Chapter 2! Who'da thought I'd actually write one? Not this guy, but then I did. Classic Will.
Edit: Added in a chase sequence. Heard a review from one of my Chilean viewers (Buenos Dias de Wisconsin!) who said that he wished the chapters could be a bit longer. Ask and you shall receive!
The first thought that went through Harry Potter's head as he read the Hogwarts expulsion letter in his hand was an expletive that should not be repeated in polite company. However, this is an M-rated story, so I'll just go ahead and say it. Fuck. There, how's that for adult language?
His second thought was two words: Run away. So he grabbed his trunk, his owl, and invisibility cloak and ran out the door before his relatives had a chance to murder him.
It wasn't until he was two miles away from Privet Drive that he realized how stupid an idea this was. Fifteen years old, alone in London, no clue as to where to go, wanted by the Ministry. He supposed he could go to the Leaky Cauldron, attempt to contact the Weasleys. They'd know what to do.
He was startled from his thoughts by a green light. Instinctively he dove out of the way and rolled behind a garbage bin.
"You missed him!" a voice said.
"That was just to scare him," another voice said. "The Dark Lord wants him alive."
Death Eaters. Harry swore for the second time that night and grabbed for his wand.
"Come out, Potter. The Dark Lord doesn't like to be kept waiting," one of the voices called out. Harry peered from behind the bin and saw the flash of a silver mask in the street lamp's glow.
Just then, a car fishtailed around the corner of the alley and plowed through one of the Death Eaters with a sickening thud. It was a black American sedan of a style now widely seen since the end of the Space Race. Screeching to a halt beside Harry, the passenger door was thrown open, and Harry was surprised to see Vassago behind the wheel. "Need a lift?"
"Where did you come from?" Harry asked.
"I took the M3 from Twickenham," Vassago said. "Now get in the fucking car!"
They took off with the squealing of tires and rocketed out onto the main road, taking out a mailbox and several trashcans, as well as a very unfortunate squirrel. The remaining Death Eater shot several hexes at the car before summoning a broom and taking off in pursuit.
"Buckle up, Harry. This isn't the Night Bus," the demon said.
"I don't know whether that's a good thing or a bad thing," Harry said as he hurriedly adjusted his seat belt.
They rocketed onto the toll road, the engine roaring menacingly as it took the shoulder to pass a lumbering milk float. A hex from the Death Eater's wand hit the truck. The resulting explosion sent the truck on its side. Vassago swerved out of its way, milk bottles exploding off the windshield, accelerated onto the oncoming lane. Cars honked and braked as the demon spun the car back into the right side of the road.
"Damn, why did you have to leave the house?" Vassago said. "You've broken the narrative."
"What narrative?"
"Nothing, nevermind, forget I said anything." Vassago swore as the Death Eater shot over the car and spun in mid air. "Duck!"
A blast of green light shattered the windscreen. Vassago jerked the wheel left, sending the car through a barrier and down a muddy embankment. "Hold on!" he shouted as a large wood fence loomed ahead of them.
SHIFT OF PERSPECTIVE FOR JOKE SETUP!
Meanwhile, the Dursleys had left the house and taken off for the nearest hospital, intent on giving Dudley medical care.
"Bloody boy and his damn ilk!" Vernon shouted as he ran a red light. "He's going to be the death of me!"
"Slow down!" Petunia screamed, cradling her Diddykins in her lap. "You're going to get us killed!"
"Calm down, Petunia!" Vernon bellowed. "It's quite alright. There's no one else out on a night like this."
Just then the fence running alongside the road exploded into splinters as a black American sports car plowed through, sideswiping the Dursley's Rover and disappearing down a convenient alleyway.
"Jesus Christ!" Vernon screamed. The Rover spun out and slammed into a row of parked cars. The airbags deployed, muffling whatever fierce barrage of curses ensued from the elder Dursley's mouth.
Petunia started screaming again. "Shut up, woman!" Vernon beat back the airbag and grabbed his wife by the wrists. "It's alright. Everyone is alright. No one is hurt."
It was then that the Death Eater shout through the gap in the fence and, disoriented, was thrown straight through the Rover's passenger window. Petunia resumed her screaming, while Vernon began to furiously assault the dazed wizard with his meat-pie fists.
AND BACK TO OUR HEROES.
"Those were the Dursleys," Harry said, peering behind them.
"Shame we couldn't stop to chat," Vassago replied tersely. The car turned out of the alleyway and down a main thoroughfare. Vassago glanced in the rearview mirror. "We seem to have lost our tail."
"Where are we going?" Harry asked.
"I'm taking you to your godfather's house," Vassago replied. "Right after you left Privet Drive the Weasley's sent you an owl, telling you they were coming to pick you up."
"Great, first letter I receive all bloody summer and I'm not there to get it."
"Are you going to be this angsty?" Vassago asked. "We're not even three chapters in and it's like I'm sitting next to Holden freaking Caulfield."
"Who?"
"Jesus, read a book once in a while," Vassago turned and reached for something in the back seat. "I got you something," Vassago said, producing a leather satchel bag. "Happy birthday, Harry."
"What is it?" Harry asked, surprised the the demon's gift.
"Your basic travel bag, magically tweaked. It's bigger on the inside." He reached in and pulled out a book. "Here's some light reading material," he said, tossing it to Harry.
It was an old leather-bound book, of a kind not produced since prior to Gutenberg's marvelous printing press. Harry wiped dust off the cover and read the title. "Dark Magicka for Funne and Profitte. This is a book of dark magic."
"Way to connect the dots. You're a real puzzle solver. I bet you're great with anagrams."
"I can't take this," Harry said firmly.
"You wanna take on Voldemort, you gotta learn to fight on his level."
"By learning the Dark Arts?" Harry asked. "Dumbledore says the Dark Arts are a gateway to evil."
"He also agreed to place a magical stone in the school basement and guard it with a three-headed dog," Vassago said. "The man is rather inconsistent, isn't he?"
"I'm not sure about this," Harry said, looking down at the book with a growing sense of dread.
"Says the kid who sold his soul to the devil. Know thy enemy, kid. Besides, there are some great illustrations in there, real " he held out the bag, "There's more inside. Some candies, combat boots, body armor. A cell phone (untraceable), some condoms..."
"Why do I need condoms?"
"How old are you, seventeen?"
"Fifteen."
"Yikes," Vassago reached in the bag and pulled out a small paper box. "I'll be keeping those," he reached back in and pulled out a bag of what looked to Harry like oregano. "I'll be keeping this too. Sorry, I'm rubbish at gift-giving."
Harry took the messenger bag from Vassago and looked inside. "What is that?"
Vassago looked in the bag. "Oh yeah, forgot about that," he reached in and pulled out a bulky black object.
"Why is there a gun in my bag?"
"A man's gotta have some protection," Vassago said. "In hindsight, it probably would have helped us a bit back there."
"You're pointing it at me."
"Oh don't be such a baby. The safety is…" he glanced down and flicked a switch with his thumb "-on."
"I'm not taking a gun to school."
"If you insist," Vassago said. "Oh look, we've arrived.
The car screeched to a halt. Harry looked out the window. They were parked outside an empty lot between a row of old council houses. "Where are we?"
"12 Grimmauld Place. The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix."
"There's nothing there." Then, to Harry's surprise, there was.
"I'll let you see yourself to the stoop. It'd be better if the Order didn't know I was involved… yet." Vassago reached over Harry and pushed open the passenger door. "See you, Harry."
"Thanks, Vassago."
"Don't mention it." Vassago reached over and picked up the gun. "You sure you don't need this?"
"I'd rather not."
"Your funeral." Vassago tossed the gun into the back seat.
BANG
"What was that?"
"Dammit," Vassago swore, rubbing his ears. "The safety switch on that thing is really finicky sometimes."
WOAH! Action packed, innit?
