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The Black Family did not have their surname due to their association with dark magic, nor did they statistically produce more Dark Lords than other ancient families. When the Black family was given their name, they were not characterized by black hair or a dark appearance. The Black Family had one tradition, and researchers only debated two aspects. Whether the name "Black" came from how others perceived that tradition or from the black, or rather black-and-white, attire and servants.
Sirius Black had always been somewhat of a recluse. Since the end of the war, his figure presented the wizarding world with an enigmatic image of an unknown puzzle. As the Wizengamot assembled to discuss post-war wizarding society repairs, there was a momentary pause when the heavy oak doors unexpectedly swung open.
The room was filled with a hushed whisper that permeated through the dense air as the figure of Sirius Black emerged among the gathering. His presence, though absent for years, surprised everyone. It was impressive; Sirius had changed since the last time he stood in that room. Back then, he was thin, exhausted, and ravaged by the many years spent in Azkaban. Now, he looked better than some of those assembled. The eldest individuals recognized him immediately; a single step was enough as the sound of his elegant dragon leather shoes resonated throughout the room. Tall, with slightly long, black hair that lightly waved with each step, and sharp, gray eyes that gleamed with determination, he resembled Arcturus when he was the greatest terror of the Wizengamot.
Silence fell upon the chamber like a dense fog as Sirius confidently strode through the space, heading towards the area reserved for the Black family. His appearance was like a lightning bolt illuminating the darkness—sudden, unmistakable, and impossible to ignore. Black's face was impenetrable, exuding solemnity and restraint.
Taking his seat, he looked down upon the gathered with an air of superiority that would make Merlin himself envious. When he finally decided to speak, his voice rang out with such certainty, as if he were facing Aragog and not the assembly in the Wizengamot.
"I declare my return to the Black family," he began, "and I assume the title of Lord Black." As if to confirm his words, the Black family crest shimmered above the spot he had chosen. "I have come to the Wizengamot to demand the repayment of all debts owed to the Black family. I declare a return to our roots and a revival of our old traditions."
His words shook the room like thunder, and the faces of those gathered displayed various shades of surprise, unease, and incomprehension. Sirius paid no attention to it, continuing his speech. "According to the ancient custom, the debt clause will be enacted within a week." A shiver of whispers ran through the Wizengamot, as if the wizards suddenly understood the extent of the old blood indebted to the Black family.
"However, there are members of our family who have lost the right to bear the name 'Black'," he said, his piercing gray gaze sweeping across the room like a blade. "Bellatrix and Narcissa can no longer use our name or enjoy the benefits associated with it unless they pledge allegiance to me within the next week."
The room fell silent. Many of those gathered stared at Sirius with open mouths, unable to believe what they had just heard. Others exchanged glances filled with unease, uncertain of what this new era of the Blacks would bring. Could Sirius truly intend to revive a family so long associated with darkness and betrayal?
Ignoring the astonished looks, Sirius slowly rose, his gray robes rustling, reminiscent of the wind blowing through the empty corridors of an old castle. His figure, even more imposing now as he stood and looked down upon the assembly, exuded power.
Finally, without a word, he turned and headed towards the door. Each of his steps resonated loudly in the silence, and the eyes of all those gathered followed him until he disappeared behind the doors of the Wizengamot. The doors closed with a muffled thud, and Sirius smiled as if he had just played the greatest joke of his life, while the sounds of the members of the magical government trying to make sense of what had just occurred reached his ears.
That was the last time a larger audience encountered Sirius Black.
For Harry, Sirius had also changed. He would disappear for long periods, sending only occasionally cryptic letters. And when he did visit, he brought dozens of carefully thought-out presents, but during those meetings, he was just the eccentric, old Uncle Sirius.
Harry's first memory of Sirius was on a snowy Christmas morning when he arrived early. Delicate white flakes clung to the icy pavement as a long, elegant car passed by.
Uncle Sirius jumped out of the car, dressed in an expensive suit and carrying bags of presents to the house. They were clothes and other practical goods, but during Harry's first holiday season with him, he only gave him one gift. It was an ancient wooden chest containing several glass tiles with gold, spools of wire, and other peculiar items that intrigued the thirteen-year-old mind of Harry. In the lid, there was a slim book that explained electricity in simple terms, as well as various circuits and basic mechanisms. The second, slightly thicker book was a textbook on runes. At first, Harry didn't understand what it all meant and thought the wire was a toy. Uncle Sirius stayed for only a few minutes to hug the Weasleys, drop off their presents, and give Harry his peculiar box. Then he asked if Harry would walk him to the car, and Ron's parents looked at each other as if to say, "This is rather strange," but they agreed. Great Uncle Sirius walked slowly through the fresh snow and stopped on the sidewalk. Harry nestled into his coat, wondering what this peculiar man wanted from him.
"I've been told that you excel in academics, even though you don't put much effort into it," Uncle Sirius finally said, his small eyes suddenly becoming sharp as they assessed Harry. "Grades aren't everything, but I want you to apply yourself more in understanding the theories.
""I'm doing just fine," Harry replied, laughing. "I have no problem passing."
"Is that so," Uncle Sirius said with a wrinkled brow. "It's a shame your father barely passed, but he wasn't average, just like your mother. They were outstanding students who didn't limit themselves to what was taught in class. But I didn't come here to discuss the past. I came to find the next key holder."
"The next key holder for what?" Harry asked.
"I have a challenge for you," he said, his eyes boring into Harry. "The box I gave you contains several items. The challenge is to use only what is in that box to construct a device that can turn on and off a Muggle lightbulb without powering it in the Muggle way."
"Okay," said Harry, grinning. "That sounds pretty cool. But until when?"
"Good question," said Great Uncle Sirius with a small smile. "You have exactly one year, give or take a few hours. I'll be here next Christmas to see your results. Any more questions?"
"What do I get if I complete the challenge?" Harry asked.
Great Uncle Sirius smiled a sly smile and said, "The key."
"To what lock?" Harry asked, surprised. The old man just laughed and headed towards his car.
"The lock is in Wessex. You should visit it someday!" He then hopped into the back of his car, and the driver sped off. He was a crazy old Great Uncle Sirius.
Harry spent the whole year playing with the box, even neglecting extra spell practice at Hogwarts. Despite that, his grades improved. Harry didn't even notice when he ended up in the top ten of his year, but he eventually solved the puzzle.
Now he sat in Ron's room with a letter. The seal of the goblin bank adorned the paper, informing him that Great Uncle Sirius had passed away over the previous weekend and that his presence, along with a lawyer, was requested in London. Along with the letter was an ancient key. Harry wasn't particularly close to Uncle Sirius; the man wasn't close to anyone in the Order of the Phoenix, so he couldn't imagine what he might have left him. He thought that after he turned seventeen and started his apprenticeship, Uncle Sirius would visit him more often, now that he no longer lived at Hogwarts, but so far, he hadn't heard from him for three years after the war ended.
Moving out and living on his own at such a young age had been a tough experience. But Harry couldn't turn down the scholarship offered to him by his runic magic mentor. He had always been interested in Muggle sciences, their inventions, and the possibilities he wanted to introduce or recreate in a magical way for the wizarding community, and his curiosity had been piqued by Uncle Sirius's constant puzzles and challenges. The internship with the goblins had been amazing, and for the first time in his life, he felt challenged and engaged in meaningful material.
Living in the apartment provided by Gringotts was never fun when you were several years younger than all your assigned roommates. However, the lack of a social life helped Harry focus on his studies, and he consistently achieved top grades in almost every test he took. Though he excelled academically, he never truly made friends at Hogwarts and never went on any dates. In his sixth year, he mustered up the courage to ask Hermione, one of the smartest girls he had ever met. He stood in front of the class, struggling to meet her eyes as he asked her to accompany him to Hogsmeade. The expression of surprise and awkwardness on her face when she said, "No, sorry, I'm seeing someone," pierced his heart. He resigned himself to a life of celibacy and learning.
The door to Harry's room swung open, and his roommate Bill, along with one of his friends from the curse-breaking department, barged in, talking loudly to each other.
"So, I told Nott, that girl is such a slut, even Potter should be able to hook up with her," Bill glanced at Harry standing by his small desk, "Little pimply here could even get her. Ain't that right, Alfie?" He snickered at the nickname in his cruel way. He jostled Harry to the side, causing a letter to slip from his fingers. Bill's friend caught it before Harry could retrieve it, effortlessly holding it out of his reach as he tried to grab it back.
"Give it back!" Harry said, seething with anger. He usually endured his roommate's bullying, but something felt frayed within him, perhaps it was the loss he felt, seeking an outlet.
"What's the matter?" Bill asked in his mocking voice. "A love letter from your boyfriend?"
"To young master Harry James Potter Black," Bill's friend read the letter in a mocking voice. "Young masturbator, huh huh," Bill said.
"It is with regret that we inform you of the passing of your Great Uncle Sirius Orion Black," his friend furrowed his brow. "Ahh, your uncle is gone. Damn, man, I'm sorry."
"Give it to me," Bill said, snatching the paper from his friend's hand, furrowing his own brow as he read it. "Looks like you're getting some inheritance. Maybe you can opt out of the welfare program, huh huh, you damn pimply kid." He pushed Harry with a firm shove, grabbed his bag, and stealthily left the room. His friend bent down, picked up the newspaper, and handed it to Harry with an apologetic look before following after Bill, walking with the swagger Harry had been forced to live with for the past three years.
Harry walked to the phone booth two blocks away and called the lawyer's office, speaking to a pleasantly sounding woman, asking for the address because the letter he received had no return address.
"Young Master Black, a car will be sent to pick you up from your current place of residence. Are you still located within the Gringotts housing complex?"
"Yes," Harry replied. "How did you know?"
"Young Master Black," she said in her pleasant tone, "Tonks has been the personal attorney for the estate and all its
predecessors for over fifteen years. You'll find we are up to date and discreet in our dealings with our clients."
"Well then, if you need to communicate with me again, just send an email," Harry said playfully. "This letter wasn't too discreet."
"My sincerest apologies, Young Master," the woman said, sounding shaken. "I assure you that in the future, we will adjust our communication to align with your preferences. Thus far, we have been following the wishes of your Great Uncle, who, while significantly modernizing his own approach to Muggle technology, requested regular contact, and it would be advisable for us to modernize our systems as well."
"Um, okay," Harry replied.
"The car will arrive within the next three minutes. We await your arrival, Young Master, and wish you a pleasant journey." She hung up, and Harry quickly sat down, hastily changing his clothes. He rushed to the bathroom, attempting to tame his unruly black hair as best as he could. He threw on an old jacket and tie, unsure of what to expect but wanting to show respect. Grabbing his bag, he hurried downstairs and out onto the street.
A small crowd had gathered around the car, which looked like it had been stolen from a 1930s tycoon. It was sleek and elegant, with black and chrome bodywork, a long engine block, and impressive fenders. The cabin was adorned with plush leather seats, accentuated by mahogany and silver details. Standing next to the vintage car was a petite blonde woman dressed in a dark blue and white uniform. She wore black leather driving gloves and had donned dark sunglasses. Her hair was neatly braided down her back. As Harry approached, he noticed her straighten up and turn to open the rear doors of the car. The small crowd began murmuring as he drew nearer.
"Hey, Pimple-face," Harry heard a familiar voice from the crowd. He turned to see Bill pushing his way out from the group of his friends. "Have fun burying your dead gay uncle!" Bill let out his obnoxious laugh, "huh huh," and a few of his friends joined in, though some looked uncomfortable. Ignoring him, Harry focused his attention back on the car.
"Harry Potter?" the blonde woman asked, her eyes scanning his face in a peculiar way, almost as if searching for an old friend and fearing disappointment if he wasn't who she expected. As Harry approached, he could now see that she was quite attractive, with a button-like nose and lips shaped like a bow. He tried not to notice how well her uniform accentuated her slender body and graceful figure, but it was hard to ignore.
"Yes, it's me," Harry said with a smile, surprised by the expression of relief and joy that crossed her face upon hearing his words. Then she gracefully bowed at the waist, her braid swaying with the motion.
"Young Master, I am deeply sorry for your loss," she said, her face solemn. "I am Nymphadora, and I will be your driver."
"Thank you," Harry replied sincerely. "It was a shock."
"Right this way, sir. They're waiting for your arrival," she said, stepping aside and opening the car door, bowing once more as she did so.
Harry stepped into the back of the car and found the seat even more comfortable than he had anticipated. The young woman closed the door gently and hopped into the driver's seat. The small crowd was still watching, and Bill had a sour expression on his face.
"Where are we going?" Harry asked the driver as she pulled out onto the road.
"To Tonks' offices," she replied, accelerating. "Why can't we use the fireplace, apparate, or use a Portkey?"
"All magical methods of transportation to your late uncle's estate or his businesses have been blocked by defensive enchantments. Anything attempting to reach there magically will be obliterated to dust on the surface of half of England."
"Do you know what all this is about?" Harry asked, hoping to gather some information before entering the lawyers' offices.
"I think it would be best if they answer your questions themselves," she replied in a polite tone.
Sitting in the backseat, Harry gazed out the window as the car sped through the narrow streets of London, making its way to the center. The interior of the car was a work of art, impeccably polished wood and silver that radiated a mirrored shine. It was larger on the inside than it appeared from the outside, but not so much that a Muggle couldn't be invited in. Despite its elegance, it remained incredibly comfortable, and Harry found himself admiring the soft leather upholstery.
The seat he occupied was a small bench tucked away in the rear of the car, with two small, tinted windows providing a view of the outside world. Shielded from sight, Harry savored the experience. Wherever they drove, the car attracted attention, and as they ventured deeper into the city center, Harry noticed more suit-clad gentlemen looking at them with undisguised envy.
Finally, the car came to a stop in front of a large brick building with no visible signs or markings. Nymphadora, the driver, turned and opened the door, allowing Harry to step out into the biting cold wind. He looked up and down the street, observing the old law firms and financial companies housed in buildings that dated back centuries.
"You may proceed inside, Young Master," Nymphadora said with a brief bow. "They are expecting you."
"Just call me Harry," Harry said with a pained grimace.
"Very well, Young Master Harry," Nymphadora replied, giving him a small amused grin.
Harry sighed and climbed up the stairs, pushing open the heavy green doors. Inside, he found a cozy waiting room adorned with a small desk in one corner. Sitting behind it was a pretty young woman who immediately stood up when she saw Harry enter. Smoothly smoothing her fitted vest and pushing back her thick, dark brown hair, she offered him a warm, friendly smile.
"Young Master Potter!" Daphne exclaimed, circling her desk. Harry couldn't help but notice her slim pencil skirt and the black heels that accentuated her legs beautifully. Trying his best to ignore her seductive hourglass figure and the intoxicating scent of her perfume, reminiscent of sweet summer flowers, Harry followed her gaze as she opened the side doors, revealing narrow stairs leading upwards. "I'm Daphne. Please follow me, and I'll show you upstairs."
"Thank you," Harry said, glancing curiously as he made his way towards her.
"Have you ever been in a building like this before?" Daphne asked as she led the way upstairs.
"No. Is this building really that old?" Harry inquired.
"Yes, it's one of the oldest in London," she replied. "Both it and the surrounding property have been in the Black family for centuries. Unfortunately, the rest of the block was demolished decades ago to make way for more modern construction, but your Great Uncle designated this building as a historic landmark."
"So my uncle had properties in the city?" Harry asked, intrigued.
"He did..." the beautiful woman paused at the top of the stairs, her eyes searching him, looking for something he couldn't see. "You will learn today that there were many things in your great uncle's life... We only ask that you keep an open mind. His work was of great importance, and we believe you are the perfect person to continue it."
"His work?" Harry inquired as Daphne stopped at the end of the hallway, standing before a set of large double doors.
"My mother and Andromeda will have to inform you about the entirety of the work your uncle was involved in," Daphne's smile was warm as she looked at him, and Harry felt slightly uneasy with the intensity in her eyes. She took half a step closer to him, and he noticed her wetting her lower lip with her tongue before biting it, a sign of inner struggle. Then, to his surprise, she pulled him into a tight embrace, and he couldn't help but be aware of her ample bosom and soft body pressing against him.
"I'm so excited for you to become our new master," she whispered into his ear, holding him tightly, her hands sliding down his back. Harry's embrace remained awkward and loose as he tried to shift his hips to the side, hoping to conceal his growing arousal.
"I pray that you accept the proposition," Daphne leaned back, locking her gaze with his, her eyes filled with smoldering promises that both excited and unnerved him, "Without you, we will all be lost, and the world will be lost."
"Okay," Harry said, feeling a mixture of uncertainty and intrigue.
Harry felt a sense of unease as Daphne's grimace deepened, and he could feel the warmth of her soft, plump lips as she kissed his cheek. Stepping back, she smoothed her skirt and vest, giving him a sly wink before pulling open the double doors and making a small bow.
The room revealed a massive office with dual desks set up at each end, facing each other. Two women stood up from the desks, dressed in business attire with fitted skirts reminiscent of Daphne's outfit. Despite their mature age, likely in their forties, they exuded elegance and confidence. One of them was clearly Daphne's mother. Both women had thick, dark hair styled in a similar manner. The older one boasted full, crimson lips and bright blue eyes framed by long lashes. Her slightly plump figure accentuated her ample bosom and wide hips. The other woman was tall and slender, wearing glasses with thick frames and sporting vibrant red waves of hair. They walked away from their desks and met in the middle of the room, where a low table and three chairs were set up, accompanied by a stack of papers.
"Young Master Harry," spoke the taller blonde, "welcome to our offices. Daphne, thank you. That will be all." Daphne gave a brief bow and exited the room, gently closing the door behind her. Just before the door closed, she cast a glance at Harry, leaving him unsettled by the unknown intensity in her eyes.
"I am Andromeda Tonks," continued the brunette as the doors shut, "and this is my colleague, Izabelle Greengrass. We represented your Great Uncle in his estate and business endeavors."
"Nice to meet you, Young Master Harry," said Izabelle, her voice akin to warm brandy on ice. "Please have a seat." She gestured towards one of the chairs at the table.
"Please, just call me Harry," Harry said uncomfortably, taking a seat. "This whole 'Young Master' thing feels a bit strange."
"Sir," Andromeda glanced at Izabelle, who nodded in agreement, "unfortunately, the will was quite explicit on certain... matters. If you choose to accept the responsibilities associated with your Great Uncle's estates, you have the freedom to change the address conditions. However, I'm afraid the individuals employed by your Great Uncle are... quite enthusiastic... about the prospect of you becoming our new master. You may need to forgive a certain level of respect and deference."
"Excuse me," Harry shook his head, a bewildered expression on his face, "what is all this about?"
"Allow me to explain," said Izabelle, her voice sending a shiver down Harry's spine. It was both sultry and commanding. "Your Great Uncle belonged to a long line that predates the birth of magical Britain. He was part of your family, and yet, at the same time, he wasn't." She noticed Harry's perplexed expression and smiled. "You see, every Lord Black is chosen by the previous Lord. Your Great Uncle was entrusted with the responsibility and honor of ruling the estate by his grandfather, who selected him from among twenty-two other male relatives. And in turn, your Great Uncle chose you from among nineteen other male members of the Black family scattered across the world."
"Why me?" Harry asked, feeling a mix of astonishment and gratitude toward his eccentric uncle.
"It has to do with a test you underwent as a boy," Andromeda explained. "Your name was given to us during your fifteenth birthday. Since then, we have been preparing for your ascension."
"Ascension?" Harry chuckled at the absurdity of it all. "Am I becoming a king?" However, his laughter ceased when he saw the exchanged glances between the two women.
"In a sense... yes, you will," Izabelle replied. "When you sign these papers, you will become Lord Black, with the rights and responsibilities that come with it. The lands you will inherit are comparable to those held by the Crown itself. You will no longer be merely a citizen of England or magical England; you will be the ruler of an autonomous protectorate. Secret court documents from the Sacrum 28, predating the establishment of magical Britain, granted your ancestors special privileges, a secret that endures to this day."
"What she means," Andromeda added, offering a warm smile, "is that the government will never interfere with how you govern your lands or your people."
"Why?" Harry asked, his mind swirling with a multitude of questions he wanted to ask.
"It's because of the work your Great Uncle and his predecessors were involved in—the legacy he was preparing you for," explained Izabelle. She pulled a manila folder from the bottom of the stack and handed it to Harry. "We have been instructed to allow you to read your Great Uncle's notes before making any decisions. He wanted you to be fully informed about the task ahead of you."
Intrigued, Harry took the folder and opened it. Soon, he immersed himself in the diagrams and notes contained within its pages. Though there was no written explanation outlining his Great Uncle's work, it made sense. A technical mind like Harry's could grasp complex matters more effectively through test results and mechanical drawings.
"But this is..." Harry flipped through the pages, utterly stunned by what he was reading. "This is impossible..."
"I assure you, Young Master," Andromeda reassured him, "all the Lords Black have been driven by the same task. It is a task your government knew about and quietly supported, although it is entirely self-funded and independent from external influences."
"It is based on Merlin's theory of magical core," observed Harry, looking up from the papers. "According to these documents, his initial research was developed and advanced for at least a hundred years."
"Ah," interjected Izabelle with a broad smile, "those stolen researches, belonging to your Great, Great, Great Grandfather, were employed by Merlin to further develop his own theories."
"These are runes, materials, most of which can affect the flow of magic, its accumulation?"
Both women looked up, directing Harry's attention to an ancient plaque hanging on the wall. Engraved on the polished copper plate was a quote that caught his eye:
"MAGIC FOR ALL HUMANKIND."
Harry understood the answer, needing no further explanation. Flipping through the folder, he retrieved a small stack of papers from the bottom—a mixture of old and more recent notes written in his Great Uncle's elegant handwriting.
"The form of magical fusion," Harry murmured, his voice filled with awe. "This is the ultimate solution to the problem of magic... and they never intended to sell it." He looked up and noticed the warm, encouraging smiles on the faces of both women. "Their plan was to share it with the entire world... But how did it remain a secret for so long? The amount of research and experiments that must have been conducted to come this far."
"Now you understand the wisdom behind your ancestor's pursuit of obtaining a special dispensation from the founders of this nation," stated Izabelle, rising from her chair and walking toward the large secure doors embedded in the wall. "Apart from the Minister, the head of Aurors, and a few selected local judges, very few are aware of the true extent of the Black estates." She retrieved an ancient, yellowed parchment, carefully encased between two panes of crystal-clear glass, from the safe and brought it to Harry for him to peruse.
"Ensuring independence and a special dispensation for our greatest mind, so that magic for all humankind may be born in the birthplace of our nation," Harry read aloud. "The writing... it looks familiar."
"I would hope so," Izabelle replied as she returned the parchment to the safe. "It was written by the same hand and quill that created the Wizengamot statute."
"What the fuck..." Harry Potter breathed; it was all too much. His mind, so happily consumed with working on magical problems all day, ignoring the rest of the world, wanted nothing more than to immerse itself in the stack of notes before him. This was the world of research and knowledge he had been told his whole life could not exist, and yet here it was.
"So, if I take control of my Great Uncle's estate, I can work on this?" he said, tapping the stack of notes and drawings.
"Yes," Izabelle said with a big smile, matched by Andromeda. Each of them was a stunning woman, older, brilliant, and confident. Throughout Harry's life, women like this both annoyed and aroused him. He thought he had buried his MILF obsession years ago, but when these two beautiful women looked at him, he discovered it was making a roaring comeback.
"There are other... duties that come with being Lord Black," Andromeda said, and he saw them exchange further glances. "You see, many have come to believe in the cause your Great Uncle and ancestors worked on, and they have devoted their entire lives—and bodies—to serving this grand task."
"The work remained secret all these years because the Lords Black kept themselves isolated, never taking wives and never mixing with the rest of the world. It is an isolating task, one that requires you to maintain perfect focus of mind for years and years. It is not something to be taken lightly," Izabelle said.
"I can never get married?" Harry asked, feeling his stomach drop out of his body.
"Unfortunately, it's true," Andromeda said. "If you choose to accept the terms set forth by your Great Uncle, you will never be able to marry or pass on your name to any of your descendants. There is a clause that allows you to step down after a year if you find that this life is not for you."
That should be enough to turn him away, but honestly, the prospect of never having to worry about marriage was comforting. He never fared well with women, always being too awkward and nerdy for them. He thought about his Great Uncle and all the little puzzles he gave him over the years, and the encouraging words about his studies. He now saw that he had guided his education toward paths that would be most useful in continuing the work he was doing. He felt such a surge of love and respect for the man that his eyes welled up slightly. The Weasleys always wondered why the man never married or settled down, and now he knew why—it was because he had dedicated his life to a higher purpose.
Harry Potter realized that his mind had been captivated, and if his sacrifice meant remaining a celibate virgin for life, so be it. At least he would be working on the coolest project he could imagine, and if these drawings and notes were any indication, he would get to play with amazing toys in an incredible laboratory.
"Okay," he said with a determined nod, "I'll do it." The woman smiled widely and handed him a few papers. They went over the details with him thoroughly, spending a full hour ensuring he understood the individual clauses. When he finally signed his name on the designated line, he saw both women relax and sigh with obvious satisfaction. "Is that all?" he asked. Both women glanced at each other, their cheeks tinged, and then turned bright eyes on him, their mouths forming nearly identical, resolute smiles.
"That's all for today, Young Master," Andromeda said, "unless there's anything else you require from us?" Her voice was sultry, and he immediately felt nervous as she raised one red-nailed hand to sweep soft fingers over the swell of her ample bosom.
"Andromeda," Izabelle said in a warning tone, "the Young Master has no use for a pair of old women like us. Let him find new girls for those needs." Andromeda furrowed her brow and nodded, her face darkening as if she had just lost something she desperately counted on. Harry was utterly lost, his mind still overwhelmed by everything he had learned.
"Do I just go back to my dorm now?" he asked, as if at a loss for what to do next and ignoring what he still didn't understand.
"You are now Lord Black," Izabelle said with a smile, "you will no longer reside in the Gringotts apartments or work for them. We will inform your housemates of this decision, and they will be expecting your arrival at the Manor. Do you require anything from your dorms immediately?"
"No," he replied, hoisting his backpack onto his shoulder, "I don't think so, not at the moment."
"Well, it has been an honor to meet you, Young Master," Andromeda said, standing up, her hands clasped in front of her waist, her knuckles white as if holding back something, "I pray that we may be of service to you in the future."
"Please take this package," Izabelle said, handing him a thick, red, leather folio from her desk, "It contains keys, credit cards, information about the estate, staff details, and a list of approved patents now held in your name."
"Thanks," Harry said, taking the folio and turning towards the door. He felt a strong sense of emptiness in his mind, as if flowing through reality. He paused at the doorway and turned back to find both women watching him with hopeful looks, their hands fidgeting at their coat buttons. "Can I come back if I have any questions? It was really nice talking to both of you, sorry I'm a bit overwhelmed right now."
"Of course, you can," Andromeda said, her smile warm and understanding.
"You are welcome here at any time, young Master Harry," Izabelle breathed, "we'll be here... ready and waiting."
Harry stepped back into the room. His mind immediately wandered to dirty places as he imagined how these two sexy older women might look without their modest clothing and perfect manners. His nineteen-year-old brain was already thinking about sex. He shook his head, dismissing the distracting thoughts, and found Daphne standing in the hallway, her hands clenched in front of her. She glanced down and saw the red leather folio in his hands, and her plump lips twisted into a grimace.
"Oh, Young Master!" she exclaimed, approaching and giving a low curtsy, "I am so pleased that you have accepted this title," she glanced up, her eyes fluttering as she caught him peeking down her blouse. The pale flesh of her ample bosom drew his gaze downward, to the magical shadows within.
"Thank you, Daphne," Harry said awkwardly, "it's all rather sudden."
The young woman stood, her look softened, and a small smile played on her lips. She turned around, still holding onto his hand and pressing it against her body as she led him down the corridor and towards the stairs.
"May I ask you a question, Young Master?" she asked delicately.
"Of course," he replied, hoping to get it over with quickly. The pressure of her firm breasts and soft body against his side
was driving him crazy. He had never been this close to such a beautiful woman, let alone one pressed against him.
"Do you currently have a girlfriend or lover?" she asked.
"No, I don't," he muttered, "I never have. Why?"
"That's perfect, Young Master," she said with a triumphant smile, "you see, none of the staff has been looking forward to the competition. As much as we all love and respect each other, it can sometimes get a bit catty, as I'm sure you can imagine, and adding someone from the outside who doesn't understand our culture... well, none of us were looking forward to that."
"Yeah, sure," Harry said, "Wait, what do you mean by competition?"
"You don't know," she said, her eyes widening in realization, "I assumed you just didn't want my mom or Andromeda..." She quickly glanced down the stairs and then back down the corridor to the now closed and locked double doors. Then a mischievous smile crept across her face, and she pulled Harry to the side. He just wanted the sweet torture of her sexy body so close to him to stop. She pushed them into a small, secluded office, her voice breathless as she spoke.
"Fleur will never forgive me if I steal her thunder; she'll tell you everything," she pushed him back against the wall, and he felt deafened in the silence as he felt the young woman's hand glide over his chest, down his abdomen, and onto his already hard cock, "But you are our Master in all things, sir. I've given my life for this purpose, we all have." Then, she dropped to her knees, her knees spreading apart, and his widening eyes caught a glimpse of pale pink lace panties peeking out.
"Can you keep a secret, Harry?" she breathed, looking up at him with passionate dark eyes.
"Yes," he croaked. She smiled widely, and his jaw dropped as her hand slid to his waist and unfastened his belt. With nimble fingers, she slid it and the loose buttons, his pants falling around his ankles. Her hand ran up his thigh, her eyes wide as she stared at his hard cock, tenting his boxers.
"Oh, my... I've dreamed of this for years," she beamed, her fingertips gliding along the waistband of his underwear. He panicked and reached down to grab her wrists.
"What are you doing?" he asked, cursing himself for stopping her, but also terrified of where things were heading.
"I'm going to suck my Master's cock," she said, her eyes smoldering, "and swallow his cum... please, Sir?" The pleading tone in her voice and the sincerity in her expression shook him to the core. He loosened his grip on her wrists and nodded, unsure of what else to do, letting his hormones dictate his brain. She smiled and pulled down his boxers, sliding one hand around the base of his cock, her cool fingers making him tremble at the touch.
Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 and 8 are already available at Pat re on.