Author's note:
Hey everyone! Long time without an update, so I decided to upload one. Short chapter because it had another POV that was getting too long, and had to be cut.
Next update will be on December 5th (Monday, Fanfiction), and November 19th (Saturday, ).
I also have one pairing set on stone, (which you maybe already figured out, wink wink), but I do need another one. I will be making a poll soon.
Enjoy! Love,
Edward Verus.
Henry
Big, silver eyes stared up at him, her mouth tight around his cock. She was sensuality made flesh, wild, and Henry loved it. He could have almost killed Voldemort again, if only for the crime of denying her existence to the world.
With a pop, she let go, her mouth sloppily licking him, spit all over his dick.
"I hope my skills aren't a disappointment, my beloved."
And with that she took him inside her mouth again, and she kept going, until she gagged. With her hand, she pulled down the straps of her bra, perky, breast bouncing as she pulled down. Dark nipples, stiff and erect. Henry felt the hot slickness of her mouth, and he couldn't help but place a hand on her head, pushing her just a little bit more. She was beautiful, a goddess made flesh. By her lustful moan, she liked it.
"Dorcas…" He said, and the warmness disappeared, replaced by freezing coldness. The woman kept sucking, as her black hair turned snowy white. She kept sucking as her silver eyes turned black, darker than anything he had ever seen, except for the resurrection stone.
With a pop she let go, and she stared at Henry with a cruel smirk.
"Hello, master." She said, her hand slowly moving up and down his cock, squeezing him. "I see you are being naughty again. Do not worry, I will take her from you. I will take everything from you, again and again and again."
Grey clouds rolled in the sky, drops already falling all over the castle, creating ripples in the lake. In the background, the mountains stood, tall and strong. Almost eternal. Henry once believed they would always be there. He held the belief until he had seen them turned to rubble.
Early in the morning, he doubted anyone else would be awake. He knew for certain that even Dumbledore, a notorious early riser, was still asleep. Had he been forced to guess, Henry would have staked his life that Dumbledore spent the night trying to figure him out.
'I fucked up.' Henry thought, remembering the things he had spat at Dumbledore. Not particularly dangerous information, but he had behaved like the unruly child he had been in his fifth year. He had probably drawn attention to himself, if only for the fear of the man that a spoiled brat would become the most important member of the Wizengamot. 'There is no point in crying over the spilled cauldron. Someone once said that, probably.'
With a snap of his fingers, a small house elf appeared, handing him his morning cup before disappearing. He had bought some elves, as soon as he had appeared, but none of them were as peculiar as Dobby. They had not deigned themselves worthy of even having him knowing their names, and so they had not told him. He could have forced them, but he was unsure if it would improve things, so he left them be.
Looking around, he reapplied the stunning charm to the Gryffindor sixth year male dorm. He had woken up, disoriented, the view of the lake in his window. Alone, in a room with expensive furniture and elegant stone, Henry had remembered that he belonged to House Slytherin.
—Students of Hogwarts! —Dumbledore had said, standing up. To almost everyone he looked his usual, jovial self, but Henry knew him better than most. He could see the wary look of his eyes when they had fixed on him—. We have a new student, who is just transferring to Hogwarts. A member of a family returning to Britain after living abroad, in hiding, for several centuries. Please, Henry Peverell, come and be sorted.
He had briefly considered correcting him, but in the end decided against it. He walked through the hall, shoulders straight, eyes wandering at the ceiling before looking back down, eyeing he students he was interested through the corner of his eye, mentally listing them. He almost stumbled when he saw James Potter and Lily Evans sitting together, holding hands, but he stopped it with tremendous effort. A waste, he mused, when he did stumble at the saucy wink Dorcas sent his way.
Blushing a little, he reached the stall, and with a confident hand, he placed the hat on his head.
—Well, well, well. What do we have here?
—Fuck off.
—That's not very nice, Lord Peverell. Or is it Lord Slytherin?
—Fuck off.
—Charming. And I see you are already aware of Salazar's pact.
—He was a dumbass.
—He was.
—And a pervert.
—Of course. Why do you think every access to the Chamber he left you and his other descendants are in either girl's bathrooms or dorms?
—And a self-entitled cunt.
—Naturally.
—Please, don't say it. You have seen my plans. I need the shadows to succeed.
—I cannot stop, even if I wanted to. And the shadows are a weak place to be, since it only takes the smallest ray of light to break them.
—I didn't know you were a poet, you talking rag. You leave me no choice, then.
—Nothing you can do about it.
—I can curse you?
With a laugh, the hat cut off his connection, but not before sending his head rumbled with one last message.
—I would love to see you try, Master of Death.
Henry waited with anticipation, hoping against hope that he had read the ancient texts wrong, but when the hat spoke, he knew he had been right.
—The Heir of Slytherin, better be in SLYTHERIN! —The hat had shouted, louder than Henry had heard him in all his prior years in Hogwarts, when he was still Harry Potter.
He had been left with no other option but to create a sound barrier, something he had suspected Dumbledore would notice. The summons he received confirmed his suspicions, and yet he hadn't felt like dealing with the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. He had refused them, and he had no doubt that Dumbledore would be tracking him down during the day himself.
'Well, let him look.' Henry thought, downing the last of his cup and throwing it out. It disappeared before it landed. With a grunt, he twisted his head, cracking his neck, doing the same with his hands. He took one glance at his right hand, where a black stone laid in a golden ring, the symbol of the three hallows carved out of it.
"I will take everything from you, again, and again, and again." Her voice still rang on his ears, a shudder passing through his body. She was a frightening being. Even he, Henry Peverell, Master of Death, would not measure to her. In a battle of might, he would come up as the far second.
With a snarl, he twisted the stone three times. In front of him an ancient, well-dressed man appear. He looked solid enough, but Henry knew that he would fade as soon as a hand was swiped through him.
—Phineas.
—Master. —The man replied. All ghosts had begun calling him that as soon as he reunited the three hallows, and they had never stopped. Even he, who had never met him, seemed to sense his status —. How may I serve?
—Merge with your frame in Grimmauld Place, long enough for you to communicate this with Lord Black: 'Phase 1, done.' He will be expecting you. He will know what it means.
—Phase 1, done. As you wish, my Lord.
The spirit disappeared, but Henry still felt the drain of the ring into his own magical power. Taxing, but valuable. He smiled, wondering how long it would take Arcturus to figure out he could send the spirit straight to him, and not have him wait by the frame for hours.
'He will curse me to oblivion' Henry though, with a smile. 'Worth it'.
He went to the owlery, sending letters to gather new allies. House Meadowes, House Bones, and House Greengrass were powerful houses, who could be amenable to join him, with the backing of House Potter and House Black. A house of each voting block, House Meadowes was the one he wanted to collect the most. The prize. Staunch neutrals, who could pull other neutrals towards him. In an ancient text of the secret journals of House Peverell, it was said that they guarded something powerful. Henry needed powerful, for when she came knocking down on his door.
"I will take everything from you, again, and again, and again."
He vowed not to let her, not again. Not again.