Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.
Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.
Written for the Harry Potter Halloween Collection Competition
Prompt: (dialogue) "Get the hell out of my house!"
Out to Play
Barty was feeling rather giddy. He could hardly wait for Harry to arrive. The previous night had left him rather frisky, what with him picturing the death of that annoying little girl in so many different ways, and he couldn't wait any longer. He was slightly afraid that he might be pushing Harry too fast, but he was almost certain that he wasn't. He was sure that Harry was ready.
"Finally!" He jumped from his seat, a huge grin forming on his lips, when Harry walked in.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "You seem excited."
Barty was almost jumping in place. "I have a Christmas gift for you. Well, two actually, but I'll give you the other one on Christmas day."
"Why can't this gift wait?" Barty's eyes lit up, and Harry chuckled. "Never mind. I can see that you're far too excited."
Barty nodded and laughed. "Let's go, we'll have to sneak out of Hogwarts."
Harry shook his head but there was a fond smile on his lips as he followed Barty out of the room.
"Will you tell me now where we're going?" Harry asked when they had been clear of Hogwarts' wards.
Barty shook his head, pulling him into his arms. "I want it to be a surprise. Hold on, alright?"
Harry nodded, wrapping his arms around Barty, and with a soft pop they were gone.
Barty held onto Harry when they re-appeared, a small smile on his lips when he saw the tiny frown Harry had. It was adorable how Harry detested all methods of wizard transportation aside from brooms.
Barty glanced around, making sure he was in the right place. His grin returned tenfold when he saw the house. He had feared he would have gotten it wrong since he had only been there that morning to make sure he would have a place to apparate to. But it had all looked the same to him, no individuality at all.
"Barty… what are we doing here?" Harry had been looking around as well, his arms tightening around Barty.
"It is my gift to you, Harry. I know how you feel; this is my way of showing you that I don't mind, that I'll be glad to help, if only you'll let me."
Killing curse green eyes were looking up at him, the moonlight making it look as if they glowed, and Barty was completely entranced. He had never known that death could look so alive.
"You won't leave me?" Harry asked and Barty laughed, a crazed edge to it.
"I'm afraid, my dear Harry, that after tonight, you'll be the one leaving me."
And he was, so very afraid; but he wanted Harry to be there. He wanted Harry to watch. Harry had shown him his true self, it was only right that Barty did the same.
"I won't. I never will."
Barty couldn't help but believe him.
Barty had thought of a million ways to do things, and his preferred idea so far was slow and bloody. Harry though, vetoed it from the start. Barty knew that Harry was right; people, more precisely Dumbledore, would find it suspicious if they came to a gruesome end. So, Barty put that idea aside. That didn't mean, however, that he couldn't be creative. He just had to stop himself from killing them.
There were so many ways to make them know despair without outright killing them, that Barty wouldn't let it hold him back. He wanted to put on a show for Harry, after all, and Harry deserved nothing but the best.
They made their way up the stairs, Barty sneering all the while. He couldn't believe Harry had grown up in this place. It seemed so… ordinary. How could someone like Harry come from a place like this?
Harry pointed towards a door, and Barty could hear voices coming from it. Barty almost clapped in his excitement; they were awake!
He grinned at Harry, feral and deranged, but Harry didn't seem to mind. He just smiled fondly and motioned for him to open the door. Well, who was Barty to refuse such an invitation?
He cast a silencing charm around the house – he had to make sure they wouldn't be interrupted – and slammed the door open.
The couple inside startled, the man tumbling from the bed, while the woman hit the nightstand. Barty walked in, sneering in disgust. Harry walked in behind him, keeping himself half hidden. The man got back on his feet, wheezing, his face an angry red.
"Get the hell out of my house!" the man blustered, puffing himself up.
Barty snorted, pointing his wand at the man. "Do you think you scare me, muggle?"
"Oh, my goodness," the woman wailed. "It's one of them, Vernon!" She flattened herself against the wall, looking absolutely terrified. Barty felt a satisfying thrill rush through him. Good, she should fear him.
Vernon waddled back, tripping over himself to get as far away from Barty as possible. "The Freak isn't here!" Vernon shouted.
Vernon screamed.
Barty was seething. How dare he! How dare he refer to Harry as a freak? Harry. His beautiful, amazing Harry. Barty snarled, and Vernon's screams grew in pitch.
A slender hand held his arm and he stopped the curse. He looked down into shinning, green eyes and felt his rage abate. Right, he couldn't destroy the muggle's mind right from the start. He cut the curse of, smirking at seeing the useless lump whimpering on the floor.
"Barty knows I'm not here, Uncle." Harry stepped out from behind him. His aunt gasped, while Vernon tried to glare at the Gryffindor.
"You!" Vernon managed to pull himself to his knees, still trembling, only the grip he had on the nightstand allowed him to remain upright.
"Me." Harry smiled, stepping in front of Barty. Barty wrapped an arm around the teen's waist, enjoying the wide eyed look it earned from the muggles. "Barty brought me here to give me my Christmas gift. Even though you are not the sharpest tools in the box, I'm certain you know what my gift is."
"Harry, please," his aunt whimpered, holding herself against the wall, as if it would grant her any sort of protection.
Harry turned towards her, an eyebrow raised. "Harry? Huh, I've been living here for over a decade. This is one of the first times I heard my name come from your mouth." Harry tilted his head. "Tell me, Aunt Petunia, do you really think pleading will work? After everything I lived through in this house, do you honestly think pleading will do anything more than amuse me?"
"You ungrateful Freak!" Vernon panted, having managed to bring himself to his feet, though he was wobbling a little. "We gave you a roof over your head. We fed you, clothed you, out of the goodness of our hearts and this is how you repay us?"
"No, Uncle." Harry shook his head, his hand wrapping around Barty's making it so that both were holding the wand. "This is me showing you the goodness in my heart. Crucio."
Barty moaned when he felt Harry's magic surge through him, mingling with his own. The screams of the muggle served as a wonderful symphony, and Barty closed his eyes, giving himself to the pleasure cursing through his body.
"No! Please, stop it. Stop it!" Petunia yelled, and Harry stopped the curse. Barty opened his eyes, seeing the woman clamber over the bed to reach her husband, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Oh, Vernon," she sobbed, leaning over him.
"Barty, give me my gift." Harry moved away, sitting at the end of the bed.
Barty smirked, insanity clouding his eyes. "With pleasure."
With a flick of his wand Petunia was pinned to the wall, unable to move no matter how much she fought. "We're going to have so much fun," Barty cackled. "Ready to play, muggle?" Not giving Vernon any time to reply he hit him with a curse. The scream echoed around the bedroom, and Barty laughed. Vernon looked at his hands in horror, blood dripping from them onto his face. Every single nail had been ripped out, leaving mangled flesh in their place. Barty clapped giddily before conjuring two small bowls filled with salt, charming them with a compulsion spell. Vernon seemed to struggle for a little, before he buried his hands in the salt. Vernon whimpered and cried while Barty laughed and laughed.
"And don't you worry, you." Barty grinned at Petunia. "We'll play with you too."
"Barty?" Barty looked at Harry. "Leave her be." Barty frowned. "I want her to watch. I want her to know that she watched and did nothing." Barty's eyes lit up, a grin stretching his lips.
"As you wish, my dear Harry." His grin turned feral when he looked back at Vernon. "Do you know what this mean, muggle? It means I'll focus all my attention on you!" Vernon still had his hands buried in salt, tears and snot staining his face. It was a vast improvement from his usual looks, in Barty's opinion. "Oh, don't be like that, muggle. I won't kill you. Dear Harry doesn't want me to. Instead, I'll spend the whole night playing with you while your wife watches." Petunia only cried harder, horror painted on her features. "Let's clean those hands." Barty vanished the bowls, hitting Vernon with an aguamenti right after. "And now… let's get creative, shall we?"
Screams filled the master bedroom of number four long into the night, and when morning came knocking on their door, Harry and Barty had gone, leaving behind nothing more than nightmares.