Harry Potter Fanfiction Greek Inheritance Test Novels & Stories

The fire before us swirled, and silver symbols began to form in the air, shining brightly, symbols of an ancient clan that I had only seen in the palace’s forbidden books. Then the earth beneath us trembled softly, as if responding to the same blood. Lily stirred in my mind. "I know this place," she said softly. I closed my eyes, and in an instant, the scent of the old forest, blood, and the full moon merged into one. It was as if a lost piece of my soul had finally found its way back. “From tonight onward,” Harry’s voice echoed softly. “You are no longer just my child, but you are Viola Brielle Harry, the rightful heir of the Carpathian ancestors.”

The moment my skin touched his, my maternal instincts flared, wrapping around him like a protective blanket. But as I held him a cold dread pooled in my stomach. Leo was almost four years old now. His Lycan genes were still mostly dormant but under intense excitement or fear, his aura would fluctuate. To a human, he just seemed like an incredibly perceptive, energetic child. To Kaelen or Beta Vance, he would smell like royal lineage. His blood carried the specific, heavy resonance of the Northern Court’s dominant Alpha line. If an enforcer got within twenty feet of him, the secret would be dead.

“You want to marry me for an inheritance.” “No, it’s about honouring my grandmother’s last wish and protecting what she left behind.” “From your uncle, right?” “Yeah, Marcus. He’s been scheming to grab control for years. Nene was the one keeping him in check. Now that she’s gone, the only thing in Marcus’s way is a clause in her will—me marrying you.” Just then, Selene’s whiskey showed up. She grabbed the glass and knocked back half of it like she was trying to rush through some awkward moment. Avalon couldn’t help but notice—in the past, she always drank quickly, like she was on the move, trying to escape something.

The more you care, the more you have to loose. ~Harry Potter, Order of Phoenix •• Noor wasn't sure if she wanted to be annoyed, angry, happy or disappointed. The flirty playful guy she had met twice on accident was actually the Mr. Umar Lukuwa she was supposed to meet.

His greed had resulted in carnage and the annihilation of our people and many other villages. “Pernwél,” She said softly “You are the only other person, beside myself, that inherited the Druidic gene.” She paused and I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Me? Did I inherit the power that so many searched for? A magic that I thought was almost extinguished.

Another added. “We have spent years and millennials trying to acquire these said treasures.” Someone in a green robe said. “But all those efforts to no avail.” A king with an orange beard said. “To conclude, once Zaria obtained all these treasures and drinks the blood of Cerberus in the middle of Hell, only then we will accept her as the heir.” They ended. “At what percentage do I have a chance of succeeding on this test?” I asked. Steeling my voice to hide my trembling stomach.

Arabella returned to Harry’s house, fury pulsing through her veins. Yes, she was livid—at Helena. She was convinced Helena was behind the spiked wine that left their father hospitalized and unconscious. But… could Helena really be that heartless? Maybe it had something to do with the inheritance. The more she thought about it, the more disgusted Arabella became. Why do people do anything—everything—for the sake of inheritance? Her father. Her stepmother. Now even her sister? And Harry?

Master Theron's preparation had been thorough—charts and records that mapped royal lineage across centuries, documentation that revealed possible hereditary links through careful historical analysis. "Promising correlations," he announced after initial review. "Timeline alignment between your estimated birth date and periods when royal family members were... absent... from court records. The genealogical evidence suggests legitimate hereditary possibilities." Hereditary possibilities. The diplomatic language suggested positive indicators without premature conclusions that could influence subsequent magical testing. The magical procedures began with resonance analysis that felt like immersion

I shook my head, the cold knot in my stomach tightening. “It’s old magic. Deeper than DNA. It doesn’t just say who the father is. It reveals bloodline… everything. Dominant traits, latent magic, inherited curses… and heritage.” She looked at me, her eyes wide with warning. “If there’s anything in your blood, Lana, anything you don’t know about or don’t understand, it will come out. He’s not just trying to prove the baby is Ronan’s. He’s trying to map the board. And he’s using that baby and you as the pieces.” Before I could process her warning, the doors to the great hall opened again. Ronan emerged, the pack spilling out behind him, their faces expectant. He walked to the edge of the terrac

“Do you know that Amorta dabbles in charm potions?” “Bitch.” “How rude for a young lady! Innis! The Andago ancestors are watching you!” She flung the apple at me. I caught it and took a bite as well. “It’s beneath you to offend dogs with such comparisons.” “And using charm potions?” “Who would ever be tempted by that dowerless moth? I also need your hair or blood.” “What for?” “To check if your half-brother is actually related to you.” “When?” “As soon as we find your great-grandfather’s laboratory.”