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Greer123: No problem. And I'm glad you think so.
Kabuto S. Inferno: I hope you weren't waiting too long, I'm actually surprised I was able to write this chapter in this amount of time. And I'm also glad you were able to appreciate the cameo in the last chapter.
Guest: Thank you. I'm glad you're enjoying it.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling And Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing.
September 1st, 1991. Hogwarts Express, Platform 9 ¾
"Trevor! Trevor!" The chubby boy named Neville Longbottom cried out. But his cries for his pet toad were drowned out by the sea of people crowding the platform of the large red train. With all these people bustling around, Neville feared that one of them might accidentally step on his pet; and his grandmother wasn't exactly helping at the moment either.
She had her overly large handbag in one hand and Neville's wrist in the other as she led him along to the Hogwarts Express. "Come along, Neville! Come along!" She ordered, paying little mind to his calls for his toad. "We've got to get you onboard, those compartments fill up awfully quick you know."
"But Gran," Neville pleaded, "I've lost Trevor! He could be anywhere!"
His grandmother sighed. "Again, Neville? How many times have I told you to keep better track of your pet?"
"It wasn't my fault this time!" Neville tried to assure her. "He jumped right out of my hand as soon as we crossed the barrier."
His gran just shook her head and continued to drag him along towards the Hogwarts Express. "Trevor is a smart toad Neville," she told him, dragging him to the steps of one of the train cars. "He's always come back to you before and there's no reason to think he won't do the same now." Neville looked down to avoid her gaze, as well as the sight of her stuffed vulture hat. "Who knows, he's probably already on the train right this very minute."
"You think?" Neville asked, unsure if she meant it or not.
"I'd bet my bottom galleon on it," she said with confidence. "Now come along!" Practically dragging Neville up the steps, she led him towards the front of the train to find a compartment to store his trunk.
Neville listened as she mumbled under her breath at the students that flooded some of the compartments. "I swear, it was never this busy when I was a Hogwarts student. Too many kids for this one train."
At last, they were finally able to find an empty compartment near the front. With a swish and flick of his gran's wand, she levitated his trunk to the rack up above. "I hope you paid attention to that Neville," she advised. "That was actually a first-year spell I used."
"You mean by the end of the year, I'll be able to make things levitate?" Neville asked in awe. Having thought he was a squib for most of his childhood, the idea that he could actually perform magic was one of the best memories he had.
"So long as you pay attention. And you've got a good wand with you too."
Neville touched the wand he had tucked away in his pocket. It had belonged to his father before- before Bellatrix Lestrange had done what she did. He was actually caught a bit off guard when his gran pulled him in for a quick hug. "Make them proud Neville."
"I-I'll try."
With that, she quickly ended the embrace. "Well, you should have everything you need for the trip. I should be off."
"But Trevor is still missing," Neville pointed out.
"Then I suggest you try and find him. Who knows, you might make a friend along the way." With one last farewell, as well as a reminder not to forget to write, Madam Longbottom departed from the Hogwarts Express leaving Neville to his own devices.
BWHOOOOO! BWHOOOOOOOOO!
The train blew its horn twice and lurched ever so slightly as it began the journey from King's Cross to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Casting a glance out the compartment window Neville caught a brief glimpse of his grandmother sending a small wave towards his compartment. It wasn't much but just enough to let him know she cared.
Not a minute later the sight faded to black as the train passed through a tunnel and when it emerged on the other side Neville was greeted with the sight of an expansive green country side. The Hogwarts Express must have had some enchantments on it so any muggles who owned farms wouldn't notice it passing by.
Being the only occupant in the compartment, Neville stood up on one of the seat benches and reached up to his trunk to pull his school robes out. Neville knew that he was a very forgetful boy, and if he put the task off he might forget until it was too late. Especially since there was no one else here to remind him.
Once that task was done, that left him with nothing else to do except look for his missing toad. He opened his cabin door and stepped out. Walking down the train car Neville caught sight of many students from behind the glass of the compartment doors. Most of them looked quite full, and by students much older than him.
Neville swallowed a nervous lump and continued to walk on by. He was thankful his gran was not here to see him pass those compartments by. She probably would have remarked that his father wouldn't have cared what year those other students were and that he was already failing to live up to his parents' image.
He would never say it out loud, but Neville suspected the reason his gran was so nice to him on the train was that she was just glad he was actually going to Hogwarts. It was the ultimate sign that he was indeed not a squib.
He kept as keen an eye as he could as he eyed some of the other compartments. One of them actually looked promising. It looked like there were already two people inside already, but Neville had to mentally tell himself it was better than every other packed compartment he had come across earlier. Giving a very weak and hesitant knock on the door, Neville waited for one of them to answer.
When one of them did answer, Neville found himself staring at a girl who was probably going into the first year the same as himself. She had dark brown hair and hazel eyes and wore a summer sundress like a pureblooded witch would wear save for her shoes which looked to be Muggle made.
"Who is it, Tracey?" The other girl in the compartment asked. She had light blonde hair and blue eyes, dressed almost the same as the first, save for the shoes, they were more traditional.
"I don't know. Can we help you?" Tracey asked Neville who was having difficulty finding his words.
Why'd it have to be girls?! Neville internally screamed. I have no idea how to talk to girls! He knew no girls his age, he barely knew any boys his age, and with confidence as low as his he was probably making a fool of himself this very minute.
"I…um…. T-t…ad…l-ost…" Neville failed to string together a completely coherent sentence.
Tracey looked at him with a raised brow. "You lost your friend Tad?"
"N-no…" Neville shook his head. "Um… you see…"
"Are you okay?" Tracey asked. "Is this your first time talking to a girl?"
"Well…" now he was feeling really embarrassed. It was hard enough knowing something was true, but being called out on it, that was even worse. "I… talk to my gran…" Neville hoped that counted.
"She means our age," the blonde girl specified.
"…" Neville remained bashfully silent. That was evidently the only response the girls needed.
"It's really not that hard," the blonde one told him. "Just say what you need to."
It could have been worse. They could have outright laughed at him. "…Well, I was just… looking for my pet. My pet toad. I uh… I lost him and-,"
"That toad was yours?!" Tracey exclaimed.
"Y-you've seen him?" Neville asked, not believing his luck. The first stop he goes to and the people know what he's looking for.
"Up close and personal," the blonde girl explained. "He hopped down from the luggage rack and onto Tracey's head. She almost wet herself."
Tracey quickly became flushed. "Daphne!"
"D-do you still have him?" Neville hopefully asked.
"Not a chance!" Tracey told him, quelling his hope. "As soon as he jumped on me, I opened the door and let him free."
Neville's face fell. "Oh. I'm uh- sorry. He's usually well behaved."
"Except for when he runs off," Daphne commented.
"Y-yeah." Neville scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I guess I should buy a cage for him."
"That would stop him from running away," Tracey advised.
"R-right." Neville stared down at his feet, and then back to Tracey who was still watching him. She probably wanted him to leave. "Well, um- bye." Neville quickly turned on his heels and began walking further down the train. Trevor was probably in some other compartment by now.
"Oof!" Neville and another student collided amid the aisle.
"Watch where you're going!" The other boy told him in an arrogant manner. Neville regained his bearing s to see he had bumped into a platinum blonde boy with his hair combed back. His gray eyes were narrowed at Neville as he turned his nose up in a superior fashion. The two other boys that flanked the blonde were quite burly and cracked their knuckles.
The boy didn't need to introduce himself to Neville, he knew who it was he had seen pictures in the Daily Prophet of a man who looked just like him. This boy was the Malfoy heir.
"S-sorry," Neville apologized, trying not to start a conflict.
"You better be," Malfoy sneered. "You're lucky you didn't damage my robes. I spent an eternity getting them tailored." He turned to his two cronies. "C'mon boys. Potter might be further down." Neville stepped to the side, but still found himself shoved unnecessarily by one of the brutes.
Potter? Harry Potter?
That's right! Neville had been so stressed about starting school himself, he completely forgot that Harry Potter would be joining their year as well. Maybe if he found him, he would help search for Trevor with him. After all, they were god brothers. Did Harry know that? The only reason Neville knew was that of his gran, who had Harry been staying with all this time. Sure people speculated in the prophet, but no one seemed to know for sure. Maybe once the term began Neville would try and talk with him about it. His gran did say he might make some friends early on.
Hogwarts Castle, Great Hall
Here we go, Professor McGonagall thought as she ushered the new wave of first-year students into the great hall. The time had finally come, the time to sort the students into their Hogwarts houses. She had already explained how the sorting ceremony worked. When she called the students name, they would come to the front of the hall and wear the Sorting Hat.
The chatting in the hall died down once McGonagall cleared her throat. The older students stopped their talking out of past experience and the first years were mainly too nervous to do much talking at all. With the stool and Sorting Hat to her left, McGonagall unrolled the list of parchment of all registered first-year students.
"Abbott, Hannah!"
A girl with dirty blonde hair nervously stepped up to the front. She sat down on the stool and put the hat on her head. After a few seconds, the hat cried out, "Hufflepuff!"
The Badgers cheered in welcome as the trimmings of the girls robed became yellow to match the rest of the house.
"Bones, Susan!" A girl with red hair, who looked so much like her aunt in McGonagall's eyes stepped up and soon declared a Hufflepuff as well.
Lavender Brown became the first new addition to her lions, and Terry Boot became Ravenclaw.
Further and further she read down the list of names. "Davis, Tracey!" A moment later and a polite round of applause came from Slytherin table. More names more applause from the students as the tables began to fill with more students. Her lions would always give the loudest cheer, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were more mellow, and Slytherin was quicker and to the point; demonstrated when Daphne Greengrass joined their ranks.
More names, more cheering, farther and farther down the list she called off.
"Longbottom, Neville!" The son of Frank and Alice nearly tripped over his own feet as he made his way forward; an action that some of the students snickered at. As the hat fell over the boys head it took a bit longer to decide where to put him. At last, it finally settled on, "Gryffindor!"
Her house table cheered, and Neville in his excitement began walking towards the table with the Sorting Hat still atop his head. McGonagall had to run after him to get it back, earning a laugh from the entire hall.
"Malfoy, Draco!" The son of Lucius and Narcissa strutted rather arrogantly up to the front. The Sorting Hat had barely touched his head before shouting out Slytherin for the entire hall to hear. The Malfoy scion wore a self-assured smirk as he strutted over to the Slytherin table as if he owned it personally.
Closer. She was in the P section right now. A set of twins by the last name of Patil. One in Gryffindor, the other in Ravenclaw. There was no getting around it now. The moment of truth was at hand. Clearing her throat, McGonagall prepared for the name she, as well as the rest of the staff, have been anxious for.
"Potter, Harry!"
Any chatting that had been going on had stopped completely. A pin could drop and everyone would be able to hear it. The assembled mass of unsorted first years looked amongst their ranks to try and spot the boy with the infamous lightning bolt scar. Nearly half a minute passed and mild whispering began to break out.
"She said, Harry Potter?"
"Where is he?"
"Do you see him?"
When no one stepped forward she called again, "Potter, Harry!"
Once again no one stepped forward.
"Hey! Where is he?!" One of the students openly questioned. Upon hearing that the whispering picked up a great deal more and all sorts of theories were thrown around. It got to the point where McGonagall had to put her wand to her throat and cast the sonos charm to make her voice heard over the talking as she continued to read from the list. But at that point only the unsorted first years were listening to her, and who could blame them?
McGonagall herself felt a fool. It has been nearly a year since the boy vanished with no explanation as to how. She knew Dumbledore had sent Moody to look into things, but his investigation to Stonehenge on both solstices proved fruitless. Honestly, what had she been expecting; for the boy to openly burst through the great hall's doors when his name was called, making an entrance that James and Sirius would be proud of? No. He was still missing and with no clear idea of where exactly he was. Perhaps this Halloween would be different. But with that being hidden beneath the school, only a handful of professors would be able to investigate further.
When the sorting ended with Zambini, Blaise in Slytherin no one was listening. They were all too busy with talking about Harry Potter's absence. She took her seat at the staff table and looked to see her fellow Professors reactions. Sprout and Flitwick were having a hushed conversation, Sinestra was biting her nails, Hagrid seemed to want to get to his drink rather quickly, Snape appeared unfazed, but a glance to his leg showed that it was twitching ever so slightly. Even the new teacher for Defense Against the Darks, Professor Quirrell, who had a habit of twitching and stuttering seemed to be extra jittery; his face switching between a smile and a frown.
But Dumbledore, the Headmaster, smiled at his students both new and old and continued on with his usual start-of-term speech. It was a façade. Out of all the staff here, Dumbledore was the one who was truly suppressing his reaction and emotions. The same question running through his mind the same as everyone else: where is Harry Potter?
Harry took a calming breath as he and the rest of reserve troops observed the battle that was unfolding beneath them. He found that it helped; it was just a way for him to clear his head as he remembered glimpses of previous experiences.
Like Rickert had told him some time ago, the section they were in hardly did any of the real fightings. That task was always left for people like Guts and Casca, with Griffith leading a finishing charge later on. But things had not stayed that way. For example, when caught in a sneak attack everyone has to do what they can to help the others be prepared. He and Rickert were tasked with loading the crossbows to pass out to the men, and the man he went to give it to died right in front of him. A crossbow bolt from a Chuder knight went right through his skull before Harry could arm him.
That had been the first time he had saw one of the Hawks die in front of him, and Harry didn't even know his name. It was so jarring that another Chuder soldier had almost got the drop on him and cut him down as well.
Harry assumed the only reason he was alive was that of sheer dumb luck. He had only just enough time to draw his sword, and even then he fell on his back from blocking the swing that would have taken his head. He just remembered lifting his arm and the Chuder soldier had walked straight into his blade, killing himself. Then there was the blood that spilled from him, working its way down his sword and coating his arm in the stuff.
Suffice to say, Harry wasn't able to sleep that night once they had returned to the safety of Windham. Casca had found him later that night just wandering about the barracks.
…
"Something on your mind?" She had asked.
"I just- couldn't sleep is all." Harry settled on.
"You killed another person in battle." It was a statement, not a question. Harry didn't meet her gaze but nodded in confirmation. "It was bound to happen sooner or later. How'd it happen?"
"I was-," he paused. "I- don't really want to talk about it. It's stupid really." He made to walk back to his barrack, but Casca had gripped his wrist, preventing him from leaving.
"Your head is clouded. If you keep things like this to yourself, it'll only get worse." She had loosened her grip. "Best to come clear with it now, then have it get you killed as a result."
"It's not really the one I got, but one of ours," Harry confessed. "I saw him get killed right in front of me. And- I didn't even know his name! I know that I chose to be a part of you all, but- was I really a good addition? That man died because I wasn't fast enough to help."
"Do you really think that?" Casca had asked. "Nearly everyone in the Hawks is here because they chose to be. They all have something they're willing to risk their lives for. I know I do. Not many of the new additions know this, but some of the senior members do, but I joined because Griffith saved me, and I was just some peasant girl in the country. That's my resolve: to not be that same helpless girl I was before. I fight for that and for Griffith's dream. You didn't like seeing our men die, right?" Once more he nodded. "Then let that be your resolve. Fight for our people. Fight so they won't have to die."
And it was in that moment that Harry understood why so many of the men referred to Casca as, "Sis."
…
And that had become his resolve, and he was sure that he had gotten stronger because of it. He kept up with his sword training, and over time he saw that his arms were more muscular than they had been before. They were not Guts' or Pippin level but were lither. He might have even sprouted a couple inches in the height department as well.
As he sat atop a horse that he was finally able to mount, thanks to his change in height, he was able to see the status of the battle raging below. The fortress that they had been laying siege to for the past few hours, had finally entered the stages of defeat. Guts was leading his raiders up to the Citadel portion of the fort and another team had already entered the fortress to capture the leader, a fact Judeau looked nervous about.
A rider came approaching their position. "Reporting!" He yelled as he kneeled before Griffith.
"How goes the battle?"
"It's nearly over. Their leader is still holed up in the citadel. The men sent in to apprehend him haven't returned."
"Ha!" Corkus laughed. "One man? That's it? That's pathetic!"
Corkus mood changed when Judeau uttered the name, "Zodd."
All heads turned to look at him, Harry's included. "I had heard a rumor that Chuder was hiring out mercenary leaders to assist in the war. Among them, was Nosferatu Zodd." That seemed enough to make all who listened pale, but Harry felt the need to ask.
"Who's Zodd?"
"Only one of the fiercest fighters to ever live!" Rickert exclaimed. "Among mercenaries, he's a living legend. He's rumored to have killed hundreds if not thousands of soldiers. But that's not the scary part. He's always popped up on different battle fields when people think he's dead; he's been doing that for almost a hundred years! That's why he's called Nosferatu Zodd. He's immortal."
"C'mon!" Corkus insisted. "You don't actually believe that do you? It's all a fairy tale. Like the Kushan's with magic tricks."
Griffith ignored Corkus' denial as he looked toward the nearly conquered fortress, as the once clear sky began to darken with lighting. "I have a very bad feeling about this."
Let go of me, Gaston!" Guts ordered as he pushed his way toward the entrance of the fortress' citadel. He was being restrained from going any further by Gaston and two other raiders; his hatred for being touched intensified because of it.
"No way Captain!" Gaston opposed. "We should just wait a little bit longer, please!"
"It's been an hour and not one of fifty of our guys has come out!" Guts shoved both of the men off of him and continued toward the entrance.
"AAAAGGGH!" A deathly scream came from the darkness of the passageway into the citadel. All arguing had stopped, and eyes were glued to a shape emerging from the darkness. Guts' eyes widened as he recognized the man as his own, Dillos.
He was missing an arm. At his shoulder, Dillos' right arm had been completely removed even exposing a decent portion of his rib cage. "Dillos!" Guts shouted as the man dropped to his knees.
"Caaaptiiiin," Dillos struggled to say. "…Zodd… Zodd." His body went limp.
Guts faced the tunnel with renewed anger. Seeing Gaston approaching from his side Guts ordered, "None of you come in! I'm killing this bastard myself."
The walk through the tunnel was like walking through a butcher's shop. But instead of pigs and chickens, human bodies lined the walls. Bodies of his comrades, with their eyes popping from their sockets, limbs scattered about the floor, and their blood painting the floor, walls, and even ceiling.
Guts grit his teeth at the sight. That bastard Zodd was going to pay for humiliating them like this. He knew the rumors about Zodd, every mercenary did. And they were just that, rumors. Zodd was just a man, and men could be hurt, and if it could be hurt it could be killed. Simple as that.
He continued deeper, the smell of death becoming all the more powerful. One man did all of this. Just one. And Guts would fight him as such. Just the two of them, anyone else would just slow him down. That was when he heard it. The sound of metal on metal; the sound of a fight. Rushing ahead, Guts found himself in a torch-lit room piled with the corpses of members of The Band of Hawk. And standing amidst those corpses was a single man.
He stood almost eight feet tall and was covered in muscle. He had spiky black hair similar to Guts and pointed ears. In one hand he held a sword so massive that two men were completely skewered through by it, and in his other, he held the entire head of another man; his meaty fingers had completely crushed the eyes.
By the light of the torches, Guts was able to see he had a few pointed teeth protruding from his lips, and his eyes had slits for pupils. This was Nosferatu Zodd. Any normal man would have fled from such a sight, but Guts, he yelled in fury.
"AAAHHHHHH!" Guts charged forward, ready to cut Zodd in half, but was met with Zodd's sword striking his own and sending the two corpses he had pinned to it to go flying into the wall.
What the hell is this?! Guts wondered as Zodd set his sights on him now.
"You parried that strike well," Zodd commented in a deep throaty tone. Guts barely had time to block Zodd's next swing and felt his knees buckle from the force of it. He was further caught off guard when he rolled away from another swing that completely decimated a stone pillar.
Zodd sent a flurry of slashes his way, which he was only able to barely block. Seeing Zodd's blade coming in fast on his left side, Guts used his arm guard to absorb the hit but was sent flying into another pillar as a result.
"Gah!" Guts coughed up a bit of blood from the force of impact.
Leering over him, Zodd said, "Superb." Guts glared back at him, rising to his feet. "You are lasting much longer than any of these men did."
Shifting his stance, Guts posed himself with his sword gripped in both hands and leveled it around his midsection. Zodd perked up at the stance. "Ah. So instead of blocking you will bet it all on one strike." Zodd smiled a toothy smile. "Interesting. I will accept this challenge."
Both men shot forward, Guts swinging up and Zodd swinging down. Sparks flew as their blades clashed. Guts could feel the force Zodd was putting behind his strike, the larger man was really going all out on him it felt like.
Aiming to break the clash, Guts stepped into the force of the swing, brought his sword around and straight into Zodd's shoulder.
"ARRRRGH!" Zodd screamed in pain.
Got him!"
However, Guts had no time to celebrate his hit as Zodd instead smiled that horrible toothy smile showing off his unnaturally sharp teeth. "What a surprise." Zodd gripped the blade and pulled it free of his shoulder. "You are the first to land a blow in my last three hundred years of slaughter!"
With that, Zodd began to change. He was becoming bigger in height and width; more muscular even. Thick black hair began to cover his entire body, and his face morphed to resemble something of a cross between a bear and a mane less lion. Two long curved horns sprouted from his forehead, and a pair of goat legs replaced his human ones. He even grew a tail. It was a true monster; it was terror itself.
Never before had Guts felt this sort of fear grip him. It was enough to make his body shake and his knees tremble. Zodd spoke again, this time in a much deeper voice.
"This is great! I have almost forgotten what it feels like to experience that rush during a battle! Come now, don't disappoint me!"
Zodd swiped at him with his paw, and Guts took the hit sending him flying into another stone pillar. He barely had time to rise or recover as Zodd charged him, horns first ready to skewer him. He rolled to the side and brought his sword in for a strike. Zodd blocked it with his horns and used them to toss Guts aside once more.
Guts was slammed once again and felt blood begin to coat the back of his head. He was woozy when Zodd grabbed him in his enormous paws and lifted him up.
"What's wrong? Don't tell me that was it."
Guts' head lolled to the side as he stared at the beast before him.
"For what it's worth, you fought well- for a human." Zodd began to squeeze.
"AAGHH!" Guts yelled in pain, coughing up some more blood in the process. He had to fight it. Somehow, just fight- Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!
Zodd let him fall to the floor and Guts was able to see why. Standing behind them, was Griffith, Casca, Judeau, Pippin, Corkus, Rickert, Harry, and an entire squad of crossbowman. Snarling at the intrusion, Zodd turned his fury on the crossbowman.
The beasts' great horns impaled men, he trampled another under his hooves, his claws cutting through armor like it was butter, and even just using his fangs to bite others in half. Soon next to no crossbowmen remained alive.
Griffith had taken off towards Guts and helped to pull him to his feet. "Live to fight another day," Griffith said as he began to lead him away from the great beast, who caught sight of this latest interference.
"Where are you going?" Zodd questioned. "Your heart is still beating."
"Griffith!" Casca cried out.
"Can you move?" Griffith asked Guts, seeing Zodd rearing up for a charge in their direction.
"We're dead if I can't," Guts forced himself to stand and tightened his grip on his sword. Zodd shot forward towards them.
"Go left," Griffith told him. Zodd got closer. "Now!" The pair of them dived to the side and brought their swords in an arc.
Zodd roared as both succeeded in landing a hit on him. Guts saw Griffith looking in his direction, sending a nod his way, but failing to notice Zodd's tail coming toward him.
"Griffith!" Both he and Casca shouted as the tail sent Griffith crashing into the wall. Seemingly knocking him unconscious.
"What a day. To think two humans would be able to would me." Zodd struck Guts with his forearm and sent him skidding across the floor. He set his sights towards Griffith. "I suppose I'll start with this one."
Guts tried to push himself up, but Zodd was practically on top of Griffith as he used his sword as a sort of crutch. Thunk! A crossbow bolt was fired at Zodd, who managed to catch the shot in his paw. One look to the reinforcements showed Guts Harry had retrieved one of the fallen weapons. Now Zodd's sight was set on the boy.
Harry must have been struck by fear as Zodd simply flicked him and was sent flying into the wall beside Griffith. "A valiant try, but unsuccessful." Zodd raised a hoof to squash Harry but stopped himself short as he eyed something on the boys head.
"Hm? What a unique scar. It is different than the one I know, but I recognize a brand when I see it." To Guts' surprise, Zodd stepped back. "His life belongs to someone else." He set his sight back on the fallen Griffith. "Now where was I?"
But once again, Zodd stopped himself short of killing. This time he eyed the piece of jewelry that hung from Griffith's neck. "It cannot be. The Egg of the King, the crimson behelit!" Then, Zodd began to laugh. "Huhuhuh! HUAHUAHUAH! So, it's that kind of ploy." Zodd punched the ceiling causing a good portion of it to collapse, leaving a huge hole to the outside above them. He turned once more towards Guts. "We'll have to put our battle on hold. But I'll leave a word of warning- no. A prophecy. If you call that man a friend, take heed. For when his ambition collapses, death will pay you a visit! A death you will never escape!"
Zodd arched his back, and a pair of giant bat-like wings emerged from his back. He kicked off from the ground and shot out of the hole he had created; his wings carrying him off to an unseen destination. The fight was over.
Guts fully rose to his feet staring off at where Zodd had exited. He saw Casca free herself of being restrained by Judeau and rushed over to where Griffith and Harry lay motionless. "Hey," Guts said as he approached her. "What-?" He was stopped short when Casca turned on him, glaring daggers through her tear filled eyes.
"You!" She snapped. "This is your fault! They're hurt because of you!"
A/N: And that was the fight with Zodd. I know that it was mostly exactly like it was in the manga/anime, which is why I had the first scene with Hogwarts side in first, so it wouldn't feel like a retelling of the Berserk side of things. I hope you all enjoyed, and thank you for reading.