Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; meaning everything Harry Potter is credited to the brilliant mind of J.K. Rowling. So I thank you Rowling and let's begin this story.
Rating: M for upcoming chapters
Pairing(s): Undecided yet. (or I just don't want to let you know at the moment)
Feedback: Yes please give me feedback, but please don't if you going to be mean.
Characters: Well, its almost all of them, but most of the story is around Harry, Ron, Hermonie, Ginny, Draco, etc.
Betas:I like to introduce my amazing beta Kat Seay!!!! Thank you for all your help.
Author's notes: Ok this is my very first fan fiction, so if I make mistakes on the characters I'm sorry. This story of Harry Potter follows the original in some ways but I put a lot of my own stuff in it too.
Harry Potter and the Royal Veela
By Lost Soul (Forsaken Archangel)
Prologue
There had been blood everywhere. He could faintly remember hearing people yelling his name; telling him to stop. Everything had happened so fast, Voldemort had easily over powered him; so much for all that training.
And then that light appeared between him and his blood thirsty enemy; the light morphed into a sword only inches away from him. It was in this instant that Harry Potter changed; he felt different as a new painful energy threatened to rip its way through his body.
He looked up, resentful tears of pain filling his evergreen eyes, he knew Voldemort would have a look of pure satisfaction on his twisted snake like face. But there was no joy or even a hint of delight in Harry's pain, no; the only emotion reflected on that disfigured face was fear.
Harry reached forward to grab the sword of light in his still trembling hand, for a brief second Harry's mind registered the fact that nearly all the fighting had stopped; all eyes were now on him. He knew what he wanted to do; take the new weapon and plunge it into Voldemort's chest; straight through to his swiveled black heart.
It was at this time that his reality came crashing down around him, that a need inside the boy over powered his wants. Harry watched in fear as his hand still clutching the strange weapon; rose so that the tip of the light sword was pointed to his stomach.
He could hear someone telling him to 'Stop!', 'Don't do it!', and 'Please Harry!' Even if he had had time to react to what happened next he had long since lost control of his body.
All he could do was watch as his own hands plunged the blade into his already bruised skin.
He could taste blood in his mouth, feel it running down the gaping wound in his stomach where the weapon was still impaled in him. Harry released his death like grip on the sword; his breath was coming in shallow pants, he could feel his life slowly leaving his body.
He could hear the hissing and clicking coming from the direction of his enemy, but he was too weak to care what Voldemort was yelling about, because all he could see was light, the pain had vanished, and he let go surrendering to this new calmness.