examining it closely before attempting to open the thick cover. As he had suspected, it refused to budge. Sighing heavily, he gave up and gently placed it in the draw of the bedside cabinet, waiting for his mother's words to come true and it would be the right time to open the book to reveal whatever was inside.
It was a month before Harry was due back at school and he was lazily sprawled across his bed, willing time to move faster. Suddenly a white hot jolt of pain ran through his entire body, searing his nerves and frying his mind. Thousands of miniature needles pricked his skin as he tried to claw away the sensation. The unbearable pain lessened a fraction and Harry could feel his muscles flex and ripple without being in control of the movement. As soon as it had started, the pain left, leaving soothing numbness behind. It was too much for Harry to take in such a short space of time and he collapsed into blissful unconsciousness.
Hours later, Harry woke, stiffness aching through his limbs, seeming to concentrate uncomfortably in the area between his naval and the top of his thighs. Hoping that the pain wasn't permanent, he opened his eyes to search for his dropped glasses and gasped. Shakily he sat up, staring around the room in awed amazement. Everything looked vivid and perfectly clear. He grinned; whatever had happened to him had given him perfect vision for the first time in his life.
Forgetting his glasses he stood, eager to get food into his empty stomach. He paused as his gaze fell on the slightly open top draw of the small cabinet by the bed. Was it his imagination, or was the book calling to him, urging him to discover whatever secrets it held? He sat back down on the end of his bed and brought the book towards him, balancing it across his lap. Cocking his head slightly, he narrowed his eyes at the cover.
The title had changed, but the words still stayed the same. Harry stared at it closely, trying to pinpoint the difference. A startled yelp left his lips when he realised he could understand the strange, foreign words. He still saw it as Umuka ed Ihsagih, but something had slotted into place in his mind and it told him that the words said Incubi by Orient. Orient? What sort of a name was that? The same voice that had translated the title urged him to understand, to realise that Ihsagih, or Orient, was the authors true name, not the name given to him or her by the people around them.
Harry smiled and spoke his own name in the mysterious language that he somehow now understood, but it didn't sound right. Frowning, he searched his mind, wondering if he, like Ihsagih, had a true name.
Mujakina, the voice prompted, startling Harry with the almost sarcastic tone. Despite his confusion, he smiled. It felt right. It was his name, it was who he was. He almost had to roll his eyes at the meaning though; Innocent. His true name, the name that made him who he was now (whatever he was now) was Innocent.
He looked back down at the book still nestled in his lap and tentatively opened up the first thick page. He grinned as soon as he saw the scrawled note inside, recognising it as his mother's handwriting. His smile faded as he saw that she hadn't written in English but the strange alien writing. He grimaced at how he was able to read it easily, even without the subtle hinting of the strange new voice in his head.
Irahniradiam (My Darling Harry)
Ogonos erok o edmoy aranuri usabuykin etihsot iarnoh wttawanos uri otok in ettan atika ot ihsataw aw okneh o og ianna eiihs oko ed aw ian. (If you are reading this then you have come into your inheritance as an Incubus and I am not there to guide you through the Change.) Ihsatawa aw nubij ed erok o akust aberekanihs iabaran otok o nennez in agusamiomo ihsataw aw atana ag ohsiat uriked oy in uran on aw ianiagihcam. (I am sorry that you have to go through this on your own, but I have no doubt you will be able to cope.) Atana aw ioyust adam aniusnuj orokok ot atana on ihcihc o ettom oturi ihsataw aw atana o irokoh in ettomo ouami. (You have a strong yet pure heart and your father and I are proud of you.)
Etebua on ihsataw on ia ot nasako (With all my love, mum.)
Harry read the note over and over again, trying to get it to sink in. He was an Incubus? Flipping to the next page in the book, he found that (annoyingly) it was also written in what he presumed to be Incubi language. He scanned the index and flipped to page four, the Change. Dread filled his mind as everything written there seemed to have happened to him.
The Change happens around the sixteenth birthday...The Change can heal mild ailments and impairments-hearing/sight/etc...Pains that increase the longer the Incubus goes without feeding...Slight physical changes. He paled at that. He brought his hands up towards his face, feeling for any differences. His hair felt a little longer and with an almost horrified amazement he noticed his lean muscles had hardened. When he ran his gaze along his bare arms he had to do a double-take. Spiralling down from the base of his neck and swirling out across his left breast, shoulder and forearm was a deep black, tribal looking tattoo.
Turning back to the index, he quickly found the chapter on markings. He sighed with relief when all it meant was which family his distant ancestors had belonged to.
Now that his panicked mind was just focused on what physical changes had happened, he stood again, almost running into the bathroom and towards the full length mirror. Clad in only his boxers he stared at himself, feeling like he was looking at a familiar stranger. He was still petite and slim but his body seemed to have toned and turned rock-solid over night. Unwillingly he glanced up at his face. He was right; his hair had grown longer, although it still stuck up in its normal bed-head style. His eyes, which had always been huge, were now the dominant part of his face. The irises glowed emerald, contrasting with the jet blackness of his hair. His tan skin was flawless apart from the scar on his forehead, but even that appeared to have faded. Although he was still slim, with slightly hollow cheeks and narrow hips, he didn't look unhealthily thin, like before the Change. The tattoo completed his new appearance; standing out in contrast to the surrounding skin, but looking like it belonged there at the same time.
He went back to his room, determined to read the whole book and find out about what he was now, and see if there was any way to numb the aching pain still in his body.
He had to feed.
Glancing at the clock he muttered a string of colourful expletives. He put the book (which he had finished reading a few minutes ago) back in its draw. The chapter concerning the pain he was suffering had explained it all in cold, uncaring words. An Incubus feeds off of the energy emitted through intercourse...The longer an Incubus goes without feeding, the more pain it will be in...If an Incubus goes thirty-six hours without feeding, it will die...Incubi have two forms. It spends twelve hours in its 'day' form and twelve hours in its 'night' form...To stay healthy, an Incubus must feed at least once every time it enters the 'night' form.
According to the book, the form change happens as soon as he 'feeds' for the first time, although it had to be within twelve hours of the actual change into an Incubus. He checked the clock again. He wanted to time it just right. Breakfast at Hogwarts started at eight O'clock, so if he could change into his night form at quarter to eight at night and back to his day form at quarter to eight in the morning, he was hoping nobody would be able to discover what he was.
He climbed down the stairs and quietly exited the house, careful not to disturb any of the Dursleys in the sitting room. He hadn't seen anybody all day as the book had told him that on his first feed he would be consumed by lust as soon as he did. He shuddered at the thought and tried to focus his mind on what he had to do to survive.
Before long he was in town and to his horror he found it bustling with night life. He had hoped that the quiet town would be...well, quiet. Closing his eyes, he refused to look at all the people around him. Instead he followed the instructions in the book and focused on the energy surrounding him. It didn't take him long to understand why he had to do it. Although he had his eyes closed, he could see the people around him as glowing sources of energy.
Suddenly his unseeing gaze fell on the brightest light and he cracked his eyes open, darting towards his unsuspecting victim. He let his instincts take over his mind and body as the book had instructed.
As he drew closer he could see it was a man with a handsome face and long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. The lust hit him like an invisible wall. All he wanted was to fuck the man senseless as he screamed out his name. Harry frowned, disgusted at his thought. After a second though, he shrugged. The book said to choose a victim from the energy level, not gender or looks. He also reminded himself that everything he was feeling was completely natural. Besides, he was already rock hard and couldn't afford to be fussy.
The man looked up with startled brown eyes as Harry drew closer. Their gazes locked and Harry smiled a beautiful smile, "Please, sleep with me."
The man, whatever his name was, stared blankly for a moment. He snapped out of it and grinned stupidly, nodding his head so eagerly Harry thought it might snap off. He had been warned he would have this effect on whoever he chose, but he still felt guilty for turning the man into a desperate idiot.
"Come to my place?" The man said, looking as if it would literally break his heart if Harry refused.
Harry nodded before he could talk himself out of the whole thing.
A few hours later, Harry woke with his head resting on the naked chest of the man he now knew was called John. He stood up, feeling sick. He had nearly killed him. He knew he had to be careful or he would end up draining him of all energy, but he had lost control.
Obviously feeling the loss of weight, John opened a sleepy eye "Please don't go. It was amazing. I..." He cut off as he stared in shock at Harry, "You look...strange. Like a demon or something. But don't get me wrong, you're still bloody gorgeous."
Harry shrugged. Technically, he was a demon now. He had been expecting his night form to look different then his normal form, "Yeah. Do you have a mirror?" He turned his back on the bed and pulled on his boxers.
John nodded gleefully, like it was an honour for Harry to want to use his mirror, "The door on your right."
Harry rolled his eyes and went through the door, coming into a small bathroom. He clicked on the light and closed the door, seeing the full length mirror on the back of it. He gasped for what seemed to be the hundredth time in the last twenty-four hours.
He had literally turned into a night demon. His hair was ridiculously long, flowing in soft, black waves to the small of his back. That wasn't the first thing that drew his attention though. He stared at his skin in terror. The tan, healthy looking skin was replaced by incredibly dark blue, speckled with grays and black, the pattern only broken by the pure black tattoo. His eyes were the only thing that stood out, still glowing emerald green. He sighed in acceptance. There wasn't any need to start losing his temper. His night form was just part of who he was now. He also realised why it was so different; he had to be able to sneak up on a victim at night without being seen by anyone who happened to be passing by. Seeing his night form made him accept who he was; he wasn't Harry anymore, but Mujakina.
John was lying on the bed, waiting for him as he exited the bathroom. With a start, Mujakina remembered he had to feed in this form. He looked at the naked man, thoughts running through his head at how he really didn't want to go out 'hunting' again tonight. Although nobody was supposed to see him in this form, he could always just wipe his memory afterwards. Besides, John had been fun.
"Want to go for round two?"
It was September 1st and Mujakina was terrified. He had spent the last month learning all he could about control and his new powers, but it scared him. A few times he had come close to killing his victims and he didn't want to endanger anyone at Hogwarts. He sighed (mentally berating himself for sighing too much) and grabbed his trunk, easily hauling it down the stairs with the muscles he hadn't quite gotten used to. He called Dudley and Piers Polkiss out from the living room and left a note on the kitchen table for his uncle, informing him that they'd left.
Soon after his first few feeds he had realised that if he looked into somebody's eyes and asked, they would willingly sleep with him. After that he experimented to see what else he could do. He found out that he could be very persuasive, although not as much as when he wanted to feed.
Yesterday, with a little persuasion, Piers had agreed to drive him to Kings Cross.
He lugged his trunk into the boot and sat in the back behind Dudley as Piers threw the car into drive.