Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter. If I was JK Rowling, and I did own Harry Potter, I would not be writing fanfiction. I am merely using her charactersin my own plot. I also realize that some things in my story may seem familiar. I have read many fics on this site, and am using the ideas of many others in my own way. Please consider it an honor that I wish to do this.

Full Summary: Your sixteenth birthday is special, especially for wizarding children. It is the birthday you get your Inheritance. However, three young lives are about to be changed forever due to this event. Draco is a veela and Harry is his...mate? And Hermione is betrothed to who? And Ron and Ginny suddenly fancy Slytherins? Featuring veela!Draco, Dark!but not evil!Harry. Pairings include DMHP, HGOC, and some other SlytherinGryffindor romances. Warning:this fic will contain some SLASH. Don't like, don't read.

Chapter One: Inheritance – Part One

Harry Potter couldn't decide if this was the best summer he had ever spent with the Dursley's, or the worst. Things so far had been quiet, really quiet. Harry figured the Dursley's had been so scared by Mad-Eye Moody's threat, they were afraid to do anything to him.

So they were ignoring him. And it wasn't just ignoring him as in giving him meals but not speaking, no; the Dursley family was pretending that Harry Potter did not exist. There was no communication with the dark haired 'freak' at all. There was no food. Nothing. And believe it or not, Harry didn't mind so much.

Sure, he had to be very careful of what he ate, seeing as aunt Petunia didn't leave any food for him, and he couldn't take something from the refrigerator or they would know it was missing, but he did get to keep his schoolbooks in his room. Hedwig wasn't locked in her cage, and Harry could walk around outside all he wanted. He didn't have to do any chores, and Dudley's gang hadn't picked on him once so far. For the first time since Harry had come to live at Privet Drive, life was good. The Dursley's acted like he had died along with 'that dirty murderer.'

Of course, that brought Harry's thoughts around to Sirius, and why this was also the worst summer of his life. Harry couldn't stop thinking about the Veil in the Death Chamber. He had seen Sirius fall through it, but he had also heard voices, whispers, coming from within it. Every night Harry was plagued with nightmares, visions of his godfather falling through the veil, the Prophecy, Cedric being murdered, Hermione petrified, Ron immobile on the floor after their chess match in first year, his mum's screams, and Voldemort's wand pointing down at him.

Harry was ashamed to say it, but in that moment at the Ministry of Magic, when Voldemort's wand was pointing at him, Harry had actually wanted to die. He had wanted it all to end. There had been no fear in his mind, only thoughts of seeing Sirius again, and his parents. He had wanted to die… and part of him still did.

So much death had been caused by Harry. At least, that's what he believed. His mum and dad, dead because of him. Cedric, Sirius, Bertha Jorkins, the muggle Frank Bryce, all dead because of him. Barty Crouch and even Professor Quirrel, dead because of him.

Harry wondered how many more it would be before the end. How many more people would perish because of him? Why did he have to be so bloody important? Why couldn't the Prophecy have been about Neville? The Prophecy. That was something else that filled Harry's thoughts. Neither can live while the other survives. Harry either had to kill Voldemort or die trying. There was no other way.

And then his thoughts would be focused on the fact that the fate of the wizarding world was resting on his shoulders. Shoulders that were small, shoulders that belonged to a boy who had fears that every year he was going to die. The shoulders of a boy who was now a man, forced out of a childhood he never had to bear a burden he shouldn't have to carry.

The cycle went on and on, nightmares, loneliness, too much time to think about Sirius and the Prophecy. Harry didn't even have any letters from his friends to distract him, which was why he was currently sitting on his bed, in the dark, on July 30th, waiting for his sixteenth birthday, with no cards or presents.

Ten minutes.

Harry did wonder why no one had written him. He usually had a letter from Ron, Hermione, and even Hagrid by now. Maybe Dumbledore had prevented them from writing. What with Voldemort in power again, it could be dangerous sending mail. Harry didn't mind not getting anything, he was plenty used to it by now, but he just wished someone would have warned him.

Seven minutes.

Harry wondered what Ron and Hermione were doing right now. Ron was probably sleeping, or trying to get information out of his parents about the Order. Hermione for sure knew it was almost Harry's birthday. He wondered if she was sitting up, watching the clock just like he was. Maybe she was thinking about what his inheritance would be.

Four minutes.

Harry knew all about the supposed 'inheritance' a witch or wizard gets on their sixteenth birthday. Their power was said to increase a few levels, and they would attain an affinity for a certain subject. Harry knew that part was true at least. Ron, much to his disappointment, had developed an affinity towards Divination on his sixteenth birthday.

Two minutes.

Hermione had told Harry that other things could happen when you gained your inheritance also. She had said that your appearance could change, or that your animagus transformation could be pushed. Harry sincerely hoped neither of those things happened to him, but knowing his luck, it was likely something did. He wouldn't mind being an animagus, but Hermione said it was a very painful process.

One minute.

Harry wondered what subject he would have an affinity for. Probably Defense against the Dark Arts. It was by far his best class.

Thirty seconds.

Or maybe he would become good at potions, and then Snape wouldn't pick on him anymore. No, Snape would probably just accuse him of cheating, and life would go on as normal.

Fifteen seconds.

Harry took a deep breath to prepare himself. He wasn't quite sure what was going to happen, or what it was going to feel like, but it never hurt to be prepared.

"Make a wish, Harry," he said, repeating the words he had spoken to himself many years ago, on that dark, stormy night.

Five seconds.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Midnight.

At first Harry felt nothing, and then he felt everything. His whole body was on fire. It took all of his willpower not to fall on the ground screaming. Harry wasn't sure the Dursley's would continue to ignore him if he woke them up in the middle of the night. But this, this was pain beyond anything, it was worse than the Cruciatus Curse.

Harry fell to his knees in front of his mirror, his eyes screwed shut and clutching his stomach. His breaths came out in short, sharp gasps. It felt like his bones, his organs, were rearranging themselves inside his body. Harry couldn't take it, he let out one low scream, and then another. Suddenly, the Dursley's didn't matter anymore, and Harry continued to scream. And then, just as it had started, everything stopped.

Harry took a few deep breaths, and slowly opened his eyes, only to be met with the intense yellow orbs of a basilisk. He slammed his eyes shut once more, wondering why he wasn't dead and how on earth a basilisk had gotten inside his room. Harry slowly started reaching for his wand, when he suddenly remembered that he had been facing a mirror.

He opened his eyes once more, and there was the basilisk. Harry blinked, the basilisk blinked. Harry swayed his neck, the basilisk swayed his neck. Harry stuck out his tongue; the basilisk's forked tongue appeared. Harry slowly looked down at his body and wasn't entirely shocked to see the body of a snake.

"Bloody hell," said Harry, but it came out as a low hiss.

He looked up into the mirror once again. He was not nearly as big as the basilisk he had fought in the Chamber of Secrets, only six feet long. His scales weren't that sickly, poisonous green, but instead a shade of deepest black, like his hair.

Okay, Harry, calm down, he thought, just because you are a basilisk is no reason to panic, no reason at all.

He slithered forward experimentally, and was surprised to find how fast he could move. Harry wondered how on earth he was supposed to change back into himself, and cursed the fact that he hadn't borrowed that book about animagi from Hermione. He closed his deadly yellow eyes and tried to picture himself as a human. He felt something in his stomach tighten, and squirm, and then he opened his eyes. Staring back at him were his normal, human, green eyes.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and sat stunned on the floor, too shocked to notice that his glasses were lying next to him, but that he could still see clearly. He shakily got to his feet, and tried to push his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose before he noticed they were missing. He searched the floor, and upon finding them, put them on, only to take them right back off again when everything became blurry.

"Strange," Harry muttered.

He placed his glasses on his desk, and when he heard Hedwig hoot softly, he turned towards her, only to find that she was hiding in her cage.

"Oh, Hedwig," he said, gently stroking her snowy feathers. "Did I scare you? I'm sorry, but I honestly didn't know I was going to be turning into a basilisk."

Hedwig hooted again and gently nipped one of his fingers, before turning her head in the direction of the mirror and hooting again.

"What is it?" asked Harry, as he slowly, apprehensively went to stand in front of the mirror.

What he saw shocked him almost as much as when he saw the basilisk. There was a raw, black energy surrounding Harry, crackling in the air. It made him appear to be some sort of dark creature. Harry slowly reached up to touch his face. His skin felt normal. But there was no mistaking the powerful energy surrounding him.

Harry fell back onto his bed, a feeling of immense confusion overwhelming him. What was happening? Was all this part of his inheritance? And why was his animagus form a basilisk? Harry had never heard of someone's animagus form being a magical creature before. It just wasn't possible. He wanted desperately to write Hermione. She would know what was going on, but he decided against it. He felt the need to tell someone, however.

Harry thought for a moment, and then hurriedly sat down at his desk. He took a piece of parchment, dipped his quill in ink, and began writing a letter. When he was finished he rolled it up and tied it with string.

"Hedwig," whispered Harry. "I have a letter for you."

Hedwig stuck out her leg and Harry tied the letter to it.

"Take this to Professor Dumbledore," said Harry, watching his snowy owl blink and then fly out the open window and into the night.

Harry crawled onto his bed once more and curled up under the blankets. It wasn't cold in his room, but he felt chilled down to his bones. Finally, with one great yawn, Harry let his body succumb to exhaustion.

Albus Dumbledore couldn't sleep. He believed that insomnia was now presenting itself as a regular visitor at his doorstep. The old wizard found he often couldn't sleep, although tonight it was over a different matter. Harry Potter would be turning sixteen in just a few minutes.

Albus sighed and put his head in his hands. He wondered what the boy's inheritance was going to be, and if he was prepared for it. He wondered how Harry was going to react when he found out about the letter Dumbledore had received just a few days ago. It was terrible keeping secrets from Harry, and Dumbledore knew this one would come as quite a shock.

He glanced at his clock, it was midnight.

Dumbledore sighed again and slowly stood up from his chair. He made his way towards Fawkes's perch. The beautiful phoenix was watching him intently. Dumbledore stroked his golden plumage, marveling yet again at how soft and warm the feathers were.

"Why does everything have to happen to that boy?" asked Dumbledore, as his old hand wandered over the feathers.

Fawkes looked at him and blinked.

Dumbledore chuckled sadly. "You're right." he said. "Harry Potter isn't a boy, hasn't been one for so long now. It is time I learned to treat him like the adult he is. It is hard thought, Fawkes. I look at him and I see someone who is brave, and strong, but still so small and childlike."

Fawkes let one piercing note drip from his beak, before turning his eyes to the window. Dumbledore looked, and saw the unmistakable owl of Harry Potter flying towards him. The old man crossed the room with considerable speed and opened the window, letting the snowy feathered bird fly in.

Hedwig landed on his desk, and Dumbledore immediately took the letter from her leg. She didn't fly away, but ruffled her feathers and stared expectantly at Dumbledore. He smiled at the bird, offered her a lemon drop (which she refused), and opened the letter.

Professor Dumbledore,

I am sure you know all about the supposed inheritance one receives on their sixteenth birthday, therefore, I won't take the time to explain it to you. I am also sure you know that I just turned sixteen, and therefore gained my inheritance.

To put it bluntly, professor, I am worried. My inheritance pushed my animagus transformation. I guess that isn't so bad, but my form is an animal I didn't think it was possible to turn into, a magical creature.

Just out of curiosity, professor, has that ever happened before? I mean, the marauders all turned into normal, everyday animals, and even Professor McGonagall turns into a plain old tabby cat, which is very nice, might I add. But I have never heard of anyone turning into a magical creature.

Alright, I know I'm stalling, and that I just need to come out and say it, so here goes. I'm a basilisk. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, professor, but that isn't normal. I would really like an explanation as to why this is happening. And also, I know that animagus transformations are shaky and unstable if pushed by inheritance, so I'm wondering if it is safe for me to continue living here at my aunt and uncle's. I don't think it would be good if I were to lose my temper and transform in front of them, especially since I can now kill them with one glance.

One other thing. There seems to be a sort of raw energy surrounding me. I'm not sure what it is, but I can see it. It is black, and I'm not too sure if I like it. Other than those things, though, I don't feel any different. Oh, I don't need my glasses anymore. Strange.

I await your reply,

Harry Potter

Dumbledore put the letter down and frowned thoughtfully. It was clear what the underlying message was in Harry's letter; what the heck is happening to me and get me out of here now. It was actually quite funny. But the information contained in the letter wasn't.

A basilisk. That was certainly unusual. Harry was right in his assumption; there were no records of magical creature animagi. Dumbledore sighed; it was obvious Harry couldn't stay at the Dursley's anymore, at least not until he got his transformation under control. He would need to call an Order meeting.

And what Harry described as 'raw energy', was really his aura. It showed how powerful he was becoming. Dumbledore was worried by the fact that it was black. That showed an affinity towards the Dark Arts. He really needed to call an Order meeting.

Dumbledore chuckled slightly as Hedwig hooted at him. The owl was waiting for a return letter. The old wizard pulled a blank piece of parchment in front of him, and reached for a quill. He quickly wrote a letter to Harry, which he tied to Hedwig's leg, and watched the snowy owl soar out the window.

Dumbledore's shoulders slumped slightly as he put his head in his hands. This was certainly going to be an interesting year, especially for Harry. If he was taking his inheritance this way, Dumbledore wondered how he would take his other piece of news. The Headmaster resolved to tell Harry this one final secret as soon as he got the chance.