Rated M for the following: Murder, torture, blood, gore, child abuse, and intense violence.
Chapter Eight: A shadowy embrace
A deep shade of red darkened the room as the sun's last light filtered through thick curtains casting curious shadows across the cherry-wood cabinets. Harry sat at the kitchen table as he swung his legs back and forth, tiptoes barely reaching the ground. Nibbling at the top of a crayon, Harry continued to stare towards the foyer.
It was New Year's Eve and yet… his father had still not returned. Instead of celebrating, he was stuck with the nanny.
"Rose, it is time for bed." Ms. Meredith said.
Harry playfully twirled his crayon around his fingers. "But it's New Year's. Bedtime is not until midnight."
"Bedtime is when I say it is." Her lips thinned into a forced smile. "Now, come Rose."
Harry bared his crayon down on the parchment paper and silently watched his sister drag her feet from the kitchen. Ms. Meredith towered over her like an ominous cloud.
His sister's door clicked shut. The crayon snapped and crumbled into pieces across the table. Silence hung in the air, thick and heavy.
He pushed away from the table and made his way across the kitchen. With deep determination his body moved lightly.
Tick tock, tick tock. It whispered, urging him on.
Harry pressed against the counter and stretched to the tips of his toes. A pristine white and gold trimmed teacup sat innocently on the kitchen counter. At its side, a mesh ball hung from a chain. With trembling fingers, Harry snatched the infuser and twisted the silver ball open.
Peppermint oozed from the container, reminding Harry of the nanny's sickly sweet breath. From his pocket, he grabbed a pinch of blackened grains, and mixed them in before twisting it closed.
This was the seventh time he had spiked her tea. The seventh night where he would have to wait patiently, wait with the fear that he would have to yet again go to bed disappointed. Still he clung to his faith in his mother. She had told him that it caused hallucinations and so it would.
Even in death his mother's presence felt so perfectly clear. Lost in his past he smiled, clinging to her memory; he dreamed that she stood beside him holding his hand.
A high pitched shrill caused his fingers to shake as he jumped. His tight grip loosened. The tea infuser slipped and hit the ground with a sharp clang. Fumbling after it, his heart pounded against his chest. He regained his hold and glared darkly at the tea kettle whistling from the stovetop. He did not have much time. The stairs creaked.
With a panicked breath, he replaced the infuser and sprint across the kitchen. He was so close. He couldn't fail now. The nanny walked through the entrance as he struggled to sit down. Her sharp featured face contorted into vaguely masked fury. Harry's mouth dried. She had seen.
He broke away from her hawk like gaze and stared down at the table. His previous drawing laid innocently in front of him. His mother, father, and sister all smiled up from a field of golden grains. His sense of doom disappeared as hope blossomed in the pit of his stomach. With the picture in hand, he turned towards Ms. Meredith.
"What were you doing up?" She snapped.
Sharp nails were already digging into his tender shoulders. Harry only smiled brightly back, numb to the pain as his racing heart slowed, warmth fluttering in his belly. Victory was within his grasp.
"I drew a picture for you."
She looked down at the photo and caressed his mother's figure, her eyes softening.
"You accept your new family." The corners of her eyes wrinkled as she smiled sadly. "The picture is lovely but next time wait for me to return. I did not excuse you."
Harry's eyebrows furrowed together. His new family?
With clenched teeth, he watched her thumb the figure of his mother.
She thought it was her!
He nodded tightly, an insult barely contained behind clenched teeth. "May I draw one more picture for my father? Please."
She nodded yes and turned towards the stove.
Discreetly, he watched her cross the kitchen and pick up the kettle. Inching forward, he could not help but to lean ever so slightly as she poured steaming water over the contaminated infuser.
The nanny noticed his gaze. "Get to work. In fifteen minutes, you are off to bed finished or not." Straightening up the kitchen, she left the teacup to seep.
"Yes, Ms. Meredith." Harry sighed.
She took a sip from the teacup as she sorted the clean dishes into the cabinets above her head. He fidgeted in his seat. In uncomfortable silence he impatiently waited for something, anything to happen.
Ten minutes passed and nothing. Soon she would rush him up the stairs. He crossed his arms and frowned down at his blank sheet. Guilt ate at his stomach. He could not face his sister's tear stained face again.
"Mr. Potter fifteen minutes have passed, it's time to take yourself upstairs." Ms. Meredith seemed perfectly coherent and yet…Harry's gaze traced a line of sweat as it beaded and rolled down her cheek.
Ms. Meredith coughed. "Does it feel hot in here to you?"
Harry shrugged.
"Alright, well off with you. I'll be up a in a minute to lock the door."
"But I wanted to see the fireworks." He tried.
"Do not make me use force." She fanned her face.
"Fine!" Harry stomped up the stairs.
Why wasn't it working? He paused in front of Rose's bedroom. Silence prickled at his heart before the shattering of a cup broke his guilt twisted contemplation. He glanced behind him before cautiously stepping towards the stairs. At the end of the rail, he stood and carefully listened.
Biting his lip, he tried to force his feet not to move but his curiosity overcame his caution. He darted down the stairs, excitement fueling his long sweeping movements. He slid into the entrance of the kitchen. Ms. Meredith stood braced against the edge of the sink. Now panting, she moaned. "I'm so hot. My hands…they're stinging."
Harry wondered, was the fungus finally working?
She thumbed the edge of her robes as she tugged at her own clothing. Blinking rapidly, she drew in a breath as if drowning. Dark eyes cleared and narrowed on him.
"Help me," She said. Ms. Meredith's once meticulous hands, now shook as she reached for him; pleading for his help.
Harry stepped forward on impulse but then the image of Rose's tear stained face burned behind his eyes.
Don't forget what she did to your sister! The sound of hissing coated its speech yet for the first time it sounded pleasing to Harry's ears. Harry nodded. His choice made up. His dark passenger was right…
She deserved to suffer!
Harry rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, now watching the nanny with a new found interest. She would sob. Weep like his sister and he would watch.
"You forgot to say please."
Her eyes widened. "You- you accepted me. Why? Why aren't you listening?"
"It's simple really. You're not my mother."
She pushed from the counter and attempted to reach for him. But her balance failed and she fell to the floor. Her once tightly clasped hair spilt from its bounds as her head hit against the wood. Tremors shook her body as she began to convulse on the floor.
A sick thrill hummed in Harry's belly. Seeing her trembling beneath him caused his fingers to ache. He wanted to touch her; feel her pain… taste her grief. Relish in it.
Ms. Meredith stilled. Harry moved. His face only inches from hers, he cocked his head to the side. With cautious movements, he stroked a strand of hair from her sweaty face.
Her eyes snapped open. Arms jerking, she began to scream. "It burns. I'm burning. I'm burning aliv—" Straight white teeth chomped down. Harry pushed away as her tongue split open and bubbles of red blood poured over her lips. His heart pounded.
Her manicured nails dug into her delicate skin, breaking the surface, they plunged into the tender flesh and left ribbons of skin dangling across her arms. Red rivers of blood swelled up and flooded across pale skin. A sense of power flowed into his veins as hers bled out.
Harry blinked, reality surfaced from beneath his twisted pleasure. This was not a hallucination. This was something far more dangerous and unknown.
Blood drained from his round cheeks. Harry turned to flee but a blood drenched hand grabbed at his ankle.
With a damage tongue and blood choked words Ms. Meredith cried. "Benjy, don't go." She coughed. "Don't leave me." Harry kicked at her face. Wet fingers slipped and rose to her throat. Gurgles of indistinguishable words mixed and spilt from her mouth.
With his back pressed firmly against the cabinets, he stared with wide eyes. Screams warped into shrieks. Red painted hands rose to her face and clawed where he had kicked her. Harry held his breath, unable to turn away. Sharp nails pushed through her thin eyelids. Red became diluted as fresh fluids mixed. Clear goo exuded around her fingertips and down her cheeks in large thick chunks.
Harry's stomach turned, vomit burned up his throat and splashed across the ground. Even with his eyes shut tight, his tears still escaped as the familiar scent of blood washed over him.
"No, no, no…There's so much." Harry's hands threaded through black hair and pulled tightly. "Why? Why is this happening?"
Ominous laughter echoed around him.
Harry's world swirled around him in a mixture of perfect clarity and blurred opacity. His dark passenger's joy coloured his own guilt-filled horror. He pushed himself to stand and turned to flee.
Rage struck through his small frame like a hot hammer forging a blade.
You can't run away! You did this! Look at her! Look at what you did!
Harry's chest heaved as sobs shook him, heavy tears poured down his pale cheeks. His shoulders hunched as he tried to turn back but fear crippled him.
Look at her! I told you to look at her! Look at what you did!
Harry's emerald eyes sprung open at its demand. The nanny now laid still in front of him, her eyeless sockets now unseeing as skin flushed with crimson and black; as if burning slowly from within. On the floor beside her laid his drawing now soaked with blood. His family smiled back. His father. His sister. His mother… What would they think? He hadn't meant to kill her, just to scare her.
"I didn't mean to! I didn't mean to hurt her!" Harry pleaded as tears dribbled across his lips.
She was right about you, you know? You… are a monster. A noose would have been sso much cleaner, quicker… The dark passenger purred, the words sickeningly sweet and full of approval; it praised him for his gruesome deed.
"I didn't do it on purpose. I didn't know!" Harry screamed begging it to believe him, to understand him.
No one will believe you. They will send you to Azkaban.
Harry sucked in a breath.
"I'm not a murderer…"
But on the cold kitchen tile his malevolent caretaker laid motionless. Doubt festered in Harry's mind. The shadows on the walls spun into dark figures, crawling out at him, heightening his fear like the very guards of the ocean locked prison, sucking his strength as his fears rolled into visions.
You are sso much more than a common criminal. You're special, superior.
Lights flickered overhead, shadows jumped and danced. He could feel it pulling him in. Attempting to swallow him whole as it tried to share its secrets. Dark hair draped in front of emerald eyes. Wiping snot from his nose, Harry stared down at the shattered teacup. It laid in pieces, white porcelain soaked in dark blood; it was broken, just like him.
"What do I do?" Harry whispered.
Stop fighting. Accept that this is who you are. A monster.
"A monster..." He stared at his hands.
You know it's true. Your terror stems from the fear of being caught. You wanted to make her suffer.
The vision of his father…sister…mother…
"You're right." As if staring down at a deep abyss Harry felt his knees wobbling, with feet only inches from the edge; this revelation brought him down to his knees. His fingers pressed against the tile, he submerged into the darkness of his own mind. Fluids of another human being once again soaking into his skin. "Yesss, a monster."
Darkness slithered from his mind and squeezed at his heart. Now think, you mustn't get caught. You don't belong in Azkaban.
"Caught, Azkaban, I...I don't know. I can't think. "
Here, It whispered. Harry shivered as an invisible cold finger brushed across his forehead. You just need a little push. It cackled.
Harry gasped as thoughts shuffled through his mind like a deck of cards. Fear faded as his adrenaline fled. Harry grinned. His tired arm stretched towards Ms. Meredith's body. Excitement gleamed from his eyes. His dark passenger had always known. Every monster needs a dark passenger.
And now Act Two of my story begins. We have about 10 more chapters until the end of the first of three books. ;) -Malevolent Mind