Author's Notes-

Also, any intrepid artists interested on helping me world build a fantasy world full of Anime-inspired designs mixed with a western Harry-Potter-esque aesthetic? PM me for more details. Bonus points to people living in the Boston Area of Massachusetts.



Author's Notes (7/17/13):

Minor revisions to the main text and an additional scene at the end to introduce more characters. Still not entirely happy with the way things are in this chapter but I've got to move forward!


"Where is that girl? Christmas morning and she lies all slug-a-bed! If she isn't down here in five minutes I'll tell Kreacher to clean up breakfast…that will teach her to be so willful!" Walburga Black sat poised and perfect in the sitting room of Number 12 Grimmauld Place with a cup and saucer clutched perfectly in her iron grip. On the table before her lay a spread of small sandwiches and cakes with a pot each of coffee and tea. Orion sat beside her gulping down cup after cup of coffee. Across from her sat Druella Black nee Rosier who scowled up at the ceiling – utterly infuriated that any flesh and blood of hers could embarrass her – while Cygnus poked the fire.

"Would you calm down, dear? I'm sure Trixie will be down momentarily." Orion poured himself another cup of coffee. 'She'd better be,' he thought, 'her reaction will determine how Druella and 'Burga take the news that we have long lost relatives.' "Where is Sirius?"

"He and that little ragamuffin friend of his…Lupin I believe was his name…are playing in the backyard with their potion kits. And what is wrong with you, Orion? You've been skittish all morning, you haven't eaten anything proper, and you've drunk two pots of coffee already. Are you hiding something?" Walburga sipped her cup of Darjeeling. She'd been married to the Black of Black for almost ten years and he was clearly agitated about something – of course it never occurred to her that he was simply acting nervous.

"Oh for the love of pudding, Ori, just tell her already," Cygnus blustered from the floo, "it doesn't matter anyway now that he's late."

Druella nibbled daintily on a shortbread biscuit and swallowed a sip of tea. She was well used to her husband keeping details from her, it was part of being a political creature she supposed, and to be honest it didn't bother her. He had never kept anything dangerous from her, nothing that would put her standing or their reputation on the line, so how bad could Orion's news be? Although if they had lost the Lestrange marriage agreement she would not be happy…

"Do tell us this news of yours, Orion," she said, "it is not anything bad, is it?"

The Black of Black stood up with his cup and gulped down the dregs to the evil eye of his wife. "I have been in communication with the final heir of the Devries Family, one of our offshoot lines from before The Schism. He is the last of their line and the last true Black in Europe. With the rest of his family dead I have offered him a place with us and a marriage contract with one of Cygnus' daughters to bring his blood back into the fold."

"I don't see why that is such a big secret, Orion, we bring the branch families back into the bough all the time." Walburga set down her cup and saucer.

"Ah, well, there are other considerations," Cygnus interjected, tugging at his collar, "but the biggest issue is how late it is! He should have arrived hours ago…you don't think something untoward happened to him, do you?"

Druella rolled her eyes and stood up. At thirty-four years of age, four years her husband's junior, she looked the acme of Pureblood breeding: milky white skin, dark hair, blue eyes, and ruby lips. Her breasts were not overlarge but were noticeable in the slinky thin dresses she wore.

"As interesting as a new Black is for the future, I am far more concerned with the present. That lazy daughter of ours is going to come down here or by god I shall incarcerous her and drag her down the stairs." And with that she swept out of the room leaving Walburga to harp at Orion and Cygnus for keeping secrets.

In fact, neither of her other daughters had made more than a token appearance at breakfast, slowly taking coffee and croissants upstairs, which made Druella all the more suspicious. She was well aware how sneaky her children could be and how intelligent all three were – if it weren't for the power Orion held over the Black Vaults there would be no way to keep them in check let alone dictate their actions. The Lestrange brothers were sniffing around her eldest's posterior like randy tomcats making a mockery of Pureblood etiquette. She didn't want to marry any of them off to the Notts or Lestranges or Malfoys but Cygnus' dangerous position in the Wizengamot made political marriage a foregone conclusion. The Macnair family or the Flints would be better matches, after all they were older families, but neither had the raw fortune that the nouveau-rich upstarts boasted.

Although Cygnus was in Orion's inner circle there was no chance her husband would inherent more than a quarter of the Black Family's substantial overseas holdings after Orion stepped down or was killed. The little snot Sirius would inherit the lot upon their aged father's death leaving her side of the Black Family still dependant on the other for luxuries. She wanted to dictate her own fortune, she wanted to invest her own money where she willed, she wanted to have a summer cottage on the French Riviera and a palatial castle in Italy but all her money came from Orion and he was not about to allow her, Druella Rosier (for that was how he always addressed her), to touch any Black money. She and her family would be allowed to vacation with Orion and Walburga when they left for the Black estates around the world but it was dependant on Orion's schedule. Druella longed for the day she could simply up and leave for a summer home or lake house at the drop of a hat…

Her daughters were the key to that life. If she arranged marriages between her children and the rich weak-willed heirs of three old families she could effectively control a vast sum of money by proxy. Tyberius Malfoy was no slouch, nor was Theodore Nott but their children were fools – weak ponces with gold filled up in their heads and little else. But no, Bella just had to be difficult, Andromeda eager to escape away, and Narcissa hardly a social butterfly; which explained why Druella jumped at the chance to pass off her less-willing daughters to Lucius and Rodolphus. Why those two specifically she didn't know but she also was not one to look a gift hippogriff in the beak.

The attic suite was empty and the doors to all three rooms closed when she burst inside. Discarded cups and a tray of half-eaten scones taken from the sideboard earlier that morning sat on the round table in the middle of the common room but the whole floor was silent. Druella sniffed disdainfully at the mess and crossed to the first door.

"Bellatrix Dorea Lestrange! How can you be-?" The words died at the tip of her tongue before transforming into a high-pitched scream of outrage. How dare her meal ticket – err…eldest daughter screw around before marriage! But wait…Andromeda was in the messy bed, not Bellatrix! And she was completely naked! And what was that pearlescent sheen to her body?

No, it was not possible that some vile rapist broke into the ancestral Black Manor and took advantage of her daughter! Yet the window in the common room was open and a distinct line of miniscule droplets on the hard wood floors went between rooms. As rebellious as her daughters were Druella could not possibly believe that they would wantonly allow some honor-less libertine to rut with them like animals on Christmas Day of all days. Impossible! My God and what if they became pregnant with some intolerable half-blood's child!? All her dreams of luxury and ease would vanish like plumes of floo powder.

Quickly she dashed into Andromeda's room, thinking that perhaps the two older girls simply swapped rooms in the night (and Dromeda was always the more promiscuous of the two), and beheld the image of her youngest passed out flat on her back. Likewise, a thick slug-trail of milky fluid was splashed on the sheet between her legs as if her body expelled the alien seed in a forceful gush.

It didn't make any sense! She had seen both her younger daughters take breakfast earlier that morning and although they seemed tired they certainly weren't freshly fucked. Which meant that the offending sexual dalliances of her two youngest must have occurred in the past two hours…

Now the tremors of fear became full-blown irrational madness. Stomping from the room she faced Narcissa's bedroom door and all but screamed 'Bombarda'! The old oak door blasted into thousands of splinters and Druella Rosier-nee-Black stormed inside the darkened room. Her slippered foot slid in a puddle of liquid, the toes of said foot losing purchase on the wood floor through the covering of stitched silk, and she dove head-first into the darkness.

The bed was comfortable but the slickened rod of fleshy iron that slapped her wetly across the face was wonderful. How long had it been since Cygnus had last bedded her? How long had it been since she'd had more than Walburga's slippery tongue between her folds? God, the smell of the heavy cock filled her nostrils with the tang only cunt and cum mixed together could produce. The gusset of her designer Pierre Cardin lace panties almost tore from the forceful torrent of juice ejected from her weeping hole as her mind went cloudy and her hands reached up to feel the mystery cock's dimensions. Nowhere in her lustful thinking were any questions of why she suddenly jumped from outrage to horny as a cat in heat in the span of two seconds.

"If you so much as swallow a drop, Mother, I'll punch you so hard you'll throw it up!" Bellatrix's voice rose sharply from above where her red well-fucked snatch perched above the cock in question. "Maybe I'll let you have a taste later but for right now this is all mine." Her black nails slithered down and lifted the turgid member off Druella's face and back into herself before a bare foot pushed on the elder woman's shoulder. Druella fell unceremoniously to the floor.

The wood and carpet were positively covered in semen. The room was like a drained pool with pearlescent puddles of baby batter splashed across every conceivable surface.

"Oh…looks like mother broke through the door." Andromeda drawled tiredly from the sitting room.

"Dromeda? What is going on here? Did this vile lizard rape all three of you?!" Free from the warm indoctrination of the assailant's phallus Druella's senses returned with a vengeance; first and foremost of them a feeling of disgust as she wiped cold congealed cum from her palms on her dress and primed her wand. "I'll string him up by his delicious testicles! I'll tease his jolly tallywacker until he just begs me to finish him off!"

"I thought the idea was to punish him…not satisfy yourself, mother." Andy yawned and sat down at the little dining table as a fresh pot of tea appeared in the center with a set of cups. "Cissy probably won't be aware for some time; this morning really took a lot out of her…"

Suddenly Orion and Cygnus burst through the door followed closely by Walburga.

"We heard a scream! What's going on? What's the matter?" Cygnus grabbed his wife by the shoulders and shook her out of her stupor. "Druella? What happened? And why are you covered in jizzum?"

Orion's eyes perked up at that (as did Walburga's although the former couldn't see it) and he pushed his way through the open doorway. He flew backwards out the door into a comfortable lounger beside the hearth. The door slammed shut before Bellatrix's voice bellowed from the walls themselves through the use of an augmented sonorous spell.

"The next person to barge in here won't be able to reproduce when I'm through with them – man or woman! Stay out of here, mother, he's mine!"

"Well, I would say that young Harry certainly had a very welcoming…err, welcome to the House of Black!" Cygnus chortled and farted. Orion simply glared at his younger brother. Nothing was going according to plan…

Just then the entire assemblage turned as Narcissa stumbled bow-legged out of Andromeda's bedroom and yawned, causing the vase behind her to inflate in time with her lungs until it burst like an overripe hedgehog carcass. As she spun around at the vase's implosion a great gust of wind blew Andy's cup of tea into the older girl's face. Turning again at her sister's gasp of shock caused Cygnus to go flying down the stairs – punched his not so inconsiderable gut by an errant zephyr.

"Well at least we know the ritual worked," Andy deadpanned as she wiped tea from her bangs, "although I'm not noticing anything new myself." At that a stray wet hair gracefully swung down across the tip of her aristocratic nose and the middle Black sister sneezed.

Despite the notice-me-not charms laid against the ancestral Black Manor, the muggle neighbors couldn't help but notice when four grown men and women came flying out of an exploding fourth story of a previously non-existent building amid thunderous sonic booms and falling masonry.

The fact that all four bounced when they hit the street didn't even register as being odd until hours after the fact. Luckily, by that time Ministry Obliviators were already making their rounds.


Albus Dumbledore was a man confused and nervous. Here it was Christmas Day and he was still mulling over the abrupt change in the air of the Wizarding World. Everything had been fine until about one week ago when suddenly he'd felt such a tumultuous shift in magic that he'd been forced to consult Nicholas (an option he was loathe to do normally) who had simply dismissed his pupil's 'feelings'.

He was not used to feeling nervous…he was a Gryffindor and Gryffindors marched boldly! But something was strange about the world now, a niggling feeling of unease that tickled his senses. Looking over the rolls of students he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the sheer volume of children currently crammed between the walls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He seldom felt that – indeed he was usually glad for the throngs of young people learning and laughing through the halls – and it only added to his unease with the Riddle situation.

Oh, he was well aware that the former Head Boy was the self-styled 'Lord Voldemort' that the Daily Prophet made no hesitation to trumpet as the second coming of Grindlewald. Tom Riddle Jr. had always been a charismatic man; good looks and manners seemed to take him everywhere but Albus had always felt something a big crooked about the silent wizard. Nothing specifically dark, mind you, but bent – like a wand once broken but spellotaped and glamoured to look new there would always been the resulting fear that it was not whole.

Now just because he had the knowledge of Riddle did not make it simple to disclose the secret. Firstly, he doubted that any of the fanatic witches and wizards flocking to the man would believe him simply on word alone. Plus there was the fact that after his short-lived tenure at Borgin & Burke's Tom Riddle simply ceased to exist – on paper that was – making any connection between the man and his fictitious history all the more difficult to prove. Albus did not doubt that Tom had drastically changed his appearance in the long years. No, that avenue was closed.

Those thoughts invariably brought up the issue of Riddle's vassals inside Slytherin House and what damage they could do within the walls of Hogwarts. Dumbledore knew beyond any shred of doubt that Riddle desperately coveted the school and wanted to take it during his eventual rise to power, much like Grindlewald took the Reichstag in Berlin. The power of the castle was such that evil could not be tolerated but sufficient power could overwhelm even Hogwarts' defenses and leave her vulnerable to physical attack. True there were remnants of the Founders' power still at rest through the corridors and dungeons but could that protect against an army of fanatical witches and wizards? Not to mention whatever dark creatures Riddle recruited to his twisted cause?

"Albus, do you have a moment?" His new Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall's face flared to life in his private floo.

"Of course, Minerva, you may come through." He sat down behind his wide oak desk in preparation for whatever catastrophe his dear friend might bring with her and popped a lemon drop into his mouth from a small parchment-lined bowl by his left elbow.

Minerva McGonagall was also a woman unaccustomed to nervousness – she boldly marched forward regardless of whether the outcome might be unhappy or cast her/her house in a bad light – but the current situation demanded prompt action and decision that she was unable to give…at least for the moment.

"Whatever seems to be the problem," Dumbledore asked around his candy, "did you find some hidden prank our newest group 'The Marauders' left for you over the break?"

"Not…exactly, Albus, I was going over the register rolls checking for any mid-year transfers and I came across something very…unusual."

"Unusual, Minerva, unusual how? I hardly think impending transfers are anything unusual…rare, yes, but well within the bounds of commonplace."

The red-haired witch quickly rounded his desk and set down the Student Registry book, an automatically-revising tome listing all past, present, and future students of Hogwarts. Names appeared in the book as magical children were born and were erased if the child died, otherwise the name stayed in place until their 11th year when invitations were sent out to enroll. Names remained in the book after students graduated, preserving forever their matriculation at Hogwarts for the ages.

"Look here, Albus, I found them by mistake when I dropped the book – look at these names!" She flipped past the former students and past the present enrollees until her narrow fingers began flipping through blank sheets of parchment. "I cannae' understand why the names would be there and would even begin to try explaining why they're crossed out."

Abruptly she stopped and Albus immediately understood why she'd brought the situation to his attention for even he had no explanation for what lay in the middle of a blank page constantly moving upwards like clockwork in time to every birth of a magical child.

There was a bank of names slowly creeping up line-by-line in the ether of unknown unborn magical. That by itself was odd since fate would dictate that mortals should never know the future but what made Albus Dumbledore's eyebrows rise under the lip of his soft night cap was they each and every name was struck out. Heavy inky lines hurriedly zigzagged across each name making the original writing illegible but it was clear to both professors that something had been written then obliterated. The fact that the 'names' kept creeping forward proved the errata was part of the magic of the book – also it meant that something or someone had interfered with the flow of time itself.

"As shocking as this is, Minerva, let us not get carried away. If the book has inscribed the names on its pages that means that students of Hogwarts were born, if those same names are stricken it may mean that those same 'fated' individuals were born early or late. Have you looked through the rest of the current pages?"

McGonagall's face twisted. "The pages don't stop, Albus, they just go on so I have no way of knowing."

"Either way, Minerva, either way…if they were born early we have no way of identifying them either so we are faced with a dilemma. You and I are both aware that something strange is going on but we found ourselves incapable of proving anything besides that the fates of…six, it appears…students have been altered. Take the book back to your office and tell no one what you have found. I shall speak to Algernon Croaker at the Department of Mysteries and see what light he might shed on this predicament…oaths of office not withstanding…"

"Very well, Albus, but I expect you will inform me if anything comes of it…I write the enrollment replies and invitations so I feel I am entitled to answers if you can get anything out of old Croaker, the clod was tight-lipped when I worked for The Ministry – although you might have more pull as Chief Warlock." With that she left through the door.

Dumbledore sat back heavily and brought a finger and thumb to his forehead. He knew something was going on but now that an answer appeared all it did was raise more questions.


Zaira Zabini reclined against the wood headboard of her four-poster bed covered only in a thin silk sheet and reflected on the path of her life. Born to such a powerful and wealthy merchant marine family it was expected that she marry immediately out of school and give birth to no less than 2 male heirs to the Zabini trade empire. But unlike her mother and grandmother who accepted their lot in life as simpering housewives amused by their 'control' over servants and house elves, Zaira dreamed of controlling the empire herself.

Black of hair and slightly more tanned than her peers, the young daughter of Adalfieri and Beatrice Zabini desired the power to make her own decisions – by hook or by crook. Her 'husband' – because her parents always spoke in the hypothetical – would have to be an old man since none of the younger men desired such a 'fiery free-spirit' as a bride. Zaira took some manner of pride in that fact; Malfoy wouldn't even look in her direction after he'd tried to 'taste the goods' her third year. Even as a fourteen year old waif she'd known enough to defend herself from his stubby pecker and shove his wand completely up his ass. Poor Lucius had to admit to 'experimenting' with buggery to Madame Pomfrey if her memory served and the Zabini gang was quickly born.

The heaving bosoms of her two bedmates, Hally Greengrass and Peggy Davis, attested to the power she now held in Slytherin House. With the demeaning defeat of the scion of Malfoy she took power as the Ice Queen of Slytherin – cool and calculated in opposition to rapist troglodytes such as Lucy Malfoy and Teddy Nott. However with her protection also came an exchange of goods and services. She could take any Slytherin girl to her bed or force them to pleasure her at any time day or night. And she used her privileges liberally as the first and second years would attest. There was just something clean about the taste of virgins…

Getting back to the matter of her mate, Zaira just couldn't get the hang of penis - literally or figuratively. All the Slytherin boys and a few Ravenclaws had taken a shine to her exotic looks and svelte body but he found the thought of their fleshy rods piercing her veil just a little vomit-inducing. She had several dildos that received liberal usage but only as a means of rubbing herself – definitely not penetration. She preferred the fragrant perfumes of her gender and the slicky feel of dainty fingers prying open dripping folds. Still, facing facts she knew that at some point some man was going to shove his puny little pecker up her hoo-ha and knock her up with a mewling sprog. She wasn't going to let the Zabini name die with her despite her sexual predilections.

Strange that she hadn't heard anything from the Blacks in the whole Christmas break…due to her age and year (6th year) she fell directly between the two eldest Blacks who allowed her reign in Slytherin so long as she didn't bring shame to the House. Bellatrix was usually quite talkative during holidays, frequently sharing various schemes to escape her father's control that Zaira had to quietly dismiss as too loud, too brazen, or too risky. Andromeda was also usually around her house – she sometimes joined their little coven of illicit lesbianism – at least once or twice before Christmas and yet the Zabini heir hadn't heard a word from either…

Little Narcy Black, blonde of hair and deliciously sweet of cunt, was an enigma as Zaira wasn't very friendly with the youngest Black daughter. She occasionally accompanied her sisters here or there and made the customary trips to the Wizengamot with her father or uncle but generally was a non-entity to Slytherin House.

Aside from Lucy Malfoy of course…the weird little poof was chasing after her probably only because she looked like an exceptionally pretty little boy. And Tyberius Malfoy was going to expect an heir soon. Despite being out of Hogwarts for almost 2 years Lucius still found time to stop by the castle and attempt to woo the youngest Black. Really…it was almost as disgusting as Rodolphus Lestrange's attempts to chat-up Bellatrix. Men and their stupidity…

Ah well, it was time to get up and start getting ready to visit Grimmauld Place. Luckily Hallafaiyr and Mary Margaret were going as well so their little clique didn't need to disband so quickly. Hmm…perhaps Narcy or Andy would like to 'play' while their parents talked business? Yes, that was a welcome diversion from the thought that Lucius Malfoy and Theodore Nott were supposed to be there as well…

"Darlings? Time to get up…we have a Christmas Party to attend!"