Harry: The following is a fan-written parody. Harry Potter is property of J.K Rowling and is published by Bloomsbury Publishing and Arthur A. Levine Books. Hellsing Ultimate is property of Kouta Hirano and Studio Madhouse, and licensed by Geneon, Madman Entertainment, Manga Entertainment, and Funimation. Hellsing Ultimate Abridged is the collaborative effort of TeamFourStar. Please support the Official Release.
Harry: *Fidgets* … D-did I get that right?
"And that's my plan," Arthur said to his trusted Butler and top vampire Hunter, Walter C. Dornez, in the office of Hellsing Manor a little later that evening.
Walter, who had become as splendid a Butler as he had been a professional killer and vampire hunter, met Arthur's plan with skepticism. "I have some reservations."
"And what would those be, Walter?"
"You want me to raise this child," he indicated the softly slumbering Harry Potter cradled in his arms.
"Yes," Arthur said.
"To be my eventual heir and replacement."
"Yes."
"To one day take my place as the Hellsing Family butler, protector, and general go to man in times of crisis."
"Correct."
"And to be an upstanding Englishman and servant to Crown, Church, and Country."
"Bloody Christ, Walter, yes. What's your point?" Arthur demanded.
"You want this boy to be all of those, without him falling under the influence of-"
And then Alucard materialized through a wall. "Hey, Artie! Did you know it's possible to shove a human body up a cow's ass?"
Arthur and Walter as one, stared at Alucard, and then looked to one another. In Walter's arms, Harry let out a sleepy yawn.
Not hearing a no, Alucard continued. "Well, the trick is to-"
A bound and sealed Alucard smashed into the wall at the bottom of the deepest crypt of the Hellsing Manor. At the top of the stairs, Arthur and Walter stood.
"And you'll stay down there until we need you!" the former declared before slamming the door shut.
Harry Potter and the Endless Night
Chapter 1: Harry James Dornez
Ten Years Later…
Doug Livesay, 36 years old, was a man who often complained of the excesses and abuses the powerful freely and flagrantly performed against their fellow man. Proudly, he boasted, if he were in the same position as those of his financial and political betters, he would be a paragon of virtue and dedicate his life to cleaning up his community and improving the lives of those whose lives needed it.
So of course when vampirism granted him the strength of body and swiftness of mind to make the world a better place, he immediately set out raping and murdering women in the middle of the night. Like tonight, as he single-mindedly stalked a fleeing woman through a heavily wooded park.
With his heightened senses, tracking her was no problem. He could see in the dark better than any cat or owl, he could smell her keener than any dog, could hear her footsteps, gasps, and even her racing heartbeat from a hundred yards back. He was in the absolute thrill of the moment, so singly focused on the fleeing woman in white, that it was no surprise that he was blindsided by a thrown knife that embedded in his knee and burned like the motherfucking surface of the sun had been pressed into his skin.
"The bloody fuck is this?!" he shouted in anger.
Stumbling forward, the freshly made vampire howled in pain and grabbed at the straight-bladed throwing knife, before ripping it out and screaming when the metal burned his hands. He stared down at the blade, silver, about twenty centimeters in length, and the words "Hellsing ARMS" written in fancy cursive along the blade.
"Hellsing?" He asked.
"Terribly sorry for that, I missed," a very young boy said.
Mr. Livesay quickly scanned the dark park, and then focused on the moonlight gleaming off a pair of wide-rimmed glasses. They belonged to what was certainly a child maybe no older than ten dressed as a butler: black shoes, black trousers, a white shirt with a black vest and black tie.
"I was aiming for your balls."
"Who the fuck do you think you are, talking like that to me?!" Livesay demanded, falling into the trap that those in power tend to: that anyone who went against him had no idea who he was up against.
The boy did not hesitate to introduce himself. "My name is Harry J. Dornez, Vampire Hunter and Butler for the Hellsing Estate. This evening, my Master has asked me to clean up the garbage in this park."
Mr. Livesay bared his fangs and laughed. "You cheeky shit, just for that I'm going to bugger you til you shit out your intestines!"
Harry made a face at that, and pulled out a pair of black leather driving gloves. "Disgusting. It's a good thing I brought my gloves."
He'd just finished pulling the second glove tightly on, when Livesay closed the thirty meters between himself and the boy, arm outstretched to strike him down. Looking up at him, Harry's green eyes narrowed as he held up his right hand, and with a sleight of hand movement produced and flicked another knife into the vampire's left eye.
Livesay stopped and staggered back, howling in pain, as Harry wiggled his fingers before fanning out a dozen more knives, six in each hand. With dramatic flourish, he tossed the knives away from him to his sides, before folding his arms and willing the blades to suddenly fly off and jam themselves deeply into the vampire's neck, chest, stomach, and legs.
"WHY DOES IT HURT?!" Pepper spray didn't hurt, knives didn't hurt, hell not even bullets hurt! What made these knives burnl?!
"There's no use telling you." With his remaining eye, Livesay looked at the boy who brought him low, who was twirling a final knife around his thumb much as a bored child would a pencil.
The boy grinned. "Because you won't live to appreciate it."
Livesay's good eye widened in horror as he froze at the sheer menace the boy radiated, as all good prey should.
"Accio," Harry said, and the knife he'd first thrown into the vampire's knee rocketed from its resting place and lanced through the beast's heart on its way to Harry's free hand.
With a quick flick of his wrist, the knife Harry twirled vanished, before he took his last knife and pushed it into the palm of his hand, the blade disappearing into the glove. He then turned and looked towards the trees. "The target's been destroyed and made quite the mess… but it's still tidier than when I arrived."
The person he spoke to, the woman in white that the late Mr. Livesay had been pursuing, emerged from the forest. She was a gorgeous woman despite appearing in her early forties. She had sharp gray eyes and long, voluminous black hair kept out of her eyes with a red headband that circled her crown, and noticeably full lips.
Carlotta Pinkstone pushed strands of her tousled black hair from her face before smiling to Harry. "Well done, Harry! Your grandfather will be so proud of you."
Harry returned the smile as he removed his gloves and pocketed them. Tonight had been his tenth vampire hunt and his seventeenth kill. "Thank you, Ms. Pinkstone."
The two then jumped when they heard the audible pops of the Apparition spell. Hearing the sounds, Carlotta smiled nervously and led the boy off. "They're getting quicker and quicker…!"
She led Harry into the trees and hid behind one, pulling the boy close to her as her dress changed from white to a much harder to see black and gray. Not a second later, four Aurors converged on the spot they'd been standing.
Peeking behind the tree, both she and Harry spied that the leader of this particular group of Aurors was Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody himself, the grizzled Auror's Mad-Eye darting around before focusing on the corpse of the vampire. "Bloody hell, another vampire."
"Poor bastard," one of the lesser and unrecognized Aurors said.
A woman Auror in the group covered her mouth. "Who would do this to the poor thing?"
"A bloody-fucking nutjob," a third Auror not Moody lamented.
Harry resisted the urge to retch and laugh at the same time, as Ms. Pinkstone rolled her eyes.
Moody looked to his three Aurors. Being a man who despised the bloodsuckers personally, he found their sympathy for it disdainful. "Focus on the task at hand. They couldn't have gotten far."
Even as Moody said this, his Mad-Eye suddenly focused on the tree the two operatives of the Hellsing Organization were hidden behind. His less mad, more disappointed eye narrowed at this.
"Armando, Buford, on my mark apparate to take the flank and fire stunners," he said to the two male Aurors. "Tonks, keep position here and bag 'em if they come your way."
The two older male and lone young female Auror nodded and readied their wands. Behind the tree, Carlotta looked down at Harry and winked.
Moody nodded, and prepared her wand. "3… 2… 1… mark!"
Three of the four wizards Apparated, quickly appearing in the prescribed positions, and let fly stunner spells that hit Tonks, who had been suddenly switched with their intended targets.
"Damn it Tonks, you had one job!" Moody yelled. He then looked above her head and narrowed his narrowable eye when he saw the Hellsing Coat of Arms plastered to the tree.
Harry James Dornez is ten years old, and as described above, he is the latest and youngest badass little butler to grace the Hellsing Estate. Since he could first walk, his grandfather Walter has trained him in combat, in the occult, and in butlery, honing him into the sort of man mentally unhinged billionaires would be able to rely upon.
"Good morning, Harry, did your mission go well?"
Harry stood a little straighter and mentally hoped his appearance was in proper order when he was graciously greeted by the person he'd been literally raised to serve, the quiet yet pretty daughter of Sir Hellsing, Integra. The twelve year old heiress to the Hellsing family and the one person Harry liked most of all in the household short of his Grandfather greeted him as she left her bedroom, presentably dressed for the day.
"Oh, it was just another trash vampire. I'm getting better at my one-liners though, I think. When he asked why my knives burned I said 'There's no point in explaining it to you, you won't live to appreciate it' right before I put my knife through him," he explained as the two began down the hallway of the lavish estate.
Integra hummed. "Oh, that's a good one. Mind if I borrow it?"
"If you would quote me beforehand."
Integra nodded. "I'll be sure to." She furrowed her brows. "I wonder where these freak vampires are coming from."
"Grandpa thinks it might be the Nazis," Harry offered.
Integra briefly rolled her eyes upward. "That's rubbish. Clearly this is the work of Africans."
Harry gave Integra a disbelieving look. "Africans, Miss?"
Integra nodded resolutely. "Africans."
For a moment, Harry feared that Integra might have picked up her father's opinions of the blacks.
In two years, he'd be in awe of her prescience.
In ten years, he'd be laughing his fucking arse off.
Speaking of her father, Integra and Harry arrived at the door of Sir Hellsing's bedroom. Reaching up, Integra knocked and shortly afterward the head butler of the Hellsing estate and Harry's grandfather Walter C. Dornez opened the door.
"Good Morning, Miss Integra, Harry," the thin, black-haired and monocle'd textbook definition of classy greeted the two children.
"Good morning, Walter, how is my Father holding up?" Integra asked.
"Oh, better than a man in his condition ought to be."
Walter looked over to the bed, where the bedridden and dying Master of House Hellsing lay comfortably. At his bedside, Ms. Pinkstone–dressed as a Victorian-era Maid–was measuring a dosage of morphine for him. Cracking one eye open, he looked at the mature witch.
"Carlotta…" he said weakly.
"Yes, Sir Hellsing?" She asked.
"I don't… I don't need the morphine… just… just…"
Ms. Pinkstone looked from the needle to her Master. "Yes?"
"Just show me your breasts, so I can die a happy man."
Ms. Pinkstone jammed the morphine needle deep into his thigh. Prompting a scream of agony from Arthur that lasted up until the witch pushed down the plunger of the needle ten seconds later, sending the sweet release of painkillers into his system.
The glasses worn by Integra and Harry, and Walter's monocle, turned opaque as they contemptuously watched Sir Hellsing slowly go from bed-ridden agony to functionally human.
"He could stand to have a little more dignity," Integra said sharply.
"Quite," Walter and Harry agreed in unison as they adjusted their respective spectacles.
Sir Hellsing immediately perked up at the voices. The gaunt, bearded man, his redddish brown hair having turned a stark white years ago, beamed sunnily to his daughter and her servant. "Integra! Harry! Come on over kids! Let me get a good look at you before Carlotta stuffs me into a K-Hole." When the two joined his bedside, he smiled to Integra. "How's your training going, dear?"
"My fencing instructor says I'm competent enough to win Gold in the Olympics. I would very much like to participate."
"Where are they holding them next?"
"Sydney."
"Absolutely not."
Integra huffed. "Why not?"
"Because fuck Australia, that's why not!"
Integra puffed her cheeks and glared at her father, who then patted her on the head. "Besides, dear, your skills are not meant to be wasted in sport–they are to be applied directly to the enemies of God with extreme prejudice, and that is more satisfying than any gold affirmation."
He looked to Harry. "Speaking of, I heard you had your tenth successful mission, Harry!"
Harry quickly stood at attention. "Y-yes Sir Arthur!"
"Well done, m'boy! You're already a spitting image of your Grandfather. As a reward, I want to give you a very special mission. Walter here just relayed it to me." Arthur nodded to Walter, who held up a manilla folder with Top Secret stamped on the front.
Harry took the folder and opened it, Integra leaning in to look as well. Inside were pictures of a merchant ship. "What's this?"
"This ship left the Rio de Janeiro five weeks ago and disappeared into the North Atlantic. Yesterday evening, right after you and Ms. Pinkstone left on your mission, it appeared just off the coast of Scotland. When the Coast Guard sent a crew to investigate, the crew did not return and the ship vanished shortly thereafter."
"What happened?" Harry asked.
"According to the radio contact, the coast guard crew encountered possible ghouls and were torn limb from limb."
"How awful…" Harry murmured.
"Not really, they were just Scots." Arthur coughed briefly upon receiving a glare from Integra. "At any rate, The Hellsing Organization will be investigating the matter, and as both a reward for your tenth mission and a birthday gift, I've decided that this will be your first solo mission."
Harry gasped and smiled. "Really, sir?!"
Integra soured at this. "Are you actually making this decision, or is this the morphine talking?"
"If it were the morphine talking I wouldn't need the bloody Ketamine," Arthur replied. "So what do you say Harry? Are you game?"
Harry's eyes were sparkling at the prospect of being trusted such a dangerous and important task. "Yes! I'll do it! I'll do it!"
Arthur laughed. "That's the spirit! Always remember your duty to the Anglican Church, Her Majesty, and to your country!"
"Father! I refuse to allow for this-!" Integra protested.
"Nope, we're doing this. Carlotta, my Ketamine please."
"At once, Sir Arthur," Ms. Pinkstone said before sending her employer and Master off into a drug-induced stupor. Almost immediately, the head of the Hellsing House was in a wonderful world beyond sober comprehension.
Integra shot an impotent glare at the witch, who only gave her a weak smile. "He's much better like this."
"And you needn't worry about Harry," Walter added, earning her gaze. "He is more than capable for the task. He would not be a member of Hellsing if he were not."
Integra looked at Harry, who stood straight and proud, ready to throw his very life away for his country if need be. Identifying that zealotry, Integra pouted and pointed directly between Harry's eyes. "As the future heir to the Hellsing Organization, you have one single order from me Harry J. Dornez that you must follow at all costs above all others!"
"Yes Miss Integra?" Harry asked.
"You are not to die without my express permission, do you understand?"
Harry smiled big. "Of course, Miss Integra!"
Integra nodded resolutely. "Good, now go prepare for your mission."
The M/V Zeppeli had departed from Rio de Janeiro Brazil for the port of Houston with a very sensitive cargo. As previously mentioned, however, midway through its trip, it lost contact and vanished up until its appearance off the Scottish Coast and most recently deadly close to the Emerald Isle. The 100 meter long transport ship was already badly degraded from over a month adrift. Rails bent and torn from the rough seas, life-rafts missing, and almost all the lights out.
This is what Harry parachuted onto a little after dark, when the ship finally revealed itself again, with only the lights of the distant Irish coast and the full moon overhead illuminating it. Unhooking his parachute and stripping out of his jump suit, Harry adjusted the tie of his Butler uniform and smirked.
"Well, let's tidy up," he smartly announced before taking one step and stepping on the recently blasted human head, inadvertently crushing it underfoot.
He looked down, and sure enough found the rotting remains of a ghoul smushed around his dress shoe. "Bloody hell, I didn't mean literally."
The deck was awash with dead ghouls. Judging by their attire, they were the crew of the ship, plus the Coast Guard crew that boarded the ship. What was troubling him, though, was that this bunch seemed to have been killed by high-powered gunfire.
"I came underdressed," Harry lamented before he heard gunfire from below deck. "Nothing that can be done about it now."
The repeated reports passed below him, and Harry followed them up to the wheelhouse of the boat, before a door leading below decks there burst opened and a blonde young man dressed in a long gray coat and black sunglasses burst out backwards, firing a pair of SIG Sauer GSR pistols into the the doorway.
"JUST DIE YOU BLOOD-DRINKING, PISS-FOR-BRAINS HEATHEN HERETIC WHORE!" the dual-wielder yelled as he kept firing into the doorway, before he pulled a grenade from inside his coat and whipped it inside. Turning around, he dove for cover behind the ship's large cargo hatch as the grenade exploded.
Panting, the dual-wielder rested his head against the side of the container and crossed himself. "Father in Heaven, give me the strength to overcome this…"
"A sorry time to ask I know, but why do you do that?"
The dual-wielder jumped and turned to point his pistols at Harry's face. Seeing a little boy out to sea on a ghoul-infested ship confused him just long enough to prevent him from immediately splattering the boy's brains out all over the deck.
"That dual-wielding thing. Do you do it because it was cool in Tomb Raider, or what? And… and… " Harry stopped and sniffed the air before making a face. "… What is that smell and why am I reminded of John Lennon?"
The dual-wielder lowered his guns. "Who the fuck are you?"
Harry gasped, forgetting his manners. "Oh, I'm Harry and I'm a vampire hunter. You are?"
"Heinkel, and I don't need help. I've got this well under control." Heinkel, as he called himself, briefly peeked over the hatch towards the doorway but kept both pistols trained on Harry.
Harry examined the young man and noticed right away the priest's uniform and shiny little cross that dangled around his neck. His grandfather warned him of the odd chance of encountering these types wherever there were vampires or other nasties causing a mess in or around Ireland, but what were the odds that his first solo run would pit him against Section XIII of the Vatican?
"I didn't come here to help, I was sent to clean up the mess here. I'm a Hellsing butler, after all," Harry explained after eying the guns the young man still had trained on him.
"Hellsing?!" Heinkel focused all of his attention on Harry, standing and pointing one gun at his face and one at his heart. "Repent, Protestant swine!"
Harry looked from one gun to the other, and then back to Heinkel's face. "I'm not eleven yet, but I still know when a gun's empty." He indicated the locked back position of the slides, exposing the barrels. "The slides are locked back."
Heinkel's face screwed up in frustration when his bluff got called.
"That's why I was curious about the dual-wielding thing, how do you reload if you get surprised like this?" Harry said as he produced a knife from his glove.
Heinkel answered that by dropping both pistols and in one smooth motion drawing another pair of pistols from inside his coat. Before he could bring the guns to bear on the other boy, Harry quickly threw his knife at Heinkel's face, prompting him to lean back under the blade and offering Harry the quick opportunity to leap back from the Catholic Paladin.
Back upright, Heinkel aimed at Harry as he swept his hand in front of him, leaving a trail of knives that deflected Heinkel's gunfire. The knives then pointed at Heinkel and propelled straight for him, only to be deflected by more gunfire.
As the last knife was deflected, Heinkel saw the kid was gone. Quickly he looked up, and saw a pair of thrown knives come at him from above. He dove and rolled forward, turning around and using his guns to parry slashes from Harry as he landed behind him.
"Fucking Protestant biter!" Heinkel roared as he deflected several more strikes and tried to shoot Harry in the face. He missed as Harry ducked and kicked him in the stomach, knocking him back.
"Biter?!" Harry asked as he threw the two knives at Heinkel.
Heinkel deflected both knives with guns and opened fire again. "You ripped off Father Anderson's style you little shit!"
Harry dashed away, staying outside the trajectory of the shots before throwing two more knives at him, knocking the guns from his hands.
"I have no idea who that is!" Harry declared indignantly as he produced a dozen more knives and threw them up into the air above Heinkel's head. With a dramatic point downward, he directed the knives to suddenly launch themselves down at Heinkel from different directions.
As the knives came down, Heinkel swung off his long coat and used it to scatter the knives. Throwing the coat away Heinkel leaped back while pitching two grenades at Harry.
Harry acted instinctively, producing a pair of knives and throwing both as the grenades reached him, the impact of the blades knocking both explosives back as he jumped back over the railing of the ship. He just made it over the railing when both grenades exploded, the shrapnel and shock wave passing above him.
Falling towards the water, he threw another knife with a length of garrote wire wrapped around it and managed to loop it around the railing, stopping himself before he touched the cold, calm waters below.
Feet planted against the side of the ship he took a deep breath. "Bloody hell, with how Sir Arthur and Grandpa went on about these priests, I thought they'd be pushovers."
And then there was Heinkel, standing on the railing and aiming his pistols down at him with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.
"Oh bollocks."
Harry broke into a run across and then up the hull of the ship, as Heinkel fired after him. Jumping onto the railing, he jumped again as Heinkel mercifully ran out of ammo. Three more knives drawn, he threw them at the paladin, who performed a snap kick to deflect all three. He then threw both his pistols at another pair of knives thrown after the first trio, deflecting both, before reaching behind his back and pulling out two more pistols from the back of his pants.
"How many guns do you have?!" Harry yelled as he slid for cover behind the merchant boat's main cargo hatch to avoid the subsequent hail of bullets..
"You ask me after pulling how many knives out of your ass?!" Heinkel snapped back.
Harry considered moving from his position, but he was out of breath. Luckily it sounded like Heinkel was out of breath too. Unluckily, it was giving him as much time to think up a plan out of the stalemate too.
He then heard the sound of something land atop the hatch and roll towards him. He rolled over and scrambled as fast as he could from the grenade Heinkel rolled over the top of the doors.
As he got up into a sprint, his eyes widened when he saw a second grenade sailing in a graceful arc towards him. Behind it, Heinkel was kissing his cross and tipping it towards him. "Bollocks."
Both grenades exploded, and Harry was caught up in their blast.
Letting go of his cross, Heinkel snorted in satisfaction. "Protest that, heathen."
He heard a pop directly above him, and two thrown knives disarmed him again. Looking up in disbelief, Heinkel quickly leaned back as Harry fell from above, swinging one more knife straight down–aiming to slice into his head.
Harry landed in front of Heinkel in a crouch, amazed that he had managed to somehow perform apparition at that last possible half-second. He looked up at Heinkel, who stared at him in similar disbelief that the kid had somehow survived two point-blank grenades.
Then Heinkel's shirt, neatly cut down the middle, fell open.
A second after that, her exposed pink lace bra popped open as well.
An emergency snub-nosed revolver normally held in place by said bra dropped to the deck with a clatter.
"… Huh. I did not expect that," a dumbly staring Harry said.
Her face entirely red, Heinkel kicked Harry in the chin, throwing him onto his back. Luckily, the blow hadn't knocked him unconscious, and he kicked up onto his feet with another pair of knives ready to go as Heinkel trained another pair of pistols on him.
An uneasy stillness fell between the two as they gripped their weapons, plotting and planning their next seven moves and the countless contingencies that went with each one. Tension grew tighter, Hellsing Butler and Iscariot Paladin trembling in fervent anticipation.
Then a flash of light struck Harry, and he dropped his blades before his arms and legs locked together and he fell forward with a cry. Heinkel quickly followed the flash of light, and stopped when she found Alastor Moody and three Aurors aiming their wands at her. "Fucking Wizards!"
A barrage of stunners struck Heinkel then, causing her to drop her guns and pushing her further and further back with each consecutive blow before she finally collapsed, unconscious.
Only able to move his eyes, Harry looked from the now unconscious paladin to the intervening wizards, one of them still keeping a wand on her. This wizard looked to Moody and that Tonks Auror as they went to Harry. "I think this is a Muggle Witch Hunter, should I use an Unforgivable?"
"They have cause enough to come after us, do you want to get them in a real uproar?" Moody snapped back.
Moody's mad eye suddenly darted to Harry, and Moody himself shoved Tonks aside as Harry managed to break the full body bind and whip two knives at them. The knife aimed for Tonks missed, while Moody himself snatched the knife aimed for him out of the air and hit Harry with a stunner that threw him backward.
Staggering backward, Harry shook his head as he already felt the world spin. Another trio of stunners hit him, and much like Heinkel, he fell to his knees and then onto his face. Consciousness fading, he looked up at Moody and Tonks, the latter leaning down and caressing his cheek.
"This is really him?" she asked. "This is Harry Potter?"
"Aye," Moody said as he joined her side. "The boy lived."
As darkness overcame him, Harry had a single thought:
Who the bloody hell was Harry Potter?
A/N: This is the buildup. The buildup is always important.
