Harry Potter Disowned Himself Fanfiction の小説・ストーリー

They are that creepy. Today Harry will ask Roden, a man two years his junior to help prepare for this event. He's one of the patrolmen he can be count on ... and as far as he knows ... he doesn't have a partner either. Ah ... reminiscing about that affair. Harry has cut ties with Alpha Manny, even though there is actually no real relationship between them, Harry has answered Alpha Manny's refusal. With those words bring said... two sentences of refusal from both parties ... Then they were freed from each other, even though in Harry's heart there was a feeling of intense pain stabbing his heart.

] “That’s not easy, father! The Walters are not a bunch of fools. I can’t just make a move without a plan—” [Silence! You’ve been planning for too long and it’s sickening!] I clenched my jaws in anger. “Just stop ruining my plans! I will take Tyler Walter and his family down. Don’t rush me!” [You know I can disown you anytime once you fail, Harry. I have another heir who’s more capable and obedient. I won’t give a damn if you’re my son. I can sacrifice you for a big gain.]

"Harry, stop talking." Carwyn Levi lowered his voice. The always obedient Harry shook his head firmly and replied, "No! Harry wants his mother and Uncle Levi to get along! Harry wanted to tell his mother that Uncle Levi did everything. Uncle Levi really wants you back, can you forgive him?" Grainne knew Harry liked Carwyn Levi very much, she also knew Harry wanted Carwyn Levi to be his father. Looking at Harry's determined gaze, Grainne felt a little softened. She didn't have the heart to upset Harry again. "Okay, I'll forgive you!" Grainne didn't have the aura he'd imagined.

Only then did Harry belatedly realize that his people had been replaced or fired one by one over the past six months. Aside from Nessa, there was no one left in the company who truly belonged to him. He could not bring himself to beg anyone. All he could do was watch as the backlash continued to grow. [Time for the second move.] I sent Wesley a message. … I was going to expose Nessa’s fake suicide attempt. Harry had always firmly believed that Nessa’s love for him was pure and flawless. In my previous life, after she tricked him into returning to the country, he had merely heaved a sigh and said, “Nessa just cares about me too much.”

"I can't, I hate to reveal this secret to you but I'm going to tell you now - I hate that she's no longer under my control and I'll do anything to bring her back to me." What sick words emanating from a sick man he used to call father. "So this isn't about the money?" Harry asked, a puzzled look on his face. "It is, I mean who's going to pay for...you know what I'm talking about and who else can I make suffer while I watch them plead for mercy?" He asked, demanding for answers. "Make yourself suffer and leave my mother out of this." Harry warned, concluding that they had been dealing with a mentally unstable person all along. He should have known.

I gasped, the words tasting like ash and iron, but my body betrayed me, arching deeper into the toy as the intensity grew. "Say it properly," he insisted, stepping closer. He reached out and tapped the underside of my chin, forcing me to meet his stare. "Tell me you are my possession. Tell me you are nothing more than my slave." "I am your... your possession," I sobbed, the humiliation burning hotter than the friction between my legs. "I am your slave, Draco. Please, just… give it to me." He chuckled, a low, humorless sound that vibrated in my chest. With a flick of his thumb, he slowed the vibrator down to a agonizingly sluggish, pulsed rhythm...

Harry snapped, not liking Jimmy’s attempt to defend Arabella. Jimmy sighed. “Maybe Madam was just emotional, and the man was trying to comfort her.” Harry turned away, his jaw tight. “I’m not jealous, Jim.” The words sounded more like a denial to himself than to Jimmy. Jimmy held back a faint smile. “Of course not, Sir.” Harry glared. “Shut it. I don’t need your commentary.” He chose silence after that. He had served Harry for too long to not understand him. He knew that behind the cold front, Harry was bleeding inside—not just from his broken body, but from his pride as a man who once had power and now sat helpless in a wheelchair.

In the way his head hangs now, not in submission, but shame. I let the silence stretch for a long moment. Then I speak again, softer this time. “You don’t deserve to know what I am now. You don’t get to know what I’ve become. You forfeited that right the moment you decided I wasn’t worth the truth.” I lower my hand, and slowly, carefully, I release the magic holding him. He falls like a sack of stones, crumpling to the floor with a groan. Blood smears the wall where he hung. He doesn’t rise.

He was serious. "You… You don't mean that.” I whispered, shock draining the color from my face. Disowning me? That wasn't just losing my allowance; that was losing my identity, my future, and my protection, "You can't. I'm your daughter!" "Oh, but I do!" He roared, turning his back on me and pacing away, his hands running through his hair in frustration, "You are worthless to me if you can't complete the only task I gave you! This failure? This is yours! None of this mess has anything to do with me! I will disown you, and I will make sure everyone knows you are cut off! You will lose the name, you will lose the security, and you will lose everything!"

The coven screamed but kept chanting as Harry used his magic to keep me pinned to the table. "If you don't stop, Harry, you'll die with her," a young woman next to him warned. "I'm willing to make a sacrifice," Harry said as the woman's eyes welled up with tears. "But our child requires you," she begged. I saw the life this child would lead if he didn't have a father and shifted human once more, relinquishing control. I couldn't get out of here alive, no matter how hard I tried, but Harry could. As tears streamed down my cheeks, Harry looked at me with wide eyes. I was in excruciating pain as the witches continued to chant and Harry's face filled with confusion.