AN: My first fanfiction. I don't own Harry Potter.

Reasons I Should Get a Raise

In St. Jude's Correctional Facility, a flurry of voices can be heard bouncing off the walls.

"He tore out his eyes…"

"Ate some of him…"

"Guards couldn't save him."

I roll my eyes when I hear the kids talking about the new inmate. They act like this is the most exciting thing to happen in New York. I sigh and push my hands deeper into my pockets.

I'm supposed to feed the kid today. Apparently, the higher ups think the kid is still hungry after eating his roommate's eyes. I've never heard of someone eating another person here. Had it at my last job at a jail but not in a Juvie for delinquent boys. It seemed a little too early for cannibalism.

I bet the kid is in his late teens. Maybe even early twenties if the jails were too full.

This is bullshit. Why do I have to feed the fucking insane kid? If I didn't lose at Saturday poker, there is no way I would be doing this.

I walk quickly down the hall with a plate of horrible smelling grey slop. Maybe this is why the kid ate his roommate, nothing better to eat.

I walk down the busy hallways. The kids were making faces at me and trying to annoy me through the windows. I glare at them and they run away. I'm a pretty scary looking guy at 6'4 and 280 pounds of pure muscle so I'm one of the only guards that the kids listen to.

I enter a key padded door and walk into an isolated grey hallway. I always scoffed at this room, it seemed like overkill for a place that housed kids who took their family's car for a joyride. It had one bullet proof glass wall with a metal door that had a drawer in it to distribute food. The rest of the walls are concrete and there are no windows. There is one sad creaky cot in a corner and a dingy toilet in another.

I fully expect a hulking sulking teenager that is going to try to intimidate me. Instead, I got what was probably the cutest child I've ever seen.

The kid was a little ten year old looking boy. He had a halo of dark curls that framed his heart shaped face. His large green eyes were luminous on his face. A little button nose and a perfect cupid bow for lips. He looked like one of those angels you see painted at museums. Except for, you know, the blood streaking his clothes and body.

The area surrounding his mouth was a light pink. It looks like they tried to clean it off of him. His hands were crusted with slowly drying blood and there was arterial spray on his clothing.

He smiles to reveal pearly teeth that had bits of pink flesh in them, "Is that food?"

He tilts his head to the side, "Do I still get food even when I'm bad?"

I have no idea what to say to the kid. I just am speechless by his appearance and innocent question. If he didn't have the blood on him, I would have thought he was just the sweetest thing.

I shake my head and answer, "Yeah, of course you still get food."

His eyes widen, "But my mommy doesn't let me have food when I'm bad." I'm going to add fucked up childhood to his chart and go from there.

I don't know what else to say but, "I'll make sure you're fed even if you're bad."

He smiles angelically and I seem to have earned a good place in his heart. Which is good because I'm going to have to eventually go in there and take his measurements for his charts.

I place the food in the drawer and close it. He rushes forward and grabs the disgusting slop. I'm going to guess that the kid didn't have any standards because he was digging into it like it was a five star meal. I see his teeth grind the sludge down and I can't help but picture them gnawing on an eye.

The guard who found him will be needing a lot of therapy.

I turn to leave but a voice rings out, "What's your name?"

"What's yours?" I shoot back. It wasn't in his chart and I was curious.

He blinks and his pink lips form an O in surprise, "It's Harry." He says it like he's never been asked before.

I smile at the kid uneasily, "I'm Nico."

I already know that I'm going to be assigned him over the next few days.

Yay, I love it when I'm right.

First, I had to measure and weigh the kid in the cell that same day. The kid is confusing me more and more by the second.

He greeted me when I came in, "Nico, what are you doing?" It sounded like a line from a horror movie but I manage to look casual.

"Get up on the scale and we'll be good kid." I gesture for him to move.

I have to adjust the weight until it balances at 58 pounds. I can't help but feel slightly horrified about that. That seems low even for his age range.

I look at the kid. He's just staring at me like a lost puppy. His big eyes are glistening slightly as he shuffles his feet. I noticed that he hadn't gotten changed or washed up.

I sigh and just continue to measure the kid's height: 46 inches. I frown, that's a little below the average in height too. But the kid has to be ten because that's the lowest age that this place accepts. Unless he's younger or he's just not been fed. Either of them sounds bad.

I assess him. He just looks at me like he expects me to do something. Fuck, don't look at me with those sad eyes. Fuck, I'm too weak.

I get a towel and a new set of clothes for him to change into. I enter the cell and hold them out for him. He just looks at me really confused. I look at him a little more closely, there seems to be a slight layer of grime around him. Even in the little crevices of his ears.

"Kid, wash up." I try to direct him.

"But my mommy used to do that for me." He whimpers.

Are you fucking kidding me?

So I end up giving this kid a sponge bath. I even had to help him into his clothes because he was clueless on how to do that.

He seems really grateful and gives me a big hug when we're done.

I end up leaving the room kinda liking the kid.

The next day, I had to feed him every meal time. The other guards don't want to be around him and I'm the only one that doesn't have anything to lose so I'm the one in charge of him.

He looks up at me every time I come by, "Can you come in here?" Fuck no kid. I still don't trust you after you ate and killed another kid.

He continues to ask at every meal time. His voice become a pathetic whine, "I'm bored. Please."

I try to ignore him.

By dinner time, he's just sitting in the corner nearest to the door, staring at me.

"You're the only one nice to me." He whispered.

I sigh and make a deal, "I'll sit out here and talk to you but I'm not coming in."

He looks overjoyed and approaches the glass as I sit down. We start talking about the basics: what's our favorite color, animal, etc.

Then he asked me, "Why are you working here?"

I smile bitterly, "I can't get another job. I have no college degree and just look scary so I'm here."

"What job would you want?" He asks softly.

I blinked, I hadn't thought of that in a very long time. I have to actually rethink my old life plans that I tucked away a long time ago.

"Social worker." I remember.

He tilts his head, "What's that?"

"It's a job where you help kids that are in bad situations." I explain.

He looks thoughtful, "Would you have helped me?"

I don't know what to say after that and get up to leave.

"Wait, you're not that old. You should still try to become a social worker." He calls out.

"I'm 23, it's a little too late to do that." I wave without looking back at him.

I come back the next day and, sure enough, he's waiting for me.

"What did you used to do before this job?" He seems extra talkative today.

"I was a security guard at a jail for two years and then I worked here for three years."

He perks up, "Did you like that job?"

"Kinda, though I look like a con more than a guard."

He giggles, "No you're not."

I show him my full sleeve tribal tattoos under my long sleeved shirt. He seems impressed.

"I used to slick back my hair and wear my sleeves up." I mock gloat.

He laughs and remarks that I must have looked tough.

"Do you like this job?"

I smile, "Nah, I hate it."

"Why?"

"I'll answer that later."

I find myself morbidly curious about the kid, "Why did you eat that kid?"

He stares at me like it's obvious, "Because that meat's the best meat. Mommy used to feed me it to make me extra strong."

Ok, I'm leaving now. Nope, fuck that. I don't even know if the kid is messing with me but I don't want to chance it.

I quickly leave but catch a final glance of the kid on the way out. He's pressed up against the glass and staring at me sadly.

I walk upstairs and try to relieve the guard of his duty. Try is the key term. The man is arguing with an old merlin looking motherfucker, a curly haired tall man, and a crimson haired woman.

"I don't care what kind of clearance you have! The kid is in isolation for cannibalizing and killing his roommate." Smooth, fellow guard, smooth.

"I want to see my son! I should be allowed to see him!" The tall man yelled.

The red haired woman turned to Merlin, "Albus, you need to show him more ID."

The Merlin-looking man named Albus brought out a little blank piece of paper. The instant he did, the guard stiffened and his entire face went slack.

"Of course you can see him." He said weakly.

What the fuck am I witnessing? What is that paper?

They seem to notice me and Albus walks up and shoves the paper in my face. Da Fuck are you trying to do? I slap it out of his hands.

He looks alarmed and brings out a fancy stick, "Obliviate!"

I just stare at him like he's crazy and glare at him. Albus stares at me like I'm the one that's crazy.

The woman panics, "Albus, what do we do?" She turns to the tall man, "James, do something!"

James points another fancy stick at me and yells, "Incarcerous!" A bunch of ropes shoot out of the stick and wrap around me. "Immobulus!" I can't move and speak. How the fuck is a stick doing this to me?

Then shit really goes down and I start to float. Then these bastards leave me dangling in the air. I'm completely immobile and I'm just going to be left up here. They don't even have the fucking decency to let me move so I can call for someone to get me down from here.

I feel offended. I deserve some respect.

Why am I even working here?

Soon, I hear a bunch of footsteps coming towards me. I hope to God that that's another guard because my fellow guard I have is currently drooling and staring around like he's stoned.

But no, it's these motherfuckers again.

James seems to be grabbing Harry and pulling him over to where I am. All I could think was, "Jesus, they are going to sacrifice me."

Instead James, the woman, and Albus form a creepy satanic looking circle around a fucking dime. It's a dingy old dime but they seem to be waiting for some kind of weird shit to happen.

I try to wiggle in the air a little to show my unhappiness but they just don't give a fuck. They are just staring at a dime in silence.

Suddenly James' hand shoots out and grabs onto my ropes. I feel him pull me closer. Oh god, this is getting kinda cult orgy like.

Thank god some other kind of weird shit happened and the whole room started to spin. A lot of colors were flying around and I look at Harry.

In a split second, I swear we connected telepathically, through this connection I answered his question from before, "This is why I hate my job."