FicWad

Title: The Heritage

Author: CarolWim

Rating: M

Summary: This is a real harem story. Not the ones you can find everywhere about a bunch of kids having a go with Harry and Harry with them, but an official harem (like the old Sultans from Turkey ages ago) with concubines, alpha wife, favourite wives.

Harry is whisked away to Gringotts and he finds out he is adopted by Sirius. He likes that, but as the last Black, he inherits the Black fortune. He discovers that something like arranged marriages and slaves exist! Then he gets the Potter's heritage, then the Gryffindor heritage, then the Bones, then the Malfoy's and it continues like this for a while. Then he becomes Lord, Baron, headmaster of Hogwarts, and then he leads the Order of Phoenix, and the story continues for a while like that.

In the Writer's Center (URL in our profile page) you can find the real PG-13/17 chapters, and you can directly influence the story line, because the story is written almost straight at that site.

Wim.

Author's Notes:

The Source of Vela story in Chapter 22 is Veela Tales from Emmylou. : You can find the story 'Veela Tales' from 'Emmylou' at fictionallay. Just search over there or search for the title of the story at Google. I went to look in the net for information about Veela's, but I could not find much. The only thing what I collected you can see at The Writers Center in the Research area. For the URL, look in my profile page.

Betas: Red Owl, Jessica, Nikki, Rebby, Rebekah, hptrump, ICE, Tara aka Da-manta-ray.

Thanks to anglosaxon, thealphamale, Gryffindors, Treck, Rex, djo, Mechconstrictor, Story_Reader, BK9, rivar, carvel, hptrump, Dragen, glazedlookineyes, sutam1, blueaceofspades, Darthme1011 and many others from 'The Writing Center', who helped me writing this story correctly.

If you wonder about the lemons, thank anglosaxon and thealphamale. I wrote chapter 37 especially for them (Dumbledore and Millicent Bulstrode).

Editor: The Resident

Chapter 1

A/N: Editor: The Resident
Things did not work out very well for Harry James Potter. His fat cousin, Dudley Dursley, was standing in front of him with a very maddened look in his beady little eyes.

Dudley and his friends were spending almost two hours to trap him in the park, and every time that they came close to the boy, he managed to escape. Now it was different, because they had finally gotten him driven into the corner of a small alley next to the drugstore, close to his curfew. Dudley felt very excited, because he planned to beat the freakiness out of this disgusting idea of a cousin, and a disgrace to the things Dudley called "normal."

Slowly Dudley approached him. Potter did not flinch, did not look anxious, did not say anything... he was staring directly into Dudley's eyes. Dudley planned to thrash that freakiness out of the boy. He opened and closed his huge hands, which he raised in front of the black haired boy, trying to look very intimidating in front of Harry, but most likely, in front of his cronies. He squeezed his hands together into huge fists and prepared to make a swing right into Potter's face. Dudley wanted to see the blood streaming out of that disgusting face.

Gradually he pulled his right arm back, preparing for one huge swing in Harry's face. He wanted to hurt that freak so much, and now he was going to do it. He pulled his arm back as far as he could, his hand tightened into a fist, his shoulder bent backward, preparing to push his fist in his face.

Suddenly a whirlwind of movement he could not follow because it happened too fast, his field of vision was blocked... he felt a strange slimy substance blocking his eyes, touching his eyeballs, blocking his nose and mouth, penetrating his mouth, tasting and smelling disgusting. Dudley gasped for air, and a piece of that greasy matter came into his mouth... a vague sense of chocolate... he started to panic.

Immediately his intent of hitting was forgotten, and brought both his hands to his face in panic, trying to remove the grease... tasting strange and smelly... like desecrate. Dudley's hands were clawing in his eye sockets, trying to remove the slime so he could see what was happening. Dudley shrieked like a schoolgirl, his friends were jumping out of his way.

Dudley squealed, wanting desperately to get out of this dratted place.

Harry Potter saw his opening, and ran for it. He managed to leap between Dudley and one of the larger boys, whose name he did not know but was part of the terror gang, and ran for it with all the speed he could gather. He did not stop his paste and sprinted until he reached his relative's house. He opened the back door, burst into the kitchen, and ran up the stairs to his room. When he was in his room, he slammed the door closed and sat on his broken chair, waiting for the torrent of swearing and violence, which for sure would come, followed by his normal grave punishment.

Harry took one of Dudley's castoff sweaters, and started to clean his hands. Before the bullies could drive him into the corner, he grabbed a handful of dung from probably a dog on the street in front of that alley where he was trapped. When he saw that Dudley was going to hit him, and Harry could not get away, the only thing what he could do in his anguish was throwing the dung directly into Dudley's face and dash for it. That worked well, except now he was waiting for the bully and his father to come.

Harry expected that he would be beaten ruthlessly because of his actions and Dudley would for sure take the facts out of context and make Harry look very bad. Not that Vernon, his uncle, needed any excuse to thrash him, but this would give Vernon an additional reason to be vicious and merciless.

Harry did not expect that the Order of Phoenix would get in the way of his uncle. Harry knew that the Order members were observing him, because several times he could see the shimmering of the air, where the Order members were standing with their concealment charms. Harry learned that the Order members would not interfere with his life inside the house. He learned that the hard way yesterday morning.

Harry had accidentally dropped a plate with his uncle's food. His uncle was roaring in fury, and punched Harry in his ribs and on his head, resulting in a severe pain in his head the entire day. When his uncle was busy to beat him on his head, he saw the familiar shimmering of a concealment charm in the back garden. They were watching his uncle yelling and beating him, and they did nothing to help. He was totally on his own, but more importantly, completely and utterly alone.

Harry knew for sure that the Order members - and so Dumbledore - that he was being mistreated and physically abused. What hurt Harry so much was that Dumbledore did not do anything to help and shield him. Harry suspected that the Order was doing much more then guarding him, they were also stopping him from receiving owls, or Dumbledore told his friends not to owl him.

He wondered why the Order was watching him. Were they guarding him against danger, like Death Eaters or even Voldemort? Or were they trying to keep him at Privet Drive? If the Order couldn't or wasn't willingly to protect him from hurt, why were they guarding him? Guarding someone from harm from the outside, but not from the inside was very bizarre.

It became dark outside, but Harry had not the courage to switch on the light bulb, because he knew that his cousin and uncle would be sure to come upstairs. It was strangely quiet in the house. His aunt was away with her bridge club and she would not be back until very late in the evening. His uncle was supposed to be at home already, but Harry still did not hear the sound of the approaching fancy company car.

The hours moved gradually. Harry heard the large grandfather clock downstairs humming eleven forty five. And still there was no Vernon, and no Dudley. Harry was afraid to go to sleep, because he did not want to be surprised by his uncle or nephew. He knew at the moment they were home, they would barge into his room, and his distress would start.

There was the sound of Vernon's company car screeching outside of the house. Harry heard the tires screaming, probably because Vernon used the breaks of his car to stop abruptly.

Harry's eyes went wide with fear and stood up quickly from his bed. He looked outside. He saw the dark blue company car parked halfway in his Aunt's flowerbed, and his Uncle swaying out of the car. He was clearly drunk and Harry realized why Dudley was not at home as well, because he was swaying next to his father. Vernon had a cane or walking stick in his right hand, and his face looked purple with rage, while the face of his son was set into delight, clearly visible in the streetlights.

Harry trembled, because he knew what that meant. They were coming for him!

Harry's uncle swayed from side to side toward the door, followed by his waggling son, who was looking up at Harry's bedroom window, shaking his fist and laughing manically.

Harry did not know what to do. He looked further at the street in anguish, considering what to do. With growing panic, he saw the shimmering of several persons under concealment charms.

They would not help him, Harry thought distressed.

The front door banged open. Doubtless Vernon managed to open the door at last, and he heard the feet of his uncle and nephew stomping through the corridor. Suddenly Harry was aware of the familiar sensation of his wand in his back pocket of his whopping scruffy jeans. Realization hit him, and slowly a small smirk appeared on his battered face. He will use magic to defend himself against his uncle and nephew. Harry pulled his wand from his pocket and prepared for the coming confrontation.

He heard the grandfather clock humming twelve o'clock. He realized that it was his birthday today, but at that moment his door smashed open. A scruffy and drunken uncle Vernon stood on the doorstep of his bedroom, face red and purple, stinking whiskey, in his hand a large, black and solid walking stick - he was ready to strike. His uncle looked like he could commit murder, and probably he would, unless he would be stopped.

"Get him, dad!" a slurring voice appeared from behind Harry's uncle. "Beat the shite out of that freak!"

Vernon grinned manically, and lifted his arm with the stick to strike. Harry was quicker; he pointed his wand at the incoming menace. His uncle saw the wand in Harry's hand, and his eyes went wide open and his eyebrows up, his mouth opened to shriek.

"Expelliarmus!" yelled Harry.

A brilliant red beam of magical energy burst out of Harry's wand and hit his uncle in the chest. The heavy walking stick flew out of his hand and he was blown violently backward through the door, slamming into his son and taking him down the stairs with rolling thuds until he came to rest, lying with his head on the chest of his unconsciousness son in the kitchen, his legs were resting on the steps of the stairs, his broad buttocks was pointing up. His uncle moaned, but did not move any further anymore. Suddenly Harry heard a loud grunt from his uncle, which followed by loud snoring.

Harry grinned wickedly when he saw his uncle's broad buttocks sticking up in the air, and tried to remember transfiguring a tailbone into a tail. Ron and the twins would love to see the pig's tail popping out of the trousers of his uncle; they would probably be uproariously laughing when they would know.

Harry concentrated and released the transfiguration spell. The watered-down coloured blue beam of magical energy burst out of his wand and contacted his uncle's broad buttocks. A small bulb appeared at the upper side of the buttocks, which grew in size very fast, and the material of his uncle's trousers ripped into pieces with a cracking sound. Before he knew it, a pink, curling tail appeared out of the crack, exactly like the tail from a real pig, only bigger.

Harry's worn out face lit up with a wide smile. That was the best thing that had ever happened to him regarding his so-called family. Many times he was dreaming about blasting his uncle until Christmas, and now he did it. Suddenly he thought about the Mafalda Hopkirk and the Improper Use of Magic Office in the Ministry of Magic, and the expression in his face fell.

A horrible feeling of fear emerged in his stomach; he had the feeling of vomiting. Harry looked hesitating to the bathroom door. Should he go to the bathroom and try to throw up? If he did that, he probably would feel a bit better. Harry looked briefly to the window, expecting every moment to see the owl of the Office of Improper Use of Magic. He squeezed his eyes shut, and slowly Harry tried to control his breathing, finally feeling a bit better.

He used underage magic, and there was nothing what he could do anymore. So when the letter from the Improper Use of Magic would come, he would deal with it then. Harry sighed, and dragged himself to his bed, and sat down.

He pointed his wand to his bedroom door, and murmured a locking charm. Two violations of Underage Magic were bad; three of them don't make it any worse. He was already in trouble, so he better could take care that at least he was safe.

Harry undressed and pulled on his pyjamas. He wondered when his aunt would be home. He expected to receive a lot of problems when she would come home and find her husband and son unconscious lying on the floor. Or maybe she would not. She might think that they fell from the stairs being drunk, forgetting the pig's tail out of the buttocks from his uncle. Harry stretched himself on bed, and tried to relax. He wondered vaguely why he still did not receive any owl from the Ministry, before he fell into a restless sleep.

He dreamt that he was strolling through dark hallways of an old castle, until he reached an outsized hall, where he could see small lights on the walls, and in the middle a large chair. On the chair sat Voldemort, who was grinning at Harry.

"Welcome, Harry Potter. A happy birthday to you," he shrieked, maniacally laughing.

Harry pondered in his sleep, and with all his might he tried to escape. The expression on Voldemort's face became instantly cold and menacing.

"Don't you want to speak with me, boy?" Voldemort screeched, red eyes burning.

Harry pulled himself out of his vision with all his might and dropped on the ground... he fell on a thick, soft and hairy carpet. He looked up and the first thing he was aware of was a four poster bed.

He forgot breathing because on that bed laid... Ginny?

Almost naked!

He saw the legs of a dark skinned girl sticking out of bed on the right-side from Ginny. Harry smiled once more. This is much better, especially when he was aware of the state of dress of Ginny and the girl with the legs. He wondered what would happen when he joined them, and his smile widened.