Voldemort Is Harry's Grandfather Fanfiction の小説・ストーリー

There was no way Gadriel couldn’t recognize him. Gadriel’s heart started pumping faster. A cold sweat ran through his little body. Even his lungs had been increasing the demand of air. Something wasn’t right there. Finally, a wooden door was all that separated him from seeing the real wild beast his grandmother indeed was. But it wasn’t necessary for him to open the door and see what was happening there, because it was enough for him to see through the groove between wood spacings and realize who his grandmother was. There he saw a man with blood in face, asking for forgiveness while Thomas was beating him up and his grandmother, with a hand on her waist, was laughing. The man in the seat wa

Maya had just finished speaking when Harry's curses could be heard, "My Zedd, is the sole heir of the Jones family. If any harm comes to him due to your incompetence, I'll dig up your ancestors from hundreds generations back!" On the ground, Amara was crying, and Grandpa and Grandma Jones were confronting a frail nurse, shouting, "Get that Ivy, who's here to make money, out of here!" Ivy gazed coldly at the absurdity unfolding in front of her, then spoke in a composed manner, "I'm right here." She calmly walked toward Harry, who had pulled at her collar and dragged her to the bed of Zedd. Ivy was seething with anger, but she held back her emotions and kept her composure.

Dang it, Charles; you couldn’t have taught me the whole spell! “Listen, if I don't get you to Charles in a few hours your face is going to stay like that, and as much as I hate that ugly face of yours, this is creepier than Voldemort. “He rolls his eyes, which have no eyelids by the way before standing up.

That will be changed now, and he could even turn out to be the most hateful and vicious person we’ve ever known. Of course, Jenna swears that won’t happen, that she made sure Harry would remain as he once did. But how on earth are any of us supposed to believe that? I don’t care what the doctors are saying; they can’t predict the future. My grandfather has foresight, but he sees nothing out of the ordinary when it comes to Harry. But that means nothing to me. It’s been two days, and Harry seems to be just as he was before he died. But that doesn’t mean anything either. The changes in his behaviour may not arise until he’s much older.

I asked. “No, Shannon.” He closed the distance between us, eyes hollow. “I see the misery I have wrought in her. All the pain my work has born.” He tucked a tendril of hair behind his ear. It rustled faintly, like the serpent crown of before. He watched me shiver. He reached out his hand, ran his fingers through my hair. I was too jarred to pull away. “I see myself in you.” “No! You are not the Voldemort to my Harry Potter!”

Harry spits, backing away but unable to leave, cornered by his allegiance to the silver Omega. "She's beautiful," Ariadne says in a way that gives Victor chills. "I understand why you'd be so eager. But what will you say when you meet her again, that you tried to kill her son and grandchildren." Harry looks furious, red painting his cheeks, injured and weak. He crumples to the ground, bowing his head. "I just wanted to raise someone strong, someone that w-wouldn't die on me or-" and his eyes flicker hatefully to Victor, "-turn on me."

I didn’t know what he wanted yet, but if it had anything to do with Violet, then I wouldn’t hesitate to erase one of the most powerful families in the world from the board. Power meant nothing to me if it threatened what was mine. Violet shifted beside me, and I felt the subtle tension in her body. When I glanced at her, her eyes were filled with confusion as she studied the unfamiliar faces before her. My grandfather noticed my expression darken, then turned his gaze toward her, a slow smile spreading across his face as if he found this entire situation entertaining. “I suppose I should introduce myself,” he said smoothly. “Kim Seo-joon. Hades’ grandfather from his mother’s side.”

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...

It can't be her. “Was that someone? Talk to me Hermione. That book was actually given to me by my grandmother before she was killed in the war between the witches and werewolves. I can't loose that ...” My grandmother sobs for the very first time ever, Ketura pulls her into a hug. I fight the urge to roll my eyes at them. “So, what do we do now?” I ask with my arms akimbo.

Lily asked. “Like Voldemort, he put pieces of his soul into objects so he could live forever. Evil fucking bastard, with his snake head.” Cyrus explained. “So, you’re actually turning Lily’s beautiful story into a kid’s story about a wizzard villain?” His mate April asked, rolling her eyes at her Cyrus. We all laughed. Cyrus always had a movie or song lyric to quote to explain a situation. “It’s not like Harry Potter. You can’t resurrect us using our grandkids.” I said, which made Cyrus’ eyes grow wide.