Chapter Text
In the late hours of a warm summers night in Surrey, a sole occupant of number 4 Privet Drive, lay sleepless atop the shabby duvet of his lumpy hand-me-down bed. The creaky, ever compressed springs in the center evidence of its former owner, did little to help the young man’s already ongoing battle with insomnia. His weary body lay quiescent, while his mind mixed into a medley of disorder. He wished for nothing more than to be normal, If only for a short moment. Harry Potter was however, not normal. He was in fact the furthest thing from normal one could feasibly be. A perfect example of an anomaly.
It started when he was just an infant, swaddled in warm bassinet, gently swinging. A Dark Lord determined to kill would unknowingly deposit something in his tender mind. A piece of his own soul, his own evil, would latch on to the young Harry like a parasite, and as the messy haired boy began to grow, so did the thing still rooted on to his very soul. It was this thing, this covert stain, that went years unnoticed and dormant, that had been the cause of his recent lack of sleep.
The evil attached to Harry had begun to wake from its own long slumber. Slowly over the past few weeks it had begun to seep into his psyche, forcing his mind into truly dark places. Violent visions, ideas, and even unnatural desires some may call fantasies would find themselves clawing at his innermost self. Urges to control people by force, or even hurt those around him had begun to make Harry feel as if by some sick twist of fate, he was destined, or perhaps doomed to be somehow similar to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Perhaps what made young Harry most uncomfortable was the fact that these dark flashes as he had taken to referring to them as, usually resulted in the common teen male problem of an embarrassingly hard to hide erection. As Harry lay there, completely unaware of what was currently stirring in the recesses of his mind, he closed his eyes slowly in an uneasy attempt for sleep. Like a switch being flicked by an unperceived being, Harry was immediately assaulted by another one of these unwanted visions.
He was standing in the center of a poorly lit, unkempt stone room that looked like it belonged in some tucked away unwanted part of Hogwarts. He was holding an outstretched arm perfectly unwavering as he pointed his wand directly at the backside of a naked female. The young woman was bent forward over a solid wooden desk, with her face out of view. It was evident in the haphazard way they hung around her calves that her white panties had been yanked downwards, forcibly exposing her rounded ass. Harry took note of one thing as he studied her body, just above her right buttocks was a series of fresh cuts dug into the skin. The cuts, though more than just superficial, were not bleeding. They instantly struck him as being done by magic, due to the fact that they glowed red. It was like they were being branded from the inside. More of note than just the cuts themselves were how they were positioned, as they clearly spelled out a single word in all capitals, MINE. Reading this, Harry realized that it was him and his outstretched wand that had just carved the letters into this poor brown-haired girls exposed ass. He heard the girl whimper in pain.
Immediately Harry re-opened his eyes to rid himself of the disturbing vision. His heart was racing as he found himself laying there in bed with an outstretched arm, wand in hand, mirroring what he saw when he closed his eyes. Harry knew the things he saw in these dark flashes where not real or tangible, but they made him uneasy all the same. He wanted nothing more than to comfort the poor girl as the vision felt so concrete. He could still smell the dingy stone walls, still hear her ragged breaths.
Harry sat up, letting his legs hang off the side of his bed. Taking his wand in both hands he began to rotate it in his fingers, studying it. Surely the wand he was looking at would never cast magic so foul as to mark one like property.
Still spinning the wand idlely, Harry’s mind wandered to the recent train ride back to Platform 9 ¾ from Hogwarts. Ron had fallen asleep, leaving Hermione and himself mostly alone. As Harry looked languidly out the window at the passing hills, Hermione had asked him if he had been getting enough sleep. Like usual she could read him like a book, so he admittedly said no. Though he went no further in telling her why, she offered him all sorts of techniques and tricks on how to relax and fall asleep easier, like she was reading them straight out of a self help book.
Harry had tried some of her suggestions before, but with the disturbing visions becoming more and more common every time he would make an attempt at resting, he decided that it was worth another shot. Anything was worth a shot at this point if it would get him sleep.
Setting his glasses and wand on his nightstand, Harry scooted himself backwards on his bed so his back was pressed against the wall comfortably. Trying to clear his mind completely, he exhaled all the air he could find in his lungs. Only once he could no longer continue to exhale, did he take a smooth deep inhale, refiling his lungs with oxygen, and closed his eyes. He focused only on the breathing, counting backwards from ten as he tried to block out all external stimuli. The gentle rattle of wind on the windows, a hum of a TV left on by Dudley hours ago, an ever so slightly earthy odor of a half open can of owl food, the feeling of his chest rising and falling, and then nothing. Harry’s eyes shot open expecting to be standing back behind the poor girl with the marked ass, yet all he saw was a white formless mist surrounding him. Turning to look in all directions he could see nothing more than a velvety whiteness around him, yet somehow, shapes and forms began to become visible in it. It was like the more he looked the more his brain was able to recognize. It was only when he got the vaguest idea that he was in some sort of train station did something break the quiet of the white emptiness. A whimper sounded out from just behind him.
Spinning quickly around, Harry could see something strange on the floor. Whatever it was, was curled tightly on the ground under a pure white bench. Harry wished to himself he could get a better look at the odd thing. Then suddenly as the creature whimpered out again in what seemed to be pain, Harry could immediately see it clearer, as if his wish was granted. He was less then ten feet away now, as the fleshy looking thing rolled to its other side, now facing directly at him. It was an odd naked amalgamation of a small horrible looking child. Harry looking at its face thought for a moment he recognized it, like a face that had been in his mind since birth but he had never known until this very moment. Still trying to figure out what the creature was, it suddenly opened its eyes, staring directly at Harry. He knew it could see him, as it opened its mouth in a tortured attempt at speech. All that came out was another feeble whimper.
Harry stepped forward, he could tell the poor thing was in pain. The creature reacted by stretching a withered grotesque hand towards Harry. Without a thought Harry responded by reaching back as if to help the miserable being. The moment the two hands met Harry felt what could only be described as a surge of magic unlike anything anyone had ever experienced burst through him. It was the single most intense feeling Harry would ever feel. Every inch of his body was in simultaneous agony and bliss, an orgasmic crucio. He could feel his soul being severed inch by inch, messily yanked apart only for portions to be replaced by this creature. Whatever it was it felt cold, the kind of coldness that comes from a lifetime of never knowing love, or happiness, or even friendship. As these two souls melded inside of Harry, his own and the copy Voldemort fortuitously deposited, Harry could feel the Dark Lord’s foreign forbidden magic mixing with his own…becoming his own. In that instant Harry Potter understood everything. He understood his connection to the Dark Lord, and he understood magic on a primal level. The pain, the pleasure, the emotion it was all apart of it. Harry silently cried out once more as the magic enveloped him, shooting through every inch of his body.
Then just as quickly as it had began it was over. Harry sat upright on the same old bed in the spare room of privet drive, staring at the wall across from him, panting as small beads of sweat formed at his hairline. As the raven-haired boy began to collect his senses he realized his dick was tenting the inside of his pants. Not only that but it seemed as if his recent experience had caused him to finish, multiple times from the feel of the mess. Being a 14 year old boy this bothered him very little. He was far more concerned with the new gift he had found inside his own psyche. Things we different now, clear, concise, as if he could feel himself operating on a higher level. That and he was sleepy, actually tired for the first time in a long time. Noting this Harry cast a quick scourgeify on his slowly un-swelling crotch and closed his eyes for sleep.
It was only in the moments just between awake and elsewhere that Harry realized he had just nonchalantly cast his first non-verbal spell and as a minor not in school. Interesting he thought, could the ministry detect non-verbal infractions of the minor magic rules? The answer seemed not to matter that much to Harry in the moment as his eyes were figuratively opened, and literally closing for sleep.
The following days of school break were quite interesting for young Harry, and he noted plenty of changes in himself. The first major change was his physique. Though Harry had sat through a gruelingly awkward puberty talk with Madame Pomfrey, he was sure there was something more to what was currently happening to him. If Harry had to take a guess he would say the new powerful magic flowing through him was actually shaping his body to what appeared to be his own personal idealized form. Though no-one could have realistically called the 14 year old seeker prodigy a chump, lately his body simply looked and felt better. His muscles a bit more springy, a bit more solid, a bit more defined. Not just his muscles but he had grown in height as well, and not just toe to forehead which was almost matching that of his oaf of a cousin. There was no way else to say it, Harry was becoming quite the hung young man and he knew it. Since the 'event' as he'd been calling it Harry could tell his masculine parts had been growing quickly. He had begun the habit of measuring himself up to his wand at night like most young wizards and muggles alike. Though Harry currently saw himself as a decent size, guessing to be about seven and a half inches and extremely thick, this was at least an inch improvement from only a couple months ago and he knew he was only continuing to grow.
The second overall change Harry noted was the feeling of power Harry felt regularly. It was almost as if he could feel the magic oozing out of himself. Even the Durseleys seemed to be affected by this. Vernon once even found himself in a stuttering fit as he tried to yell at Harry one night until he just sort of shuffled off mumbling something about the 'Loony Bin'. Harry began to truly understand the potential of his new found gift, as he had began calling it, with the effect he seemed to have started taking on Petunia. Though she never really shown the out right meanness Vernon consistently did. Lately she seemed to be, for lack of a better word shy around Harry. One afternoon as Harry finished up the last of the Dursley’s daily dishes he heard Petunia step into the kitchen. As harry gave a quick look back he could see she was carrying a glass fished from the haystack that was Dudley's room. As their eyes met Petunia froze in place for half a second, just enough for Harry to notice. Her eyes immediately averted Harry's gaze, and either she had a new make-up regiment or her cheeks were filled with a slight excess of blood in that moment. As Petunia stepped toward the sink to deposit the glass Harry noted from his peripheral that Petunia's eyes were no longer averted, in fact they were looking at Harry and anywhere but his face, lingering for moments in not so subtle locations.
Petunia’s voice nearly wavered as she spoke, "Make sure you get all the way inside this one, Duddies seems to have let something dry up in there."
"Yes Petunia, is there anything else you'd like from me?" Harry replied without so much as as glancing her way.
In the brief silence before she responded, Harry made a discovery with his newfound power. As he stood there, hands idly scrubbing a plate, Harry could feel his magic seeping out of him, slowing permeating. Mentally, the same way he would focus a spell, he let this presence wash over Petunia, and the result was curious as he noted her her unfaltering sneer drop momentarily. Her knees grew ever closer and her free hand shot out to grasp the counter. Harry did not know how he knew this but at that moment something in the back of his mind yelled, "The bitch is wet". This realization gave Harry a shudder, not simply because he was a 14 year old exponentially maturing male, but the thought of the power he must now possess to do something like that to someone otherwise so cold was extremely enticing to him. In this moment of inner reflection Harry noticed he had taken his right hand from the sink and was currently grasping the wand in his pocket. A small shiver sprang from the tip of his finger to the back of his skull.
"I, I,.. I think i hear Vernon calling me!", Petunia suddenly spouted, and without further acknowledgment of Harry's presence, Petunia hurried out of the kitchen. Harry silently gagged to himself as the picture of Petunia and Vernon hot, sweaty, and naked flashed into his mind. Luckily the last of the dishes took his mind elsewhere.
Later that night Harry found himself once again in bed with a restless mind. For some reason he could not get the thought of what happened in the kitchen out of his mind. The thought of his genuinely awful aunt becoming wet and excited because of him, was tantalizing to his hormone addled mind. Surely he could not find her attractive right? He was not some old lady fetishist. He had never jerked off to thoughts of Petunia before, usually thoughts of Cho, Ginny, the entirety of the Holyhead Harpies, that younger muggle neighbor girl that Dudley liked to pick on, the very attractive weather lady Vernon liked to watch, all the ladies from the swimsuit magazine he had hidden under his dresser shelf, and just about every other young witch from Ravenclaw to Slytherin. Then Harry had a realization, it had nothing to do with Petunia, it had all to do with himself. The power is what did it for Harry. It's what he always really craved, the power to defeat Voldemort, the power to keep his friends safe, the power to see his family, and apparently this included the power to influence. What about the power to rule?, to dominate?
Harry's imagination took him far that night. With wild thoughts he took to edging himself until his fantasy eventually turned to him on top of Cho, bottomed out into her slick pussy. His strong hands aggressively tightening around her neck as her pussy tightened around him and she grasped at his hands in search of oxygen. Harry's orgasm was powerful that night and as he came he could feel his magic, his power burst out of him as well. What he could not feel or could not know was at that same time down the hallway Petunia awoke at the very moment with ragged breathes and wet fingers. What she could remembered from her dream was two powerful hands gripped around her throat pinning her to the bed. The sounds of wet flesh on flesh filling her ears, a fullness she had never felt before, and lastly her sisters eyes, Harry's eyes, staring into hers as she lost control of her extremities from the most intense orgasm she ever had.
As the break neared its end Harry continued to test the range of his new magic by testing Petunia's limits. One night just days before his return to Hogwarts Harry decided to see exactly how far he could go. This night the Dursleys were settled around the television like usual, watching some muggle reporter go on about a cheating scandal in the latest local rugby game. Vernon took the sofa per usual as Petunia, Dudley, and Harry took the couch, Petunia in the middle. As they sat there Vernon pointed out things about the rugby teams to a Dudley face down in some new muggle gadget. This is when Harry started to let go of his magic, slowly at first, just enough to tickle Petunia's senses. Never looking at Harry, but now also not looking at the screen Petunia began to play with the hem of her summer dress, flattening invisible wrinkles in her lap. Harry pushed a little more. Petunia's knees met and began to grind together. Harry pushed a bit more. A small squeaky inhale slipped out of Petunia. Harry pushed again, focusing his magical energy straight to Petunia's core. A sharp "oh" delighted his ears as Petunia stood up and quickly left the room. Without enough care to turn his head Vernon said "Yes yes goodnight dear".
Harry quickly slipped out of the room without a noise, stopping only to notice the almost imperceptibly small wet spot where Petunia sat not 2 seconds ago. Harry followed her up the stairway, his mind was racing and cock throbbing from his little test and he knew he had to do something about it. For weeks Petunia had been walking around him in an almost constant state of want and he made up his mind right there in the moment what he was going to do. He heard the bathroom door close as he reached the final step. Without hesitation he cast a quick wordless alohomora and opened the door quietly. Inside he found Petunia her back towards him, bent over the sink one hand on the counter and one hand furiously plunging fingers into herself. She had not heard him enter and Harry used this moment to silently cast a quick Confundus charm with a very specific message, "if you want it, all you have to do is beg, nobody will know". With his suggestion in place Harry did another thing the old him would have been mortified to do. He unbuttoned his trousers, letting them slide to the floor, letting his rock hard member spring forward. With wand in one hand he used the other to close the door with enough purpose to rouse Petunia from her lustful daze.
Petunia turned around and almost with one motion was on her knees, hand grabbing Harry's upper thighs. "P-p-please Harry, please I need this, please just let me. Please."
Somewhere, in the brief moment as he relished the sight of Petunia on her knees ready to serve him, the old, true Harry came through, and he felt fear. Fear that what he was doing was immoral, and wrong. A fear that this was not him, it was this thing that had awakened in him, that had been tormenting his sleepless nights, yet had now given him the power to be in this situation. Most of all it was a fear that he would not be able to stop himself, that he would need more, and he was willing to take it, in fact he wanted to take it. Petunia was only the start, he would use whomever for his own pleasure as he saw fit, because he had the power to take it.
Then he snapped back, "You're a whore Petunia, aren't you?" Harry asked her coldly. She shook her head much to girly for her usual self. "Then suck it whore," Harry barked at her, an aggression in his voice he had never heard before. Immediately his aunt had his cock in her mouth. Harry was instantly in bliss. He could not tell if his aunt was extremely good at this or if it was always such a feeling of elation, either way the old whore seemed to be enthusiastic. Between the influence of Harry's aura and the gentle push of his Confundus, Petunia had no thoughts of her husband and child just downstairs. Her one thought was Harry and what she could do to please him. She tried her hardest to take her nephews cock into her throat. Though she could easily take all of her husbands 4” member, she was gagging herself on Harry's cock.
Meanwhile Harry had leaned back against the door and closed his eyes savoring his first blow job. As he listened to the slurps, ahhhs, and gags coming from his aunt, he wished it was one of the many tight pieces of wizard ass from Hogwarts, though couldn't deny her hot wet tongue dancing around his cock was the best thing he had ever felt. As Harry began to feel his climax approach he decided Petunia could do better so he grabbed the back of her head for encouragement and shoved into her. Harry decided it was a good time to do another test so he used all his focus not taken by his cock to attempt to push more of his magic into Petunia. This time he concentrated on her pleasure solely.
Petunia was dutifully slobbering on her nephews shapely cock when suddenly a wave came over her more powerful than anything she had ever felt. It was like 100 simultaneous orgasms all held just on the brink of release. It was torture beyond belief, mind meltingly blissful, and it brought her to tears. Taking the cock out of her mouth, tears in her eyes she cried, " oh God, oh God please, oh"
Harry knew what she needed. "Play with your self... now whore!" Harry yelled. With no hesitation Petunia's right hand dove back under her panties and Harry let his magic go. Petunia was racked with orgasmic elation beyond close to anything she'd felt in her lifetime. She could feel the magic running through her, something she had fantasized since her sister got her letter while herself, the stupid little muggle whore got nothing. It was to much the energy electrifying her cunt, orgasm after orgasm ran through her, with the taste of magic she'd always desired.
As Harry watched his aunt becoming a wet mess below him, he continued to fuck her moaning face. Harry went for his final few pumps as he grew to climax as he shoved himself further than she had been able to take him before. Flattening his balls against her now struggling chin. This caused Petunia to gag stronger that she had already, arching her back yet not daring to pull away from his dick. Harry drove his dick deeper in his aunts throat as she heaved. He could feel her mouth and throat filling with globs of warm saliva as it began to ooze down her chin. He continued to push further and harder as he finished in her throat pumping his seed directly into her stomach.
Finally pulling out of her throat, he watched his mess drip from the two of them and puddle on the floor. Petunia, like a rabid dog began to scoop up and swallow the leftovers of Harry cum. It was strange, as if she could taste the raw magic in it and it fueled her orgasms further. As she scooped more of the powerful wizards cum from her chin into her mouth she saw it began to form a small puddle on the floor. Like a starved animal she dove into it, lapping it up with her tongue. Her one deepest fantasy, the taste of magic she was denied at birth. She lost all sense of reality as she succumbed to orgasm after orgasm. Petunia never even realized harry left the door open as he left her there a passed out, wet quivering mess on the bathroom floor.
Harry went to bed that night with a smile on his face, wondering whether it would be Vernon or Dudley who found Petunia laying on the bathroom floor, with their illicit evidence ingested. He knew without a doubt Petunia would never admit to what she had done, and he trusted the other two would believe what ever fainting spell story she gave them. For just a moment as Harry lay there with his own thoughts dissolving into dreams when something deep, buried away in the most inaccessible recesses of his own mind a voice shouted out “You monster, stop this before its to late!”. The smile did not waver on Harry’s own face as he knew this was simply the old Harry, the weak, un-needed Harry. The new Harry Potter was here, the one who unlocked the gift Voldemort left inside him and things were all the better for it.