Consuming Shadows
Author's Note
Hello, One and All!
I've been in a bit of a pickle, these days. Writing isn't something that comes easily to me. The other FanFics I have on here, I keep trying to write on them and then I get stuck. It might be due to the fact I haven't done anything with them for so long. My brain doesn't really want to work on me with those. I do intend to go back and look through them, see if I can spark a creative flare once again, but, until then, I wanted to work on something related to Harry Potter.
Hence where this monster came from.
I'm not entirely sure where this story came from, though part of it was from a daydream of mine. I'm not going to say anything about what's going on due to the fact that it'll be a huge spoiler for what I have planned already. However, everything below is something I found interesting. It's also something I haven't really seen myself, so that appeals to me far more than anything else.
Also, the lable says 'Tom Riddle, Harry Potter' for a reason. If you're not a fan of slash, I recommend turning away. Though I would first like to say romance is not a central storyline in this, though it does play its part. With that said, I'd like to welcome all of you to 'Consuming Shadows.'
Read, Enjoy and Review!
Chapter One
Lightning flashed through the sky.
Red ribbons of electricity split the heavens in two, the sky dark and the rolling clouds black as a starless night. With every flash of lightning, the wet alleyways of a ruined city were illuminated by a nightmarish glow. It was here that Hadrian "Harry" Potter found himself, wet and cold and so very alone. As thunder howled in the distance, the Boy-Who-Lived cowered behind a rusted dumpster as something gangly and ungodly tall prowled past his hiding spot.
His vision was a blur of muted colors, his eyes squinted as he peered through the onslaught of rain that soaked him thoroughly. His broken frames were clutched in one hand, crimson tears slipping between his fingers as he pressed his back against the mental contraption that shielded him from prying eyes.
Harry held his breath as a clawed hand, fingers terrifyingly long and bony, curled over the lip of the dumpster above his head. He shrank, pressing himself closer to the ground as Killing Curse green eyes watched, glassy and brimming with unshed tears, as those claws cut through the metal. Each long gouge in was a peephole he could use to see towards the street, his attention barely able to comprehend the hazy, slumped figures trudging through the rain beyond.
Thunder clapped, so loud the ground rumbled. Harry watched as the creature, nothing more than a massive blur of churning shadows, reared back with an unholy screech. Screams cut through the downpour moments before the creature bounded away, the dumpster shuddering as the obscured monster used it as a launching post. Those screams increased in pitch and Harry curled into himself, hands clamped over his ears.
'Wake up, I have to wake up,' Harry pressed against the wall, huddled there for many long hours until the streets were running red and silence dragged on. He didn't want to move, didn't want to shift away from his hiding place. His eyes slowly opened sometime later, body heavy and sluggish as he leaned around the dumpster to eye the alleyway and the street beyond. 'I just have to get to the Gate, that's all. Then I'll wake up. I just have to get to the Gate.'
Rising to his feet, Harry carefully made his way through the alleyway. A sense of unease followed him, his skin prickling as he crept towards the alleyway's exit. He stood upon the threshold for a while, squinting as he eyed the crumbled corpses on the ground. He wondered if Cedric would be among them, if his friend's body would be a new addition to a nightmare that has plagued him since he was a small, terrified child.
These nightmares, though, were often too real to be mere dreams.
Harry eyed his broken glasses as the thought crossed his mind. How was he going to explain this to his aunt and uncle? 'I rolled on them when I was sleeping,' Harry's lips curled into a scowl. He knew such an excuse wouldn't go well with his uncle, though his aunt, Petunia Dursley, would likely scold him and have him doing chores every day for the rest of summer. 'Extra chores to an already long list. How fun.'
He eyed the wide, spacious grounds ahead of him.
From where he stood, Harry could see the blurry outline of the Gate. The old, stone arch, covered in runes, was hazy and shimmering in the distance. The center of it would be filled with a deep gray, starlight-esque substance that gleamed regardless of what direction you looked at it from.
The massive, stone pillars surrounding it, each connected by thick, braided ropes, stood like silent guardians. Tattered banners and cloth wrapped around each, fluttering in an unseen wind. Harry knew it stood there, ready to spirit him away from this realm of dreams and nightmares.
Harry turned his attention from the Gate to the surrounding area. Those creatures, they were in the square. They stalked between the half-walls, hunched forms impossibly large. Harry knew he would have to get past them if he wanted to wake up, that he had to make it across the open ground to the Gate before they grabbed hold of him.
He didn't like the thought of getting hurt in this place and having to explain to everyone else how he got said injury. He'd been there too many times already. Harry smiled, a humorless twist of his lips that matched the dark hue of his eyes as he took his first step into the open grounds. The shift in the air was instant, the low growling that lingered at the edge of his senses silenced.
Harry didn't hesitate – he ran.
The screech that followed froze Harry to the core. His body was rigid in seconds, each limb locked in place. His heart thundered in his chest as he heard something scraping across the stones. His eyes widened as a thick, eerie smoke billowed across the ground. A lump formed in his throat, his breath hitching as his eyes began to burn. Behind him, a low, rumbling growl.
'Never look at the Nagarogi. This, Potter, is the first rule.'
'What happens if I do?'
'Pray to God that they kill you fast.'
Harry struggled against the invisible bindings wrapped around him. He could hear the creature coming ever-closer, talons clicking against the stones. In the distance, there was shouting. He thought he heard something like gunfire and explosions, saw the bright flares of crimson light in the distance. A massive, dark shadow fell over his immobile body, a low, rumbling growl curling tight around him. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't think.
His eyes stung, the unshed tears finally flowing free.
Someone was shouting, sharp explosions going off.
A flare of light shot past Harry's face. The force holding captive released him and the creature behind him shrieked. A heavy hand grabbed his forearm, hauling him away from the Gate with a long list of curses. Harry flushed, staggering as he was pulled away from the open space towards the alleyways where several others stood, guns raised and ready.
"Come on, kid!" Harry got his momentum back, easily keeping pace with the man holding his hand. One of the people ahead pulled the trigger. The bullet whipped past his cheek, slicing through his cheek. Harry felt claws graze his back, heard something slamming into the ground seconds after. In front of him, the man yellowed, "Get behind cover!"
Harry was hurled forward, then. Waiting arms caught him, pulling him close as gunshots went off again and again. He turned, eyes wide as the man who had grabbed him stood, upright, with a shotgun in hand. One of the creatures was lunging for him, elongated jaws wide open and fangs bared. This man pulled the trigger and the creature rocketed backward with a shrill screech.
When he turned, black-red hair dark and tussled, Harry noted the vantablack visor covering his eyes. It took the youth by surprise even as the man yelled, "Don't just stand there! Move!"
Harry wasn't sure how long they ran, only that the Gate was further and further away. A sense of dread filled him, a deep understanding that his chances of waking up were becoming slimmer and slimmer. As he stumbled down a flight of stairs, dunking as bullets sprayed the air, an insistent thought popped up in his head:
'Why can't I have normal dreams?'
They hit the next landing in record time, the small group sprinting through the twisting passageways with an air of certainty. When Harry stumbled, a slender hand caught his and pulled him forward. The man with the visor stayed at the tail of the group, the sound of his gun going off time and time again. The inside of Harry's chest was starting to burn, his lungs working harder now than they had before. He ideally wondered if he would suffocate from running too much.
"The next turn, Gema," Mr. Visor yelled at them and the youth holding his hand, Gema, called back, "Understood, Chief! Everyone, left!"
The group turned as one, some swinging widely into the alleyway while others skidded around the corner. Harry's eyes widened as one boy, perhaps a few years older than him, slid around the corner with one hand grazing the slick stones of the alleyway floor. Then that same boy was upright and sprinting to the front of the group, yelling in some other language.
'Do you think it idiotic that the dark frightens us, Potter?'
'The dark can't hurt you.'
'Can't it?'
'No.'
'Then I take it you've never looked into that darkness and had it stare back at you.'
Harry's head was starting to pound even as a near-black shadow soared over them from somewhere above. Harry's lips parted, a whisper on his lips as the thing dropped from the rooftops. It landed in the middle of the group, screeching with rage. One long, claw hand swiped through the group. Red sprayed through the air, bodies shattering and spraying the walls and ground with dark red, life-giving blood.
Gema came to an abrupt halt, her breath catching in her throat. It stuck there, a sound that Harry tried to focus on. Then he realized – she was sobbing. Yet she whipped her gun from the sheath on her side, arm swinging up. Before she could even pull the trigger, the barrel flew off.
All that remained was a semi-horizontal, half-barrel of a gun.
'You've never seen a real monster, have you Potter?'
A small boy, no more than five, peered up at the man in front of him. The black-haired child was dressed in a hoodie that was too large on his thin frame, his broken glasses held together by rolls of black tape. The child tried to guess how old this man was. A mirthless smile answered his unspoken thoughts. Hadrian tensed as this man crouched in front of him, a sense of unease curling through him as almost-black eyes focused on his face.
'No, I reckon you haven't,' the man carded calloused fingers through his hair, eyes hard with a hint of cruelty. Hadrian's stomach clenched, his skin crawling as screams tore through the distance. The child held this man's gaze as the elder continued, 'After tonight, if you survive, you'll wake up knowing what a real demon is, Hadrian James Potter. That I can promise you.'
Harry didn't think he could get away, not this time. Too many memories sang in his mind, clogging his thoughts as the creature, the Nagaroja, stalked closer. In that moment, Harry knew Gema would die if this thing got its hands on her. She would die just like the others around them had.
When the Nagaroja lunged forward, Harry pushed her out of the way.
Behind them, a man yelled his name. As Gema hit the ground, gun spiraling away from her, his name was torn from her lips as a panicked, terrified scream. Harry could on see the darkness coming down on him, could only hear the blood roaring in his ears as razor-sharp teeth cut through his neck and shoulder. He could only taste iron on his tongue, feel his lungs filling with blood as a blade-like protrusion snapped out of the Nagaroja's arm.
Then the blade was punched through his chest into his heart.