A/N: Some of you reading this may be wondering why I'm starting a new story when I haven't finished my others. It's a collaboration. Fellow Author JasCraw (on FanFiction /u/8003766/jascraw) and I have been working on this for a while after discussing what would happen if the main character (Frank Stewart) from his Blood Soaked series was exposed to the Potterverse. If you want to know more about Frank, you can look for any of the Blood Soaked books on Amazon, or visit bloodsoakedandwriting (it's a dot com).
On the plus side, working on this is making me want to work on my other stories, so I will most likely get back to them soon. :)
Last thing...We've got a good chunk of this written, and we keep writing more every day. For now, expect a weekly posting schedule. If we finish writing the story, we may post more often. Now, without further ado, here is:
Harry Potter and the Death Eaters' Bane
I don't like tunnels.
It doesn't matter that I can see in the dark, I just don't like them. Concrete walls that seem to go on forever in the dark like the inside of a gigantic colon. Then there's that certain chill that cold weather gear can't touch.
Nope. Do not like.
Complaining is useless because I was to blame for being there in the first place. I chose to go on what sounded like a simple sweep and clear of a small group of our version of the undead - revived suburbanites who have an annoying taste for flesh and blood - and I knew that being underground was part of the deal.
On top of my annoyance at myself, the rest of the situation was not turning out the way I expected. Instead of five zombies, there were nearly fifty of the bastards.
Excuse me, forty-nine. One decided to come around the corner to have a look at what they're dealing with: me.
I took exception to being peeped, so I took his head the classical Frank Stewart way.
Maybe not completely classical, because I used the spike on the blade of the Man Scythe to pop him in the forehead. Then I flipped my wrist, deployed the blade, and pivoted to the left as I brought it around. My little friend's head came right off.
Perfect kill. I congratulated myself, and then something happened. There were no sounds or flashing lights to help me put a name to whatever occurred. It was there, then gone, but I felt it in my bones for a few moments afterward.
I didn't like it.
Even the zombies around the corner knew something was up. I could hear them shuffling around and bitching about it. The smartest one started babbling about the spacetime continuum, but was quickly hushed.
They got back to planning how to kill me.
How sweet of them! I'm not sure they knew I could hear almost everything they said.
I debated informing them that they were bad at secrecy, but another unsettling thing happened. I heard three voices down the arm of the tunnel behind me, arguing. No one had been there before the unnameable feeling a handful of seconds before.
They should have shown up in my mind's eye as approaching heat signatures at least one hundred yards from their current position. My altered brain is good that way. Except in this case, they didn't ping until I heard them talking.
Color me unsettled.
"Harry, what have you done this time?" It was a girl's voice, reedy and annoyed. She sounded like a kid who is used to being right all the time. British accent.
"I don't know. I just felt compelled to touch this, and here we are. It must have been a portkey. I suppose it's a good thing you grabbed me, or I'd have been here alone." A young man this time.
"It's pretty dim here, and damp as well." The third was a boy too, with a very unsure tone of voice.
"Well, Ron, it is clearly a tunnel. Tunnels are often dark and damp." The girl admonished him. Oh, she's a feisty one! She switched to a whisper. "Harry, there must have been a compulsion charm on it. But why are we here? And where is here?"
"Wands out, d'you reckon?" The first boy whispered as well.
"Yes, probably for the best, but keep them hidden. There may be muggles around. And you two can only use them in life-threatening situations, you aren't of age yet."
These kids...What? Muggles? What in the fuck are muggles? Is that what they call zombies?
And wands? Is this a random CosPlay encounter?
"Hey! You three!" I called out. "If you're safe standing where you are, then don't come any closer. I've got a pack of zombies up here, and they'd probably find you yummy."
"Excuse me?" It was the girl again.
"Zombies. You know, undead, terminally vexed and hungry?" I didn't want to sound too annoyed, but that girl was of the kind who could easily get on my nerves...definitely a know-it-all.
Another resurrected suburbanite rounded the corner near me, and I needed to deal with him before I socialized with random young people.
"Asshole!" The zombie hissed and lunged for me.
All things considered, it was a great lunge. Sadly, his groin met my foot on the way. Oops.
I hit him while he was down. The blade of the Man Scythe — all curvy glory — dropped into the crown of his skull with a gorgeous schwuck noise. That's the noise you get when you bust a ripe melon, for those of you who have no imagination.
I pulled the blade free through his face. Awful. Awful.
About that time, the three kids arrived on the scene. The ginger boy was tallest (who'd gone quite green around the gills), followed by a scruffy black-haired boy, and then the girl. Yes, she was the epitome of spunky, with curly hair that was just this side of finger-in-an-electrical-socket poofy.
"Bloody hell, mate," Ginger pointed at the body by my foot, "Did you just kill that man?"
The question brought me up so short that I scratched my head, but before I could answer, another bad guy came into range. With a smooth motion, I pulled my .45 with my left hand, leaned out from the concrete corner, and shot him in the face. When that was done, I turned back to the trio.
"Yes, Ginger, I killed him, and I just killed another one. They're bad guys. Do you understand b-a-d g-u-y-s?" It was worth spelling out.
The lanky lad finished turning completely green and shot a blast of vomit onto the concrete in front of his feet.
To their credit, both the girl and other boy looked annoyed at his reaction.
They were wearing almost identical robes, matching ties, and holding sticks in their hands that were vaguely pointed in my direction, but still mostly hidden in their sleeves. I almost died, because they (save the Ginger) looked like those wooden rods were important.
"Got wood, huh?" I asked. "You're shitty at hiding things. And I heard you talking about them. Sneaking requires silence."
"Yes. They're our wands." Scruffy nodded, and pushed his round glasses back up his nose. He quickly checked the positioning of his sleeve. "How did you know? Revelio shouldn't have enabled you to see them. Did you even use a wand?"
"Do you have spelled lenses like Professor Dumbledore does?" asked the girl.
"We don't know that he does," said the black haired boy.
"Well, how else could he see through invisibility cloaks?"
I cocked my head like a spaniel, and blinked hard. It would have been more impressive if I still had the long hair I did years ago, but I put my best effort into exuding incredulity.
"Are you fucking insane?" I waved the Man Scythe at them. "What the fuck is a Revelio? Who the fuck is Dumbledore?"
** - HPDEB - **
Harry, Ron, and Hermione backed away from the man with the giant weapon and formed a circle to keep watch as they decided what to do.
"Harry, what's going on? I don't think he's magical, but he can see our wands. They're hidden!"
"And he killed people, mate. Did you see it? Put that thing straight through his head! Then blasted the other with that wand-thing."
"The thing is called a scythe, Ronald. And-"
The tall man in bloody clothes cut her off, "Not quite Curly. It's a Man Scythe. Different purpose. Really different technique."
"Muffliato. Harry, how did he hear us?"
"It doesn't matter, we can speak normally now. Good thinking, Hermione. Ron, get yourself together, we've seen and heard of worse from Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Now, this man, whoever he is, claims that those other people were the bad guys. I believe him. He's not attacking them, they're attacking him."
"He called them zombies. Do you think it's possible?"
"What are zombies?"
"Honestly, Ronald, don't you ever read? Zombies are Muggle versions of Inferi, but they aren't raised by magic. Different lores have them resulting from different things, but they are most often believed to be the result of some sort of disease. But zombies are supposed to be mythical. Then again, if Inferi can be created—"
"Hermione, I don't think right now is the best time to consider the history and probability of zombies."
"Right. Then what are we going to do, Harry?"
"We'll talk to this guy, see what's going on."
"Very well, finite."
"Oi, you! Do you need help fighting these...Hermione, what did he call them? Er...zombies?"
** - HPDEB - **
I called out to the kids, "You can speak normally without waving sticks around. We can talk about what a Death Eater and a Voldemort are after we deal with the zombies."
The three of them fell dead silent. I know what dead silent sounds like, and they were definitely it. Maybe I wasn't supposed to hear that conversation. I decided to worry about it later and answered Ron's question.
"If the zombies come at us, and I do mean US, singly, then I won't need anything."
"Well then," the young lady stood a little straighter, as if she was on a firmer cognitive footing, "how many of them are there?"
I took a little closer look at the data display in my head and told her there were forty-six that I was aware of. I added that there might be more beyond one hundred yards from where we were standing.
"Were you running away from them?" The glasses boy asked, suddenly curious. "Are they chasing you because you made them angry?"
"No. Also no. Um. Maybe." I holstered my pistol, partially because I felt I might want to slap the kid for asking silly questions.
"Then," Ginger scratched his thatch, "how do you know how many of them there are? It's pretty dark in here."
Curly glanced at her companions and whispered, "He might be a wizard."
Ping! Three undead shmucks separated from the larger group and started coming our way at speed. They were armed. We had less than six seconds.
"Kids, back up now! We're going to have company!"
"Oi, what d'you mean?" Ginger asked, and I wished I had time to thump him on the head.
"Ron, come away!" The girl took him by the sleeve of his robe and tried to pull him back, but it was too late.
The zombies turned the corner, firing their guns.
** - HPDEB - **
Hermione had a split-second to make up her mind about the statute of secrecy. She heard Ron casting Protego, the idiot. Statute of secrecy be damned, she wasn't letting someone die if she could help it.
"Erecto murus!" She heard the thud of bullets into the wall, followed by three other thuds, presumably the...zombies...running into it.
"Ronald, what were you thinking?"
"You said use magic if we were in danger. I saw what those wand-things do to people."
"Those are guns Ronald! Guns! Protego won't do anything. They're like the Unforgivables, you have to erect a physical barrier to stop the bullets!"
"How in the bloody hell was I supposed to know that?"
"By reading?"
"Guys, is now the right time?"
"No, you're right, Harry. Do you think it's safe to bring down the wall?"
"I think we'd best use it as cover. But let's see how our "friend" is doing. He doesn't seem to have moved."
** - HPDEB - **
And then there was a wall, an honest to God brick wall, between me and the unfriendlies. No, really. A wall.
It took me a second to remember that people with guns can go around walls, and decide to take advantage of what had appeared unasked. I pushed the wall over on top of the zombies, drew my gun, and blew their brains out while they tried to scramble from under the rubble.
One. Two. Big breath in. Big breath out. Turn to the youngsters.
"What the fuck was that? Where did the goddamned wall come from? Wall! Why?"
The force of my delivery made them take two steps back and point their sticks at me. It might have been that I was waving the Man Scythe and a loaded pistol around, too.
"Seriously? You can see through walls, but you've never seen someone conjure one? Hermione, this guy's an idiot!"
Curly gave Ginger a death glare.
"Ronald! Now is not the time! Calm down, Sir. I may not know you, but I didn't want you to die. The only thing I could think of was to conjure a wall."
You could have heard my mental gears shift into first as I considered what I'd just heard. Sir. Conjure. Not die. For a moment, my cynical heart was softened. It might be due to the fact that I ignored the red-haired boy, Ronald, and focused on the spunky (yet well-mannered) young woman.
"Conjure, as in magic? The thing that doesn't exist in the world? Am I hearing you correctly?" I might have asked...Gasp...Politely.
"Oh," the scruffy youngster butted in, "you are a Muggle then."
"Why does that sound judgemental? Harry? Am I right?" I asked.
Curly shot a dirty look at Harry. "Yes, Sir. He's Harry, I'm Hermione, and that," she nodded to Ginger, "is Ronald."
"Ron!"
She rolled her eyes. "Muggle sounds judgemental because it is, but that is the word used to describe people without magic, and unfortunately, we've all gotten into the habit of using it." Her eyes suddenly shot wide. "Oh no! We've used magic in front of you! And we've told you about magic."
She looked around as though expecting to find something. "But the ministry hasn't sent an owl yet. They didn't even send anything to Ron for his use of magic. Harry, how long did it take for an owl to arrive after you saved your cousin?"
"Dunno. Fifteen minutes, maybe?"
"Oh, I suppose we have a bit of time. Maybe more depending on how far we are from the ministry." She suddenly turned back to me. "Where is here, precisely, Sir?"
The situation was becoming increasingly strange, at least from my point of view. They didn't know where they were, and that's something I seldom hear.
I nodded, and answered. "Let's be precise: you are in the service tunnels of the Washington, DC metro system, near the Convention Center. I'm going to assume, from your accents, that you're from," I pointed at Harry, "somewhere south of London, but not coastal. Surrey, to hazard a guess."
The lad looked a little shocked.
I continued with the girl, "London, and no mistake. And you, Ronald, escape me. Your diction is gummy and you slouch."
Ginger looked offended. Fine with me.
"How did you know?" Harry asked.
"I spent a lot of time in the UK when I was a kid. Some things really stick in your head. This girl in Surrey though..." I shut up before I could start.
"Harry, far more troublesome is how we ended up here. We were at Hogwarts not too long ago. Let me see that thing you touched."
Harry reached into his robes and pulled out something...small. "I don't think it's anything important, Hermione. It's not calling to me anymore. And I swear it was glowing before."
"This is covered in runes, Harry. It's too dark to see, hang on. Lumos. That's better. Some of these are rather worn. I can't really take the time to decipher all of it just now, but this one means help or aid. This is bravery. Here's...time?" Her head popped up. "Sir, what date is it?"
The tip of the girl's stick lit up. There's a naughty joke in there somewhere. I allowed myself to assume that magic is real for the moment.
"November 16, 2018." As soon as I said that, another batch of idiots parted company from the group around the corner. Six this time. "Hermione, Harry, Ronald, we're going to have more company. I'm about to do some very brutal things, and I'd appreciate if you didn't hit me with spells while I'm doing it."
"It's Ron," I heard Ginger mumble. I suddenly understood why Hermione called him Ronald. Grin.
** - HPDEB - **
"Harry, Ron, we can help. If these are like normal zombies, take off their heads."
Hermione prepared herself. Zombies aren't alive. She wasn't killing anyone, she was ending abominations. That was a good thing.
When Frank attacked the first one, she ignored the clash in favor of taking out the second.
"Reducto!" Its head exploded, and it dropped to the ground. "Reducto!" A second zombie dealt with.
She looked for another, but they were all downed.
** - HPDEB - **
Harry knew better than to think about taking a life. He hadn't been in many battles, but he'd been through enough to know you didn't think about what you were doing until after you made it out.
"Diffindo!" It hit, but it wasn't strong enough. The head didn't come off completely. The zombie fell, however, and he decided he could finish the work later.
"Bombarda!" The next zombie's head and upper torso exploded. That's better. He was finished.
** - HPDEB - **
Ron was so disgruntled about being called Ronald so much that he almost missed the action. He was called out of his angry musings by Hermione's first Reducto. Lifting his wand, he aimed and took off a zombie's head with a surprisingly well-placed (for him) Reducto. His ensuing moment of mental congratulation ensured he didn't get to take out any others.
** - HPDEB - **
I didn't think about the kids. I just walked out to meet the new attackers and got ready to deal with all six at the same time. Imagine my surprise when I didn't have to. Four of them suddenly lost their heads, and a fifth was wounded pretty severely. I only had one left to mangle.
I felt like I had to do something spectacular. I know, wand envy.
I dropped the Man Scythe to the ground, and snapped my right hand into a different shape — a long tapering appendage — and cracked it like a whip at the sixth zombie. The top of her head sheared off. On the way back to me, my elongated bit passed through her neck, finishing the job of taking her noggin off.
It was a new trick. My right arm was a recent replacement then, still black from shoulder to fingertips, and I'd only just begun to figure out everything it could do.
When I turned around, the wounded zombie was on his feet, running around in tight little circles, spouting blood, and trying to hold his head on. Looked like an incomplete decapitation. Sad, really.
I finished removing his head with a pop of my long "finger," and returned my hand to normal. All five fingers present and accounted for.
When I looked back at the kids, I wished I hadn't shown off. You would think that cutting heads off and making people-shaped creatures explode would be more terrifying than my arm. Not the case. Giving them some kind of explanation was absolutely necessary.
"Short form. I was in an explosion not long ago, and the most merciful thing my doctor could do was amputate what was left of my right arm." I spoke as gently and honestly as I was prepared to at the time. "The prosthetic arm I was given is well-beyond contemporary technology. It can change shape, among other things."
Hermione shed her fear. It was replaced with a look of rapacious intellectual hunger. Truthfully, it was a little scary.
"Is it a machine, Sir?" She asked me.
I nodded and asked, "Do you read a lot?"
"Everything I can."
"Do you recognize this, 'Any sufficiently advanced technology'—"
She cut me off and finished the quote, "...'Is indistinguishable from magic!' Arthur C. Clarke!"
I nodded. Saved by one of the world's finest authors of any genre.
"It's not magic?" Ron didn't sound convinced, or maybe he was disappointed.