A Betrayal Too Deep
Chapter 2
The entire story has been taken down and it's being completely re-written so you'll have to read it again as most of its going to be different.
Nightmares
Harry was lying on the floor, unable to move, protest or fight back. Realizing he must have drunk something to paralyze him, betrayal blazed on through him. Yet he couldn't help but think perhaps it was just the twin's idea of a joke. They had just earlier that day groaned about how uptight he was. 'The war is over' they'd said together in their usual speech, 'You can relax now' said George, 'and remove that stick up your butt' the other had insisted. Yet they weren't there, he hadn't seen them since yesterday. They couldn't have spiked his drink; all thoughts were wiped from his thoughts when a sudden stab of pain coursed through him. Then another, he could hear people talking around him.
"Just kill him!" insisted one of the voices.
"After all the crap I've been through I want him to die painfully!" shrieked another.
Harry was in panic mode now, what they hell were they doing? Why were they doing this? He didn't understand…his heart was thumping a mile a minute as agony speared him again. If he didn't know any better he'd say they were stabbing him with a knife! He wished he could speak, tell them to stop! Ask them why? Why were they doing this…his magic was playing havoc within him. He was abruptly turned on his front, but he couldn't see anything his eyes were closed.
They were still talking, discussing the best way to get rid of him, Artemis save him! They really were going to kill him. Another sharp thrust and agony coursed through him before stopping abruptly. They'd severed his spinal cord, he wanted to scream, and he needed an outlet for all the pain he was in. He'd have preferred the Cruciatus curse to this! Then he heard it…another voice in the mix…one he had trusted…one he had long thought gone.
Harry woke up panting, his body soaked with sweat, closing his eyes he lay there until the tremors stopped. He knew if he attempted to get up he'd fall to the floor, even after all this time the betrayal still shook him to the core. Breathing deeply, he told himself they couldn't hurt him anymore. He knew they couldn't, once he felt marginally better he got out of his bed, shrugging the sweat soaked covers from himself and he stumbled to the shower.
Standing under the cascading water, he made it extremely hot, wanting to get rid of their touch from him. It was long gone, but unfortunately it was forever seared into his mind. He'd never forget it, no matter how many years passed, Ash's words came back to him. 'You have no past,' well easier said than done, especially with his constant nightmares every time he closed his eyes. It was at the height of Irony that Ash's past bothered him more than any Dark-Hunters ever would he imagined. He shook his thoughts off, as he scrubbed his body until it was red and raw. Then he washed his now sweat soaked greasy hair. It was longer than it had ever been as a human, still brown it cascaded down his back stopping at the end of his shoulder blades.
He sighed as he stood under the cascading water, his mind drifting to nothing in particular. The dream was already fading away, leaving him feeling depressed, as it always did. Harry as a human had never had any travelling ambitions, yet here he was in the city of love or lights as he liked to think of it. Paris, he'd been here for seven years, and he knew his allotted time was coming to a close. Ash had told him they got moved every few years, when suspicion began arising at their looks never changing. Harry didn't see the point, they weren't able to go anywhere during the day, so people didn't really get to see them all that often.
Harry grabbed a towel and made his way back to his bedroom, his hand rose and his bed began unmaking itself. Drawers opened and fresh bedding was magically put on his now empty bed. Harry still had his magic, in fact it was stronger than before, or maybe it was the same and he felt it more because he used his hand rather than a wand. He dried himself and put on a pair of boxers. Yawning tiredly, as his stomach growled loudly, he made his way through to his enormous kitchen. He rather loved his kitchen, loved cooking now he wasn't doing it for the Dursley's. His windows were closed with shutters, and magically held in place. He'd realised that curtains could be removed and an enemy could take him down. He flipped on the light, despite the fact he could see perfectly clear without it. The bulb had been magically dimmed so it didn't irritate his eyes; he wasn't one that was scared to mix magic with Muggle appliances. What's the worse that could happen? Its not like the magical world could track him down…he was dead so he never left a trail. Nobody could track his magic, or him it just wouldn't work he was for all intents and purposes dead.
His cooker was fired up, as he grabbed food from the fridge, he put the noodles in water to boil. Placing the chicken into the pan, he let it cook as he began to cut vegetables up. Once the chicken had been in long enough he added the vegetables into the frying pan, adding sauces as well as herbs. He always cooked his own meals, he wasn't French, and he couldn't stomach Escargot or frogs legs. He had tried, though, but he'd found them utterly…slimy. The frogs legs he'd given not even given the chance, now he always bought his food from a twenty four hour store and cooked himself. He normally ate three meals during his waken hours. He slept during the day, not only because Daimons couldn't roam around but because he couldn't either. If he stepped out in daylight he'd do what the Muggle Authors wrote happened to vampires. He'd turn to dust, dying an agonising painful death. In the process he'd be turned into a shade. It got up just before sun down, had something to eat, sometimes he'd eat something during his shift from a café or what not then another meal when he got home - if he wasn't too injured. When he was injured he just wanted to sleep, knowing by the time he woke up he'd be more or less better. Dark-Hunters had the ability to heal extraordinary fast, any cut would heal practically overnight.
Grabbing a plate Harry wandered back over, stirring it randomly, and stopping it from sticking to his pan.
Nodding in satisfaction he plated his noodles before adding in the chicken and vegetables. He opened his drawer and picked out a fork before wandering back to his living room to eat. He had a television in it but in all the years he'd been here in Paris he'd never once turned it on. He didn't know French, and he wasn't interested in learning, and he didn't interact with the other Dark-hunters here, who were actually all French. They were just moved from town to town, but Harry had been placed here because it was different from all he knew and away from England. He wasn't allowed back in England, at least not for around a hundred years, by then everyone that might recognize him or know him would be dead. It didn't help that every time he thought of England the pain could still bring him to his knees.
The silence sometimes bothered Harry, made him feel like he was still in his cupboard. Alienated from society, but most times it comforted him. After suffering such a betrayal, Harry thought it was easier to be alone, but the lonely part of him wanted someone to talk to, to befriend. So far that hadn't happened, and he'd never get close to humans. Once he finished his meal, he floated to the sink as he went to his bedroom, and began to get dressed.
His clothes were all black, allowing him to blend in at night, not that he needed it. He had the ability to turn himself invisible, it wasn't a Dark-Hunter power, and he hadn't received any. His abilities had baffled Ash, who had trained him in everything he'd need to defeat Daimons. Back then Harry hadn't trusted Ash, or anyone, he'd given the man a hard time. He barely spoke, did what he needed to and that was it, it hadn't mattered how kind Ash had been. His aura and attitude had reminded the teen of D…no, he wasn't going to think about him or them. He picked up his weapons of choice, daggers and a very special sword he'd brought with him. The sword of Godric Gryffindor, one of his few possessions he'd brought with him from the magical world.
Harry was finally ready, and he knew the sun had just completely gone down. One might ask how he knew, but he just did…considering his life revolved around the blazing ball of fire. It was just an instinct to him, a warning; to him it would be described as the hair on his neck standing up.
"Come on Hedwig," said Harry, as his owl stepped onto his wrist, it was time to kick some Daimon ass, mused Harry as he left his house. Hedwig took off into the night with a delightful hoot. She knew to be here when he got back or she'd be out all day, he couldn't come out for her or leave a window open. She'd learned that quickly too, even if she hadn't been happy with him the slightest.
The area he patrolled was not far from where he lived, which was the Bois de Boulogne. His now black eyes scanning the surroundings, waiting for Daimon's. Daimons were soul sucking creatures, who preyed on defenceless humans. First they drained them dry, and then as the humans died the Daimons sucked the victim's soul into their own bodies. Unfortunately the souls couldn't last long, since it wasn't meant for them. Inevitably the soul died, which meant Daimon's were always on the hunt for a new one. He was the big Dark Hunter who took them out; releasing the current soul it could move on and stop the Daimon's permanently. Too bad there were always new ones, evil didn't really die.
As always he never had to wait long, his senses went into overdrive, he could sense them - Daimon's were close. He picked up his pace hearing a scream, it was that of a child, cursing he bolted for the Daimon's not caring how many might be there. Jumping over a fence and bench, landing gracefully as always, crouched low he let out a battle cry, turning the Daimon's attention from them to him.
"Get your daughter out of here now!" said Harry to the terrified father, as he got to his feet. His black eyes eyeing the Daimons, he didn't need to hear them to know they were fleeing. They always did, he'd never once encountered anyone that stayed to help. Not that it was a good thing, it was just a statement. If humans stayed then they couldn't use their magic or kill the Daimons. It was just as vital to keep this world safe as it had been to keep magic safe.
Only once they were gone did he let out his magic, he levitated the one that was coming at him from behind, up in the air. Harry took out his sword, daring the Daimon to come to him. The Daimon only took one look at his companion and the sword and tried to run. Harry missed the times they would fight like men and not flee like a rat did on a burning ship. Almost lazily he removed a dagger from his coat and flung it at the retreating figure. It got him straight in the back, the middle, where his heart was. The Daimon burst into gold dust and his dagger clattered to the ground nosily.
Looking up he saw the Daimon was fighting with thin air, trying to get himself out of the hold. Sneering in feral satisfaction, he lowered the demon straight onto his upraised sword, and he promptly burst into golden dust as well. Harry dusted the offending stuff off him as he replaced his sword. It wasn't as if he could go around with it in his hand. All that would accomplish was him being arrested, although one could argue he could Obliviate them but he didn't like using it.
Sighing in irritation, he'd been looking forward to a good fight, too bad. The Daimon's now were all cowards. They'd rather flee than fight a Dark Hunter, retrieving his dagger, it flew into his hand and he put it back in his jacket as well. It was a long black leather jacket; it went right now to his ankles. It had plenty of room for his weapons it's why he liked it so much. EBay was a wonderful invention; it where he got most of his stuff, although he had gotten a few things from Squires who owned shops but in the back was a whole other story, that's where all the weapons were, the stores were mostly just a front.
Harry fought five more Daimons before he entered a small café, getting himself a coffee and a cake. He didn't stay in, he got them to take away with him, and the chocolate cake barely satisfied him. By this time of night more humans were sleeping, although quite a few tourists were wandering around. Harry kept an eye on them as he blended into the darkness of the night.
Suddenly his phone began ringing, only one person ever rang his number - Acheron Parthenopaeus. He had a few people on his contact list, a squire (not his own but in case of emergency and he needed him) and the woman who took the bodies of the dead humans away. Harry had never had to call her; he'd never once been too late to save the humans he was helping. It helped being able to Apparate straight to his target, if the humans saw he just Obliviated them.
"Hello?" said Harry, throwing his now empty coffee cup into the waste bin.
"Pack up, you're being transferred, I'll fill you in when you get there," said Ash.
"Where is there?" asked Harry curiously, he wasn't surprised, he'd been expecting the call now for a while. Ash sounded as though he was in pain, he wondered briefly if Artemis had been at him again. He wanted to help the man who'd been nothing but kind to him. Repay for him being an arse in the beginning, not trusting him when he should have. Towards the end his Legilimency had come along in leaps and bounds. He'd been able to hear everyone's thoughts, including Ash's. Or at least some of his thoughts, he didn't want to dig too deep. He had sworn never to be like Dumbledore, and it was something he tried hard not to do. Yet he didn't have an off switch, even now he still heard people's thoughts. He knew Artemis wasn't the wonderful woman giving them a second chance, not that he'd ever thought that. She had tried to remove his magic, he wasn't sure if she'd wanted it or just been spiteful and tried to take it from him. Fortunately she hadn't been able to; his magic was part of his core, his being that it was inseparable.
"New Orleans," said Ash evidently not in a talking mood, then again Ash hardly ever was.
"Alright, when?" asked Harry, New Orleans? He was travelling to America now. Good at least there they all spoke English. He would be able to understand them, and be able to watch TV.
"The Helicopter will be there for you tomorrow," said Acheron, "It will give you enough time to pack."
"Okay," said Harry, hanging up the phone beating Ash to the punch, because he knew that's what Ash does. He tells you what you need to know then hangs up, considering he was never off the damn thing Harry couldn't blame him.
Well it was nearly time for the blazing ball to come up; he began making his way home. Looking forward to having something proper to eat again before sleeping. It was strange, how quickly he'd gotten used to sleeping during the day and being wake at night. His owl loved it; she was exactly the same as him. He grinned seeing her in the tree outside his house, raising his arm; she swooped down and landed gracefully. Harry grimaced, she had a present for him it seemed, and either that or she was saving it for later. Shaking his head he entered his home and put her back in her cage, leaving the gate open. He got her fresh water as he waited on another meal cooking.
He was glad he hadn't gone shopping yet; at least nothing would be going to waste. He did wonder what would happen to everything. This was the first time he'd moved, did it all get left behind? Was the new place just as stocked with things he'd need like a fridge freezer? Etc… he'd paid for them all himself, and wanted to take them. With his magic it was possible, so he decided he would.
He'd removed all his gold from Gringotts, getting it converted to Muggle money. Not that he needed it, Artemis paid him more than he could use in five lifetimes each month, dropping it in some very inconvenient places. If it wasn't for his magic they'd still be massive holes in his floor. Unfortunately the time she'd dropped it on his bed it had not been able to be repaired, she'd totally demolished even beyond magic's help. He had not wanted anyone getting their hands on his money, especially…no he wouldn't think on it. The gold, jewels and all other items Artemis sent him was traded for cash. A large chunk was given charities, or he bought things for the sick children in hospital or the orphaned children all anonymous of course. Anonymous it may be but he made sure what he was helping actually received them. The rest was put into his trunk or a bank account. Exhausted beyond words, he decided to leave the packing until tomorrow, and sunk gratefully into his bed, eating his dinner before praying he actually didn't dream as he drifted off to sleep.
What do you think of this one? harry's not so bitter and angry anymore he's gotten over it or as over as he will get :D so will harry stay in New Orleans and that be where he meets Zarek? or will Harry be transfered to Alaska and asked to determin Zarek's fate there? i'm actually undecided on that! i know next to nothing about Alaska! so what do you think guys? what will it be? R&R please!
