Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise or any characters from it.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hellsing franchise or any characters from it.
All OC's have been created by me and as such I own the rights to them.
This story is a work of fan creation and will not be used for monetary gain.
"Example" – Normal speech
"Example" – Latin
"EXAMPLE" – Anger
'Example' – Thought/Exemplum
"Example" – Other languages as expressed
*Example* - Sound Effect
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Weapon of the Cross
Chapter 10: Here Come The Monsters
21:10 GMT No. 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surry
Harry sat in the armchair rubbing the bloodstain on the carpet with his foot. Trying not to look at his aunt who was opposite him on the settee watching him, nursing a glass of red wine between her hands. Harry wondered how a woman who had no physical training, no weapons and no spark could worry him so much. He stopped rubbing the bloodstain and looked towards her waiting for her to start shouting or throwing things.
"Thank you"
The words caught the Paladin of kilter. His eyes narrowed questioningly at his aunt waiting for the woman to explain what she meant.
"Those boys that threatened you today usually pick on Dudley. You see he was never big or strong enough to play with them so they started to bully him, Vernon chooses to ignore it, it's mostly the reason he wants to send him to Smelting's. He believes it will toughen him up." She stopped looking at harry and stood. Fixing her gaze on the mantelpiece she picked up a photograph of Dudley as a small child. It seemed that it was taken at some kind of Amusement park when Dudley was still a small child. Running her thumb across the face in the frame she continued. "Dudley is my only child and I don't want to see him hurt."
Turning to him, her face crumbled into tears. Harry made to stand but she waved him back down. Moving back to the settee she collapsed onto it, draining her glass and put it on the floor. Looking towards harry she passed him the photo frame.
"He was our miracle child. The doctors had told me it would be impossible for me to have children as I had a defect since birth, but it turns out they were wrong, Dudley is my darling baby and I would do anything for him. So thank you harry for what you did." She stood and turned to leave. But Harry's voice stopped her.
"So that's the reason you left me at the church. Not because you didn't love me as a nephew but because you couldn't think how to raise another child as well as your own." This time it was Harry's turn to stand. "In some ways I should thank you, if you hadn't left me on that step I would have probably raised as some kind of sub-human by Vernon and yourself because of my spark. But don't expect me to forgive you for leaving a one year-old on the steps of a church in the middle of the night in autumn." Harry started to leave the room but left a few parting words.
"I didn't break that boy's nose for your son. I broke it to teach him not to mess with me again."
28th July 1991 06:23 GMT No. 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surry
Saturday had passed without incident, once the televisions had been returned and now Sunday had come calling. Harry sat on his bed feeding the end of the tie through the loop and pulling it tight. Moving to his feet harry pulled the suit jacket on and smoothed the creases out of the arms. Next he slipped the Oxfords onto his feet and tied the laces.
Now that he was dressed Harry could start hiding his weapons. First was the bayonet, placed under the bottom draw of the closet, next the handgun in the same place. The buckle dagger was clipped into place, his fingers checking the release catch to make sure he could pop it out at a moment's notice. Now ready he left the room.
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Petunia had woken early on the Sunday as she always did; tea was so much sweeter when she had the time to enjoy it. Sitting in front of the returned television she thought back over the last few days at what had happened. Harry's arrival had changed her husband, it wasn't just the beating he had treated him to but his presence that seemed to change the man. She had noticed a similar affect on her son, his demeanour was one of a more normal child, not that she thought her Dudley was unbalanced but had been more level these past few days than he had been in years.
She heard footsteps on the stairs. Unusual for a Sunday morning as it was Vernon's day off and Dudley liked to wait until the better cartoons came on the television. Turning she saw harry making his way towards the kitchen. The fact he was in a suit reminded the housewife that he would be going to church. And now that the one in Little Whinging had been closed due to the police investigation he would have to catch a bus to the next town to find another catholic church. Watching the boy prepare his breakfast it was easy to forget that the boy had been trained to slay monsters.
Smiling to herself she moved to the kitchen and up behind harry.
07:30 CET Section Thirteen Headquarters, The Vatican, Rome
Enrico Maxwell stood beside the cardboard box holding the smashed derringer in his gloved hand. At his side was Father Alexander, holding the limp hand of Father Jeremy tightly, trying to ignore the clothes the basted Anglicans had dressed him in. They had dressed him in a protestant cassock and replaced his silver crucifix with a wooden cross. It was a slur against his good memory. Earlier in the day all the operatives that were in Rome and the nearby countryside had attended a service for the man, filing into the underground room they had paid their respects and left, leaving Alexander and Enrico to take care of the arrangements. As he had committed suicide they were not allowed to bury him, so here in the secret corner of the Vatican it was left to the man's oldest friend and his protégé to cremate him. Looking to Anderson Enrico waited for the man to finish.
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Father Anderson prided himself on being the strongest paladin the Vatican had, the fastest, the most celebrated in over two-hundred years. But every time an operative died he felt the pain of losing part of the huge family that was Section Thirteen. He was eighty years old and had looked thirty seven for the last forty three years, in that time he had seen tens of people join section thirteen through the huge iron doors in there lobby and leave through the huge cremation oven beside him. Every time he closed the huge metal door he hurt, he became friends with every person that joined the organisation and was always there to welcome them through the iron doors, and he even visited them when he had the time if they had been promoted out of the group. To the monsters of the world he was the fearsome Bayonet Anderson, greatest monster slayer since Van Helsing, to the family of Section Thirteen he was the crazy uncle who took the time to talk with you if he was in town. And here he was again with another man who had come through those iron doors and met the fate of so many before him.
Slowly reaching out he pulled the cross off its chain and placed it in the pocket of his leather trench coat he wore over his cassock. With one last squeeze of the corpse's hand he laid it back in the box, next he reached into the coat and pulled out a small velvet bag. The blood red fabric was tied at the top with straw and the contents clinked together. Closing the lid of the overly large cardboard box he turned to his companion.
"I think that he would want you to do it." Anderson said his Italian echoing around the empty room.
Moving forward Enrico pushed the box into the cremation oven, he stood back and looked to the controls while Anderson closed the door. Enrico cleared his throat and started the pilot light. Taking one through the soot smeared window at the box he turned the handle on the gas pipe and watched as the box was consumed by flames. Turning away Maxwell walked away from the oven towards the exit, his eyes flicking to the man still standing by the oven, but he did not stop for he had an appointment that he couldn't miss.
10:00 GMT No. 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surry
Harry sat watching the ticking clock on the mantelpiece thinking about the morning so far. It had been unusual in some respects, such as is aunt appearing behind him while he was making a cup of tea and fondly rubbing his hair. It had been a surprise, especially after the rather heated discussion on Friday night. After that he had caught a bus to Greater Whinging to the nearest Catholic Church in the hope that after Mass that the Father would be a member of Section Thirteen. However it seems that he was out of luck as the man reacted to none of the authorised code words, in fact the priest seemed to leave with the impression that harry seemed to have an unusual obsession with silver roman coins and the song 'Breaking The Law'. After returning home to find the house empty Harry had decided to wait in the living room for the meeting that must be coming. Harry had guessed that today would be the day that someone would arrive to introduce him to the wizarding world. As such he had prepared himself, his buckle knife was in place as was the pistol on his back in its specially crafted leather holster, it's length meant the boy could not bend at the waist but it was perfectly hidden under his black jacket. He had an extra clip in his right hand pocket, a wad of English currency in his left and a pad and pen on an inside pocket encase he needed to make notes.
Vigilantly he sat and waited watching the seconds tick away.
*TICK*
*TICK*
*TICK*
*TI-* *DING-DONG*
Harry refocused on the surrounding world as the noise of the doorbell cut through the quite. Harry stood and smoothed out the creases in his suit. Checked the pistol was well and truly hidden and made towards the door. Plans filled his mind to combat whoever was behind the door.
A/N
I'm very sorry for the long wait but my mum was diagnosed with cancer and had to have an operation. So I've been looking after her and this had to go on the back-burner. So thanks to all the people who gave good feed back and I'll try to write more soon. But don't forget to check out the new pole I've put up or send me some questions.
So until next time
Fare Thee Well