Disclaimer: I own nothing.
"Come on, pack up all your crap; we're moving out!" 1-G1 shouted as he walked through the 45th's camp.
"Where're we going?" 1-G67 asked.
"A ship, in Leith, after that, fuck if I know." Most of the 45th groaned, except for the tankers. The guards begrudgingly lined up in a column and began marching; the tanks started up with great rumbles before they too lined up in a column.
One day later, the 45th Legion filed into a troopship; once the tanks had been loaded on, the ship departed. Nineteen hours later, the 45th landed at Felixstowe and were immediately summoned by Grand Field Marshal 1.
"Gentlemen, I assume you have no idea why you're here?" 1 asked.
"Yes, sir!" The 45th answered simultaneously.
"Good, the mission you are about to embark on is a matter of utmost secrecy; it is imperative the British not know of it."
"May I ask why sir?" 1-G1 questioned.
"Because the end goal of your mission is to capture the royal family."
"Wow," 1-G67 said.
"If you succeed, you'll all be heroes; if you fail, nothing will change for you." 1 pulled out a riding crop. "You will start here in Essex, on the frontlines, the morning after your arrival an artillery attack on this fairly lightly defended town here will commence, during the chaos you will slip through. Once through, you'll blitz across Hertfordshire and Buckinghamshire before turning south, then at lightning speed, you'll drive straight at the town of Windsor where you shall capture it, the castle, and hopefully the royal family. Now you'll be provided with modified Forrester-type APCs, enough for the entire legion minus the tankers and Hussars, of course."
"Will we have backup?" 1-G88 asked.
"Yes, the third army will be right behind you the whole time, but anyway, it starts two days from now at 1800, be there, dismissed."
Two days later, 1-G1 sat in the lead APC; the night was silent, still, until the distinct sound of the 100cm Omega type siege railguns opening up.
"That's our cue," 1-G1 said; he pushed the gas, the engine roared, and the APC's six wheels began moving.
The convoy sped across a small isolated road, minutes later reaching the town. Amid the attack and all the chaos it caused, the 45th went nearly unnoticed by British soldiers panicking to get cover. On 1-G1's APC, the 20mm gauss rotary cannon situated on a turret on the roof opened up on fleeing British soldiers, men were torn apart. In some cases, the super-accelerated bullets flew right through one soldier only to kill another. The 45th rolled through the town, explosions all around them, tanks and APCs rolled over all manner of debris, glass, brick, discarded helmets, even bits of vehicles. After seven minutes of traveling through the besieged town, the convoy finally broke through; the 45th were behind enemy lines, something usually reserved for the assassins of the Imperial Elimination Bureau.
"Good thing we got outta there, those crazy bastards were dropping shells all over the place!" 1-G2 commented.
1-G67's voice came over the radio. "Hey 1-G1, like what's the situation gonna be like when we get there? What do the town's defenses look like?"
"We'll have to get past the Queen's guard. And the significant military presence there."
"Piece of cake, baby."
"How long till we get there?" 1-G2 asked.
"Dunno, an hour maybe?"
/ / / / / / / /
"Ah-ha! There we go!" I said as the last barrier crumbled.
"Did you get through?" Hastur questioned from his spot, leaning against the cave wall.
"Yep! Now we can get the bastard!" I walked through the now open archway. We traveled through a hallway for a while before finally reaching a large cavernous room.
"Ooh, cursed treasure! Haven't seen this in quite a bit." I stated.
"Such a terrible fad." Hastur chuckled.
"Yeah, it really was; I remember when it first started, just write some curse on a clay tablet, place it in your tomb or wherever, and bam, the place's cursed."
"Then it turned into placing a curse on the treasure itself," Hastur said.
"I mean, it was a good idea, then it got old after everyone started doing it."
After several minutes of wandering through the various piles of treasure, we reached a large crystal sarcophagus.
"There you are, you little fucker." I said before punching a hole in the sarcophagus; a black mist began seeping out; before long, a pair of sickly green eyes had formed. I casually animated the various shadows in the room; they stretched, elongated; the Vethri was suddenly brought to the floor as the animated shadows took hold of it.
"No! I will not be trapped, Outer God!" It hissed, struggling against the shadows.
"You have no choice bitch!" I said, and as I did, a red smoke began forming in my hands; the red smoke suddenly shot from my hands and began circling the pinned Vethri.
"No!" It spat as the circle of smoke started getting smaller and smaller; it was not long before the smoke crossed over the Vethri; it left behind nothing; as the ring got smaller, the Vethri got smaller, finally, minutes later, the circle disappeared into itself taking the Vethri with it.
"That's it?" Hastur asked.
"Yeah, what else do ya want?"
"Dunno, just destroying the last Vethri in this universe seems to merit something more flashy."
"Nothing that important ever gets a flashy end. Like Stalin, one of the most evil humans in their history, he died of a stroke in his fucking office, a stroke!" I stated.
"Yeah, I guess you're right." Hastur suddenly looked up. "Wait, what're we gonna do with all this?
"Half and half?"
"Agreed." He said.
I snapped my fingers, and half the treasure went to my vault, the other to Hastur's vault.
"What are we going to do now?" Hastur questioned.
"Pitepalt?"
/ / / / / / / /
"I've only seen three Pitepalt shops in America, here, Lodi California, and Ogden Utah," I said, my mouth full of the dumplings.
"What even are these?" Hastur wondered, poking at one of them.
"Meat-filled potato dumplings, son!"
"You mean these are the famous dumplings Tsathoggua is always raving on and on about?" Hastur said in a surprised tone.
"He's still going on about 'em? My wedding was millennia ago!"
"Why did you even invite him in the first place?"
"Yhoundeh made me do it! Something about rubbing it in his face that she was getting married and all he had done was sit around in a cave doing basically nothing."
"How are you a Yhoundeh these days anyway?"
"She's still my beautiful wife." I sighed.
"Ah, still two little lovebirds then, eh?" Hastur said cheekily.
"Shut up," I muttered.
"I remember when Azathoth found out about you two."
"Please, no." I groaned.
"'Oh Ny, I'm so happy for you! I absolutely must meet her! Have you two given any thought to marriage?'" He said in a deep voice.
"Ithaqua," I stated simply. Hastur immediately shut up; I had spent many years gathering large amounts of dirt on the other Outer Gods and Great Old Ones, just for purposes such as this, basically shutting people up.
"How do you know about him?" Hastur asked.
"I know all when it comes to dirty little secrets," I smirked.
/ / / / / / / /
"Fucking hell, man, this kid swallowed a junkyard." Dr. 4-7704 muttered a sixth piece of shrapnel from the British soldier dropped into a metal pan situated next to the surgeon.
"Crap, I think I'm gonna have to amputate this dude's leg." Dr. 5-7704 groaned.
"Maybe we should boycott the war." 4-7704 said a seventh piece of shrapnel fell into the pan with a loud ping.
"Would you two shut up!" Dr. 2-7704 spat; he was busily removing bullets from a British soldier's leg.
"Go suck a bug 2-7704." 4-7704 put down his forceps. "Alright, put him in post-op."
"Yes, doctor."
"Bring in the next!" 4-7704 said. A British soldier was wheeled in on a gurney; her eyes were covered by bandages.
"Corneal abrasions on both eyes." The nurse who wheeled the soldier in said.
"D-doc, am I gonna be okay?" She asked.
"Yes, you'll be fine." 4-7704 carefully took the bandages off.
"Okay, how many fingers am I holding up?"
"I-I don't know."
"Crap." 4-7704 muttered. "Okay, do you wear contacts?"
"Yes."
"Fuck, nurse Tretizide, please." 4-7704 held out his hand, the nurse gave him a small bottle. 4-7704 took the dropper and administered two drops of the painkiller to the soldier's eyes.
"Forceps," The nurse handed 4-7704 a different pair of forceps.
4-7704 plucked the contact lenses out of each of the soldier's eyes. "Desipentin." The nurse handed him a small bottle of the antibiotic, 4-7704 put three drops into both soldiers' eyes.
"Ascepaline." A small glass vial was put in his hand, 4-7704 drew a small amount of the cellular regeneration drug into a syringe, which he then injected into the British soldier's arm.
"Alright, that'll heal up in about four days. Oh! I'm required to tell you that you are now a prisoner-of-war, have a nice day. Bring in the next!"
"Multiple bullet wounds." A nurse said as they wheeled in another soldier.
"Again? Jeesum, fuck, okay. Nurse laser scalpel." 4-7704 sighed; he excised the damaged skin on one of the wounds.
"Forceps. You see 2-7704. This is why you don't play with guns." 4-7704 said; with the forceps, he reached into the wound and pulled out a bullet; it dropped into the metal pan with a sharp ping; he then irrigated the wound with a saline solution until it was clean. 4-7704 repeated the process of excising the damaged skin, removing the bullet, and irrigating it for the remaining five bullet wounds.
"4-7704, you are certifiably insane." 2-7704 said.
"Bring in the next!" 4-7704 said a nurse wheeled in a British soldier who was covered in saline-soaked bandages.
"White phosphorus burns." The nurse said.
"Okay." 4-7704 peeled off one of the bandages, and once done, shined a UV light on the wound.
"Forceps." The nurse handed him a fourth pair of forceps, 4-7704 plucked several bits of metal from the wound.
4-7704 peeled a second bandage off and took out several more bits of shrapnel; he continued this for the remaining wounds.
"Etolamide." 4-7704 was handed a large tube of antimicrobial burn cream, which he applied to all the burns.
"Alright, this guy's ready for post-op." 4-7704 sighed; the surgeon removed his rubber gloves with two distinct snaps.
/ / / / / / / /
1-G1 pulled the trigger of his gauss rifle, a Queen's guard suddenly fell to the ground, their uniform turning a deeper red around a particular spot, the Prime-Commander leaped from cover, 1-G2 with his gauss SAW followed behind, the 45th were nearing the King Henry VIII gate.
"1-G88! How's 1-G67 doing?" 1-G1 yelled.
"He says he's nearing the end of the Long Walk!"
"Good! Bring 'em out, six!" 1-G1 said as he shot another Queen's guard. Six guards of the 45th simultaneously unclipped a grenade from each of their belts, pulled their pins, and threw them at a specific spot.
The six grenades exploded, sending shrapnel and smoke via a secondary filler every which way. "Charge!" 1-G1 shouted; every guard there pressed a small button on their gauss rifles, making a long triangle bayonet extend from a spot below the barrel.
The 45th charged through the smoke obscuring the street. The Queen's guard and soldiers were caught unaware; 1-G1 stabbed his bayonet into a British soldier's chest; as the guards moved through, medics began administering aid to the wounded Queen's guard and British soldiers.
"Come on, it's clear!" 1-G2 shouted; the legion was finally heading through the King Henry VIII gate, suddenly, a loud band sounded from the other side of the castle.
"Hey, 1-G1! I'm through the portcullis!" 1-G67's voice came over 1-G88's backpack radio.
"Stay there, so they don't escape!" 1-G1 said, "Alright, put a breaching grenade in that door."
A guard by the designation of 1-G135 ran up with a specialized rifle; he pulled the trigger, and a harpoon-looking object shot from the barrel, coming to land in the door. Seconds later, the harpoon exploded, making a giant hole in the door.
"Go, go, go!" 1-G1 yelled, immediately the guards lunged through the hole and into the castle.
The 45th spread out, searching any rooms they came across, 1-G1 crouched behind a wall as he saw a Queen's guard, the Prime-Commander peeked from cover and shot the red-clad soldier dead.
"We've hit pay-dirt!" 1-G1 heard 1-G3 shout near him. The Prime-Commander rushed over to the third-in-command, who stood in the doorway of the garter throne room. They really had hit pay-dirt; the whole royal family sat in the room.
"Alright, don't move, and you won't get hurt. 1-G88?"
"Yeah?" 1-G88 asked.
"Call in a VTOL and notify the Grand Field Marshal; we have them."
/ / / / / / / /
Hastur and I, along with four-hundred Imperial Custodians, stood in my throne room; in a box on a table next to my throne were seven-thousand-nine-hundred-ninety-five Steel Ankh 1st class medals, four Grand Ankh medals, and one Antarctic Star medal. The Imperial Custodians were my personal bodyguards, who were clad in silver armor made of a highly durable metal known as Ustium; they were armed with what amounted to a combination of an automatic gauss rifle and a glaive.
"Why am I here again?" Hastur asked.
"You're the muscle," I stated.
"That's stupid-" The Unspeakable One started.
"Announcing, all the way from Windsor Castle! The British Royal Family!" A servant suddenly said before opening the doors.
A brass band began playing 'Antarctica Tis for Thee' as the royals were led up to the throne by the 45th.
"Welcome to the Castle East! As you might know, I am High-Pharaoh Nyarlathotep." I inclined my head towards the Queen. "As of now, you are my prisoners until this war is over."
"Urshu! Take the royal family to their rooms. I believe I have some medals to hand out." I took out the Antarctic Star medal.
"I am Urshu; I take care of the place while the master is away." Urshu appeared from nowhere, as usual, making everyone in the room bar the Custodians and I jump.
"Prime-Commander 1-G1 come forward."
"Yes, sir," 1-G1 said, stepping up to me.
"Prime-Commander 1-G1 of the 45th Legion, for outstanding contributions to the war effort. I hereby bestow upon you the greatest and most prestigious award a guard can receive. The Antarctic Star." I pinned the medal onto his chest.
"Thank you, sir." He saluted.
"Prime-Major 1-G2 come forward." He did.
"Prime-Major 1-G2, for meritorious contributions to the war effort. I hereby bestow upon you the Grand Ankh." I pinned the medal on his chest, he saluted.
"Tertium-Sergeant 1-G67, come forward."
"Yeah, man." He stepped forward.
"Tertium-Sergeant 1-G67, you are hereby promoted to Prime-Sergeant. And for meritorious contributions to the war effort, I bestow upon you the Grand Ankh." I pinned the medal on the tank commander's chest.
"Tertium-Sergeant 1-G72, come forward. You are hereby promoted to Prime-Sergeant, and for meritorious contributions to the war effort, I bestow upon you, the Grand Ankh." I pinned the medal on the other tank commander's chest, he saluted.
"Tertium-Sergeant 1-G95, come forward." The Hussar commander did so. "You are hereby promoted to Prime-Sergeant, and for meritorious contributions to the war effort, I bestow upon you, the Grand Ankh." I pinned the medal upon the Hussar's dolman.
"Prime-Colonel 1-G3, come forward. For meritorious contributions to the war effort, I bestow upon you the Steel Ankh 1st class." I pinned the medal on his chest.
Two hours later, all of the 45th stood in my throne room with medals upon their chests.
"Urshu!"
"Yes, master?" Urshu said.
"Bring the camera," I ordered. Urshu disappeared into a shadow and reappeared a second later with a camera. "Alright, take a picture of all of them together."
Urshu did so; he handed the picture to me once he was done.
"Good, send this off to the Imperial Department of Truth. I want four million posters and flyers by the day after tomorrow! Anyway, you guards are dismissed; you'll be shipping off three days from now."
I strolled back to my throne and sat upon it heavily; pulling a lever on its side, I extended the footrest.
"Was that so bad, Hastur?" I asked, taking out a royal danish cigar, sticking it through the hole in my mask, and lit it with a blast of blue fire.
"I still have no idea why I'm here," Hastur said; as soon as the words left his mouth, the throne room doors burst open, and a pale black-haired woman who was visibly crying rushed in.
"Lilith! What's wrong?" I rushed to her side.
"Azathoth's blood," Hastur muttered in the background.
"Dad, Nodens said such horrid things!" She sobbed.
"Nodens! That bastard! I'll kill him! What did he say?" I asked.
"He said I w-was a w-whore!" Lilith wailed.
"That bastard! I'll kill him! Stay here, tadpole, your cousin, and I will go take care of everything." I stormed off towards the armory, Hastur following close behind.
"First of all, tadpole?" Hastur started.
"Shut up!" I growled.
"Okay, secondly, this happens like once a year."
I wrenched the armory door open, "Come to me, Hope's End!" A flaming longsword flew into my outstretched hand.
I turned to Hastur, "You're either with me or not with me."
"Okay, I'm with you." Hastur sighed.
"Fantastic! Come to me, Liar's Edge!" A war scythe with a flaming blade flew into my other hand; I tossed it to Hastur.
"Let's go, nephew; we have an Elder God to beat up." I grabbed Hastur's arm, and we both faded away.
/ / / / / / / /
I kicked in the door to Nodens' fortress, a Night-gaunt's neck in my hand. I threw it at a wall; it hit with a sickening wet thump.
"Nodens!" I yelled; another door was ripped from its hinges.
"No! Not again!" I heard Nodens scream from somewhere near me.
A third door flew off its hinges, "Nodens, you bastard! Pain!" A black mist flew from my hand to Nodens; the Elder God screamed in unimaginable pain. The spell I had cast upon him was one of my favorites, pain; if it were cast on a mortal, it would cause immediate circulatory shock and ultimately death; the pain was so horrible that it affected even Elder Gods. The mist disappeared, and was replaced by pitch-black barbed thorns which grew from my fingertips, wrapped tightly around the Elder God, and began to drag him towards me.
"I warned you last year, Nodens, an eye!" I ripped out one of his eyes. "For an eye! A leg!" I swung Hope's End down, lopping off Nodens' leg. "For breaking my daughter's heart!" I picked up Nodens' detached leg; it burned to ash in my hand.
"Now, if she returns, you will apologize to her. You will beg for her forgiveness, or I will be back, and I'll do a helluva lot more than what I've done today!" I kicked him to punctuate my statement before walking away. I also conjured an indestructible metal golem that would continue beating Nodens for several hours.
"Let's go, Hastur," I said.
"It's over? Already?" Hastur was surrounded by several dead or dying Night-gaunts.
"These things usually take only a few minutes," I stated.
/ / / / / / / /
"Lilith?" I called, knocking on the door to her old room. I carefully pushed it open; her room hadn't changed since she moved out, I kept it exactly the same.
I stepped into the room and walked up to her bed, "Hey, tadpole, you doing okay?" I took a seat on the edge of a sizeable crimson bed, the humanoid lump in it shifted slightly.
"Yeah." She croaked, "What happened?"
"We took care of Nodens." I soothed, "I told him if you returned-"
"No! I'm done with him! He's a bastard!" This outburst set off another bout of sobbing.
"Oh, honey, come here." She practically leapt into my arms; I rubbed her back, "Sh, sh, sh, Lilith, I'm sure you'll find someone. I mean, it's not like you're Tsathoggua."
"Tsathoggua did find someone!" She cried.
"Tsathoggua found a sentient blob of slime and called it a wife; in my opinion, that isn't something to envy." Her slight giggle warmed the empty space I had in place of a heart.
"I guess." Lilith hiccupped, a small smile on her face.
"Hun, you're a beautiful young Great One; now that you're free of Mr. Lord of the Great Whatever, people are gonna be lining up to ask you out." I squeezed her tight.
"I love you, dad," Lilith said.
"I love you too, tadpole." I stated, "Now I have something to tell you."
"What is it?" She queried.
"After the war, we're gonna be getting all sorts of marriage proposals since you're the Shahdokht, and if you like any of them, I'll turn 'em into a lich or a vampire for you," I said.
"Oh, thank you, dad!" She hugged me.
"And next week is your grandpa's birthday, so remember to get him something."
"Okay, dad. How old is he anyway?"
"He was before everything and nothing; he is the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end," I said; Lilith gave me a quizzical look.
"I honestly don't know; that's just what he says when anyone asks." I shrugged.
/ / / / / / / /
"You seriously shouldn't have messed with us." Iyanna 'The Mouse' Fazzi said casually as her goons finished beating a scruffy-looking man.
"Please! We didn't even know what the Pharaoh Outfit was!" The bleeding gangbanger cried.
"You think I believe that? Or that I'd even care if I did?" She asked.
"We'll bring back the dope! Anything!"
"It's far too late for that. Legs! Squint! Give our friend here a bath!"
The two goons began to chuckle cruelly as they manhandled the bound gangbanger into a large wooden box. A cement truck was backed up until its spout was over the open box, dark gray cement poured into the tube up to the now screaming and begging man's neck. The box's lid was shut and locked with a certain finality; the gangbanger could still be heard screaming even though it was slightly muffled. One of the goons loaded it onto a truck with a forklift; a minute later, the truck left, on its way to a ship owned by the Outfit, where the box would be thrown overboard once it was out at sea.
/ / / / / / / /
"Where is he!" Prime Minister John Major hissed at the painting in his office.
"Minister Fudge is very busy-" The painting of the ugly wizard started.
"Well, tell him this is an emergency of the highest order!" Before the Prime Minister could say any more, the phone on his desk started ringing.
"Hello?" John Major answered the phone.
"Sir, t-the uh royal family has been captured by the enemy." The General on the other end said.
John Major stared at nothing in particular, a growing sense of horror overwhelming him. This was bad; this was very bad.
"Carry on, General." The Prime Minister said numbly as he dropped the phone back onto the receiver. He wasn't even startled when the fireplace suddenly flashed green, and Fudge appeared on the antique rug.
"Ah, Prime Minister, good to see you again!" Fudge said jovially.
"Prime Minister? You wanted to meet with me?" Fudge asked when he got no response.
"We're at war." John Major rasped.
"War? Why whoever with?" Fudge asked.
"The Antarctic Dominion. It's isn't going well." John Major said grimly. "The enemy has captured all of Scotland, Essex, Suffolk, Norfolk, and Kent."
"What!" Fudge shouted.
"And they've captured the royal family." The Prime Minister added Fudge went pale.
"R-really?" The Minister of Magic stuttered.
"Yeah, and there's also Brighton and Colchester."
"W-what happened to Brighton and Colchester?"
"They've been overrun." John Major sighed.
"By the enemy?" Fudge asked.
"No, we haven't a clue what they've been overrun by." The Prime Minister said. "We should've listened when that Nyarlathotep said he was going to destroy ten cities."
"Nyarlathotep!" Fudge somehow went even more pale.
"You know him?"
"It! Prime Minister it!"
"It?"
"It is not something you should give a personal pronoun to! Nyarlathotep is something only one who immerses themselves into the darkest of magics can become, a Lich, an aberration against life itself!"
"What?" John Major asked.
"I-I must go." Fudge said hastily; he walked back to the fireplace. "Minister's office!" The Minister of Magic disappeared in a swirl of green flame.
/ / / / / / / /
Fifth Day of the Antarctic-Egyptian War
The Antarctian flag is raised over the city of Suez as the last Egyptian resistance is ruthlessly crushed by Antarctian army groups eight-four-one and two-six-two.
1-Z1 Prime-Commander of the 43rd Legion along with 1-F1 Prime-Commander of the 12th Legion, 1-L1 Prime-Commander of the 68th Legion, 1-P1 Prime-Commander of the 654th Legion, 1-T1 Prime-Commander of the 999th Legion, 1-𐱇1 Prime-Commander of the 871st Legion, 1-S1 Prime-Commander of the 2nd Legion, and 1-ꔄ1 Prime-Commander of the 1242nd Legion marched from the city heading towards Cairo.
Sixth Day of the Antarctic-Egyptian War
Tertium-Sergeant 1-T95 pulled out his bugle and sounded the charging order. His ZO-III hoverbike growled as it sped off at four-hundred miles per hour; behind him, the other Hussars under his command followed close behind. 1-T95 aimed his RS11 cavalry carbine; with a bang, an Egyptian soldier fell dead, the Tertium-Sergeant cocked the gun and fired again, hitting another Egyptian soldier.
The Hussars sped towards Cairo; they were the vanguard, tasked with causing chaos among the enemy until the bulk of army group eight-four-one arrived. A cacophony of bangs sounded from behind him as the other Hussars opened up; Egyptian soldiers fell dead in droves; as the Hussars got close enough, they drew their sabers and cut down hordes of Egyptian soldiers. For the next three hours, the Hussars terrorized Egyptian soldiers throughout the city until finally the infantry and armor arrived, and slowly the Egyptians were pushed from the city.
Seventh Day of the Antarctic-Egyptian War
1-Ⴟ1 watched the Antarctian flag rise over Port Said, there was still some Egyptian resistance scattered through the city, but it was theirs for all intents and purposes.
"Sir!" 1-Ⴟ21 shouted.
"Yes!
"Call for you!" 1-Ⴟ21 ran over with a field telephone.
"Yes?" 1-Ⴟ1 answered the phone. "The Egyptians have agreed to negotiate!" he shouted for all to hear.
Eighth Day of the Antarctic-Egyptian War
"Okay, we'll give you the Old Kingdom." Hosni Mubarak sighed.
"Nah, son. We're way past that; now I want everything." I said.
"Everything?" The President of Egypt rasped, it seemed he wasn't going to comply, so I applied a bit of sorcery.
"Yep. Just sign here and here." He did.
"Now, if you'll just go with these men, you'll be put in a nice prison." He got up stiffly and went with the two guards.
I sat in his vacant chair, pulled out a royal danish cigar, stuck it through my mask's mouth slit, and lit it with a standard blast of blue fire.
/ / / / / / / /
I started Chrissy up and pulled out into traffic, Hastur once again sat in the front seat, and Hermione and Ron sat in the back.
"That was a good vacation," I said, lighting up another Pall Mall, much to Hermione's disgust.
"Why do you have to do that, Harry?" She sighed.
"Because."
"Because why?" Hermione asked.
"Because," I answered, Hastur snickered next to me.
Hermione sighed.
*Five States Later*
I carefully swerved to avoid the dead opossum which lay in the center of the old forgotten-looking road we were traveling on. We were currently on the backroads in the swamps of Iowa, heading to a property owned by my old friends.
"Harry, are you sure this is the way to your friend's house?" Hermione inquired apprehensively.
"Most definitely Hermione, they live right around here." I declared, turning on Chrissy's headlights as daylight slowly left us.
"Mate, I don't think anyone would live in this place," Ron spoke.
"Oh pish posh, see, here's the covered bridge I was telling you about!" I announced; we crossed over a rickety-looking covered bridge, several boards broke off, falling into the murky swamp below.
"Are you sure it's the right covered bridge?" Hastur snarked; he was looking through my grimoire once again, completely unaware of our surroundings.
"Shut up, Fenric." I groused; suddenly, I caught a glimpse of a gigantic spiked metal gate in the distance and a sign saying '001' on a tree next to it.
"Here it is!" I said, pulling up to the gate, which opened immediately as Chrissy got close.
A long brick driveway met us on the other side; it twisted and winded; on each side of the driveway was swampland, until a few minutes later when we broke through the trees. Atop a hill sat an old victorian style manor, bordered to the north by a graveyard. The immediate area around the mansion was covered in sickly-looking grass, sparse patches of dead or dying trees lay scattered across the property, and several statues depicting macabre figures dotted the area.
"It's good to be back; things haven't changed a bit." I sighed.
"You mean it looked like this the last time you were here?" Ron asked with no small amount of surprise.
"Yep, the Addamses have an odd taste in, well, everything."
"Then Addamses!" Hastur rasped; he looked up and turned to me, "H-hey, uh, Harry, can we not visit them, please."
"Whyever not?" I subtly cast a sound barrier, making it so Ron and Hermione couldn't hear us.
"I repeat my question, whyever not? You used to love coming here." I questioned.
"Yeah, I did, until that daughter of theirs somehow became infatuated with me."
"Oh, yeah, that. Meh, don't worry about it, she's like what twenty-eight now? She's probably over it." I dismissed parking Chrissy and taking my keys out of her ignition. I went around to Chrissy's rear and got my suitcase out; before walking up the stairs and up to the doors, I rang the foghorn doorbell.
"You rang?" Lurch opened the door.
"Hey, Lurch!" I greeted the animated corpse they used as a butler who didn't seem to recognize me.
"It's me! The Pharaoh?" I tried; Lurch nodded in a disbelieving manner but let me in any way.
I put down my suitcase and conjured a swept-hilt rapier; I crept through the manor towards the study. I burst through the double doors, the sharply dressed black-haired man inside looked up, and a smile slowly grew on his face.
"Have at thee!" I shouted, pointing my rapier towards Gomez; an elegant cup-hilt rapier dropped from the wall into the man's hand, he jumped over the desk, and we began dueling.
"How are you doing, old man?" Gomez asked.
"Spectacular! You?" Our rapiers met with thunderous sound after thunderous sound.
"Fabulous! Is your nephew with you?" Gomez flipped away from one of my stabs.
"Definitely! It wouldn't be one of my visits without him!" I parried one of the Addams patriarch's blows.
"Phenomenal! My Wednesday never got over her crush on him, you know." Gomez stated as I dodged his riposte.
"Truly?" I asked.
"Yes, she is quite infatuated with him. Are you going to tell Hastur? Wednesday appears to have gained my forwardness." Gomez replied.
"Nah, he'll find out sooner or later, plus I think it's high time he found himself a co-ruler." Gomez chortled, and using this momentary lapse, I disarmed him.
"That was a dirty move, Ny." The man smirked.
"I'm the king of dirty moves; I would think that by now, you'd have realized it," I stated with faux arrogance; Gomez laughed and walked over to me.
"It's good to see you," Gomez said.
"It's good to see you too, old friend," I replied.
"Come, come! Everyone will be so excited to see you!" Gomez led me through the house to the sitting room. "Morticia, look! Ny's back!"
"You have a new form, I see." The Addams matriarch said from her spot on a wicker chair.
"Why yes, I do. But enough of me, how are you? Is Cleopatra still alive?" I questioned, sitting on an oversized black couch.
"Oh, yes, she's living."
"Still as feisty as ever, eh?" I said Hastur, along with Ron and Hermione, came into view, "Ah Fenric! Morticia tells me that Cleopatra is still alive!"
"Yeah, that's nice," Hastur said nervously.
"Fenric?" Gomez whispered.
"Those two don't know what we are," I whispered back. "I'm Harry; he's Fenric."
"Ah." Gomez nodded.
"So when did Harry meet you two?" Hermione asked out of the blue.
"Nineteen-fifty-eight," I stated casually.
"Of course," Hermione answered just as casually. I raised my eyebrow at her, she raised both hers at me; oh, I liked her.
/ / / / / / / /
Hermione Granger had always fancied herself a smart girl, someone who would be able to solve even the most challenging question given enough time. Well, that was until Harry James Potter came onto the scene; how could someone go from shy and awkward to outspoken and irritating within three months!
"There's something off about this family," Ron muttered as he lay on the rather lumpy bed in the room they were staying in.
"There's something off about Harry too." Hermione said, "I mean, how does someone change this much over one summer?"
"He doesn't sleep," Ron informed; for several seconds, dead silence was his answer.
"What!" Hermione sputtered, "Why- Wait a second, how do you know?"
"He talked in his sleep," Ron stated.
"What did he say?" Hermione questioned.
"Absolute nonsense, things like 'R'lyeh' and 'Yhoundeh' along with things I can't even imagine myself pronouncing."
"Interesting, but anyway, why haven't you informed me of this before?" Hermione asked.
"It never came up," Ron said.
"And you don't hear that anymore?"
Ron shook his head firmly, and a sense of unease grew in the pit of Hermione's stomach.
"It's almost like he's not Harry," Ron said absentmindedly.
"That's it!" Hermione shouted as it dawned on her.
"What?"
"They're not Harry; they're an imposter!"
Ron's eyes widened as it dawned on him too, "W-what are we gonna do?"
"We'll find out who they are." Hermione pulled out her wand.
/ / / / / / / /
I opened the door to the room Ron and Hermione were staying in, only to be shoved against the wall by both of them. I could have easily thrown them off and through the wall, but I just didn't care to.
"Oh, so you've finally turned against me, eh? I knew this day would come."
"Who are you!" Hermione demanded.
"Colonel Robert E. Hogan, serial number O876707." Ron smacked me.
"Who are you!" Hermione demanded again.
"Captain Wild Bill Kelso, serial number K778131." Ron smacked a second time.
"Who are you!" Hermione demanded.
"Master Sergeant Hans Schultz, serial number 23789." Ron smacked me a third time.
"Who are you!" Hermione demanded.
"Corporal Louis LeBeau, serial number 19176546." I grabbed Ron's hand before he smacked me, "Enough, I'm bored of this." I shifted into my Dark Pharaoh avatar.
"Hello, I am Nyarlathotep, the Crawling Chaos." I forcibly shook the hand of a now pale Ron and a stunned-looking Hermione.
"It's you!" Hermione burst out.
"Pardon me?" I asked.
"You! You took Hedwig from Grimmauld!"
"Oh, that!"
"What have you done with Harry!" Hermione was still pointing her wand at me.
"Nothing, my dear, for I am Harry Potter," I stated.
"What!" Hermione rasped.
"The Harry Potter you knew was nothing but a front I put up until things got interesting, which they did when Tommy boy returned from wherever I sent him."
"B-but Nyarlathotep is just a myth! Something parents made up to keep their kids in line!" Ron suddenly stuttered out.
"Nope, I'm real."
"Then you're a lich!" Ron slowly backed away, his wand trained on me.
I burst out laughing, "No, no, no, Ron, you've got it all wrong. I am no lich; I have never been human. I am Nyarlathotep, the Crawling Chaos, the Dark Demon, the Howler in the Dark, the Father of the Darkest Magicks. I am not something to be trifled with, human, your entire species is to me what an amoeba is to you, I am a constant, I shall always be, I have existed before the universe and will exist after everything in it has turned to dust." I finished dramatically.
"What do you mean 'Wherever you sent him?'" Hermione suddenly asked.
"Who?"
"Voldemort, you said Voldemort had returned from wherever you sent him."
"Oh yes! I killed him back in nineteen-eighty-one."
Hastur suddenly burst through the door, "Uncle! Please hide me! She's coming!"
"Uncle?" Ron whispered to Hermione; she shrugged.
"Sure, Hastur," I opened the door, "Hey Wednesday! Hastur's in here!"
"You bastard!" Hastur yelled.
"I'll have you know that I know my father."
"C'mere lover." A pale hand reached from the door and pulled Hastur from the room by his yellow hoodie.
"Bye Hastur! Make sure to invite me to the wedding!" I waved at him.
"Bastard!" Hastur could be heard yelling faintly.
"Can I be your apprentice?" Hermione asked without warning.
"Sure- wait, what?"
"What!" Ron shouted.
"Can I be your apprentice? You seem to have a wealth of knowledge on magic; I mean, your grimoire is more than a foot thick."
"Hermione-" Ron started.
"Hush, Ron. So you want to be my apprentice, eh? I haven't had one in a while, anyway, yes, but only if you agree."
"Agree?" Hermione questioned.
"You will have to undergo a ritual that will make it possible for you to cast magic wandlessly. It won't be enjoyable."
"Wandless magic!" Hermione squealed, "I'll be able to do wandless magic! I agree!"
"Fantastic! We'll begin immediately! Come with me!" I strode from the room Hermione right behind me; as we walked, I conjured a ritual dagger engraved with eldritch runes and two opals; we went down into the basement where an elder sign had been inscribed upon the floor for rituals such as this.
"It'll take about an hour to get everything ready, so make yourself comfortable."
/ / / / / / / /
An hour later, Hermione lay in the middle of the sign; I dipped my finger into a little cup of human blood and painted an elder sign on her forehead. I grabbed her left arm and, using the ritual dagger, cut into it, being careful to avoid the veins; once the incision was complete, I inserted one of the opals partially into her arm. Once it was healed, she had a small opal dot sticking a bit from her arm. I repeated this process with the right arm before engraving two small upside-down ankhs on the opals. A muttered spell caused the ankhs and elder sign to flash a brilliant gold before fading a second later.
"There, you can now cast wandless magic," I said.
"Really?" Hermione panted.
"Yeah, try it!"
"Lumos!" A ball of light appeared in her hand before disappearing with a hissed Nox.
"It hurts." She hissed.
"Yeah, it'll hurt to cast anything for like a day, that's mostly why, for now, you'll be studying these," I summoned several of my personal books, including copies of the Necronomicon, Book of Eibon, and Unaussprechlichen Kulten.
"Once we get back to Hogwarts, I'll start teaching you everything I know when it comes to magick, potions, and everything really. You have great potential Hermione, you can become the most powerful witch on Earth under my tutelage." I patted her on the back.
"I have a question," Hermione said.
"Yes, my apprentice?"
"You said you haven't had an apprentice in a while; who was your last one?" She asked.
"A guy named Merlin, he was such a little punk when I met him." I chuckled; Hermione gawked.
/ / / / / / / /
"We have returned!" I said as we entered Grimmauld Place. "Eloquent as ever, Mrs. Black." I tipped a nonexistent hat at the screaming portrait.
"Oh, Ron! Thank goodness you're home! Your father was attacked; he's in St Mungos!" Mrs. Weasley bustled into the room and pulled Ron into a hug that even one of my Hunting Horrors would steer clear of.
"Oh, that ain't good." I muttered, "Who attacked him?"
"We don't know! The bill is massive; I don't know how we're going to pay it!"
"I'm sure everything will be fine, Mrs. Weasley." Hermione consoled. Meanwhile, I was deep in thought, who had a shite-load of money? Oh, I did! Slowly an idea formed in my head, an awful idea, a wonderful, awful idea, an idea that would curl the toes of even the most bloodthirsty serial killer.
/ / / / / / / /
A letter unceremoniously plopped into the lap of the ailing Arthur Weasley, who lay in his hospital bed at St Mungo's. It had come from no discernable source as if it had been teleported into the room. The Letter was sealed with wax stamped with the visage of a bull and two crossed spears, ornate writing on the front addressed it to him. The wax seal was broken easily, inside a piece of parchment gave the message of:
Dear Mr. Weasley,
Lord Wigheard Guthmaer Auxientus the Third would like to extend his deepest sympathies to you; he has heard about your recent attack and would be obliged to help the head of House Weasley in any way he can. In other words, Lord Wigheard wishes to rekindle the old Weasley-Auxientus alliance, which has been defunct since 1035. As per the old terms, House Weasley will help members of House Auxientus if they require aid, monetary or otherwise, and in turn, House Auxientus will help members of House Weasley if they need assistance, financial or otherwise. You and your wife are formally invited to Auxientus Castle to discuss these and any additional terms once you are better.
With Best Wishes,
Lindhard, Chief Servant of Auxientus Castle
/ / / / / / / /
In an ancient cave deep beneath the Kyffhäuser hills, a tall red-haired man wearing a golden bejeweled hoop crown stirred from his slumber. He sat upon a throne made of ivory; above it hung a yellow shield depicting three pitch-black lions, the coat of arms of the house of Hohenstaufen.
"Boy, do the ravens still fly?" The man's voice was hoarse from years upon years of disuse; he spoke in perfect Middle High German.
A boy, appearing to be no older than twelve, stood up and made his way from the cave. He returned minutes later with a giddy look on his face.
"Aye, milord, the ravens no longer circle." The boy said.
"Then it is time." The man responded; a great crack resounded from his back as he stood up and stretched. His floor-length beard dragged across the dusty floor trailing behind him.
Minutes later, the man emerged from the cave and squinted against the light of a sun he hadn't seen in over eight hundred years; it was time to restore the Reich.
/ / / / / / / /
I sat on the bench in front of the great house table, coincidentally the Daily Prophet or, as I nicknamed it, the Scaly Chocolate, dropped into my plate of eggs simultaneously.
"Oh, look! Ten Death Eaters have escaped from Azkaban!" I said, casually vanishing the ruined eggs.
Hastur grunted.
"Are you still mad at me, Fenric?" I asked; Hastur flashed a silver engagement ring at me. "Ah, so when's the wedding?"
"This summer." The Great Old One growled.
"Fantastic! Well, I must go; I have something to do." I got up from the table and walked from the hall.
Thirteen minutes later, I waved my hand, and the door to Umbridge's office creaked open, and what an awful place it was. Pausing only to shudder at the horrendous decor, I took a skull from my satchel and placed it upon the Deep One's desk; it was engraved with eldritch runes and two emeralds had been stuck in its eye sockets.
"I hope she likes my present." I chuckled as I closed and locked the door.
I walked back down the stairs and made my way to the seventh floor, and began pacing in front of a wall opposite a tapestry depicting several trolls attempting to ballet. Several seconds later, a door materialized; I walked in and came face to face with Hermione.
"Are you ready to begin, my apprentice?" I asked.
"Yes." Replied Hermione.
"Good, now, how far have you gotten in those books I gave you."
"I've read through one and most of another."
"Then I presume you know what a Servitor is, am I correct?"
"'Servitors are daemons of varying sizes, they act as the court jesters of Azathoth, and are usually accompanied by the chaotic music of some manner of flute.'"
"Good Hermione, today you will be learning a couple of things, namely summoning a Servitor. Now repeat after me, L' nog ya Servitor ot mgahehyee r'luhhor!"
"L' nog ya Servitor ot mgahehyee r'luhhor!" Hermione waited for a second; nothing happened.
"Do you know why nothing happened?" I asked.
"I didn't channel any magick?" She stated.
"Very good! Without magick, your words are nothing no matter what language they're in; try it again but this time, channel some magick through your hands."
"L' nog ya Servitor ot mgahehyee r'luhhor!" She repeated this time a slight warping of the air occurred around her hands, and seconds later, a small portal, around three feet in diameter, appeared, and a gray lump of tentacled flesh plopped out. It was a Servitor, all right, a baby one but a Servitor nonetheless.
"Well, it's a good start."
"Are they supposed to be bigger than that?" Hermione panted; the little Servitor pulled out a small instrument and began to play a chaotic tune.
"Oh yeah. They're supposed to be around thirteen feet tall; this one's just a baby, probably hatched just a few months ago." I picked the little guy up, examining it for a second before banishing it with a muttered 'Y' ymg' mguln Servitor ot mgahehyee r'luhhor.'
I twitched my fingers, and a target dummy rose from the floor, a freshly killed pig.
"Zhro," I said; from my hand, a roiling mass of jagged black energy flew towards the dead pig. In an instant, the carcass was torn apart, blood, bits of bone, and shredded organs went everywhere; what was left didn't resemble an animal of any sort.
"Try it." My finger twitched again, and a second pig rose from the floor.
Hermione stepped forward, "Zhro!" She hissed, and a second roiling mass flew from her hand and eviscerated the second pig.
"Good! I have one last thing for us today. Ghostbane." I said.
"Ghostbane?"
"Ghostbane is a powder that can drive off entities such as ghosts and poltergeists. Come here for a second." I walked over to a table that had not been in the room a second before.
"You see this?" I asked, picking up a rather ugly-looking mushroom.
"Yes, what is it?" Hermione replied.
"This is Sage's Cap; here, take the mortar and pestle and grind it up." Hermione did so, grinding the mushroom up until it was nothing but a light powder.
"Now, to the ground up mushroom, you add a small amount of blood," I poured human blood into the mixture. "Stir, and there! You now have a small pouch of Ghostbane; you'll never have a problem with Peeves again." I patted her on the back as she pocketed the mixture.
An hour later, I once again sat at the house table, casually reading the most interesting little magazine called the Quibbler, when suddenly the double doors banged open, and a red-faced sweating Umbridge ran in, being chased by a flying skull wreathed in sickly green flames. The skull cackled and hissed as it chased the DADA teacher, occasionally spitting droplets of flame into an unlucky student's soup or juice.
"I think she's enjoying my present," I whispered to a snickering Hastur.
To Be Continued in the Next Action Chapter of Harry Potter and the Bored Outer God!
An: Yes, this has now evolved into a crossover with the Addams Family too. And yes, that is Kaiser Frederick Barbarossa, who awoke in the cave.