The Lost Prince

The story are going into four Kingdoms. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. The King and Queen from Gryffindor wanted a son so badly and have tried in many years to get on. A stranger got past their Kingdom and give them a thing where they got a son. What Will happened? Read and find out.

Warning: Slash. MalexMale pairings. Smut chapters. Don't like Don't read. This is a story for people there is over 16 years old.

Beta Reader/Edit: Gurren-on-Kyoto.

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1. The Lost Prince.

 

  At a faraway kingdom, there was a king and queen. They were a very lovely couple. The king was always nice and sweet to everyone.  The king had only one wish. He wanted an heir, a prince, a son, that would take his place one day and rule over the kingdom after him. The couple had tried for many years but without luck. One day, a stranger visited the kingdom and offered the king help for the royal couple’s hopeless attempt at having a child. The mysterious traveler claimed knowing a rare special drink that would immediately get the queen pregnant their first night and secure it would be a boy. It took a long thought for the king to decide and he even talked to his wife about it, but in the end, they both agreed.   The stranger handed over the drink as it was decided, and told that the king and queen should attempt with the child the proceeding night. As it was, the queen was confirmed pregnant the next day and with a warning that he or she would be coming back one day and ask for something in return, the stranger left the kingdom. The whole castle was filled with happiness, more especially the king and queen after finally having the long-ago desired heir.  

 

Nine months had passed, nine anticipated long months, and finally the heir was born. It was a lovely, healthy and very handsome little son who had the silkiest black hair, a cream pallor skin, and adapted his mother’s piercing deep-set emerald green eyes. He was just a perfect son. But to everyone’s misery, the queen had gotten ill shortly upon giving birth and died just a few days afterwards. The king was utterly devastated, but he never showed it to his son. Always, he would only wear on an impassive stoic mask to hide his emotions away.                                                                                                        

 Despite lacking his mother’s guidance, Harry grew up to be a well-rounded boy. He wasn’t pampered, like most Princes from the neighboring kingdoms, nor was he particularly deprived of love and care. The king dedicated himself into raising the Prince on his own to fulfill Harry’s needs of a mother.

On the Prince’s fourth birthday, the anticipated return of the stranger happened. The unknown magician proclaimed to take the Prince as a means of exchange for the help the stranger gave the king. Naturally, the Gryffindor king denied and instead, gave the stranger other options, which only triggered anger to the unknown magician. The king ordered his men to capture the intruder but it was too late for the stranger had already frozen the whole castle. The stranger took the Prince and with the last curse that people of the kingdom will never be happy again, he fled away.

 

The stranger contemplated whether to kill the Prince or not. His dagger in hand hovered in mid-air as he stared oddly at young Harry. In the end, let the prince live, thinking the Gryffindor heir would be a use some time in the future. The mysterious man locked the Prince in the darkness, at a tall enchanted tower in the middle of nowhere, keeping him hidden and isolated from his home.

 

The news about the abducted Gryffindor heir spread all over the neighboring kingdoms. The Gryffindor king asked for help in search of his son and both the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff kingdoms agreed into it except for the Slytherin kingdom which refused to get involved with the matter.

 

Years have passed and gone but there was no sign and trace of the lost Prince, none since his disappearance. The king eventually gave up but annually continued each day of the Prince’s birth to produce fireworks that would shoot up to the sky, boring the same hopeful words in hope that the lost Prince would somehow see it and find his own way back to his kingdom.

‘Return to your home, young Prince; where you truly belong.’

 

The Prince aged to his teen years with the knowledge that the person, the stranger, the unknown magician that raised him was his father. Harry was taught different things of great brilliancy and incredibility which he enjoyed immensely. But our Prince longed one thing; to be able to experience the world outside his father’s locked tower. Everytime he would give a hint to his father about his simple dream of freedom, he would end up being punished for even showing interest of the outside world and would cry himself to sleep.

 

“Harry,” called a distant deep voice from below, “Could you pass the rope down for me?”

Harry’s head jerked up in attention upon hearing his father’s voice and quickly hid the image of a handsome young man, wearing the most expressive blueness for eyes away under the desk he was sitting at. He had grown as a very fine young boy and was now fifteen years of age. His ever unruly hair sat atop his head, being as black as a coal and his brilliant green eyes being transparent through his circular spectacles. He immediately answered, “Yes, Papa,”  and got up from his worktable to retrieve the silver rope. After securing its end on a thick post, he tossed the other end out the window.

 

Moments later, Harry was helping up a blonde tall man through his window after he climbed in the silver rope. “Ah, thank you, son.” The blonde said, gratefully as he stood in full height, wearing an intricately designed black robe that was skin-tight, his muscles rippling underneath it. His eyes, unlike Harry’s passionate emerald ones, were grey and emotionless. His pale skin glowed under the sunlight, matching his shining silky golden hair. Lucius didn’t resemble Harry particularly; there was a certain coldness and hostility in his manner. But even so, when it comes to Harry, he was strictly and surprisingly caring.

“Got something from the marketplace, Papa?” Harry asked enthusiastically, eyeing the brown package his father was holding.

 

 “Oh, you’d be surprised, my dear boy.” Lucius couldn’t help but let a soft fond smile spread upon his thin lips. “But first, you would have to report to me what you have been doing today.”

 

Harry’s smile was infectious and genuine, excitement clear on his face. “I did some cleaning around the tower, read my books, and just earlier before you called, Papa, I was drawing on the papers you gave me last week.”

 

“Nothing else?” inquired Lucius.

 

“Nothing else, Papa.” repeated Harry, whilst nodding his head.

 

Lucius inclined his head approvingly and sauntered forward, closing his and his adopted son’s distance. His hand rose up slowly and he languidly stroked his knuckles across Harry’s cheek and the boy leaned against the caressing hand.

“Very well,” whispered the blonde man, and stepped back, ushering Harry back to his seat at his desk. “As I have promised,” Lucius set the brown rectangular package at the table top and smiled at Harry.

With a nod of permission from his father, Harry eagerly unwrapped the brown cover and tore it off to reveal a notepad and a set of coloring tools. His eyes lit up with delight and searched for Lucius’ grey ones. “Thank you, Papa. I’m very happy and grateful.” He whispered, embracing his father’s waist which was returned as the taller man coiled his long pale arms around Harry’s shoulders.

“You deserve it, Harry.” Lucius said affectionately, tenderly raking his fingers into the boy’s tousled black hair. He lowered his head and pressed his lips firmly just beside Harry’s birthmark in a fatherly kiss; a lightning bolt-shaped on his forehead.

 

With a gentle pat on the boy’s back, Lucius broke free and let his eyes wander to Harry’s desk. “I wonder what you have been draw-” His voice cut short at the sight of the image drawn on one of Harry’s papers that was set atop his desk. It was a very detailed drawing but yet, it as though a child had drawn it. A child that seeks and longs liberty, expressed through his drawings in the most indescribable way. The image was a view from the tower and the center of attraction was the lights in the sky. Lucius’ blood boiled dangerously. “Harry,” His voice was soft and lethal and Harry, knowing that this could not be good, lowered his gaze guiltily. “I’m sorry, Papa. Don’t…”

 

“How many times do I have to tell you to drop this matter about those nonsensical witchcrafts of fireworks, boy?” He hissed, snatching the paper and ripping it into pieces fiercely.

 

“I’m sorry, Papa…” Harry offered again, remorsefully. “It’s just that…” He heaved himself up to his feet and strolled over to the window, looking out it. “They keep coming on my birthday – those lights in the sky – I just like seeing them. It’s so colorful… and bright,”

 

Lucius was still seething; but he couldn’t keep being bitter seeing Harry in his dreamy sad state. “Harry, my dear son.” He drawled in a more calm, soothing voice, leading the boy back to seat and blocking his view of the window. “Those lights… those fireworks… were made of sheer, pure evilness. It was a trap for you to disobey your loving father into going out of your safehouse. Outside, people will kill you, people will be mean to you and people will hurt you.

 

Harry’s expression became one full of fear and he looked much younger, like a lost child in the woods. His eyes welled with tears, making it look glassy. “Papa, I’m so sorry…”

 

Lucius sighed deeply and closing his eyes, he engulfed his son in a full comforting embrace. “It’s alright, son. It’s alright.” He coaxed, stroking the small boy’s soft hair. “I just want to protect you from them. You know there’s no one who cares you more than I do.”

 

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