All right... um... no idea what went on here. I kinda like it though. No where near as bad as Bring Forth the Memories, but the same themes. Mostly.

Warnings: Language, dark themes - cannibalism, torture, death.

Disclaimer: Do NOT own Harry Potter

Scum of the Earth

HP AU

by:

Kiyoshi Michi

I woke to the sounds of muffled screaming, as I tried to every morning. If all was silent, I had overslept. It was quite effective really.

With a sigh, I slipped my feet out from under my thick comforter and hissed as my bare feet hit the cold cherry wood. Grumbling, I ran a hand through my hair, which was likely askew and just plain ugly, and stood to walk to my closet with shuffling feet. I nearly tripped on my way there, glowering at the sadly innocent floor.

Huffing to myself and to blow some hair from my eyes, I set about finding clothes for the day. I was running low again, which caused me to groan and just grab at whatever was closest. My day was starting off swimmingly.

I disappeared into the bathroom and was pleased to hear the screaming still ringing through the house when I exited the shower. It would seem I had woken rather early this morning. This pleased me immensely. I left my bedroom to make my way down to the dining room, nodding to the servants along the way as they sent me cheerful greetings.

When I opened the double doors to my dining room, the screams suddenly intensified. I sniffed in annoyance and 'humph'ed, moving to take my seat at the head of the table and nodded to everyone else already seated.

"Good morning, my guests!"

Nobody returned my sentiments, but that was to be expected.

They were all dead, after all.

I smirked and tucked a white napkin in my shirt collar just as a portly woman came bustling out of the kitchen, carrying a large platter. She set it in front of me and bowed with a smile before going back to her kitchen. This pleased me as well.

Never mind, I was having a wonderful morning.

A dreamy sigh escaped my lips as I pulled the lid from the platter and took a deep sniff of my breakfast. It smelled divine. Mariam was a wonderful cook - she always made exactly what I wanted and how I wanted it.

"Old women are the best after all."

I cackled evilly as I shoved the fork into the nearly charred meat in front of me. I always preferred my breakfast to be a bit more overdone than any other meal. I popped the piece of meat in my mouth, reaching up to gather the small bit of juice that ran down my chin. Interesting.

"Hey Mariam, how old was this one when you cooked it!"

Her voice was slightly muffled by the door, but I heard it. "Twenty, on the dot."

"I see... and where did it come from?"

"I dunno, some apartment in New York. Varg says she was a right bitch ta grab and keep quiet."

"Ah, I will have to reward him then. And you cooked her to perfection, Mariam!"

I heard her pleased laugh and continued to eat the young adult from New York, not once considering that what I was doing was something viewed as heinous by the rest of the world.

Hypocrites.

I was sitting in my favorite chair later that day, sipping on some champagne as I watched Varg work. He was my lovely little partner in crime, though I suppose at well over six feet tall and nothing but compacted, slim-looking muscle, he was not so little.

Varg Njal was his name, and he came from a damn near unknown country just north of Scandinavia called Svalbard. The largest island was literally three hundred miles long. Varg was a strange man - his hair was a natural black, but a large part had been dyed red and left to cover his right eye (which I still had not seen). He was covered in piercings and tattoos, one being a strange star burst design around his left eye and his eyebrow was tattooed on, being of a high arch but broken at one spot to make him look more pissed off.

It worked.

His changed clothes every day, but was often seen sporting a black vest with red lapels, a light t-shirt underneath, dark blue jeans, and an ankle-length black coat with a large cream-colored faux fur collar. The faux fur was just as soft as it appeared to be - I knew this for a fact.

"Hey Varg... who do you have today?"

"Hn. Fuck if I know." God, I loved his accent. It was like... imagine the German and Scottish accents getting together, fucking, and having a child. His accent was that beautiful child.

I sipped my champagne as I heard the distinct sound of flesh tearing about as his arm pulled up slowly. He was very good at this, preparing the meat for my meals. He always kept the skin for when Mariam made me some sort of soup when I was sick, which happened quite often.

"Hmm... you know, I love you Varg."

The man only grunted as he hefted my meal onto his shoulder, preparing to throw it in the freezer.

I stared into the lifeless eyes, seeing the face of some poor middle-aged man stuck in that of fear. I finished my champagne as Varg disappeared into the freezer, smirking around the rim of the glass. When the Norwegian man returned, he spotted my smirk and raised his visible brow. "The hell you thinking about?"

"My lunch."

"Tch. Fucked up psycho."

"Oh, and you aren't?"

"No - I'm a sociopath."

I laughed delightfully and held out my arms to him after setting down my empty glass. He deposited the blood-stained leather smock and made his way to me, roughly pressing his metal-filled lips to mine when he got close enough. My arms tightened around his neck to pull our bodies flush against each other, smirking when he growled.

"Varg."

"N-No, stop... AH! Please..."

I sighed in boredom and gave a quick jerk of my arm, relishing only momentarily in the shriek of pain. I stared at the eye with deep scrutiny, bringing it close to my face to examine the iris. I blinked a few times and yelled in triumph, careful not to squeeze the eye too tightly.

"You, dear woman, have just given me the perfect shade of brown! I can finish my goal."

She whimpered and I grew tired of that game quickly. I never did have much patience for these things. Rolling my eyes, I made my way over to a communications system and pressed the button, calling out, "Odovacar?"

There was a pause, then a buzz and then, "Yes sir?"

"I got a woman I need you to come play with. I got what I wanted and I am not bored of her. But, she whined soooo much."

"I understand - I'll be there as quickly as possible."

"Good boy."

I waited by the door until a tall teen came running through, pausing to catch his breath. A smirk stretched my lips - he was such an obedient boy, but only to me. I took his appearance, which was the same as normal - covered in bruises and little cuts, wearing baggy clothing, and with a scowl on his face which looked good with his short, spikey brown hair.

"You didn't need to run."

"I wasn't doing anythin' anyway."

I placed the eye in a container of fluid and turned back to Odovacar, who had a typical mid-western American accent that was seen in teenagers. I ran my hand over his face, smiling when the naturally pale red eyes landed on me.

In the next second, I was shoved violently into a wall with impatient lips practically devouring my own. That was a key difference between Varg and Odo - one kissed with passion as well as finesse, while the other did so with lust and brute force. A moan escaped my lips as Odo moved down to bite my shoulder until he punctured my flesh, causing my hips to buck against his.

You can all say what you want of me, I am not a whore.

"But what if-?"

"Odo, shut up for one moment, all right!"

The teen nodded, his lips pursed, as I continued my work. Currently, Varg was sprawled on one of my many medical tables, knocked out. His red hair had been flipped up so I could see the right side of his face, where the gaping hole shouted to the world where his right eye used to be. Getting him an eye had been a pet project of mine for years, but it was hard to find the perfect shade of brown.

His eye was fathomless.

Odo was sitting on the other side of the room, chewing on his knuckle. Apparently, when I had left for a few months, Varg and Odo had gotten close. Actually, it was more like they got lonely two days after I left and decided to fuck each other. They presented me with this information when I came back and I was suddenly pulled into a threesome instead of just having two lovers.

It was nice.

Of course, the kid had a bit more stamina than the both of us, Varg being a little over forty now and me being thirty-seven. But, Varg had been with me since he was twenty-one and I was seventeen. I adored that man like none other, except maybe that kid who was fretting next to me.

"Seriously. You can torture people to the brink of death but watching me give Varg a new eye upsets you?"

The teen glared but said nothing, ruffling his own hair in his nervous habit. I rolled my eyes and finished attaching the optical nerve with just a little magical assistance, putting the eye in place and smiling when it fit perfectly.

I sighed happily and closed the eyelid, placing a wad of thick gauze over it and taping it down in a few places. With two taps of my finger, Varg slowly opened his eye and sat up, rubbing his head.

"Did you...?"

"Yes. Now, we'll just wait to see if it works. But... I need food."

Varg nodded and stood, grabbing Odo's arm to lead him back to the butcher room, about to teach the kid for the first time how to prepare my meat. Actually, it was the meat for everyone in the house who stayed for meals.

I did notice something that made my stomach churn and my eyes narrow. It could have been nothing, so I chose to wait and watch.

Too bad I was always so impatient and a touch insane.

Shrieks filled the air as people ran around madly, dashing for doors and windows only to find them locked. A few seconds later, blood would be splattered on the wall and they would fall, dead or severely injured.

I smirked a dangerous, insanity-filled smirk as I jerked my hand, readying the shotgun in my hands.

I was a damn good shot. I had not wasted a single bullet yet.

I did, however, run out as I had a great many servants in my manor. Hysterical laughter bubbled from my chest as I grabbed a cleaver and started hacking at the people I caught, until bodies littered the floor and my walls and floors were almost obscene with the amount of blood on them. I smirked and licked the blade clean of blood, cutting my own tongue slightly in the process.

That was done.

"Ooooooh, Varg! Odo! Where are you!"

It was a sing-song voice, but I was far from happy.

I climbed the stairs slowly, making sure every step rang out loud and clear.

I came to the landing with a my cleaver running along the wall.

"Varg, come to me."

I walked past the open door on purpose and hid a snicker as I heard the exhale of breath cut off, likely by a hand.

I became silent and returned, throwing the door open and basking in the scared scream that bubbled from someone's mouth.

"Hmm... patient shows signs of malnourishment, likely from the cannibalism. All his teeth have been sharpened to a fine point, likely to tear away the flesh easier. He has severe insomnia and schizophrenia with disturbing illusions of men who are not there. Self-mutilation evident. Necrophiliac. Pica, autophagia, trichotilloania! What isn't wrong with this patient!"

Draco stared up at the scared looking new night guard. The blonde was a psychiatrist at the Wizarding London Mental Hospital, having been there for nearly a decade and he was not about to give the spot up. But, this boy was a new guard and did not know why they needed a night shift psychiatrist until he showed up.

"A great deal of things. And don't speak ill of that man in there."

"Why not! He's fucking nuts!"

Draco stood, pounding his fists into the desk once, and glared at the new boy. "Because, you little shite, that man in there saved your life when you were young enough to still be nothing more than a thought!"

The man's eyes grew three times and he followed Draco as he gestured. They went down a long hallway that was deserted for the night and dark save for the light coming from a door. The guard jumped as Draco gasped and broke out into a run, heading for the slightly ajar door.

He paused near the door and heard slurping sounds, so he closed it quickly, taking a deep breath.

"He could have gotten out! From the sounds of it... he's eating."

"Oh, good!"

Draco stared with a deadpan look. "... look in the window."

The guard peeked into the wall and slapped a hand over his mouth to keep from throwing up, grabbing his stomach. Finally, he pulled his hand away and whispered, "He's eating someone! One of the workers!"

"I know... poor man."

"Who is that, anyway?"

"That poor soul is the one and only Harry Potter."

All right, there it is. Scum of the Earth in its... er... glory? Um... R & R...