DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter
When Hunting Monsters
Chapter 10: Stir Crazy
The dog's barks stirred Harry from his slumber. A few days of exploration had passed and Harry actually felt relaxed for the first time the whole summer. The teens still hadn't managed to cover the whole of the underground halls, but had the important parts. Hermione spent most of the time in the library and Harry and Dudley passed their time in the gym. The kitchen they had found well stocked and had eaten all their meals in the living room, and Hermione had taken to entertaining them with the piano. Harry didn't really find it suprising she played but wondered why she had never said anything, she really was quite good. She had tried to give him a few simple lessons but he didn't quite have the patience for it.
An echoing pained gasp and shout of "Down Crixus!" fully woke Harry who pulled on a pair of trousers lying on the stone floor, and grabbed his wand. The lamps in the room seemed to sense his alertness and flickered on, revealing the stone walls and fireplace filled only with soft gray ash, and the bear fur under his feet. For a moment Harry was afraid the light had woken Hermione for she had let out a pitiful groan and rolled on the bed so her face was pressed more into the pillow. But she didn't show any more signs of stirring. The dim light illuminated her brown curls and pale skin. Her little pointed nose and unblemished chin stood out in sharp relief against the black sheets of the bed and Harry felt a sudden, strong reluctance to leave the room before he pushed it down.
He creeped out, opening the door slowly and closing it softly behind him before venturing into the corridor, careful not to make a sound. If we woke Hermione she would be insistent upon investigating the mysterious voice with him, and he didn't want that. Harry wasn't exactly sure why she insisted on staying in his room instead of finding her own, and they hadn't talked about it, but he was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the situation. The bear was always looking for a means of escape from the imprisonment Harry had it in within his mind. Anger had been its favorite weak point to expose but the more Harry was around Hermione the more it become lust. He couldn't deny the physical attraction he felt towards the girl, and the bear was seeking to take advantage of it. He'd would soon have to make Hermione move to a different room.
In the badly working chandelier lights of the great hall, Harry could see a tall shadowy figure standing close to the giant stone doors, a hand pressed to his side. The lights were dimmed to a point that Harry could hardly make him out. His head was cocked, as if listening hard to something.
"Don't move." Harry stepped into the Hall, and cast a nonverbal 'lumos , shining his wand on the man, who winced and shaded his eyes with the hand not pressed to his side, a dark gray hood keeping Harry from discerning any of his features.
"Bit bright huh? Mind turning that down or pointing it somewhere else?" The man's voice was raspy. He was of a considerable height, taller than Harry and was dressed in rags that hung in strips from his thin form. As the stranger pulled his hood off Harry could see tangled locks of dirty brown hair hung to his shoulders, and a scraggly beard covered his cheeks. The rags were gray, torn in several places where Harry could see cuts and gashes in the flesh showing through, and the cloth was splattered from head to toe in blood. Harry had a feeling some of the blood wasn't the man's own. His face was covered in bruises and bloodied as well. All in all he looked like a beggar who had either been beaten savagely or just committed murder.
"Who are you?" Harry walked closer to the strange vagabond, but lowered his wand away from the man's eyes which he noticed were brown like his hair. The pupils were contracted from the wand light making the brown stand out more, along with the blood shot arteries sprawled across like spiderwebs of red.
The man laughed, his throat cracking. "I should be asking you that. This is my house after all."
He moved his hand from the bloody wound on his side and extended it to Harry, but a gold locket unraveled and fell from a chain wrapped around his fingers, swinging in the air.
It glimmered in the dim light of the hall and the light of Harry's wand revealed an ornate S engraved on its surface. He stared at it, feeling something strange in his chest, like a deep longing, before the vagabond looked down and hastily stuffed the locket into his robes."
"What is that?" Harry asked, not taking his eyes from the pocket the man had placed the locket in.
"Nothing, nothing just a trinket. A…family heirloom. I keep it on me for good luck." The man's voice was smooth but his speech more hurried than his previous sentences.
"I think I've seen it before."
"Have you?" The beggar looked straight into Harry's eyes, with an intense look of warning.
Harry didn't say anything but looked away, feeling confused and disturbed about the vagabond's behavior.
"You must be Harry Potter then, pleasure to meet you." The man stuck his hand forward again, grinning, and Harry took it robotically, even more confused.
"Er, you said you own this place? Tonks never told us who you were."
"Ah that's just like Tonks isn't it? The names Charlus. Charlus Mckennon. And yes the Mckennons were all wiped out, except for me because I'm obviously still alive."
Charlus started limping towards the arm chair in the living area with Crixus at his heels, who was whining excitedly. Blood dripped to the floor, splashing upon impact with the cool stone, and then the carpet as he stumbled his way over. Harry moved forward and draped one of Charlus's arms across his shoulder, helping the man into the chair.
"You want me to take a look at that for you?" Harry asked, motioning to the deep wound in the man's side.
"Would you? I'm afraid the healing arts have never been my forte."
Harry pulled the rag away from the wound and considered the bleeding gash. A simple epiksey wouldn't do for a deep laceration like this.
"Suo!" Harry decided on and incanted firmly. The wound started to emanate a green shining glow and the two sides of separated flesh began to join together but stopped. Harry cast the spell again, concentrating more power into it and the wound continued to knit itself until it was just a pink jagged line. The glow left, and all that was left of the wound was the faint scar and the blood covering the area. He flicked his wand and it evaporated into a red hazy smoke that lingered for a moment in the air before dispersing. Harry went over most of the wizard's other cuts with same spell, his wand twisting and weaving over Mckenon's form as he bent his will and magic heavily towards the task.
Charlus let out a relieved sigh. "You seem pretty good at that."
"I figured it'd be a wise magic to learn considering the situations I've been in." Harry smirked.
"Ah well I just can't seem to get the hang of it. We've all got things we'll always suck at I guess."
Harry sat down in the chair opposite from Charlus who flicked his wand. A cabinet by the fireplace opened to display several glasses with ice and large bottles of alcohol. One bottle filled two cups which then floated into Charlus's and Harry's waiting hands.
"So how'd you get this beat up?"
"I'm assuming you've guessed already that I'm an order member." Harry nodded his head. "Well I'm also a hit wizard. That combination puts me in some pretty useful situations for Dumbledore."
"I imagine it would."
"Yes, well the wizards I was trailing ended up at Mundungus's place. I tried to save him but I got there too late. Killed most of the assholes, but they were pretty talented, managed to nick me a few times."
Harry snorted into his glass at Charlus calling the gaping wound a nick. Somehow he couldn't manage to feel sorry for Fletcher though. Perhaps it was because the man had been so lax while on duty and had caused Harry to spend much more time than wanted in the company of Voldemort's followers. Memories of long hours spent in torture, hanging from the dungeon ceiling played through his mind, and Harry rubbed his wrists, feeling the phantom pain of the iron cuffs. They had left very real marks as deep red scar tissue where they had eaten away at his flesh.
"Serves the deatheaters right." Harry said darkly.
"Oh they weren't deatheaters. I was actually working under the assumption that they were the magical equivalent to drug dealers but they were apparently a little more. Had a powerful blood sucker with them, he's the one who stabbed me."
"Oh." Harry never imagined there were other groups of dark wizards out there. "So the beggar getup is a disguise I'm guessing?"
"Hit the nail on the head. The hobo look was the best one for where I was."
Harry didn't ask what they would've wanted with mundungus. He knew the man had had all kinds of shady dealings. They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping what Harry thought tasted like brandy.
"Those are some interesting tattoos you've got." Charlus remarked. Harry looked down at his bare torso.
"Yeahhh, I'm starting to regret them a bit." The man was tactful. He had pointed out the tattoos but not the scars which Harry knew all too well stood out just as plainly on his face and torso.
"Ah, never regret Harry. I've made many mistakes in my life, but they're what's made me a stronger, wiser person, so I wouldn't change a thing….Actually, I take back the wiser part but you get what I mean."
Harry laughed. "Ya I think so. I guess in some ways the choices involved with them have made me stronger but they also had consequences I wasn't prepared to deal with. "
"At least you've learned from it. Many people go their whole lives without learning much. Wouldn't have so many goddamn problems in this fucking world if that weren't true." Charlus knocked back another glass and jerked his wand harshly. The bottle zoomed over from where it was floating to refill glass, brandy sloshing out, and onto the carpet. Crixus licked it up eagerly, slobber dripping from his mouth.
"So this place is amazing, we've been here for a few days and I still havent' seen all the rooms. How in the hell did you afford this on Hit Wizard wage? And with the maze and shit outside?"
"There's a long ass story behind it, but to summarize, I inherited it."
"Oh, that makes sense I guess." Harry really wanted to ask him about the strange woman-creature he'd encountered but didn't want to reveal what the thing had said to him, so he figured it was probably best not to mention it. Charlus seemed to be developing more and more of what seemed like an American accent the more he drank. The bottle kept floating over and refilling his glass every time it was empty. Harry waved it off as it tried to pour more into his. Crixus had his big head in Charlus's lap and was drooling all over the man's rag like clothes. One of his hands crusted in dried blood was absently petting the dog.
Charlus let out a loud yawn and set his glass down. "If you don't mind Harry, I think I'm going to go to asleep."
"It's fine," Harry said but the man was already passed out, his long arms hanging over the arms of the chair. Harry stood up and swished and flicked his wand, rising Charlus into the air and directing the hit wizards prone form before him as he headed off to set him in a bed in one of the many empty guess rooms.
"Fuck it all!" Travers screamed as red robed and fierce faced aurors formed from swirling smoke around him and his men. The hotel lobby was becoming crowded, chairs knocked over, and papers blown off desk as spells began to fire. Windows exploded with impact of whizzing magic and shards of glass rained down on all their heads, being crunched when they hit the floor by the quick movement of heavy boots.
The aurors greatly outnumbered the deatheaters and Travers realized it was clearly an ambush. He had been informed by his contact within the ministry that Harry Potter was now staying in this location, and with the permission of the Dark Lord had quickly formed a team and set out only to find the place completely empty. Now he was trapped within a circle of skilled duelists and only having half trained rokiees barely out of school to rely on. All of the good duelists among the deatheaters were either on errands for Voldemort, in Azkaban or dead. He didn't even attempt to disapparate as he knew it was a given that the aurors would've cast disapparition jinxes.
A deep red curse sailed from the wand of the blue haired auror, the half blood abomination of the Black family and Travers ducked, feeling the magic ripple the hood covering his head. It crashed into a statue of some important figure from muggle history behind him, blowing it into pieces. Looking around quickly he saw that many of his men were being disarmed and restrained with black ropes. Not one auror was yet down.
"Bombarda Maxima!" he shouted jabbing his wand forward and angling it downwards. A spell bucked from it crashing and plowing through the tile floor sending up a huge cloud of gritty dust. Travers fired off a few killing curses through the cloud, their green shine lost in the gray haze, before he turned tail and ran for the doors, stumbling and almost tripping on the hem of his black robe as his boots skidded on the floor. The gold gilded mirrors covering sections of the lobby ceiling reflected his flight above the smoke for the aurors to easily see.
"TRAVERS!!" A deep voice bellowed in a primal rage. The deatheater in question looked back over his shoulder and to his horror saw a tendril of crimson and orange flame come whipping through the smoky gray cloud towards him at a speed making it unavoidable.
He screamed as it wrapped around his left ankle, setting robe, trouser leg and then flesh afire as it jerked him to the ground, his silver mask being shoved into his face by the collision with the tile.
He rolled over, still screaming and frantically sprayed the whip with jets of water from his wand to no avail. The thuds of boots came closer, and Travers sensed a shadow looming over him. He looked up and for the first time in a long time felt real fear.
Kingsley Shacklebolt towered over him like a corpse burning with fury. His normally black skin turned ash from the cloud of rubble and his eyes piercing into Travers with so much hate, his lips curled into a snarl.
"Please..Please! Take it off!" The agony was becoming unbearable even for a man hardened by liberal application of the cruciatus curse. The flesh was consumed and the flames merely licking clean bone where the whip was wrapped around him. But the fire seemed to feed on what it burned and spread slowly up his shin to his knee.
"No. No mercy, not this 've killed my men." Shacklebolt's low voice was quiet and cold, a harsh whisper as he stared down at the coward before him. The auror flicked his wand, shaking the tendril off its end and it slithered hungrily along the floor like burning snake to wrap the remnant of its length around the whimpering deatheater.
"Arghh please, it's going to kill me!" The deatheater tried to scrabble backwards, his fingers clawing the tile, but Shacklebolt placed a boot on his other leg, keeping him in place.
"No more than you deserve. But I might consider it if you tell me who else you've managed to warp or bewitch in the ministry."
"Fine. Fine! There's only a few more that I know of. Ch-ch." The man gasped for breath and tried to utter the words but they didn't come back.
"Who?!" Shacklebolt screamed bending down and grasping Traver's by the collar of his robes, pulling him close. It was then that he came to a sudden and dreaded realization as he felt the deatheater's icy breath against his face. Shacklebolt dropped him to the ground and stepped back in panic. The tendril of flame slithering along Travers body had morphed into a chain of ice, clinging absolutely still to the black fabric of the robes.
"Kingsley, Dementors!" Tonks' voice carried over to him. Several Cries of 'Expecto Patronum' were heard as great hordes of dark cloaked figures swept through the broken windows, and the shattered revolving door of the lobby like gigantic clouds of shadow, eclipsing the sun and all light in the room.
Many of the patronuses came too late and too weak against the overpowering evil and the wraiths floated down to steal the life of restrained and defenseless deatheaters, and some aurors whose patronuses were particularly feeble. Rapidly more aurors were being taken as their magic failed, and cold rotting fingers gripped their cheeks to bring them in for a deadly kiss.
Kingsley watched in shock as his silvery lynx was practically ignored by the hellish monster in front of him. It turned from the auror and bent down lowering its hood and placing its gaping, toothless maw above Travers face, who wasn't moving.
"No!" Kingsely shouted, but could do nothing as the dementor removed Travers mask. It caressed the deatheater's cheek before placing its rotting lips against the man's. The demon began greedily sucking out Travers soul, eliciting a horrible keel from the man as his spirit left him.
The Dark Lord had outmaneuvered them, sacrificing his own followers like mere chess pieces to take out his enemy.
Wham! A fist slammed into Harry's face sending him reeling backwards. Harry recovered and lurched forward swinging his arm only to feel himself flying through the air for a moment before crashing painfully onto his back. He wheezed, and tried to get to his feet as Mckennon stood over him.
"You gotta move, Harry! All the strength in the world aint gonna save your slow ass when you lumber around like some big drunken bear!" They were in the boxing ring of the gym and Dudley was laughing as Mckennon thoroughly beat the shit out of his cousin.
Harry growled and leapt forward, staying low to the canvas floor of the ring and wrapping his arms around Mckenon's legs. The hit wizard's face morphed from a taunting grin into a look of surprise as he crashed into the ground. But the shock didn't last long and they wrestled but for a few moments before Mckennon got his long legs across Harry's chest, the teen's arm levered between them.
"It's skill that will save you here boy! Not fighting only with your rage like a dumb beast! Your're a man, use your fucking mind!"
"'I've gotten this far!" Harry shouted through clenched teeth.
"And look how many scars you have to show for it! It's only luck that you're not dead. Do you submit?"
Harry let out a roar and jerked his arm forward , snapping it against the leverage, and then pulling the limp noodle of an appendage away from Mckennon before slamming his other fist into the shocked man's face, knocking him out cold.
Harry stood up and grinned at Hermione who was standing by the side and watching with wide eyes, before his face twisted into a strange expression. His eyes rolled back in his head and he keeled over, hitting the floor of the ring with a thud.
Hermione ran forward, climbing over the ropes and kneeling by Harry, frantically trying to think of the bone mending charm she had just looked up and half learned the day before.
"Dudley do something! Stop standing around, Harry's hurt!" The boy who had been standing slack jawed by the ropes closed his mouth and rushed over.
"What do you want me to do?"
"I don't know! Er, go grab the potions from the medical section of the lab. However many you can carry."
Dudley nodded, and ran off out of the room and into the hallway, his trainers slapping against the stone floor.
Hermione decided to wake Mckennon first as he might know what to do. She had been surprised to see him at the table in the morning when they got to breakfast, but he seemed like a nice enough guy, and a very skilled wizard.
''Enneverate!" The blue light from Hermione's wand sunk into Mckennon's chest. She found his style of dress appalling with his torn jeans, boots, and blood stained wife beater, but it was at least better than the rags Harry had described. Charlus had washed his filthy hair and pulled it back into a ponytail. His scraggly beard was also now trimmed into mutton chops without a mustache.
Mckenenon sputtered and sat up, looking around widely before finding Hermione's face and giving her a toothy grin.
"Whooo-ee! That boy sure gave it to me good!"
"I can't believe you let him break his own arm, are you mental?!!"
"How the fuck was that my fault? It's not my fault your boyfriend is bat shit insane!"
"He's not my boyfriend!" Hermione shouted, her fists balled at her sides, and her cheeks red. Mckennon was standing now, staring down at Harry. The teen was wearing black baggy and pants and a sleeveless black shirt. Now that Hermione briefly considered it, it seemed like all the clothes he had bought in London were black.
"Why's he unconscious?"
"Uh I don't know, maybe because his arm is broken." Hermione said sarcastically, but biting her lip in worry.
"I don't think so. If he had enough of a pain tolerance to break his own arm I doubt he'dve passed out from it."
"Well what charm do you think will fix it the best? I can't remember the spell for broken bones."
Mckennon laughed, "Fuck me if I know!"
"Excuse me?!"
"Ugh, calm down miss prim and proper, it's just an American expression."
Dudley came running in at that moment, potions overflowing in his arms. One fell out and almost crashed to the floor but Mckennon flicked his wand and the green vial zoomed into his hand.
" 'skele-grow'. What the fuck is this shit?" Mckennon asked, squinting at the label.
"It was in your potions lab, shouldn't you know?"
"Nah, that Pomfrey lady gave me most of the medical potions in there. We don't really use them in America too much."
"What do you use then?" Hermione asked, kneeling by Harry and inspecting his arm, it was worse than the time he got attacked by a cursed bludger.
"Well the doctors learn the spells instead. Most people don't though."
"That makes sense I guess. We can't use that potion though, unless we vanish the bones in his arm first and I'm not comfortable doing that. Oh!" Hermione's eyes lit up."I remember the spell now. 'Ossis resarcio!'" She said firmly and there was a crunch as the bone snapped together loudly. Hermione winced, she wasn't sure if that was supposed to happen.
Mckennon bent down and lifted the arm prodding where the break had been with his finger.
"It looks alright now."
"Hopefully." Hermione said worriedly.
"Ya won't Harry be pissed if he wakes up and can't move his arm." Dudley said chuckling, he had piled the potions inside the ring and was leaning back against the ropes. Hermione shot him a glare.
"Do you think I should wake him up?" Hermione asked Mckennon, still gnawing on her lip.
"Er I guess." The man didn't sound too sure.
Hermione cast the spell nonverbally and Harry groaned moving his hands to his head and pressing his palms over his eyes.
"Harry you alright mate?" Dudley asked
"Dementors."
"What?" Mckenon pulled his wand out.
"Harry there can't be dementors down here." Hermonie said rubbing his shoulder in a placating fashion
"Not here." Harry said.
"Where then?" Mckenon asked urgently. He had heard about Harry's visions from Dumbledore.
"I don't know but there are aurors there. I saw Tonks and Kingsley. But they're losing." Harry sat up still rubbing his head.
"Fuck!" the hit wizard shouted. He vaulted out over the ropes and sprinted into the corridor.
"Where are you going?" Hermione called after him.
"To tell Dumbledore!" The sound of his heavy boots was soon lost in the vastness of the underground halls.
Harry didn't even attempt to follow him, he had no desire for a meeting with the old man.
Tonks and Shacklebolt stood back to back, their wands out even though their patronuses we're starting to fade. Everyone else in the library had fallen, forever soulless, auror or deatheater didn't seem to make a difference to the foul creatures. The mindless bodies of victims lay all over the floor, though it was hard to see with the thick fog in the air. Kingsley could barely see the dementors in front of him. Only when they surged forward could he see their features clearly.
They had formed a circle around Kingsley and Tonks, rotting hands outstretched. The tallest one, that seemed around 13 feet compared to the average ten stood a little more forwards. It was the one that had taken Travers soul.
Kingsley's lynx failed and vanished in a wisp of silver and the tall hellish fiend rushed forward, a hungry wail resonating like demonic humming as it flew towards Shacklebolt.
He slashed his wand down and a jet of fire shot towards the dementor whose wail turned furious as it was forced back.
"Tonks I can't hold them back for long!"
"I can't either!" She was attempting the same magic, they didn't seem to like fire, but the dementors were gaining ground with every moment. There didn't seem to be any hope left. They had tried apparating away but it seemed there was powerful magic preventing it. Someone had to have directed the dementors here, and whoever had had probably also set up a ward.
Kingsley could hear Tonks' teeth chattering as she shouted out spells. Her hair was mousy brown, and her face pale, lips blue from cold and not her power.
"Tonks we're going to try something, I need you to hold on for just a little bit longer."
"I'm fine." Her voice was fait, and fading. "What are we gonna do?'
"We're going to bring the ceiling down. But when we do we're going form a shield just around us got it?"
"Kingsley, there's fifteen stories above us! Our magic isn't strong enough to hold a shield against that!"
"We'll run out as fast as we can. Look I can't think of anything else, and at least this way we'll hopefully take these creatures with us!"
"…Ok. I'm ready when you are. I don't think I can cast much longer anyway, so it's not like I'm going to live anyhow."
"Don't think like that. We can do this."
Tonks whipped her wand, shooting a curse and barely holding off a dementor that had flown at her.
"Count it down boss!"
Kingsley smiled despite the situation. If he had to die, he was glad he was going to die with Tonks.
"One!" three dementors flew at them and Shackelebolt twirled his wand, feeling renewed with adrenaline in staring his death in the face. The dementors were swept back by a strong gust of wind from his wand.
"Two!" More dementors surged forward out of the mist, into their line of vision and they both shouted out multiple spells, struggling to keep them back. But the dementors seemed to sense what they were planning and tried ever harder to break through.
"Three!" They both shot their wands up, and all the dementors came flying towards them.
The beginning of the spell formed on both their lips as they reached desperately within themselves for the power. The dementors were almost upon them. If this didn't work then they were both dead for sure.
Suddenly, there was a flash of flame in the air above their heads and they stopped the spell they had begun in shock as the song of a great bird filled the room, its body appearing out of the tempest of fire.
The dementors writhed around in the air, keening and wailing in agony, a sharp high pitched, horrible sound. The fog was dissipated in the heat of the magnificent scarlet bird, and Kingsley could see the horrible mouths of the fiends, twisted in pain.
Kingsley wrapped an arm around tonks, and with his other hand grabbed hold of Fawkes' tail.
They disappeared in a rush of flame, the angry demonic wails fading from Kingsley's ears, but they would stay in his mind, haunting him forever.
"Ughhhh." Harry groaned, getting to his feet.
"You ok?" Hermione asked moving over to help him. He waved her off.
"Ya I always feel great after I get my bloody arm broken and get mindfucked with visions of dementors." He crawled through the ropes of the boxing ring, and set off down the hallway, the other two teens following him.
"Well it's your fault."
"Well it's your fault." Harry mocked her, making his voice high and annoying. She blushed scarlet and glared at him. Dudley tried to hide his snickering but failed pitifully. They were at the living room now and Harry threw himself into an armchair. The other two took seats across from him.
"Don't give me that shit Hermione, you saw how cheeky the bastard was being. I couldn't just let him get away with it."
She huffed, "Oh and I suppose breaking your own arm was a good solution was it?!" She stood out of her chair, shouting at Harry.
"I've put myself through worse." Harry said calmly. He was leaning back in his comfortable chair and was inspecting his nails. They were caked with old blood, and Harry came to the conclusion that he should probably get around to cleaning them.
"And look how that's turned out for you!" At this Harry looked up his eyes fierce with anger. He stood up out his chair to tower over Hermione, a furious expression on his face.
"You're not my fucking mother Hermione!" Dudley tugged on the girls arm, trying to get her to sit back down but she didn't budge, her hair and eyes wild.
"No, but I care about you, and I'm not going to let you do stupid, moronic things and get yourself hurt anymore!"
Harry raised his hand and Hermione flinched as he almost backhanded her but he balled his hand into a fist and dropped it to his side. He let out a yell and turned around ,kicking his armchair over, and sending it crashing onto the floor before he stalked off towards his room, turning over a few of the smaller tables over on his way, and pulling things off the wall for them to clatter onto the stone floor. They both heard a loud clanging as Harry threw a battleaxe down the length of the hallway. After that his angry stomps and growls and yells got gradually quieter the further he got down the hallway to the rooms, and eventually the noise of his anger ceased to carry to the other teens.
Hermione burst into tears and fell back into her chair, sobbing loudly. Dudley patted her shoulder and awkwardly attempted to comfort her.
A sheet of parchment, black ink messily scrawled across its surface was balled up, and crunched by a frustrated hand, before being thrown across a room to bounce off a vividly orange wall.
Ron Weasely ran a hand through his red hair, as he realized the futility of his actions.
'None of the letters I've sent have been returned, so why would another one make a difference?' He thought. He pushed his chair back and got up, stomping as he paced across his floor. Posters of players from the Chudley Cannons grinned down at him, and in his dark mood Ron quite thought they were mocking him.
The angry depression seemed to be his constant state of mind now. Dumbledore had told him about the events that had transpired at the hotel, but had told Ron that his idea had been sound and it was merely their own hasty planning that led to the tragedy.
Ron though couldn't help but feel greatly responsible. Kingsley wouldn't have ever thought a plan like that up, and if Ron hadn't of suggested it to him, many more people would still be alive. The guilt gnawed at him constantly, and he kept himself sequestered in his room for the most part, not willing to face his family. Sleep eluded him, and when he did manage to doze off he was plagued with nighmares of rotting, clammy hands seizing his face and pulling him to an open toothless mouth that he could see the black vastness of death in.
It was a few days before Mckennon returned and when he did he looked quite different. His beard had again grown, and his hair was wild but instead of his rags he wore strange heavy black leather robes. Only Dudley was in the living area to greet him.
Mckennon walked in intending to walk straight to his room but paused upon seeing the state of the great hall and the living area. He turned around, walking in front of the telly and staring at Dudley.
"Whys it look like theres been a fuckin tornado in here?"
"Er, um Harry and Hermione had a fight." Dudley squirmed uncomfortably in his chair from which he had been watching meaningless programs on. It still amazed him that they got any kind of signal down here. He hoped though that Mckennon wouldn't be too upset that Harry trashed his house.
"Christ, I hope they didn't fight with this shit!" He said, hefting a long sword to put it back in it's place.
Dudley laughed, "No Harry just had a temper tantrum after they fought."
"Damn teenagers.." Mckennon growled under his breath. "Where's the battleaxe Dudley?' Mckennon had looked up at the wall near the hallway and finally noticed the artifact missing.
"Um, Harry kind of threw it."
Mckennon whistled, "Damn, that's impressive. Kid must have one hell of an arm."
"So you're not mad?"
Mckennon raised an eyebrow amused, "Why, were you scared I would be?"
"No just this is your house, and you do look kind of dangerous." Dudley muttered embarrassed.
Mckennon laughed and patted Dudley on the shoulder. "So where are the happy lovebirds?"
"They're in their rooms, haven't really come out much. Hermione's been spending all her time when she's not shut up in there in the library, and Harry's been mostly in the gym. He keeps asking me to get books for him though cus he doesn't want to talk to Hermione."
"Weren't they in the same room?" Mckennon had been a little wary of that when he had learned of it, but hadn't time to address the issue, and he was sure they knew the right spells anyway.
"Haha, not anymore."
"Damn. You know it's bad when a guy willingly gives up some pussy."
Dudley choked on the diet soda he was drinking, his face bright red. Mckennon slapped him on the back and it sprayed across the carpet.
"You alright there bud?"
"I don't they've-" He sputtered, fishing for a word to use.
"Ya like hell they haven't. If Harry's anything like me when I was his age…"
"That's not Harry though. I don't think he even think he even thinks about stuff like that. He's too wrapped up in Voldemort and killing deatheaters."
"Aren't we all?" Mckenon sighed taking the seat next to Dudley's and summoning a beer from the cabinet. He flicked his wand and the cap popped off.
"I don't know… I killed the guy that killed my parents, and it felt good but I don't really feel the desire to go kill any more of them."
"But what if they came in here and attacked Harry and Hermione? What would you do then?"
"Well I'd do what I could of course. I mean, I pretty much just got lucky with that bastard Yaxley. I can't do much without magic. Harry was working on a ritual that he said would help with that but I think he forgot about it."
"I've never heard of anything like that. But then again I didn't know you could turn yourself into an animagus with some tattoos." Dudley cast a sharp look at Mckennon.
"How'd you know about that?"
"I'm a hit wizard Dudley. And not just any hit wizard. The American programs have more intensive training so I'm ranked higher than most of the hit wizards here. That means I get access to files and shit, and Dumbledore is a wealth of information too. Combine that with the deatheaters I've tortured over the course of the summer and it wasn't too hard to put together."
"Oh." Dudley said, somewhat in shock.
"So what exactly were they fighting over?"
"I'm not sure exactly. I think it was that Hermione was being a little bossy and called Harry a moron. He got so pissed off he almost hit her."
Mckennon's eyes darkened. "I'd better go see if I can fix this. The idea of living with a fighting angsty teenage couple for the rest of the summer doesn't really appeal to me." The words were light but the tone contained something that Dudley found himself uneasy with.
He found Harry in the training room, bench pressing a ridiculous amount of weight. Mckennon wasn't even sure he could press that much. As if that wasn't enough he had chains wrapped around both ends of the barbell to make it even heavier.
"That enough weight for you big boy? Want me to throw some more on?" Harry just growled and continued pounding out his set, the chains rustling and jangling as he lowered the bar slowly and then forced it back up in a quick motion, repeating the process over and over.
Mckennon counted twenty repitions before Harry grunted and forced the bar back over his head, racking it behind him. The teen sat up, sweat dripping down his torso and his long hair which hung in his face.
"Did you want something?" Harry asked calmly. Mckennon pulled a stool over and sat in front of him.
"I heard you've been having some problems with Hermione while I was gone."
"What business of that is yours?" Harry asked angrily, swiping the hair out of his eyes.
"Well considering this is my house, and I'm allowing you to live in it, I would appreciate it if you refrained from trashing my possessions. I certainly don't break your things. Hell, I even made sure your damn owl was taken care of." Mckenon reminded Harry who had been ashamed when upon first being informed that Hedwig was with Tonks. He had completely forgotten about her.
Harry looked down. "I didn't mean to trash your stuff, but it was either her or everything else around me."
Mckennon shook his head, "You need to get a grip on that man. You can't be walking around like a bomb ready to go off. Especially when Hermione was just trying to look out for you. She seems like a nice girl. Definitely doesn't deserve to be treated like that. "
"No, you don't get it. You don't know what I'm dealing with." Harry pushed himself off the bench and to his feet, starting to pace in front of Mckennon.
"I understand more than you think Harry." Harry stopped and looked up at him in surprise.
"I'll let you in on a secret. I've got giant blood and I assure you that the instincts of a giant aren't any easier to deal with than that of bear."
Harry's eyes widened in shock, before he laughed, shaking his head. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised."
"That I knew your secret or that I'm part giant?"
"Both. You seem like a perceptive guy, and I know you must talk Dumbledore and all that. As for the giant blood, well you're almost as tall as Hagrid, so that's definitely in no way shocking. You do look more normally proportioned than Hagrid is though , even if you are tall."
"Well I'm not a half giant. In fact my giant blood is pretty diluted."
"What do you mean?"
"These halls Harry were once a great kingdom shared between giants and dwarves."
"That seems like an odd combination."
"It was, but it worked. Anyway after awhile a few humans managed to find their way down here. The dwarves wanted them killed but the giants wouldn't have it. The dwarves left, and some of the giants began taking the humans for husbands or wives, and then eventually you've got this ruling line of half giants, and that's what I come from on my mother's side. It's how I inherited this place."
"Kind of hard to imagine giants sparing humans. Usually they just kill them. "
"Ah well these ones weren't like the brutes you've got today. They were regal, proud kings and warriors but also much more civilized and learned than the modern conception. They even had their own magic."
"That's pretty interesting. Could I learn some of it?"
"Well most of it involved the forging of armor and weapons, which is what brought the dwarves and giants together, and that's more of an art, but the other stuff I'm sure wouldn't be too hard. I'm not convinced though that I shouldn't just lock you in your room if you're gonna go around breaking shit and attacking people."
"I'd like to see you try." Harry growled. Mckennon stood up and had his wand to Harry's throat before he could blink, the point digging in to the hollow point at the base of Harry's neck.
"Wanna rephrase that?"
Harry smacked the wand away and stood up, making to leave.
"Look Harry I'll make you a deal." Mckennon put a hand on Harry's shoulder, stopping him from walking out.
Harry didn't turn around but stood still, his shoulders tensed.
"How bout this, how bout I teach you how to control yourself, and you let me teach you how to fight properly." Mckennon had too many things riding on this boy if he was really the only who could kill Voldemort. He needed to be prepared.
"That seems fair, but I know how to fight. I've killed more deatheaters than I care to remember this summer."
"And you're lucky you didn't die in the process. Oh ya you also have to apologize to the girl."
"What? Why?!"
"Cus like I said, I'm not putting up with this all Summer."
"Fine,whatever. But why do you care about me learning to fight?" Harry turned around and stared up into Mckenon's eyes.
"Because I know what's riding on your shoulders, and it's of great importance to me for several reasons that those shoulders don't collapse under their burden." Mckennon walked past Harry, and out of the training room, leaving Harry to ponder his words.
"Hermione can I come in?" Harry stood outside her door in the hallway. She had taken a room much farther down, so that she would not run into Harry accidentally.
"That depends. If your name is Harry Potter then no." Her voice was muffled by the thick oak of the door.
"'Mione come on, I want to apologize."
"Apologize then."
"Can you open the door first."
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Pretty please?"
"Harry, go away."
"I'm sorry for getting mad at you Hermione."
"That's nice."
''And for cursing at you."
"cool."
"And for almost hitting you. I don't know what came over me."
"I do."
"Alright I do too, and it's no excuse. I won't let it happen again."
"I don't think I believe you."
"Hermione please forgive me, you're really important to me and I miss you."
"You're forgived. Will you go away now?"
"Not til you let me in."
"No, Harry."
"You know I'm not gonna leave until you do."
There was a groan of annoyance before the door was swung open, almost smacking Harry, who backed up quickly, in the face.
Hermione quickly went back to sit on her bed, turning away from Harry, and he sat next to her.
"I really am sorry."
"I know, Harry." Her fingers were drumming nervously on her leg.
"Then why are you being like this."
"Because it's taken you too long."
Harry reached over and grabbed her hand, stilling her fingers.
"You know I'm not very good at the whole apologizing thing."
Hermione sighed and looked him in the eyes."I just don't understand why you keep having to hurt yourself, or why you're still so focused on Voldemort. We're safe here, you don't have to worry about him any more." She was almost pleading, desperation in her face.
"Hermione, there's something I haven't told you." Harry looked away from her eyes and at their hands still gripped together.
"What?" Her voice was hesitant
"That prophecy in the ministry with mine and Voldemort's names on it, it was a prophecy that said I had to kill him. And that if I don't succeed he'll kill me."
"No, no that can't be true. You must have misinterpreted it or something. I'm guessing you must have been close enough to hear it when it got smashed?" Hermione shook her head, but wouldn't look at him.
"No Hermione, Dumbledore told me it. He's the one who it was originally told to."
"Why?" Hermione's voice was broken, tears forming in her eyes.
"Why what?"
"Why does it always have to be you."
Harry laughed humorlessly "That's just the hand I was dealt, I guess. But I'm not taking it lying down. If I have to do this I'm going to make sure Voldemort and all his deatheaters suffer greatly. Really even if there wasn't a prophecy , I'd probably want to do that anyway."
"But you can't. You'll be killed, he's too powerful."
"Is he? He's never been able to kill me and he's had plenty of oppurtunities. And before you say that's luck think about all his followers I've killed this Summer. I even killed Bellatrix who was his student, he taught her directly."
"Do you think he can even die? I mean when the killing curse rebounded on him, his spirit stayed here, instead of moving on, and eventually he got a new body. What's to prevent him doing that again?"
"Me. I'll make sure it doesn't happen like that. I don't know how now, but I'll research it. You can help me if you want."
Hermione's face changed from anguished to hopeful, and her eyes lit up. "Oh I bet the library here might even have something on it, the books are really old, older than anything at Hogwarts. The only thing is most of the older ones are in some strange language." She chewed on her lip thoughtfully.
"I think Mckennon knows it. He's descended from the people who used to live here." Hermione jumped off the bed.
"I'll go ask him right now!"
"Wait Hermione, are we good now?"
"Of course Harry!" She turned back around and wrapped him in a fierce hug. "You should have told me about the prophecy, but I forgive you. Just don't treat me like you did the other night, or I'll have to curse you." With that the determined witch sped off in search of the hit wizard who she found so deplorable, but in this case necessary.
The weeks past busily for the lonely occupants of the underground kingdom. Mckennon when he wasn't away trained Harry rigorously in the ways of killing, with or without a wand, or with whatever object that could possibly classify as a weapon. Once Harry was willing he took to it like a fish to water. Dudley had considered participating, but decided he'd stick with boxing. Harry had of course found it hard to keep himself under control. In the midst of violence it was near impossible to keep the bear from lashing out, and a few times he had felt on the verge of transforming, but Mckennon it seemed had a peculiar talent in calming him down, in that he knew exactly what Harry was struggling with it, and had had to get past similar demons in his own life.
His method for taming the beast consisted basically of practicing occlumency while fighting, constantly telling Harry to clear his mind, which Harry found strangely easier to do while in the rhythm of battle. He had taught and made Harry practice many movements and methods of blocking, attacking, or grappling hundreds upon hundreds of times over until they were firmly ingrained into his mind, and then he'd attack the teen until he could produce the right movements easily and without thought. It was very motivating to learn and to react quicker when Harry knew that if he didn't he'd soon be concussed or sporting broken ribs. Mckennon had broken Harry's ankle once, dislocated his shoulder twice, broken his left arm three times, his jaw five times, and his nose at least twelve times by July the twenty first, which was the current date. But Harry had learned, and the more he practiced the more he could feel the bear under his skin, but no longer did it feel like it was trying to break out. It was more like Harry was in tune with it, could understand its wants and needs, and could satisfy them without giving the bear control. He fought with a vicious animalistic anger, but didn't his lose mind to it. He planned out everything he did and used the bear as the driving force behind his every movement, his fists and wand the bears claws and teeth.
They were on the dueling platform now. Mckennon had taken to spelling Harry's mouth shut before every duel to encourage non verbal casting. Harry let him. He thought it was a good idea, as desperation seemed to make him learn a lot quicker. Harry learned more and more spells everyday and used them to great effect, performing feats of magic Mckennon wasn't quite capable of. But as flashy or creative Harry became, the hit wizard usually still won. He had stressed to Harry several times that fighting whether magically or physically wasn't about just acting and reacting, or casting the most impressive spells in your repertoire. It was about out maneuvering your opponent, manipulating their actions to make them easier to kill.
A wicked barbed chain shot across the platform at Harry, who flicked his wand, transfiguring it into a long green viper, hood flared, and banished it back at Mckennon. Without use of his mouth he couldn't command it, but it would still surely be angry at its treatment. He was right and the viper bore its glistening white fangs dripping with black venom as it flew at Mckennons face, hissing in fury. While Mckennon cut in half with a quick wave of his wand, gore spraying, Harry dissapparated with a puff of smoke and reappeared behind the man with his wand blazing. Mckennon threw himself to the side, barely dodging jets of multi colored light that blew chunks of stone out of the platform and all over the room. A chip whizzed through the air, slicing Harry's cheek open, but he ignored it as blood welled out of the cut, and dripped down his chin.
Mckennon sent a curse from the ground which Harry deflected with his wand, sharply jerking his arm. Sparks erupted as spell and wand collided, before the spell was sent careening into the void above his head. After a few moments there was a crash, as the volatile magic finally impacted the ceiling. Mckennon had scrambled to his feet, and Harry twisted his wand to send off a curse, but the hit wizard grabbed his forearm with one hand, and with the other attempted to break Harry's nose again. Harry though blocked it, getting a grip on the inside of Mckennon's wrist, suspending both their arms in the air with his superior strength, and then smashed his forehead into Mckennon's face with a satisfying crunch.
The man reeled as blood sprayed from his nose, but he kicked forward, catching Harry in the chest , who was caught unawares in his mental gloating. The teen was knocked flat on his back, the air sent out of his lungs with a whoosh.
He had no time to recover, and quickly rolled sideways, a sizzling red spell impacting the ground where his head had been moments before, leaving the gray stone smoking. The roll however proved a mistake, and Harry was delivered to oblivion as the toe of a heavy boot savagely met his temple.
"So Harry what did you learn this time." Dudley asked trying not to laugh. He, Mckennon, and Hermione were standing over the teen but to Harry it looked like there were at least eight figures floating rapidly around him and beyond them the room was hazy and indistinct.
"Not to try to cast spells that close to my opponent?"
"Right in one. Although I'm pretty sure that's a lesson I've taught you…several times." Mckennon reached down and pulled Harry to his feet, who wobbled over to a workout bench to sit down.
"I know, I wanted to apparate a little further behind you, but I estimated the distance wrong I guess."
"I wouldn't advise trying that at all in a situation where there's more than one person or you'll probably find yourself materializing in the path of a killing curse."
"Ughh damn you're right. It seemed like such a good idea though."
"Many ideas do until they're put into practice. You're doing great though, progressed a lot in the last few weeks. I liked that bit when you turned my barbwire into a venomous serpent."
"Haha thanks, and I finally broke your fucking nose!"
"That you did, that you did. Makes one time to my ten." Mckennon patted Harry on the shoulder, who growled at him.
"Alright we can head over to the library now? It's already past one and I want to get through the rest of the text on ancestral summoning rituals." Hermione was tapping her foot, and seemed to be itching to leave. But she couldn't bear studying while she knew Harry was probably receiving multiple injuries, and always stayed and watched until they were done training, practicing her healing magic on whoever got hurt.
"Alright, little lady but what do you say we get somethin to eat first? I'm starving. Beating up your boyfriend worked up an appetite." Dudley nodded, eager to head over to the kitchen.
Hermione blushed but she had long since realized that denying any relationship between her and Harry was futile and the annoying man would keep insisting its existence anyway.
"You're always hungry. But I guess it's time for lunch."
Tap. Tap. Tap. Harry's nail drummed a slow beat on the parchment he was perusing. The nail was longer than usual, and as he tapped a little too hard, it punched a hole in the soft, old paper. The text was a key for the runes that the giants had used before they developed a written language. Harry was hoping he could use some of them in the ritual he was preparing for Dudley, who was up in the living room watching the telly. Old habits were hard to break.
The smell of the ancient musty library filled his nostrils, along with other more distracting scents. He glanced around taking in the towering wooden shelves, stocked thick with books and scrolls, the marble floor etched with strange patters, and finally his eyes landed on the table opposite of the room. Hermione her back to him, her wild hair tied into a bun as her head bent over the table, intently studying some text or another. Her fingers noisily flipped through pages as she searched for something she was afraid she wouldn't find. Mckennon sat next to her and occasionally Hermione would glance up at him, pointing at a word in the text, and Mckennon would pronounce it slowly for her and then translate it into English. Hermione would nod her head and then turn back to her reading. She was learning the language quickly.
In the heat of battle with someone he felt no real antipathy towards, it was easy to control the beast, to direct it. But now, in the quiet emptiness of the library, left only with his animalistic thoughts to distract him, the bear was pressing its advantage. What felt like claws raked against his skull, and Harry felt the need to let them out, the need to give in. His teeth itched and Harry pressed his thumb to one of his canines. When he drew it away, blood dripped from it onto the paper. It blotted the ink and spread quickly as more drops of thick red liquid joined it. Harry waved his wand, thinking a quick spell and the cut closed. Another wave and the parchment was returned to its former pristine condition, the hole and the blood vanishing.
His mind throbbed again and Harry's ears were filled with a strange buzz. His vision suddenly tunneled, the edges of the room darkening and disappearing, and Harry got up quickly, swaying as he attempted to stand. He hurriedly pushed his chair in, and rushed over to the exit of the library. The beast wanted blood, wanted Hermione, wanted many things and Harry's quiet studying for someone elses benefit was frustrating it. It sought to take control so it could then take what it wanted.
"Hey Harry, hold on I wanna show you something neat!" He barely heard Mckennon as he was almost to the doors, but he turned, focusing on the auror and trying desperately to clear his mind.
He made his feet walk over to the man and he looked down. Through the blur Harry could see Mckennon had a bowl filled with water on the table. A book sat next to it, open to a page showing an illustration, and instructions in the strange language of the half giants.
"You said you wanted to learn some of their magic right?"
Harry nodded and his vision cleared somewhat, the buzz in his ears lessening. The bear could understand this, this was power. Power was needed for dominance and to kill.
"Well this is the magic my ancestors first devised. It wasn't until they bred with the squibs and became half giants that they could use wizards magic and even then they had no knowledge of it, and no wands but they came up with something unique. Wizards have to use wands because they haven't been around long enough to form a connection to the earth, and can't manipulate reality with merely their will. Wands enable this because the cores are parts from ancient creatures that have a very solid connection. The half giants bypassed this by using the magic already present in objects composed of the earth, and manipulating it."
"Er, I'm not sure I get this." Harry was confused and the beast that was only just now starting to withdraw from his conscious didn't make it easier.
"Ok place your hand over the bowl and speak the word valwe."
Harry did as instructed and a strange feeling overtook him. The palm of his hand above the bowl tingled and Harry almost took it away but Mckennon grabbed his wrist, stilling it.
"Now close your eyes and concentrate. Really try to feel the water. "
Harry almost laughed as he followed the ridiculous intstrunctions, but stopped as he began to feel the water sloshing in the bowl as if it was the skin on his palm. His thumping heart began to slow down with the calming slow rippling.
"Direct it now, this part is the hardest. Tell it to form into a shape you want."
Harry did so, sudden inspiration striking him, and he opened his eyes to the image of a dagger composed entirely of water floating in the air. He concentrated hard and there was a crackling sound as it froze into hard ice and he grasped it out of the air.
Hermione let out an impressed breath and Mckennon clapped.
"Very creative, good job."
"I suppose this would be a useful trick if I ever had water nearby." Harry contemplated the weapon, running a finger along the sharp icy edge of the blade. The hand holding it was already beginning to numb and he dropped the dagger, willing it back to water as it sloshed back into bowl.
"Well I've never tried it but it might work with conjured water. And you've always got at least one or two other elements around you, just gotta memorize the words." He closed the book and handed it to Harry who pocketed it in his robes.
"This magic is more simple and yet at the same time much more complex than anything I've learned at Hogwarts."
"Yep, that's how they were as a people. Magic was more of an art to them. It was very individual and the outcome of a spell or enchantment was more a reflection of the artist's thoughts than anything."
"Would it not work if I used the lain word for water?"
"Hmm no I don't think so. Latin is a language connected completely to wizards magic and the language half giants used was the one passed down from their giant ancestors who were of the earth and very rooted to it. Wizards do their best to distance themselves, and use magic that comes from within instead of whats around them so Latin wouldn't be very good for stuff like that."
"Makes sense I guess. Well I'm off, I'll see you guys later." Hermione tried to say bye, but Harry was already out the door and on his way to the gym to calm the beast that was again rising with countless repetitions of tiring exercises.
An:
Hey sorry this one took awhile. I wanted to wait for my betta to get back to me so there wouldn't be so many grammar mistakes and things like that, but I guess that's not happening. If anyone else wants to beta my story feel free to volunteer in the reviews or message me.