Biting the Hand that Feeds You

A Harry Potter fic by Andrew Joshua Talon

Disclaimer: This is a non profit fan based parody. Harry Potter is the property of J. K. Rowling and Time Warner. Please support the official release.

Written with Scriviner...

Alfred was kind of impressed and somewhat weirded out by the dedication these Death Eaters took to their LARPing. He swore, the Bellatrix chick didn't break character period! Not even when he commented that he'd make her a proud grandmother some day! She'd actually acted like... Well, that she was overjoyed to hear that!

The hugging was a bit much. Crying too. Then when she'd asked him if he'd like any help with finding a proper "Pureblood wife", he'd quickly excused himself to find Tom.

The "Dark Wizard" was currently looking over spell charts and runes in another room in the castle. In said room, wobbling in front of him, seemed to be several zombie cosplayers. Alfred whistled, impressed, as he entered. Tom looked over his shoulder and blinked.

"Ah, hello Loremaster," he said pleasantly.

"My Lord!" Alfred said cheerfully. "Wow... Revenants?" He looked them over. "Great costumes, guys!"

The zombies moaned, shuffling a bit. Tom raised a hand, and they stopped.

"Er, yes," Tom said. "Very good costumes." He frowned thoughtfully as he looked over an Outbreak sourcebook. "They are Inferi, revenants animated by a magic spell. The requirements are that they must be killed by the summoner to be used as such."

"So, no zombie plague? Have you considered a dedicated necromancer?" Alfred asked, studying the rotten face of one of the Inferi. Seriously, the dedication to this LARP was amazing. His friends would never believe it...

"They are in short supply, and most would not do anything with me," Tom admitted. "The Ministry keeps them far too well protected."

"Huh! That's a nice twist, actually," Alfred said with a smile. "A lot of the times the necromancers are just treated like crap because of what they're employed in. But they provide a vital service in a magical community." He gave Tom a thumbs up. "Nice twist! Makes it hard for the campaign though."

"Yes," Voldemort admitted. "There are some spells I know to bring more such Inferi up... However, they are limited. Not very cunning, very..." He checked a sourcebook. "Low level."

"Hmmm..." Alfred hummed and looked over more of the scrolls. These parchments were really very authentic. He felt like sneezing over them. Though he refrained from doing it out of respect to Tom. It'd be plain rude. "What about these giants in the campaign? What are you going to do with them?"

"I was thinking of attacking Dover, as a demonstration of my power," Tom explained. Alfred rolled his eyes and looked over the maps.

"Come on, that's just lame."

"Excuse me?" Tom asked flatly. Alfred waved his hand.

"Well, you've got to have a point to it, right? Otherwise it's just a waste of resources. You've already given them tons of offerings, you really want an attack on Dover to be what you get out of it... My Lord?" He added, just as Tom was starting to become very cross. Tom frowned and looked over the maps.

"I see... Where would you strike?" Tom asked at last. Alfred hummed again, and pointed at the map before the Dark Lord.

"Little Whinging."

Voldemort blinked. "Attack Little Whinging? Just like that?"

"Well, if you've gotten giants together you're going after the big threat, this Harry Potter guy right?" Alfred asked. "A really ruthless Dark Lord would just sic giants on him. Destroy his home, scatter his friends to the winds. That's a good demonstration of power that also serves a purpose."

"It may push Potter to go underground," Tom replied. Alfred shrugged.

"Yeah, but as long as he's not interfering overtly you can take over the Ministry, right? I mean right now man, this campaign is getting dull. You really need to step things up."

Tom sighed. "As much as I would like to... Step things up, Loremaster, such an attack would be... Involved. And would require far more giants than I currently command."

"Maybe," Alfred said, tapping the table. He looked over at the zombies again... And grinned. "Hey... My Lord? You can turn humans into zombies, right?"

"Yes," Tom said, frowning deeply.

"What about giants into zombies? You know," and here Alfred held his hands up, "giant zombies. We could even go for a Flesh Colossus, if you want the really big guns."

"Flesh... Colossus?" Voldemort asked. Alfred dug around in the books on the table, and held up the monster manual to the right page. Voldemort read it... And grinned. And then he began laughing.

"Mwahahahahaha... MWAHAHAHAHAHAH! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!"

Alfred just clapped. "Anyone tell you that you've got a brilliant wicked cackle? You should do it more often!"

Draco walked into the house at Spinner's End with studied indifference.

The door slammed shut on its own behind him and from the shadows, Snape's voice drawled out, "You're late."

"The meeting ran a little long, Godfather," Draco replied with only a slight quaver to his voice. "And I was waiting for the rain to stop."

"Did you, now?" Snape asked dryly, taking a step towards Draco, his face still hidden in shadow.

"Is something the matter?" Draco asked, feeling a trifle nervous and keeping his gaze averted.

"Are you certain you weren't late because you were spending time with a young lady of a… ginger persuasion?"

Draco swallowed, "Er… I… that is…"

"I would so love to hear your explanation for this, Draco. I was under the impression that you were serious about our little enterprise." Snape continued with cutting sarcasm, "Or was that all talk?"

"I am still firmly committed to our work, Godfather! I wasn't… it wasn't like I was skiving off or anything, I just had a bit of free time…"

"Did you, indeed? I was under the impression that you were close to the point where you would be moving our manufacturing to the Wizarding world. If you had time to gallivant, then certainly you could have gotten your preparations underway?"

Draco stiffened, "I was not gallivanting, Godfather. I resent your implication. And I already have my schedule and appointments for Phase Two already written up since last night." His eyes narrowed, "Hold on. I just realized. You followed me!"

"Wherever did you get that impression?"

"How did you even know I was with a redhead?"

"How indeed?" Snape asked slyly.

"I haven't met your eyes since I came home, Godfather. So obviously it wasn't legimancy." Draco pointed out.

"I have my methods," Snape muttered.

"You followed me." Draco said with a huff, "I had thought I had at least earned a little trust from you, Godfather!"

"You are a fine one to speak of such a thing when you're the one dating a Weasley." Snape snapped back.

"It's not… I mean… she's… we're not really…"

Snape held a hand up, "I don't want to hear it." He was about to mention about Narcissa's visit, but Draco interrupted him.

"Well, this is all your fault!" Draco burst out suddenly.

"How did you come to this conclusion?" Snape glared down at the boy.

"I never had a thing for redheads until I moved in with you." Draco growled.

Snape raised an eyebrow, "Indeed? And how did that happen, pray tell?"

Draco met his eyes and glowered, "Hallway closet."

Snape froze. "Ah. That."

"Yes. That. I would have expected it to have been better secured," Draco said smugly.

Snape glowered, "I would not have expected you to snoop." He blinked, "Actually, no, I take that back. I did expect you to snoop."

"Then why didn't you-?"

"I had forgotten some of it was in there," Snape admitted.

"Some of it?!" Draco sputtered, "That entire closet was filled with nothing but redheaded pornography! Reams and reams of it!"

Snape sniffed and glanced away. "A man has… needs."

"There were magazines in there dating back to 1975! All redheads!"

"I am aware of what I have in that closet, Draco. No need to belabor it." Snape growled.

"And I can't help but notice every instance that there was a man in the picture someone decided to color the hair long, straight and black."

Snape bit back a snarl and sighed. "We never speak of this and I don't mention to your father about you and the Weasley girl."

"Deal." Draco said hurriedly.

Dinner that night was a bit... Nerve wracking. Which was unusual for Harry. Usually dinner with his relatives consisted of a lot of hostility and boredom. Not this time.

Not with two lovely witches sitting next to him, pressed shoulder to shoulder. The Dursleys were all on the other side of the table, staring back. Save for Petunia, who was practically cheerful.

"Now, I must say these artichokes are very well done," she said in approval, looking over at Pansy with a smile. "You chopped them very neatly, Pansy!"

"Thank you Aunt Petunia," said Pansy with a smile. She held up a finger wrapped in a bandage, and winced slightly. "It was a bit dangerous though. Chopping vegetables and all..." She looked to Harry and smiled. "Kiss it better, Harry?"

Harry's fork froze as he lifted a bit of casserole up to his mouth. He coughed and looked over at Pansy. He practically heard Hermione's teeth grinding. "Er... What?"

"Well, it's Muggle tradition to kiss a booboo better, isn't it?" Pansy said coquettishly. Her smile was about as innocent looking as the Weasley twins after a bomb went off. "Why not kiss it better?"

"He doesn't need to kiss it, it's just fine," Hermione stated flatly. Pansy pouted.

"But I want him to kiss it better," she said. "Don't you want to kiss me... Better, Harry?" She practically purred the last statement, and Harry's face turned bright red.

"Go on, kiss it better boy!" Petunia said sharply. Harry gaped at his aunt. His uncle was sated by the gold in his hand, and Dudley was just watching in confusion. Hermione, on the other hand, looked like she was about ready to burst into flames.

"Ah..." Harry looked apologetically at Hermione, and gave Pansy a quick peck on her finger. "There. Happy?" He asked. Pansy pouted.

"You could have put a little more effort into it, Harry," Pansy practically crooned. "After all... You want me... To get better, don't you?"

"I'm quite sure you'll live, unfortunately," Hermione very nearly spat. Dudley cleared his throat.

"Ah, I can kiss it... Better... If you'd like... I... Ahem..." The glares he received from both girls was enough to shut him up, and he returned to that bizarre pitying look he'd been wearing around Harry almost constantly. Harry suppressed a groan.

"So, you have called your parents and let them know where you are?" Vernon grunted across the table. Hermione nodded.

"Ah, yes. They're fine with it," she said. Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You're fine too, I take it?"

"I am... For the moment," Vernon allowed, his piggy eyes gleaming in greed. Petunia nodded with a smile.

"Very good! Now Hermione, Pansy, you're fine with sharing the bedroom upstairs? And Potter can just take the couch."

"Ah, actually Tonks expanded his bedroom a bit," Pansy said quickly. "So we can all fit... In separate rooms, of course," she added, with an intense look at Petunia's expression. The earring did it's work, however, and Harry's aunt relaxed.

"Good, good... No funny business though! Absolutely nothing! I will not have the scandal of teenaged mothers under my roof!" She declared. Hermione blushed and sputtered.

"I-I have no such intentions!"

"Oh good, can I have them?" Pansy asked, leaning against Harry. Hermione growled.

"YOU MAY NOT!"

"Oh, look at the time, I think I'll turn in early," Harry said quickly, getting up and heading for the stairs. Dudley watched him go, as did Pansy and Hermione. Hermione scowled.

"I think I'll get to bed too, while I'm at it," she said flatly. Pansy smiled in a bit of challenge.

"That sounds fine by me," she returned. They both rose and walked upstairs, matching stride for stride. The Dursleys watched them go, silent.

"... Blimey, how do I get his luck?" Dudley grumbled. "Mum! I want two girlfriends!"

"They aren't his girlfriends, Duddi-kins, and you can't have two!" Petunia said flatly. "It's quite improper!"

"But the freak gets two!" Dudley whined.

"Vernon! Tell your son why he can't have two girlfriends!" Petunia pressed. Vernon huffed.

"For one thing, they'll tear your balls clean off if you don't treat them both proper... or just one of them-"

"VERNON!"

"What, what?"

Tonks had indeed done what she'd promised, and Harry's meager bedroom in the Dursley house had been expanded. It was tripled in size, with his closet now expanded into a second bedroom and a side door added that led to a small bathroom. Harry had to admit, he was very impressed with the work... Until he saw the note Tonks left behind.

Just dug out an auto-Apartment kit from the Transfiguration shop! It read. Just tap the doorframes with your wands three times to fold them back up. And I borrowed them from my mum, so don't mess them up too badly. You can shag the girls on the Dursley's furniture, not mine!

Harry flushed, rolled his eyes, and folded the note up. He stuffed it into his pocket and huffed.

"Why does everyone seem to think I'm some kind of... Of lecherous hump?" Harry muttered.

"Probably because it would do you some good to act like it!" A raspy voice spoke. Harry spun around and pointed his wand at his bed. His eyebrows rose when he beheld the pointed form of the Sorting Hat, sitting on the covers with a bit of a scowl on it's worn features.

"Hat?" He asked in disbelief.

"That's me," the Hat said. "And what's this about you unhappy that you're being seen as a lecherous hump, hmm?"

"I just..." Harry sighed and rubbed his head. "I... Why are you here, anyway?"

"I asked the first question, you know," said the Hat. Harry scowled.

"This is my house."

"You don't seem to act like it," the Hat retorted. "'Oh, woe is me! Back to the Dursleys every year!'"

Harry glared. "I don't have any choice in the matter, do I? I have to come back here for the blood protection! I have to put up with all this crap, for ten years, and I'm not about to let some... Some piece of patchwork tell me otherwise!"

"That's true... But now that you know, there are other options," the Hat said. "Action without knowledge is useless. But knowledge without action is equally useless!"

Harry scowled and sat down on the bed. He glared at the Hat. "What are you doing here?"

"Dumbledore sent me," the Hat said. "He was impressed with something you did."

Harry scoffed. "That's rich..." His anger turned to bitter depression, as thoughts Harry hadn't wanted to think about burbled up. Thoughts about... Sirius...

"Hey, hey," the Hat said. "Enough of that. Come on... Put me on your head."

Harry blinked. "Why?"

"So I can get a better view," the Hat said dryly. "Why do you think? Come on. I've sat atop thousands upon thousands of heads, and I've offered a bit of help to every single one. You can take it if you like, or you can ignore it, but at least give me a listen, hm?"

Harry sighed, and reached out for the Hat. He slowly pulled it onto his head, and scowled into the dark, aged leather. "Happy?"

Much, the Hat said in his head. Harry saw memories flash before his eyes. From beginning to end, from his earliest memories in the cupboard to Pansy and Hermione's little fight. Harry blushed, he growled, he cursed, he was about to yank the Hat from his head-

HOLD ON! Hold on, Potter! The Hat cried urgently. I'm not like that greaseball, here to poke around just because I can't get over the childhood crush I lost!

Wait, what?! Harry gasped.

Oh, yes, the Hat said. Snape was in love with your mum. Rather obsessed with her, really. The guy needs a hobby. But suffice it to say, that's a bit of mental trauma we'll have to deal with later.

What, you're a therapist or something? Harry asked blithely. Or is Dumbledore going to rearrange my head to make me into a better weapon-?

Oi, wanker! The Hat barked in his mind, and Harry jumped. Why not let me finish a thought before you leap ahead in yours?

Harry started. ... Did you just call me a wanker?

I did, now get over it, replied the Hat. The fact of the matter is, Potter, Dumbledore wanted you to have as normal a life as possible. He didn't want you to be raised up into an Anti-Voldemort assassin. He didn't want you to be turned into some crazed psychopath. He wanted you to be happy. And yes, being at the Dursleys was about as much fun as a pack of fabric eating moths...

That sounds a bit fun right now, Harry thought back savagely.

Suffice it to say, Dumbledore could have checked up on you and could have done more to ensure you weren't abused and neglected, the Hat continued. He regrets this because he thought the Dursleys would be better people. That's his flaw, you see? He wants to see the good in people so desperately he will overlook the bad. But, the good thing about Dumbledore is that he will learn from his mistakes... Provided someone confronts him over it.

I... What? I should have told him the Dursleys were abusive?! Harry asked in disbelief. I should have demanded he do something about it?!

You could have. You didn't, the Hat said. Why didn't you?

Harry thought about it. Because... Harry sighed in resignation. Because he's Dumbledore...

Because he was so used to being alone he didn't even think of asking for help. He didn't think of just... Just talking to an adult, because what good had it done before?

We all have blindspots, Potter, the Hat said. That's human nature. But it's also human nature to change how you act. To change your approach. So! And here the Hat seemed to smile, what would you like to change?

Harry frowned. I... I want to survive Voldemort.

Survive? The Hat asked. That all? Merely survive? You've done that plenty, Potter. What about something you don't dare let yourself hope for?

Harry looked out the window at the stars twinkling over Privet Drive. ... To win?

That's what you want, isn't it? The Hat asked. To win? To have a life of your own? To be... A father?

Harry felt his cheeks redden. He could see children in his future, a loving wife, a home... Days without fear or terror. Just living, enjoying life...

Ah, see, the Hat said, that's what you want. That's what you desire, more than anything else. Not what a bunch of tarty fangirls think you'd be after, adventure and danger and hunting Riddle.

Harry nodded. Yeah... But how can I? How can I... I mean, I'm just...

You're just you, that's right, the Hat confirmed. But you can make yourself better. Stronger. Faster. Wiser. You've got the same problem as Dumbledore, Potter: You don't know when to ask for help. You don't know when to move out of your comfort zone, to change... Not until you get a wake up call. You really want to just sit around and let a bunch of old wizards tell you where to go and what to do and think?

Harry shook his head. No... No I don't!

Then tell me, Harry James Potter, the Hat continued, what do you want?

That family appeared in his mind again, and Harry felt a tear at the corner of his eye.

I want... I want... To be a dad. I want to be a husband. I want... A family and a life!

Well, it seems a shame to just admit defeat and not take any action towards that, doesn't it? The Hat asked. I am a helping hand offered by Dumbledore... So why not take it? And see if we can't make that dream come true?

Harry smiled, and nodded as a determined light came into his eyes. I... Yes.

Good... And maybe a few other dreams, too, the Hat commented. Harry blinked.

What do you mean?

Granger and Parkinson dripping in honey... Oh my, you naughty boy you! And this one, with the Quidditch uniforms-

Harry whipped the Hat off his head quickly, his cheeks bright red. The door opened, and Pansy and Hermione walked in. Hermione blinked.

"Harry? What's the Sorting Hat doing here?"

"Ah... Dumbledore sent it," Harry said quickly. He smiled. "You know, to uh... To help me out!"

"You just asked for it, and got it?" Pansy asked in disbelief. She walked up to the Hat and examined it. She snorted. "Doesn't seem to be a lot of help..."

"And you haven't changed since I first sat on your head," the Hat retorted. "Well, maybe you've filled out a bit but being able to float isn't helping your brain much, is it?"

Hermione snickered as Pansy fumed. The Hat looked over at Hermione.

"And you! Get shagged. You desperately need it you control freak," the Hat said. Hermione went bright red as it was Pansy's turn to snicker. "You can ask Potter for some ideas of how to get that done-MMPH!"

"Well I'm tired, how about you? Goodnight!" Harry said quickly, stuffing the Hat under his pillow.

Hermione was glad she'd packed pajamas. While spending another night in Harry's arms would have been nice, doing so in clothing she'd worn for two days straight was pushing it. She flushed a bit at the thought, but focused on keeping her mind clear of recrimination.

She had plenty of that for Pansy, who had taken the other twin bed in the Porta-Apartment and was studying a book from Dudley's little touched library.

"Hmph... This Frankenstein fellow doesn't seem to know a lot about homunculuses," Pansy commented flatly. "You should always have a Compulsion spell on it, or a poison-filled molar you can hit with a cracking charm." She shook her head at the book and looked up at Hermione. "Then again, it is a Muggle trying this so perhaps I'm not surprised."

"And the lesson about how playing God can lead to terrible consequences? Sails right over your head," Hermione sighed, sitting on the bed opposite Pansy. The Slytherin girl smirked softly.

"The lesson is to not be an idiot when you're creating new life," Pansy replied. She shook her head. "Really, this is an instruction book on what not to do."

"I suppose," Hermione sighed, scratching her cheek. Pansy cocked an eyebrow, and studied Hermione carefully. The bushy haired witch frowned back.

"What?" Hermione asked, a bit annoyed. Pansy smiled.

"Just enjoying the fact you haven't puffed yourself up like an angry cat at me for the past minute. I dare say that's a record," she said with a smirk. Hermione snorted.

"I don't want to damage the book," she said in a huff. Pansy's smirk grew.

"That, or Potter's not here."

"Thankfully," Hermione muttered. She pulled the covers up and slid her feet under them. Pansy studied her carefully. Hermione closed her eyes and sighed.

"What now?" She asked flatly.

"I suppose I'm just..." She snickered. "Amused, that's all. By this situation." She smirked at Hermione, idly flipping the pages of the book.

"Uh huh?" Hermione asked, not very interested. Pansy nodded.

"That, and in disbelief. Here I am, in the Muggle world, sharing a room with the Golden Boy himself and his bookworm." She shook her head and sighed. "I really didn't think this is how I'd end up."

"I didn't think it would end up like this, either," Hermione muttered. Pansy chuckled.

"So how did you think it would end up, mm?" She raised an eyebrow. "You with Weasel? Pumping out a dozen red heads a year?"

"No!" Hermione said sharply. Pansy's smirk grew, and Hermione's flush gave her away. "I... I'm not talking about this. I want to sleep!"

"Come on," Pansy said. "I'm the only girl around you can talk to about this."

"And why would I want to talk to you about it?" Hermione hissed. Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Because the Dark Lord enjoys hearing teenaged gossip, of course," she said. She looked Hermione over. "Really Granger. If we're stuck together, we might as well make the best of it."

"Who are you and what have you done with Pansy Parkinson?" Hermione demanded, sitting up in bed. "I swear, you're acting almost human."

"I'm acting like this because at the moment, we're not Gryffindor and Slytherin," Pansy said. "We're two girls... With a boy involved. Something about as old as human history, I suspect."

Hermione sighed and shut her eyes tightly. "I'm not... I'm really not interested in Harry like that," she tried. Pansy snorted.

"Please."

"I-I really am not!" Hermione said quickly. "I mean... I have thought about it but..." She scowled at Pansy in suspicion. The Pureblood witch laughed.

"Granger, do you really think that if I was a spy this information would make the Dark Lord want you dead any less?"

Hermione frowned. "I... I suppose not."

"There, see? Logic," Pansy said with a smirk. "And here you're supposed to be the smart one."

"For the sake of the book I'll let that one go," Hermione growled. She turned in bed and sighed. "All right... Assuming I do have... Feelings for Harry, and I'm not saying I do!" She glared at Pansy. "It's no business of yours!"

"It is, actually," Pansy said. "After all, I have... Some interest myself."

Hermione stared. "I... Really?"

"No, I routinely throw myself at wizards all the time," Pansy snorted. "I mean... He's rather nice. He took me in, didn't make a move on me." She seemed almost disappointed by this, but moved on. "That said... Getting to know him outside of Hogwarts, well... He's so... Different." She smiled at Hermione. "And frankly, that kind of different is... Good."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well I'm glad you're thinking about romance in the middle of a wizarding world crisis," she said. Pansy chuckled.

"Can't focus on the big picture forever," she said. "And besides, there's a future to think about." Her cheeks reddened. "And maybe I want a future that involves Pot... Harry," she said.

Hermione calmly stared at Pansy for a long, long time. She took a deep breath.

"That will have to be as friends, I'm afraid," Hermione said calmly. Pansy smirked.

"What? I can't have you both~?" She teased. Hermione's face went bright red again.

"Wh-What?!"

Pansy giggled. "Oh, you're just as much fun to tease as he is!" She turned over in her bed, and pulled the covers up. "Goodnight, Granger."

Hermione scowled at Pansy for several furious minutes, before she pulled her own covers up. "Goodnight, Parkinson," she muttered back.

Still building up... But don't you worry. It's coming...