Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Tokyo Ghoul, I am simply playing with the ideas and characters within those universes. Ishida Sui and J.K. Rowling own the ideas and characters associated with their stories.
Chapter Two | Hunting
I wander Little Whinging, tired, confused, and terrified.
What have I done? What am I? Fuck.
I'm a monster.
It's true. All those years the Dursley's said I was a creature, a freak, some sort of bug to be squashed under foot and forgotten. It was all true, and Petunia is dead because of it. I hated her, yes. I hated her as much as one can hate a person. But I never wished her dead. Well, I occasionally did but I didn't want to be the one to do her in.
I can feel bile in my throat as I remember the image of her corpse… or what was left of it. There was so much red. How could one body hold so much blood?
I walk through to the night, hours and hours spent going nowhere in particular. I spend the whole walk avoiding people. All I can sense when I see them is not people, but meat. I have to bite down on my hand a few times during my travels, groaning quietly as I supress the monster inside me, the monster that wants to eat people. I find myself in Guildford, with my legs surprisingly pain and ache free after the multi-mile trek. I wander some more looking for a place to stay before I remember that I have not a pound to my name in the muggle world.
I resign myself to finding a sheltered, hidden area. Somewhere that I can spend the night without being assaulted by some chav looking to take advantage of a teenage girl. I settle on an alley tucked beside a small coffee shop. The alley looks to be as safe as any alley could be, and Guildford isn't exactly known for it's incredibly high crime rate.
I grab a few pieces of cardboard out of the bin nestled against the wall, laying them down to form a makeshift mattress. I lay down awkwardly, using the wall as a makeshift headrest. I stay there for a little while staring at the sky and wondering what to do.
Do I go back to Hogwarts? Will Ron and Hermione still accept me as… as whatever I am? Will I be put down like some sort of animal? Do I…
Do I kill myself?
I feel my eyes sting with tears and dash them away along with my tentative thoughts of suicide. That's not an option. I've fought too long and too hard to even consider offing myself, even if I'm some sort of man-eating creature.
Creature! That's it!
I rummage through my rucksack, pulling out the copy of Fantastic Beasts that I brought along with me. Hopefully this can shed some light on whatever is going on with me. I pry the book open, skimming through it quickly as I pass over different Beings and Beasts that don't describe me. Siren is out. Definitely not a Werewolf. Maybe a Vampire?
Oh.
I stop in the middle of the book, staring dumbly at the word in front of me, disgust roiling deep inside as I read it again and again.
Ghoul.
I always thought ghouls were grave-robbers and carrion eaters, and this book dashed away all ideas of that when I first purchased it. Honestly, ghouls look to be one of the most terrifying things one can potentially come across in the world. A monster with a taste for human flesh that is essentially just a super-human itself in all ways but one, its diet.
I couldn't possibly be… well-, could I?
I did… I did eat her. Ghouls eyes change when they're hungry or excited…
"Fuck!" I shout, angrily snapping the book closed. I'm a bloody man-eating, Merlin be damned ghoul. A fucking ghoul. I pore over the section repeatedly, taking in every bit of information that I can and dedicating a portion of my mind to it.
How did this happen? It was only after the surgery that I started to experience… whatever this is. Maybe the organs I received were from a ghoul? Does that even make any sense? I'm pretty sure one can't transplant organs from another species, considering it's hard enough to transplant organs due to the need for a matching blood type… fuck. I'm not a biologist, this line of questioning is going to take me nowhere.
The glaring thing that stands out to me is that ghouls cannot use magic in any way. No magic whatsoever. I tentatively reach into my pocket and take out my wand, bracing myself before swishing it through the air. I nearly cry in relief as sparks fly, the red and blue lights shining like a beacon of hope as they flutter through the air and slowly fade away. I guess I'm a special case. Maybe it was because I was a witch first?
I stick my hand into my rucksack again, reaching in and taking out a small spiral bound journal and a pen. A quiet muttering of lumos and I start to jot down notes as fast as my hand can keep up, the sound of the ballpoint scratching at the paper echoing quietly across the alley. After a few minutes I hold the journal out in front of me.
To do:
- Find somewhere to stay until Summer is over
- Figure out if I'm going back to Hogwarts
- Find "food"
- Criteria for food? Death Eaters? Other ghouls?
Sighing, I tap my pen on the journal absentmindedly. Why does shit like this keep happening to me? Well, not like this, but outlandish things that have no place in any regular person's life. I want to simply be normal. Is that too much to ask for?
The Girl-Who-Lived. The only killing curse resistant toddler, ghoul extraordinaire, and deeply closeted poof. I wonder if the wizarding world would accept me more easily as a monster than a lesbian. Bloody Victorian pricks. This country is a bigoted old mans paradise from what I've seen in the three years I've been a part of it. Surely, I'll catch a lady's fancy as a murderous cannibal because that's obviously everyone's type.
I put my journal and book away, tucking the rucksack behind me as a makeshift pillow as I roll over to my side and attempt to sleep.
-::-
I spend the next week on my feet, getting as far away from Number 4 as I can. For all I know there's a news bulletin out with my face plastered all over it demanding my arrest for premeditated murder along with a side of arson. Somehow, I don't get caught using magic even though I'm underage. My running theory is that my physiology has changed so much that I no longer register on whatever system the ministry uses.
I travel north, through Aylesbury to Old Stratford, feeling sorely tempted to take the turn off towards the village of Potterspury after noticing the sign off the motorway. I forgo the serendipitous little town and end up in Leicester, hungry and tired after my marathon to nowhere.
I've gotten accustomed to sleeping on the streets, bitterly laughing at one point when I realized that I am, for all intents and purposes, homeless. I dressed the part long before this, maybe it was just a matter of time.
As I walk past an old pub I overhear a conversation that immediately catches my interest. I believe myself to be delirious when the words drift into my ear. I know I've been feeling delirious the last day or two due to the hunger.
"You read the Daily Prophet? Emergency edition came out with dinner," a man wheezes excitedly, his voice dry and strained.
I quickly stand near a bus stop, semi-hidden from the man talking. I peek over to get a look at him and his friend. The one who I believe spoke first is short and squat, a ratty hat nestled lopsidedly upon the top of his head and a pipe lazily resting on his bottom lip, a small puff of smoke emitted between clenched teeth. His much taller and better dressed friend turns to him, shaking his head at the firsts question.
"No, can't say I 'ave," he replies. "What 'appened that's got you in a tizzy?"
"Get this," he says, waving his hands in a grandiose gesture. "Zoe bloody Potter is dead."
The other mans jaw drops, his eyes lighting up like a bulb as his gob-smacked expression morphs into a sickening grin. I recoil at his excited leer, his evident joy that I've apparently kicked the bucket. Must be an ex-Death Eater.
Well, apparently I'm dead.
"Fuck off, not a chance," he argues. "The Dark Lord is avenged?"
"Avenged as avenged can be!" the short one crows, more smoke wafting lazily out of his mouth with each word.
Yep. Ex-Death Eater it is. I clench my hand angrily, fingers forming a tight fist as I stare angrily at the two. What kind of sick sons of bitches' revel in the death of a teenage girl? Absolutely and utterly disgusting.
I watch as they wander off, taking a quick glance around me before following them, my nose raised high as I track them using the bittersweet scent of pipe tobacco. I've found throughout the last week that my senses are, well- super sensory. My hearing and sense of smell have improved dramatically, and the only real good change to come out of being turned into a ghoul is my eyesight. No need for glasses anymore it seems.
I continue dogging the two, my steps silent as I sneak after them, staying away from the light cast by street lamps and ducking deeper into the shadows every so often to avoid being spotted. They lead me through the city, out and away from the busier square littered with pub crawling twenty somethings and tired parents. I continue to follow them as the shops turn to neighbourhoods, and the neighbourhoods turn dingier and more foreboding with every step.
They soon come to a stop, the taller one waving his wand and unlocking the door to a classic brickwork townhome, the windows cracked and shuttered. Probably a bolt hole. I wait, holding in my breath as I watch the two enter.
What do I do now? Do I…
Do I fight them? Eat them?
I grit my teeth, jaw set stubbornly forward as my mind fights back and forth, morality and hunger warring in my head. I thought ghouls only needed to eat once a month, but I've found I'm still a unique case even when it comes to being a monster. I start to salivate at the mere idea of food. I shake my head and start tapping my fingers against the bark of the rotting tree that I'm huddled behind, the rhythm slowly settling my nerves.
The burning need in my stomach begins to win out. I've felt my sanity slipping this couple days due to the lack of food. How I stare at people on the street picturing my next meal, how I can sometimes just smell them in the air, how even a random passerby could smell so… delicious.
"Fuck it," I whisper.
My stomach wins out over morality. If I'm going to be a monster I might as well fucking commit to it. People have been killed over less.
I walk up to the door, knees shaking slightly as I approach. I take out my wand and utter a quiet alohomora, almost laughing out loud when the lock actually clicks. I guess the Death Eaters lack in brains as well as common sense. I mean really? Talking openly about the magical world and the death of the Girl-Who-Lived? Bloody idiots.
I silence the door knob before reaching out and turning it slowly, pushing the door open. Thinking quickly, I silence my shoes as well. I feel a tug, an itch in my back as I creep forward with my ears perked up, listening attentively for any sign that I may have been noticed.
Quiet.
The home is actually quite clean, with fine looking flooring and an elaborately carved hand rail leading upstairs. Thankfully, there's no portraits in the foyer to announce my presence. I walk slowly, watching out of the corner of my eye for any sign of movement. I hear a creaking from the upper level. I turn and make my way up the stairs, each step filled with trepidation and my gut a pit of anxiety as I tread closer and closer to a fight.
I stick the top of my head out into the hallway and notice a sliver of light peeking out to my left. I keep my eyes and ears peeled as I stride towards the door, hearing glasses clinking and what I'm guessing by the sharp smell to be cheap liquor sloshing about those same glasses as the two men celebrate my apparent death.
The back of my shirt tears open as I kick the door down, a sickening red chunk of muscle flying out and spearing the man in front of me through the chest. His eyes bug out of his face in shock, blood dribbling and sputtering out of his mouth as he scratches feebly at the scaled appendage occupying the place where his right lung used to be. Looks like the tall one goes first.
I pull back, the kagune noisily sliding out of him, just in time for it to intercept a neon yellow light aimed at my head. I turn to look at the other man, his face ghostly white and the scent of fear flooding off of him. He grimaces, shouting loudly as he flicks his hand and a purple beam bursts from his wand, tearing a hole in my shoulder and causing me to stumble, roaring in agony.
I lash out instinctively with my kagune, the sides of it sharpening and twisting like barbed wire with but a thought as it careens into the mans legs, quite literally tearing them out from under him. He screams as he hits the ground, his jaw loudly striking the floor with a resounding crack, blood pouring from the ragged stumps beneath him.
I stride forward, clutching my injured shoulder as I kneel in front of him and lift his chin with one finger, staring into his eyes.
"The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated, I can assure you," I whisper, his eyes widening in recognition and unadulterated fear.
"You- you're a monster," he coughs, blood spattering my face. "You're a gods damned monster."
"So it seems," I reply, wiping the gore from my face and shaking the bits from my fingers in disgust. "You were the one celebrating the death of a child."
He leers, spitting on the ground as he twists his head to the side to get a better look at me. "You killed our Lord, s' only fair that we throw a party," he hisses, the light slowly leaving his eyes and his voice slurring. "It's only- only fair w- we th…"
He slumps forward quite dramatically, dead before his head hits the ground.
I put my hands on my knees and push myself up from the floor to survey the room. I take in the pools of crimson that are slowly growing underneath my feet and the vacant, empty look on the first man I attacked, the surprise and pain permanently etched into his features.
A rumble in my stomach reminds me of why I'm there.
I hesitate briefly before tearing the arm off of the first man and biting deeply into the paling flesh. A slightly spicy tinge runs over my tongue, shocking me momentarily. Death Eaters taste like curry? I shrug mentally and dig in, working through a surprising amount of… food before I'm eventually sated. I guess my appetite is monstrous as well. I notice after my meal that my shoulder seems to have healed on its own. Huh, guess I'm a rinkaku. The regeneration should come in handy.
I explore for a while, taking in the modest two-bedroom townhome. I could potentially stay here for the time being. It's quite spacious for one person and is close enough to the city centre if I want to get a job and lay low… but what if these guys friends show up? Well, it couldn't be any more dangerous than staying on the streets. I think I should be fine as long as I seal off the fireplace.
I find glassware containers in the kitchen and decide to plan ahead. I head back upstairs and begin the process of dismembering and sorting the two perished Death Eaters, placing meal sized chunks into the containers. I vanish the mess of blood and gore before I make my way back downstairs and tuck the containers into the icebox, shutting the door before freezing on the spot.
Why am I so nonchalant about the murders I just committed? Why am I- you know, not panicking? Is this what my life has come to? I go with the flow to the degree that a double homicide doesn't even faze me?
I sit down right where I'm standing, meditating on the turn my life has taken.
Am I okay with this because they were celebrating my death? Am I comfortable with this because of changes wrought on my mind by my, for lack of a better term, ghoulification?
I don't know why I'm evidently fine with my new bloodthirsty tendencies. I'm going to put it down to survival instincts. People do insane things when they're hungry, and ghouls apparently take that to a whole new level. Even now I can feel my mind returning, my newly found sadistic side disappearing into the recesses of my mind. Maybe I've finally snapped after three years of insanity. Killing teachers, giant snakes, and fighting off demons makes for a severely diminished moral compass it seems.
I take my rucksack off and rifle through it for my journal. I quickly scribble down a note, placing a large star next to it to remind me of its importance
* Food = strength and sanity, remember to eat
I tuck the journal away, setting a colloportus and locking charm combination on the front door as well as pulling a book shelf out in front of it and finally wrapping that all up with an ill intent and alarm ward. Thank Merlin I took ancient runes with Hermione instead of divination with Ron last semester, better safe than sorry.
I slink back upstairs, claiming the now free master bedroom, tucking myself under the covers with relish as I proceed to enjoy my first rest in a proper bed since the summer began.
-::-
I wake up damp with sweat, the sheets tangled and clinging snugly to my body due to a lovely dream involving a wretched looking miniature Voldemort and Wormtail murdering a muggle groundskeeper. I rub the sleep from my eyes as I sit up, propping a pillow up behind me to support my head as I lay there and think.
That dream was too vivid. Too… real to be just a dream.
I climb out of bed and take a quick shower before heading downstairs, munching idly on a disembodied thigh as I sit at the dining table.
What to do, what to do…
I push the eerily realistic dream out of my head as I focus on the present. The threat of Voldemort is always hanging over me like the sword of Damocles, and it's become second nature for me to just discount any Voldemort related worries unless they're immediately important.
I could always get a job so that I could stay busy. Would anyone hire an orphaned fourteen-year-old? It'd have to be under the table of course, but it's always an option. I just want to find a way to stay busy while I work out whether or not I do want to return to Hogwarts.
Does this place have a library?
I finish my breakfast, bones and all (which are surprisingly tasty, reminding me of fried chicken with their slight crunch. My jaw strength must be something obscene). I make my way back upstairs in the hopes that there might be some books that I can study tucked away in the sitting room, or that I may be lucky enough to happen across a proper library. I explored a bit last night, but I was too exhausted to really pay attention to my surroundings.
I clap excitedly when I do find a small library. Not an impressive one by any means, but it looks to contain a decent number of books focused on the more dark and esoteric brands of magic, as well as tomes on advanced transfiguration and charms theory. I pull out one of the books on charms and lay down on a large, very cushy couch, propping my new object of interest on my thighs as I begin to read.
-::-
I do manage to find a job, or as much of a job as anyone who's getting paid under the table can get. The owner of the pub has to be one of the most obnoxious sons of bitches I've met in my entire life though. Gives Vernon a run for his money when it comes to being mad at the world.
"Fuck off kid, I'm not looking for any new employees."
"Not even a dishwasher? Bar bitch? I don't mind working late shifts," I argued, frustrated with the petulant restaurant owner.
He sneered at me, mulling over my offer and apparent enthusiasm to work a dead-end, bottom of the barrel job.
"Three quid an hour, you start tomorrow night," he ordered, tearing a stub off of a small notepad and scribbling a short note onto it before pinning it lopsidedly onto the noticeboard next to him. "Get some no-slips if you don't want to bash your 'ead in on the stove. You'll get paid in cash at the end of your shift."
Yeah, he's real peachy.
Its kept me busy for the last month outside of my studies, and the month is slowly rolling from July into August as I celebrate my birthday alone. Alone, in this house previously owned by Death Eaters I murdered and ate for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. If only my parents could see me now, oh how proud they would be.
I've managed to nab a couple copies of the Daily Prophet from unsuspecting wizarding doorsteps in the area. I particularly enjoy the speculation as to my disappearance and presumed death, be it kidnapped by the American Ministry for Magic (simply for the reason of damning the colonies, rebellious yanks that they are), or that I've left to deal with a Dark Lord problem in the far east. What concerns me is how loudly Dumbledore is arguing that I am alive and well. I don't know how he knows this and unsettles me a little.
He's always shown too close of an interest in me and my person, especially when I compare myself to the other students in the school. I understand that I'm a special case what with having not died when I by all means should have died. I'm just a touch perturbed by his focus on me. I think it's the sense of stranger danger that's instilled into all young girls. If any unfamiliar old man dotes on you too much he's probably up to no good. No, I don't think Dumbledore is a paedophile, but I do find it incredibly creepy how much involvement he has in my life. Honestly, the man is apparently responsible for me living with the Dursleys, there's no way I can trust him after that colossal fuck up. I can thank Hagrid for giving me that little bit of information. I love the guy, but he really can't keep a secret to save his life.
It's just after two in the morning when I leave work, the night chef… Justin? Jason? I never really got his name- whoever he is locking up as we exit out the back. I have less than a second to react to the blur flying at my head as I bend down to readjust the straps on my bag.
I flinch out of the way on instinct alone, feeling the projectile whistle overhead where my face was just a moment ago. The chef isn't so lucky, the back of his head exploding from the force of the attack and peppering the rear door with displaced gray matter and bits of skull.
I leap into the air, wand out as I kick off the wall towards my attacker. Another ghoul by the look of things, their pupils shining a dim red in the low light of the back alley. He growls, the grotesque bat-like wings spread behind him flexing and sending another wave of projectiles my way.
Ukaku.
I activate my kagune, using the kinetic force from its release to twist through the air and dodge most of the flying chunks of liquid muscle. I cry out in pain as one lodges itself in my thigh, using my kagune to soften the fall as I crash to the ground. I quickly force myself up, tearing the flesh bullet out of my leg with one hand and casting a quick healing spell over the wound with the other. My rudimentary regeneration would take too long for a broken bone.
I flex my leg experimentally, forgetting the impromptu battle for a moment and grinning when I don't register any pain. I'm so glad that I learned how to cast the bone mending charm. I knew that would come in handy.
The ghoul rears back when he notices the wand gripped tightly in my right hand, almost falling over as he begins to flee. Huh, I guess he's scared of witches?
I launch myself after him, taking advantage of his fear as I strike out, stabbing him through the arm as I simultaneously bind him with conjured ropes. He lands in a heap, sending dust and garbage flying as he slides into the ground. He moans quietly, trying to shake off his muddled mind from the crash, his eyes shut tight and head spinning from vertigo.
I cast another binding spell to be safe, using iron chains instead of rope this time. I march over and flip him onto his back, pushing him against the wall into a sitting position as I crouch in front of him.
"Why did you attack me," I spit, wand pressed directly between his eyes, bowing as it digs into the flesh. "Speak up, quick, before I decide you no longer require your head."
He looks up at me with clouded eyes and a dazed look on his face.
"Sm'l g'd," he mutters, voice too quiet for me to pick up even with my enhanced hearing.
"What did you say?"
"Smell good," he clarifies, squinting slightly. "Something smelled… delicious. I think it's- it's you."
"Well, I'm flattered but I'm afraid to say I'm not on the menu tonight," I say, looking back at the now deceased- Jordan! That was it! "He looks like he is," I continue, pointing at the corpse behind me.
I stay there, knees bent and staring at the ghoul. He doesn't look much older than me. Maybe sixteen? Seventeen? Starved by the looks of it, his cheekbones jutting out in sharp contrast against the sallow pale skin on his face. He must be a weak one for me to be able to defeat him so easily. It would explain his emaciated look.
"You… you'd just let me go?" the ghoul quietly cries, shocked beyond belief.
"Well, they say, 'there is no free lunch,' and you look like you worked hard enough for a later dinner." I reply, removing the bindings from him. "I'm feeling generous tonight… but do know that if you attack me again, I won't hesitate to turn you into my next meal."
He gulps loudly, his throat bobbing as he nods nervously. "Wou- wouldn't dream of it Miss."
"Hey, you're older than me. No calling me Miss… Mister?"
"Danny," he says. "Just Danny."
"Well, just Danny. I'm just Zoe," I smile, sticking my hand out for him to shake. "You know you're the first ghoul I've ever met?"
He nods confusedly, ignoring my hand in his daze and shimmying over to the dead chef, glancing back at me every few second as if to remind himself that I haven't killed him. He starts to eat, looking everything like a nervous gazelle at the watering hole, muscles tensed and ready to flee.
I slowly walk over, kneeling down to his level as I rip off a bit for myself.
"I'm sorry I killed your friend," Danny mutters.
"S'fine," I mumble, the words coming out through a small mouthful of pectoral. "I didn't really know him, honest. I only remembered his name after you offed him."
"Ah, o- okay."
"Chin up Danny, I'm not gonna' eat you."
He looks at me out of the corner of his eye, sighing as he realizes that yes, I'm really not going to eat him.
"Friends?" I say, sticking my hand out again.
He hesitates, chewing his bottom lip before nodding slightly and clasping my hand.
"Friends."
Guest: I looked for crossovers like this on a whim a week back and was really disappointed to find only a couple, and mostly unfinished ones at that. Zoe will go back to Hogwarts, and the story won't ever cross over with the events in Tokyo Ghoul. It may if I decide to write a sequel, but I don't know how long I'm going to take to complete this so don't get your hopes up!
Eragon13579: Thank you! I thought the idea would be a ton of fun to work with, and I'm a massive fan of Tokyo Ghoul. I'll do my best!
