Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter and I don't. Everything reminding you of something from a movie or a book belongs to their respective owners.
Summary: What if Harry was brought up in a violent environment which had a serious effect on his mental stability? How would this affect the future of both worlds, Wizardry and Muggle? Let's take a look, shall we?
A/N: K, some new ideas which haunted me and needed to be put here so I could finally sleep. Idea is taken from a movie called "Unleashed" or "Danny the Dog". Check it out, if you have the time and haven't seen it yet.
CHAPTER I - Unleashed
A short chubby hand, covered with impressive array of various pieces of jewellery, quickly reached out and roughly clasped his small shoulder. The boy didn't flinch and unemotionally kept staring at a single spot on the ground with his lifeless eyes, head lowered and shoulders slumped like a child who has done something particularly bad and is now being chastised by furious parents. Something was different and seemed so very wrong because missing was the carefree attitude of a normal child and an enormous weight seemed to be pressing down on his back.
The man brought his face closer to the boy's ear, piggy little eyes shining with barely held back glee, and sneaked his other hand around his neck where a metal collar was tightly clasped. The sausage-like fingers fumbled a couple of seconds, searching for a small clip which would release the collar and which in turn would help solve the troublesome situation he currently found himself in. He knew the outcome would probably be quite bloody, sure, but he was also aware of the fact that it was the only effective way to keep up his reputation as a loan-shark who was not to be fucked with. Because when people stopped paying what they owed him without any consequences, there would be no point to any of this. He needed to make an example of somebody once in a while. Also, he enjoyed the spectacle. He could never turn down some entertainment. Not especially when the star of the show was his own good little pet.
He finally found the clip and pressed strongly, releasing the collar and the beast which it held. Now it only needed the order of his master. God have mercy on his victims' souls and let the massacre begin.
"Get em," the suited man rasped in the little boy's ear, who had now already raised his head and was scanning the area with a look, which would have made even the most stone-hearted man crawl under a stone and die. He had targeted eight adults who were surrounding him and his master. Some were clutching automatic rifles in their hand, not knowing what to think when the old bastard had showed up, demanded his money and finally pushed a little kid in front of them.
The child felt a sudden wave of relief wash over him only to be hit a second later by a storm of hatred which made the edges of his vision turn completely red. Rage like any other filled up his body and he felt himself almost drowning in it. He liked it, he savoured it and he wanted more of it.
With unnatural swiftness he closed the distance between his first prey and before the man or anybody else could react, the boy had already grabbed his head and twisted his neck so that a sick cracking sound could be heard across the room. The man went limp and the child tossed him like a ragdoll against the warehouse wall. The corpse crashed to ground with a loud slap and everything went quiet again. Blood started oozing from the wounds, filling the room with its aroma.
"What in the bloody hell...," a man wearing sunglasses and a black bikers jacket muttered softly. He was obviously the leader, because others seemed to be glancing at him for reaction. They waited for an order but the kid had been too quick and shocked them with his unnatural strength and speed.
"The hell are you waiting for? Kill him!" the leader shouted in sudden panic, because reality of the situation had now finally caught up with him. He was faced against a small demon-like monstrosity which needed to put down. Immediately.
They opened fire but the kid was already in action, running towards his next victim like a crazed animal, completely berserk...completely out of control. He managed to make his way to the target, miraculously completely unharmed by the fiery rain of bullets, and sent a precise strike to his kneecap, instantly shattering the bone and making the man scream out in pain. He swiftly grabbed the limp body and used it as a human shield against the shower of bullets which hadn't lessened. Grabbing the rifle which was still tightly in the screaming man's hand, he directed the fire against his opponents, making them seek cover.
"Take him down, you bloody wankers! It's a kid for Pete's sake!" shouted the leader behind his block of crates and released the empty clip from his gun, searching for a new one within his jacket with trembling hands. He could hear grunts, small screams and bursts of gunfire behind his cover and wondered what the hell was going on. His fingers wanted to press in the fresh clip but his hand was shaking too much.
"Get in, you piece of shit!" he whimpered quietly to himself and finally managed to complete the task.
Suddenly a bloody body was tossed over the crate with a wide arc, crashing into other boxes lying around the floor. He glanced at the corpse with widening eyes and almost vomited. It was his right-hand-man, Mike, recognizing the clothes he wore. His skull was completely crushed in, making the identification process almost impossible. There was also a bloody stump where his right arm was supposed to be, spurting streams of blood on the ground and making a small red lake.
"The fuck are you!" he screamed in panic at he emptiness but there was no answer. Everything had gone completely quiet, making it even more eerie. Only thing that could be heard was his ragged breathing and it sounded like a freight train in the silent room.
Gathering his courage he peeked behind his cover and let out a gasp of horror. Mangled bodies were lying everywhere, filled with bullet wounds. Apparently the beast had cleverly used their own weapons against them. Some of his men were missing limbs and an ocean of red was beginning to form on the warehouse ground. Even walls weren't left untouched by the madness, making the place look more like a slaughterhouse. It was like a dream of some sort...no...more like a nightmare.
He was unexpectedly pulled up to his feet by a small pair of arms and then felt them go around his neck, choking the life out of him. He hadn't even heard the boy approach, even if the place was deathly quiet.
"Stop! Hold him in place!" a commanding voice suddenly echoed in the room.
"Don't kill him...yet. I want to see if he has anything valuable on him and I don't want to get my suit bloody when searching his mangled body."
The pressure on his neck lessened considerably but still held his head firmly in place, immediately ready to end his life at his master's command.
A fat man of short stature stepped out behind a metal post and strutted towards the now disarmed and helpless group leader, avoiding pools of blood. He wore a white suit, a red tie which matched the surrounding area and a black blouse. A black cane with an ornate handle was in his right hand.
"So, you think you think you can lend money and not pay back without any consequences?" He asked casually but you could sense a threat behind the voice.
"You think I'm somekind of a bloody charity case here? Huh?" The voice was beginning to rise and his hand tightened around the cane.
"Well I've got news, you bloody wanker! Nobody, and I mean nobody fucks with me, understand!" He whipped the cane across his face leaving a red mark. A stream of blood started to run down his cheek.
"You think I enjoy this? I don't like violence but I'm not afraid to use it if I have to. Look around! You caused it. Not me. You!" He spat the final accusation with hate and punched him in the stomach, making the man groan.
"Now, if you don't mind I'll take a look in your pockets...maybe some compensation is in order for the money I lost, don't you think so?" He greedily shoved hands into the jacket and after a short moment, pulled out a brown envelope filled with money.
"Well, look what we have here! Not willing to pay back the money even if you're swimming in it! That's what I call determination!" He laughed and started counting the money with his chubby fingers. Suddenly a small letter fell out between the notes and flittered to the ground.
"What's this...?" The loan-shark muttered, a puzzled look appearing on his face and picked it up, skimming it through. The leader started struggling but the hands holding him in place reminded him that escape was futile and they could easily snap his neck.
The suited man stopped reading the letter and let out a barking laugh. He pocketed the letter, money and turned to face the prisoner.
"So, you didn't pay me intentionally so you could get a chance to off me by yourself, huh? Very, very naughty," He shook his head in a condescending manner.
"Well, I'm a afraid you have to die now for that little stunt...but...to tell the truth...I would've killed you anyway, but now there's actually a serious reason."
The prisoner started shouting and struggling, swinging his arms around and pleading but the suited man had already turned around and started walking towards the exit.
"Disgusting...little worm," he muttered. "Kill him and let's go." He said without stopping his stride.
"No, no, no...please don't kill me. I'll give you anythi..." The begging was cut short when the boy apathetically twisted his neck and tossed him to the ground with a careless movement of his arm.
"Come here my pet. You did an excellent job as always," the fat man said with a cruel smirk and clasped the collar around the child's neck, making his fiery eyes turn into green lifeless orbs. The shoulders slumped again and an aura of misery seemed to surround the boy.
The man put a hand to his shoulder and started firmly leading him outside, leaving behind a building filled with horrors that would haunt the world news for the next couple of weeks.
A/N: Review, plz (OO)