A Godfather's Promise

"Harry Potter" belongs to J.K. Rowling

This is an M-Rated story that includes sexual elements pertaining to the BDSM lifestyle. It also includes violence, language and gore. Do not read if you are below the age of 18.

Review Responses:

Gensplejs: I always felt that Fleur was in serious need of a good spanking.

Don't worry, she'll be getting plenty of that, amongst other things. Will take a few chapters though.

albus potter-greengrass: that I know dorea was never disinherited from the black line for marrying charlus potter

True, but Charlus is also not James' father in canon, thought I'd give Sirius a bit of his biological family that understood him. Besides, it sounds just like the thing the Black family would do if they married a family known for consorting with Muggles and Muggle-Borns (something that you will see explained in this chapter). It also gives Harry direct ancestry to the Black family.

Just chalk it up to fanfiction being fanfiction.

On to the chapter

REVISED ON 26/3/2018

A Godfather's Promise

Chapter I: Another Perfect Day

"Harry Potter-Black!" came the commanding voice of the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. The name that was so famous across the Wizarding World echoing throughout the walls.

You could hear a pin drop from the silence inside the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The announcement came immediately after the great burning chalice situated in the middle of the Hall delivered a fourth unexpected name, an unprecedented fourth competitor in the "Triwizard" Tournament.

"God fucking damn it!" shouted Harry. 'Was one normal year too much to ask? Just one?'

A sneering voice was heard from the Slytherin table. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for inappropriate language, Potter."

Ignoring the Potions master, the dark-haired wizard resigned himself to towards a door where the three other chosen champions had disappeared through. While he walked over, thoughts drifted from his situation towards his godfather. What will he say now?

Knowing him, something along the lines of: "Trouble loves to follow you like I love to follow a good bum."

'Another year of looking behind my back.'

After the attack on his family, which left him an orphan, his godfather, Sirius Black took up the mantle as his caretaker and father figure. He had been exonerated by Albus Dumbledore after being he told the authorities that the true Secret Keeper for the Fidelius Charm was Peter Pettigrew, the traitor that had cost James and Lily Potter their lives.

Harry knew he could count on Sirius for anything, the man had raised him to be confident, to be strong and achieve better than the rest. Ever since he was young enough to remember he knew what being a Potter meant, what he had to live up to, add in the fact that thanks to a Death Eater attack Sirius had been rendered infertile, an event that lead him to claim that Harry would be his heir to the title of Lord Black – much to the chagrin of Lucius Malfoy – doubling the already high expectations Harry had set out for himself.

To bring back the reputation and power of the House of Potter was not going to be a possible task for a mediocre weak boy. He had a lot to live up to and he needed to be the best in order to achieve it.

He also raised him to have an eye for bending the rules and the fairer sex, the latter of which he didn't start to notice until late last year, much to the animagus' amusement. "You will start breaking hearts like your old man in no time".

'Sometimes, he really needs to lay off the Playboy magazines' Harry mused to himself as the distance between his seat in the Great Hall and the side chamber shortened.

'Then again if he does he'll just bring another acquaintance back home' Some things do never change, he could always count on Sirius to never change, but mostly for the better.

Reaching his destination, he was met with three figures standing side by side alongside the fireplace.

The first one he knew, he is his upperclassman and was known for being currently the top of his year; talented and on track to being Head boy next year, Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff and the Hogwarts Champion.

'One of the champions at least,' Harry thought sourly

However, he knew the grey eyed older boy better as the captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team and fellow seeker. He considered him a great rival and other than himself, Diggory was the best seeker in Hogwarts.

Cedric was considered good looking by the rest of the school – especially the female population – with his dark hair and gray eyes. His Quidditch training also gave him an athlete's body, well built for the rigors of the sport. Unfortunately for the young witches of Hogwarts, he was known to be dating Cho Chang, a Ravenclaw fifth-year.

Harry had been slightly attracted to the Asian girl, but eventually decided to go against it once he found out that she had been eyeing the Hufflepuff captain.

The Potter heir considered Cedric to be a worthy rival. Last year he had gone toe to toe with him in the Quidditch field, fighting to be the first to catch the snitch, it was one of the best games Harry had participated in… that is until a flock of dementors descended upon him and caused the dark-haired wizard to lose control of his broom and fell into unconsciousness. Cedric had caught the snitch, but after realizing Harry's condition, he offered a rematch.

'More honorable than most this one,'

Harry still appreciated the sentiment.

Speaking of seekers…

The second figure was a bonafide wizard celebrity, his popularity was second only to Harry's. Viktor Krum, the Durmstrang champion, was not as impressive at first glance. Some might say that he was thick or boorish. But Harry knew enough that looks can always deceive. He realized that when he first witnessed Krum in his broom during the Quidditch World Cup. The Bulgarian's performance was so impressive that even Harry is willing to admit that his flying capabilities were superior to his own.

Despite his simple demeanor, Harry was not willing to underestimate his talents; he was chosen to be in this tournament after all, there was probably more talent in the Bulgarian wizard than just flying. If Diggory's talent is to be believed, then Krum was probably more than just skilled in his wand-wielding prowess.

The last champion was a woman.

Unlike the other two, Harry was not familiar with her, aside from her seemingly unconscious ability to make almost every male – and more than a few females – turn into a drooling simpleton, the only thing is that she was apparently named Fleur, the champion for France's Beauxbatons Academy.

Also, she was a Veela.

Or at least that was what he supposed she was, considering the reaction she got from people. Not one week since she had arrived and she already had a group of followers from both Durmstrang and Hogwarts that were looking to impress her, only to look absolutely ridiculous in their attempts to gain her attention. Even the hardline blood purists were not spared by her charms. The only guys who seemed to be able to keep themselves in check excluding the Hogwarts staff were Cedric, Krum, Neville Longbottom, and Harry himself. Luckily for all involved, three of those four individuals were in the room.

When looking at the spectacles her followers would enact with the hope of convincing her to look upon them favorably, the attractive French witch would just look at them like they were some disgusting thing that she had accidentally stepped on. With an upturned nose and a condescending look, she would turn the other direction and quickly leave the area.

Harry would find it extremely amusing if she did not remind him of a female version of Malfoy and the other aristocratic purebloods. 'Now that I think about it, the Malfoy family originated from France' Harry mused to himself. 'Maybe it's just a French thing, they do seem to turn their nose at us quite often. Right up until they need our help with the Germans.'

Not that Harry couldn't see why she the reason people drooled at her, she was definitely drool-worthy. Silvery hair framed a perfectly angular face, between her defined cheekbones, twin blue eyes seemed to glow like perfectly cut sapphires. She had the kind of body most Muggle fashion magazines would pay top dollar to model for them, her tall, fit, willowy figure sported a generous C-cup bosom, and even though her uniform hid a large part of her body, he was willing to bet she had the most killer legs a man could dream of. Her pink, full lips were bereft of any make-up, she probably didn't need any of it.

Harry had seen Veela before, of course. During the summer, Sirius took him to the Quidditch World Cup to see the game between Ireland and Bulgaria. The Bulgarian team had decided to form their cheerleading team entirely out of Veela. The male spectators in the audience went wild at the sight of them. From his seat, he even saw some of them nearly throw themselves from a height that would surely have crippled or killed them.

Even Sirius was captivated, didn't do anything severely stupid but he did stand from his seat and start to walk over to them. Harry brought him back to reality with a firm shake. Harry himself - while certainly captivated, he was male in the middle of puberty after all - managed to control himself admirably.

'Sirius probably was thinking I wasn't interested in women, cursing himself for failing to raise me like my Father, ladies' man that he was,' Thought Harry, but Remus also managed to control himself. 'I guess resisting a veela's charms is not as challenging as trying to prevent a werewolf transformation.'

The witch in front of him was just as attractive. Probably even more so than the rest of the other Veela.

The sound of the younger wizard approaching caught the attention of the three champions. They looked at him curiously, probably wondering why a younger student would be approaching the chamber while they had expected the Tournament organizers along with the teachers.

The Beauxbatons champion was the first to break the silence.

"What is eet?" said the French witch, her musical voice carrying a thick ethnic accent. "Do zey want us back in ze Hall?"

'The accent makes her even more attractive,' Harry mused to himself.

Beside her, Krum also turned around to look at him, his previously boorish demeanor replaced by a gaze of curiosity. Cedric on the other hand had a confused look on his face.

Harry sighed, not really knowing how to explain the events that had occurred in the Great Hall after they had left. Even he was trying to come to terms with it. He didn't put his name on the Goblet. He was hoping to focus heavily on his grades this year so that he might be on the top of the year. Last year he had surprised the entire staff by replacing Hermione Granger as the number one student in his year. Just like most of his life after he had been re-introduced to the Wizarding World in his first year at Hogwarts, those plans seemed to have hit a roadblock.

'Why does it always happen?' Thought Harry. 'Can't I have control of the situation? Just once in my life I don't want the wheels of my fate turning without my knowledge.'

Just as he was trying to formulate a response, there were more sounds coming behind him, several footsteps yanked the attention away from the emerald eyed wizard and to the figure of Ludo Bagman – one of the organizers of the Tournament – entering the chamber behind him.

"Extraordinary". He said to the champions. "Gentlemen… and lady, may I present the fourth Triwizard champion".

The announcement sent various reactions for the other champions: Cedric looked like he had misheard the organizer. Krum on the other hand appeared to have had heard Bagman clearly and was now staring a Harry with a mix of curiosity and hostility.

Fleur Delacour smiled however and was the first to break the silence "Oh, zat is a vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman."

"Tis no joke, my lady," responded Bagman. Harry noticed that his eyes glassed over a bit when he turned to look at the stunning female champion. Quickly, Bagman composed himself, a testament to his mental endurance. "Not a joke at all! Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire just now, everyone saw it!"

At the news, Cedric still appeared to not be convinced this was a bad dream, waiting to be woken up and find out he had dozed off before the professors gave them the instructions for competing. Viktor on the other hand narrowed his eyes even more, looking like he wanted to protest but couldn't find the right words. Luckily for him, his fellow champion once again decided to speak her opinion.

"Zen zair 'as been a mistake," she said assuredly. "'E cannot compete. 'E is too young"

'And there is the downside,' Harry disliked being look down upon, he considered himself more mature than his age, he had to be if he was going to reach his goals. The jab at him made him more annoyed at the French veela. 'Maybe she and Malfoy could be related.'

"No mistake can be made in this Tournament, Ms. Delacour. The goblet is fool-proof, charmed by the great Albus Dumbledore himself." Responded Ludo, once again straining to maintain his composure in front of the French witch. "In any case, now that his name has been chosen by the Goblet, there is no backing out now, you have all entered a legally binding magical contract." He revealed, Cedric was now widening in his eyes in the realization that no, this was not a figment of his imagination at all. "Harry will just have to do the best he – ".

Bagman was interrupted by the door swinging open and a large number of professors pouring into the chamber, the sounds of the commotion from the Great Hall following them until the door was closed.

"Madame Maxime!" Fleur exclaimed to the giant headmistress of Beauxbatons. "Zey are saying zat zis leetle boy is to compete also!"

For Harry, annoyance quickly turned to anger. 'What do you know about me, you arrogant continental tart!' In an action defying common sense Harry walked over to stand side by side with the other champions.

The intention was clear, it was harder to disrespect him when she realized he was around the same height as her, though her small heels gave her the slight advantage, the fact that he was almost three younger was a statement to his rapidly maturing body. The action caused the other two champions to look at him with a little more respect.

Harry was calming himself down little by little but was still internally fuming. Fleur on the other hand was looking at him, probably expecting him to try and do something to win her affection, like all the other males she was used to. However, looking towards upwards to him, instead of the usual glassy eyed stare, the twin green emeralds displayed something she had never seen directed at her before from any male:

Anger.

Harry had always been a little proud of his height, being the tallest student in his year, he was even above most of the fifth years and more than a few sixth years. Sirius said that his father was the same way, as well as all the Potters before him. Harry supposed that it could be due to the Potter military tradition and ancestry.

The Potter family was known to be the oldest family in Wizarding Britain, mainly because the Potters did not originate from Britain at all. The Potter family, or the gens Poteria could trace its origins to the patrician families of Rome. The patricians were the original Roman families that rose up in rebellion removed the last Roman king -Tarquinius Superbus - from power, thus establishing the early Roman Republic. Being one of the original patrician families, the gens Poteria were known for helping to establish the early Roman militias, that would one day conquer the Mediterranean. As was expected of the Patricians, they also took part in the campaigns as generals and even Consuls.

A great part of Roman success in the battlefield could be accounted to the gens Poteria as well as other early Roman magical families' use of charms in the equipment of their soldiers, something other civilizations had failed to do, and payed dearly for. These newly invented charms, combined with the discipline instilled within the ranks, destroyed every opponent from the Italian tribes, the tribes in Spain, the proud Greeks, and even the mighty Carthaginians.

During the last days of the Republic, Lucius Poterius Magnus decided to side with the Caesar's, one of the only patrician families to do so. He gambled correctly, and his grandson was tasked by Emperor Claudius to conquer Britain, after Caesar had failed to do so during his campaigns in Gaul. Of course, the muggle history books would tell you the general tasked with this was Aulus Plautius, a name invented at the behest of House Potter after the establishment of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. Rewarded with the governorship of Britain, the gens Poteria survived the fall of the Western Roman Empire and renamed itself to the more Saxon-friendly sounding House Potter.

The name may have changed, but the traditions didn't. Throughout their entire history: Potter males were expected to serve within the Muggle militaries, a tradition followed even by Major Richard Potter – Harry's great grandfather – who fought at the battle of the Frontiers, the Marne, and Passchendaele during the Great War, and Captain Charlus Potter: ace pilot of the RAF during the Battle of Britain. Sirius said his grandfather's charmed and rune covered Supermarine Spitfire MK I was still stored in Potter manor, along with all the other military heirlooms of the Potters.

This tradition was… controversial, to say the least with the pureblood families. After the Statute of Secrecy was erected, House Potter was known to recruit Muggle-Borns, Squibs, and Muggle relatives into their militaries, something that was an affront to the sensibilities of the traditional British wizards. It definitely paid off though, especially during the days of the British Empire, which saw the most profitable time for the Potters since the Roman Empire, allowing them a large manor, as well as major holdings within muggle companies.

The only person to break tradition was unfortunately James Potter, due to his early death. Harry however, was looking to joining the Royal Marines when he became of age. This was only one thing that Harry felt he had to live up to. In Potter manor, his godfather had told him there was a room where all the marble busts from the first Poteria until his father was stored - in true Roman patrician tradition - under each was a placard naming their vast accomplishments. Harry would be damned if he became the first Potter to not achieve the best in his life.

Roman generals, knights, Imperial admirals, privateers, captains, and leaders were his ancestors. Harry drove himself every day to be just like them.

He had already done quite a few feats in his early age, incapacitating a troll and killing a Death Eater posing as a teacher in his first year, as well as becoming the youngest seeker in centuries. He had mastered the Patronus charm before he hit when most adults struggled to even cast an incomplete one, almost capturing a discovered Peter Pettigrew in a year when dementors seemed to want to make his life miserable. He was a talented martial arts student and soccer player when he was in the Muggle world. He had even killed a thousand-year-old basilisk… with a sword!

And now this arrogant and pampered Parisian bint was disrespecting him!?

'I would love to see your pretty little French arse go against a fully-grown basilisk! Harry ranted internally.'

Madam Maxine broke the silence in the room.

"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" she said, her accent even thicker than her student's. It sounded less sexy coming from her mouth as well.

"I'd would rather know that myself, Dumbledore," Karkaroff's rough voice interjected. "Two Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions — or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"

" 'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. Eet is most unjust," Maxime agreed, walking over to a slightly shaken Fleur to place her hands on her shoulders.

"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."

A drawling voice made itself known. "The only fault here lies with Mr. Potter-Black," said professor Snape, his condescending tone making Harry even angrier than he already was. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's tendency for rule breaking. He has demonstrated failure for decency ever since he first entered Hogwarts."

If Harry had started to calm down from Fleur's statement earlier, it had returned with a vengeance. One provocation more and he would probably grab his wand and throw a nasty hex at the greasy-haired potions master.

An old hand on Harry's shoulder brought him back to his senses. Professor Dumbledore, looked to him in a grandfatherly manner. Slowly, Harry started to regain his composure.

"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" he asked him slowly.

"No," answered Harry. Snape snorted derisively at his side

'Don't test me right now, you greasy-haired cunt. I swear I will- '

Dumbledore squeezed on his shoulder once again. Harry felt his rage start to quell, Dumbledore must have been using wandless magic to send a calming charm, he realized.

"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" said Professor Dumbledore, ignoring Snape. "No," said Harry in a half growl.

"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" cried Madame Maxime. Snape was now shaking his head, his lip curling.

"He could not have crossed the Age Line," said Professor McGonagall sharply. "I am sure we are all agreed on that —"

"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," said Madame Maxime, shrugging.

"It is possible, of course," said Dumbledore politely.

"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!" said Professor McGonagall angrily. "Really, what nonsense! Harry could not have crossed the line himself, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that he did not persuade an older student to do it for him, I'm sure that should be good enough for everybody else!"

Harry saw McGonagall shoot an angry look at professor Snape and Madam Maxime, appreciating the effort to stand up for him. He made a mental note to leave gift her with an extra expensive brand of firewhisky come Christmas Eve.

It had been a little hard to earn her respect after his mediocre performance in her class during his first year. He was a little more interested in being accepted and making the most number of friends he could, just like his father had before him during his time as a student at Hogwarts.

The confrontation with Quirrell and Voldemort had changed that.

The battle with Quirrell had almost left him dead, his ancient line would have finished in that moment if it hadn't been for an intense explosion of accidental magic that left the secret Death Eater with a smoking hole in his chest.

It changed everything for Harry, the man that had killed his parents was still alive, and he was trying to finish the job he had failed to complete that night in Halloween of 1980. An already ambitious Harry became even more determined. His second year saw him improve in every one of his classes at a dramatic level. Even Snape had reluctantly gave him first place in his year for potions. McGonagall and Flitwick, however told him they saw the talents of both his parents in him. A statement that made him beam with joy.

"— in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" exploded Karkaroff, forcing Harry back to reality. "After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"

"Empty threat, Karkaroff," growled Alastor Moody, Harry had heard legends of him from Sirius. A battle hardened auror, he was the very definition of grizzled veteran Harry had read in comic books during his childhood. With that missing eye he looks like an even grumpier Nick Fury.

"All champions that submitted their names and were chosen are now under contract, they must compete," continued Moody. "Quite convenient isn't it," he snarled to Karkaroff.

'I like this guy a lot better already,' Thought Harry.

"What are you implying?" Karkaroff snarled back.

"It's quite simple isn't it, Karkaroff. Whoever put Potter's name into the Goblet knew that he had to compete under the pressure of the magically binding contract," said Moody.

"Evidently, someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!" said Madame Maxime.

"I agree with Madame Maxime," said Karkaroff, glancing at the giant headmistress of Beauxbatons. "I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the ICW"

"If anyone has a good reason to complain it's Potter," growled Moody "and yet… you don't hear him complaining, do you?"

Harry was about to thank the ex-auror and explain the situation when suddenly a melodic voice that had caused him so much anger in the first place resurfaced.

"Why should 'e complain?" burst out Fleur Delacour, stamping her foot, the very image of a haughty brat. " 'E 'as ze chance to compete, 'asn't 'e? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money — zis is a chance many would die for! Some of us 'ave struggled for zis chance for a long time, and 'e gets eet as a 'andout! So tell us, why would 'e be complaining!"

Alright, that was it, not even a calming charm from fucking Merlin himself could have changed what happened next.

The dam finally broke.

"Because maybe someone wants me dead!" exploded Harry. Overwhelming anger making sure all reason left his senses, he points at Snape and Karkaroff. "Those two are former Death Eaters! Maybe their loyalty never changed! Other Death Eaters tried to do so in the last three years, why should this one be any differ-!"

"Harry!" shouted Dumbledore, now his two hands grabbing Harry's shoulder, trying to hold back the emerald eyed wizard's rage.

Silence reigned the chamber at his declaration. Both Snape and Karkaroff looked shocked at first but it was then replaced by a positively murderous look in their eyes. Dumbledore tightened his hold on Harry, McGonagall looked bewildered. Turning to his side, both Cedric, Krum, and Fleur looked stunned at the declaration.

Harry shrugged of Dumbledore's grasp and stomped away towards the chamber doorway

It's happening again. I am a target again. Things are out of my control again. Why is it all against my control? I want to be in control of the situation for once!

He heard Snape's voice call out to him

"Fifty points from Gryffi-"

"Oh, blow me!" Harry snarled back, not even deigning to look back at the Potions professor.

His hand found the doorknob and twisted it, opening the door, went through it, and then slammed the door so hard he heard several portraits and vases fall off from the other side and glass break.

The Great Hall was empty.

'One small mercy.'

He quickly sped up towards the dormitory, emotions storming up as he did so.

'I shouldn't have done that, it is below me,' thought Harry. 'I should head back, and apologize.'

But he couldn't, his rage would not allow it. 'Why am I so mad? Nobody has enraged me this way before. Not Snape, nor Malfoy and his goons, why this time?'

He remembered the French witch.

He had been insulted before, hell, Snape had said things that made Fleur Delacour's words pale in comparison. So why had he reacted this way? Was it her veela charm. Harry mused to himself. 'Sirius said I was immune to it. Maybe he was wrong? But isn't it supposed to make you stare at them like a complete imbecile and obey their commands?'

He guessed it was because she had been the first woman to demean him that way. He had been raised by Sirius to never raise his hand against girls. But there had never been a reason to. In the Muggle World, his female teachers had sung praises for his intelligence and none of his female classmates ever made comments his way. Her final, haughty statement about him was what really set him off. 'A handout!? Do you know how hard I work every day to be at my best!? I have two and a half millennia of legacy I have to live up to.'

She was like a Malfoy, one he couldn't bring himself to attack.

When he entered Hogwarts, McGonagall mentioned he could do better than his work in his first year, but after applying himself in his second year, the criticisms turned to praise.

Jabs by Malfoy and other men he could take, most of the time he only had to place his muscular form in front of them and they would retreat back. He could ignore Snape, and still brew a potion so perfectly he begrudgingly had to give top scores. If things turned for the worse he could always rely on good old Muggle style fighting which, given that unlike the virtually the entire wizarding population he actually had training in, he was confident he would come out on top.

'Fleur Delacour,' His mind drifted towards her. Now that he had seen her closely, he could see why the entirety of the male students were going wild. She was probably the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Even models on Sirius' magazines failed to meet up to her standards. Even in his imaginations he fantasized briefly about the idea of going out with the stunning Veela, before common sense took over of course, unlike his fellow wizards.

It was her personality which brought down those fantasies. A witch like her could probably catch every single muggle and wizard alike, something that she was probably aware of. She looked at the entire population like they were something unsightly she came across while walking on the street. If nobody could catch her attention, why should he be bothered?

'You are a Potter,' his mind went on despite his common sense, his fingers tracing over the signet ring Sirius had given him after his confrontation with Quirrell, fingers touching the dragon figure that was the symbol of his ancient House. 'You have the blood of warriors and conquerors, rulers and leaders, your ancestors built empires and brought down their enemies, they led the way and changed history, No one ever defies the Potters, no matter if they are sheep, wolves or lions, all bow before the dragon.'

With some mental struggle Harry pushed aside his ego, he was not a dragon… yet.

While Harry continued towards the stairways, he noticed professor Dumbledore waiting for him, despite leaving the chamber behind him.

'Magic,' he mused to himself.

Dumbledore gazed at him with a somber look on his face. Harry didn't need words to know that he should accompany the professor back to his office.

"I meant it. I didn't do it" said Harry.

"I believe you, my boy" responded the Headmaster before opening the door to his office

Dumbledore led him towards his desk and offered Harry to sit down. Dumbledore took his own seat, and gazed at Harry for a few seconds, his eyes a myriad of emotions.

"That was quite a scene back there" he finally said.

"I'm not apologizing" Harry responded.

"I don't expect you to," said Dumbledore. "How did you know about Severus and Karkaroff? It's supposed to be confidential information."

"Sirius told me," answered Harry, seeing no point in hiding it. "He told me about a lot of people: Snape, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Avery, Yaxley, Mcnair… both Carrows. You know for someone who is supposed to of have been the most powerful and dangerous dark wizard of all time, there sure as shit are quite a few of his followers operating outside Azkaban."

"Language, Harry"

"Don't 'language' me, professor," replied Harry. "Why are these people allowed to be outside Azkaban? why are they working in the Ministry? Why are they teaching students in Hogwarts?"

"Harry," sighed Dumbledore. "Snape and Karkaroff were let go because they became informants during the war. Their identity as former Death Eaters was kept a secret, I had to convince young mister Diggory, mister Krum, and Miss Delacour not to spread rumors."

"I'm sorry for causing you trouble, Headmaster," said Harry. "But I am not sorry for calling a spade a spade, you know what this Tournament is about. Snape and Karkaroff may not have done it, but I will bet my life on the fact that one of their Death Eater fuckbuddies did."

"Language"

"Don't 'language' me. Tell me, did Malfoy sign in on this Tournament?" asked Harry. "Because if he did, then you have definitive proof that something shady is going on here."

Dumbledore sagged in his seat. "What happened to you Harry? You were a cheerful boy when you first entered these halls, I remember you smiling when you were sorted into Gryffindor, the Sorting Hat told me that you had enough ambition to be a Slytherin, so intelligent as to make Rowena proud, and dedication to hard work that every Hufflepuff would envy, but your heart called for Gryffindor. I may not know enough about what your parents to make a guess at what they wanted you to become, but I knew enough about them to know they wanted you to be happy."

"Reality happened, professor," responded Harry. "That Harry died along with Quirrell when I blew out his chest. I live now to become stronger, the only way I can survive is if I become the best, happiness be damned."

"You have separated yourself from Mister Weasley and Miss Granger. Do they no longer matter to you?" Dumbledore asked him, a concerned look in his eyes.

"They drifted away on their own, Ron wants the easy way out, he chose to take Divination and Care of Magical Creatures for an easy grade, I chose Ancient Runes and Arithmancy to become more efficient. He does things quick and easy, I take my time to perfect them. In the end he chose to hang out with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan while I hit the books for more advanced subjects." Harry explained.

"Hermione… she is bright, there is no question, and dedicated. However, I think it really irked her to know that I could get a perfect score without her help. I don't dislike them, there was no big fight between us, they simply… stopped being there. I just… I need to become the best. I need to live up to my name." Harry responded, his fingers once again drifting off to touch the signet ring on his finger.

Dumbledore sighed, then stood up and walked towards Harry. "Harry, you are the most talented person I have ever seen walk through those halls, not even your parents had the same potential as you… not even Tom." He said, wincing slightly. "You have even more talent than I ever did, but if you lose yourself in your anger, then you can never become that person that you want to be."

Harry's eyes followed the Headmaster as he drifted towards Fawkes, his phoenix familiar.

"Ask yourself what you truly fight for, why do you lose yourself in studies and vigorous training, why do you wish to be the best, is it for yourself? If you lose all the people important to you, then what good is honor and pride?"

Dumbledore raised his hand towards the phoenix, while his other hand traced a locket around his neck, the same kind of locket that would house a clock along with an important photograph in the muggle world.

"What good is strength, when you have no one left to protect. Your father knew this, and your mother gave her life for this. Remember Harry, when a person has something important they want to protect... that's when they can become truly strong."

Dumbledore fell silent, leaving Harry to contemplate for a couple of minutes.

"Now," Dumbledore said, breaking the silence. "Since you were so impatient to leave us earlier, I have to relay the information for the first task. Care for a lemon drop?"

Harry groaned.

Upon arriving at his dormitory, he went straight to bed, however despite his exhaustion at the day's events, he was still unable to sleep. Thoughts still lingered on what had happened just a few hours earlier. Anger rose on him again, less potently than it had been before, but enough to keep him from falling into a peaceful slumber.

He sat on his bed, remembering the breathing exercises taught to him by Master Zheng

'Breathing'

'Holding'

'Exhaling'

'Breathing'

'Holding'

'Exhaling'

Eventually Harry gave up.

Extreme circumstances called for extreme measures.

Harry went towards his trunk, and after opening the lock, he rummaged through a few of his belongings, reaching for the bottom, he picked at a hidden compartment that hid some important things that were not technically legal to bring to Hogwarts:

A steel dagger.

A few of his favorite muggle comic books.

And…

Several muggle porno mags that would be considered extreme by your everyday normal person.

Casting a few privacy charms on his bed, he sat back down on his bed, with shaking hands he opened the magazine and started going from page to page. It wasn't just pictures, after all like most magazines it contained some articles about how to treat women and how to control them. The articles were appropriate considering the positions the women shown in the pictures.

Every image showed depravity most people would not consider… normal. Women bound in different, stringent positions. Restraints changing from ropes, to steel, to duct tape of different colors, and even restraints made out of non-conventional material, like rubber or leather.

There was one were a woman was bent into an arching position, her back to a horizontal wooden post, forcing her full chest forward, milky skin of her bosom already painted a red hue from a flogging she had endured.

He came across another one of a woman blindfolded and gagged with duct tape, bent over a man's knee, generous ass presented towards him, ready to be spanked like she was a naughty child in need of discipline.

That one got him hard.

However, there was one he stopped to look at, it was not as provocative as the other ones, for one thing the woman portrayed had her privates covered. She was wearing an outfit that seemed to have been completely made out of leather, the fetishwear covered her breast slightly, and also protected her womanhood, the rest was laid bare.

It was the position that caught Harry's attention.

She was kneeling down, a collar covered her neck, the leash attached to it fell down between her leather covered breasts and unto her left leg. Her mouth forced open by a rubber sphere, crimson red in color, which surrounded her lips like a red egg forced into her mouth and held by diabolical straps fastened behind her head.

If she wanted to get out of her situation she would have a hard time, her arms were hidden behind her back, probably fastened with a restraint of some kind, preventing the use of them and leaving her at the mercy of whatever person wanted to have his way with her.

The eyes were what really sold it.

Twin honey orbs stared widely at the camera, pleading. They seemed to look directly into Harry's own eyes and convey a myriad of emotions.

Horror.

Anxiety.

Uncertainty.

Excitement.

Submission.

Harry looked on at the picture, while at the same time lowering his sleeping pants in order to allow his manhood to break free of its cotton restraints. Grabbing hold of his stick, he started caressing the tip, slowly but surely taking his anger and stress away.

As he started to pump it up and down, he continued to look obsessively at the face of the helpless female, until finally he had enough of a mental picture to set it down and finish himself off for the night.

That was until his own mind started to change the nature of the picture.

Honey eyes were replaced by twin sapphires of impossible blueness, only the ones with that particular color were more filled with defiance rather than the ones he saw with the woman in the magazine.

Brown hair gave way to hair almost silver, splayed all around her perfect face. So long that with her kneeling it reached her legs, just like the leash attached to her neck

Tanned skin was taken over by pale milky skin, so pure it looked to be made of porcelain, however it would more than likely be soft and supple to the touch, when Harry imagined himself taking her by the leash and pulling her towards his arms.

The collar itself only had one change, a symbol of a dragon to mark her owner.

Harry kept this corrupted mental image in his mind until he finally let out all his anger, frustrations, and fears along with his seed.

In the end, the dark-haired wizard could only mutter a quick cleaning charm before dozing off to the best good night's rest he had had in months.

AN: Well… that actually took a lot less than expected.

I honestly thought it would take a couple of weeks just to write this chapter, especially considering this is probably the first time I have ever written something this long in my life.

As you can see this is not the same Harry as you have in canon, him being raised by Sirius Black let him grow into a confident young man with ambition that matches Julius Caesar. And now he has the beautiful Fleur Delacour in his sights.

Anyways I am looking forward to your reviews, I am especially interested in what the Brits and French think.

See I have this thing, where I live in the most Americanized city in all of Mexico, I was taught in a private elementary school that taught everything in English so much that I think I might have a more advanced vocabulary in English rather than Spanish. However, the director of the school was also an old chap from Birmingham, and more than a couple of teachers were Brits.

So, I have this weird bastardized vocabulary between American and British slang.

Also, those British teachers all had less than favorable things to say about the French, just putting it out there.

Speaking of Britain, song and album recommendation is "Another Perfect Day" by Motörhead, RIP Lemmy.

Until next time.

The Metal Sage