AN: As promised, here's the second upload of the day! It was originally one chapter, but I thought 20,000 words in one massive update would be a bit much to read.
So, I split it up a bit!
The AN: at the bottom figures for the previous chapter, too.
Thanks for reading and Happy Halloween!
Sincerely,
-Crow
"POTTER!"
Harry drowsily glanced up from his bowl of oatmeal mush to see an irate Potions master stalking his way early in the morning. The rest of his dormitory, still anticipating news on the duel, snapped attention to the spectacle.
"Explain this!" The adult dropped a limp object on the table opposite the boy and Harry apathetically looked at it.
A dead, platinum-white ferret.
"Ummm." He feigned confusion easily (it was 6 AM), "It's an animal carcass? Could you keep it away from my food?" He pulled his plate and bowl further away from the furry corpse; it was unsanitary, after all.
"I know this has you written all over it!" Snape argued, starting to turn red, "It was strung up by the tail in front of the Slytherin Common Room with 'COWARD' written underneath!"
"And that's my fault because…?"
"Everyone knew you went to duel Mr. Malfoy last night! This is obviously a threatening message relating to it and I will not have an amoral psychopath threatening my Snakes!" He roared.
'Yeah, except half your snakes are clinical psychopaths themselves,' Harry mentally retorted. He sighed and looked the man square in the eye, "Sir, I did not kill a ferret last night."
He didn't.
BRVR was the one to catch it and snap its neck.
Totally a nature v. nature situation.
Er, well abnormal-virtual-entity-nature v. nature.
"I didn't even duel last night." Harry continued (again, he truthfully didn't duel), "If you want a culprit, look around you. Half the Gryffindors would pull that for some reason or another. Then you've got everyone else in the school, too." Probably another truth, too.
"15 points for your cheek, Potter!" Snape spat angrily.
"PROFESSOR SNAPE!"
The entire hall turned suddenly to see the surprisingly livid figure of Madame Pomfrey storming down the Great Hall towards the two.
"Now, whatever is going on between you two is not necessarily my concern, but I will tell you that it is my duty as the Head Nurse to deal with… that!" She pointed disgustedly at the ferret corpse at the breakfast table. "I will not have students exposed to Merlin-knows-what diseases while they are eating, Professor or not!"
She banished the corpse-ferret back into the arms of Snape who barely managed to catch it again. She waved her wand repeatedly over the surface, banishing nearby food plates (including Harry's bowl, to his dismay) and sending small ripples of light over the table until it practically shone with sanitation.
She rounded on the Professor, "Now, Severus, what exactly warranted placing a dead animal carcass on a student's breakfast?"
The man, shaken by the older woman's ire, composed himself to his former intimidating aura, "Poppy, this animal was used as a direct threat to the Slytherin House and I want to see those who did so punished appropriately."
The Matron looked at the carcass worriedly. "Well, if that's the case, then it is rather serious. I'm afraid we'll bring it up with the rest of the House Heads, but what basis do you have for Mr. Potter as the culprit?"
The dungeon-master growled lowly, but held his tongue. He honestly couldn't think of anything outside of heat-of-the-moment blame. He was honestly rather shamed he allowed such emotional response to overrule himself.
Pomfrey sighed. "Then the most we can do is investigate the scene of the crime or," she rather pointedly looked at the bedraggled carcass, "What's left uncontaminated of it."
The man scowled and stalked outside with the Matron following closely behind. Harry watched as new tableware and food appeared in front of him and he gratefully ladled another glob of oatmeal in his new bowl. As he blew on it to cool, he glanced up at the table on the other end of the Hall.
He hid his smirk with a quick bite of overly-hot oatmeal.
The 'ferret' looked almost as white as Slender but with a face that suggested he was close to relieving himself from sheer terror or he was about to go into shock.
The fact that the entirety of Gryffindor had heard from rumors spread by Weasley, most likely, that the blonde prat hadn't shown up and even had them tipped off (not that it really mattered, what with a majority of the school hearing about it) meant the House of the Brave was baring its fangs at the House of the Cunning for the entire meal.
"-And that, everyone, is why it is always unwise to transfigure rum from water; as Mr. Finnegan demonstrated a few days ago." The Scottish professor sent a mildly reprimanding, but stern glance at the Irish boy in question who quailed quietly at his desk.
The bell tolled from the bell tower as the morning session ended. McGonagall raised her voice, "I want everyone to read up on Gramp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration for tonight's homework and your assignment is a 3 foot essay on the dangers of 'Temporary Edible Transfiguration' due by next Thursday. Mr. Potter, a moment please?"
Harry signed mentally as he slowed his packing and watched everyone else file out of the room. He approached the professor at her desk, already with an idea of what she was going to ask.
"Have you given any further thought to the Seeker position?"
Yep. There it is.
He opened his mouth and was tempted to give an exasperated and firm rejection, when Slender's letter came back to mind…
But… was it worth it?
Was it worth the risk of even contemplating…?
He hazarded a glance and internally winced. His ever-so-slightly prolonged silence had caused a slight glint of hope in the older woman's eyes.
"I-I… hear me out first." He said, taking a breath. "I have spoken to my guardian and my friends and we thought of something that might work out for both of us." She nodded hesitantly, urging him to continue. "That said… I accept the position-"
"Oh, wonderful!" She exclaimed-
"-On a trial basis." He finished.
She seemed taken aback by this but nodded for him to continue. "I really do like flying and it sounds… exciting quite frankly to be involved in this game, but I don't want to fully commit so early on. It's only been a month since school started. Barely three since I found out magic was real in the first place."
Her composure softened slightly as she nodded, still doing an internal happy-dance at the acceptance, even at a trial, but understanding of his reasons. Maybe even approving of his academic consideration… if she wasn't a die-hard Quidditch fanatic.
"Well, Mr. Potter," She bustled giddily, "I'll see to it that a broom is purchased and delivered by Friday. In the meantime, I will contact Mr. Wood to set up some practice with the basics of the game and the school brooms."
"Please pass along the bill to Mr. Lindermann or have him pay directly. It's no trouble to us and we just can't allow the school pay for a personal gift that expensive." Harry insisted politely. Partially because he didn't want to impose.
Partially because Slender had warned that gifts, particularly the expensive kind, could be used as a debt over their heads. And with Dumbledore so deeply involved…
"I'll see to it," McGonagall assured him, still with her lips upturned as she dipped a quill in some ink to begin penning a letter. Harry took that as his dismissal and left.
Barely an hour had passed before he was suddenly swept up after classes by a beaming Wood. The upper classman practically dragged Harry to the school grounds.
"Now, since you took your sweet time making up your mind," He half-joked, "We need to work extra hard to get you caught up to speed in time for the match against Slytherin."
"Joy of joys," Harry muttered under his breath.
In no time flat, he found himself hovering a few feet in the air on a rickety school broom with Oliver on the ground by a large wooden chest that rocked slightly from two cannonball-like objects literally chained down to the bottom.
"Now then," Wood called up, "I know you know the basics of Quidditch, but I reckon you've never seen any of the balls in action, right?" Harry nodded and Wood picked up a solid, red ball a bit larger than an American "soccer" ball. "This is the Quaffle, it scores points through the hoops. Let the Chasers deal with this or me, seeing as I'm Keeper."
He pointed to one of the cannonballs, careful to not trigger the release, "These are bludgers. Watch out for them. They try to hit players randomly on their own, but Beaters have bats to aim at specific people. We'll have our own Beaters try to keep them off of you, but you've got to stay vigilant!"
The last one, he pulled from a special compartment at the top. It was a tiny, golden ball a little bigger than a golf ball. He grinned and held it up for Harry to see, "This, Harry, is the Golden Snitch. This is the ball I want you to focus on!
"A game goes until the Snitch is caught by either team's Seeker. It's worth 150 points in the game and almost always guarantees a win. Now, the problem with these little guys-" He paused as the ball suddenly grew gossamer golden wings and fluttered in his hand like a hummingbird. Wood quickly adjusted his grip to keep it in his palm. "They've got a mind of their own and are wickedly fast. Tend to change direction on a dime, too."
He glanced back at Harry with a gleam in his eye. "That's why we need someone with reflexes like-"
*fwip!*
Harry's hand was up and holding a small golf ball before he realized it had moved. He stared stupidly at it, trying to process what just happened. Looking back at Wood, the boy's manically grinning face looked ready to explode.
"Excellent! That was- Wow!" He sputtered excitedly. "You caught that like it was nothing, Potter! Now that's what I wanted to see; someone with reflexes to catch something like that out of nowhere when it's least expected!"
"Is that why you had me fly up here while showing me the equipment?" Harry asked.
"Partially," Oliver admitted, "Partially to keep going!"
Harry barely had a moment to think before he was forced to catch another golf ball before it sailed over his head.
Again and again it went. Him catching the seemingly-endless supply of balls Oliver had on-hand. By the end, Harry actually felt slightly winded from expending so much magic to keep himself aloft and the upperclassman was grinning like a madman (or Jeff). He had caught almost every single one, only missing two wide shots and one that Wood accidentally threw into the ground.
"Nicely done, Potter," He shouted up, "Now come on down!"
After Harry landed, Oliver took the broom to return with the school balls. He continued to gush all the way back to the castle.
"We're going to cream Slytherin this year! I can feel it! Yep, this is a turning point for Gryffindor, we'll finally have that Quidditch Cup in our hands."
Aaaaand, he was already starting to regret this.
They reached the entrance to the castle when Harry interrupted the extended history of Gryffindor losses, "Hey, Wood? What are expulsions like here at Hogwarts. I mean, I'd imagine they're different than a Norm- er, Muggle school."
He had been contemplating just what exactly would constitute an expulsion and what would justify it? Fighting another student? Carrying weaponry into school? Hunting, killing, and prepping an animal and sending it in a threatening message to a rival House? Loitering?
"Check. Check. Checkity-check."
"Don't forget being out after dark."
"I think it's kind of overshadowed by the fact that he was out after dark while fighting another student while carrying weaponry and shortly before killing an animal in a threatening message."
Harry shook his head clear in time to hear Wood's response. "Well, it depends, you see. Purebloods can have their wands snapped, but if they can get transferred to a new school before then, they can keep it. If they register for private tutoring, they can keep it. Some wizarding families, like the Weasleys, could probably get by with some kind of home-schooling option, seeing as the entire family's magic.
"If their wand is snapped, they could also just buy a new one on the sly at Knocturne; loads do. It's still a major black mark though in Wizarding Britain to get expelled from Hogwarts, especially for an upper-class Pureblood, but they can still keep their magic."
"Wait, what?!"
Oliver winced, "Ah, yeah, that's the other one. Muggleborns or families without enough influence have it rough. Their wands are pretty much automatically snapped and their memories, along with their entire family's, are wiped of everything magical. Oh, and the student's magic is bound, too, so there's no chance of accidental magic."
The older boy heard a faint splatter behind him and turned to see the small Seeker hunched at a wall… with a trail of orange-yellow sick running down it.
"Oi! Potter, are you alright?" He asked hurriedly moving to his side.
Harry couldn't speak, in case he'd spew all over again, but gestured vaguely at him either that he was fine or to go away. Either interpretation worked for him right now.
'It could happen! I'd get mind-wiped or bound! I'd be useless, alone, and forget Slenderman and everyone!' Harry's mind blanked in panic. All of his worst nightmares since learning about this crazy society were coming true or could come true at any minute! His stomach dry-heaving more bile and stomach acid onto the grass.
"Hey! Potter, snap out of it!" Wood rushed over and started shaking the first-year's shoulder unhelpfully until Harry came out of it noticing the dull ache. "What in Merlin's name was that all about? I'll go get Madame Pomfrey-"
Before he could turn to enter the castle, Harry's arm snatched his wrist and he hoarsely protested, "N-no nurse."
"Potter?"
"It's like a panic attack." Harry mumbled, wiping his chin, "I just panicked, alright? It happens. I just… panicked from what you said about mind-erasing and stuff."
Oliver awkwardly and worriedly stood as the first-year kept an iron-like grip on his wrist. He cleared his throat, "W-well, if it means anything. You probably wouldn't be; Obliviated, that is."
"Obliviated?"
"The mind-wipe thing. You're a pretty big deal, you know? You'd just be taken in by a wizarding family in no time. Or Dumbledore would take care of you."
That thought alone brought new waves of bile.
"But I wouldn't worry; Dumbledore's a fair man and he hasn't expelled anyone in 50 years, so I'm told." He gave a weak grin, "Plus, it's no secret he favors Gryffindor just a tad."
Olliver waved his wand with a quick word sounding like 'scourge' or something and the vomited mess vanished off of the pavement. He helped guide the younger Gryffindor back to the portrait of the Entrance Hall.
"Hey, Wood?"
"Yeah, Potter?"
"Dumbledore favors Gryffindors and, apparently, me… what about my brothers?"
"Brothers? What are you-… oh, you mean Brahms and Thresher…" He thought about it, looking very uncomfortable and eventually gave a half-hearted shrug. "Sorry, Potter, I'm not sure."
"Well, thank you anyway." Harry managed a weak smile and walked away from the prying eyes of the older Gryffindor.
The second he was out of visual range-
-He sprinted to the Owelry, already planning the letter for Slender.
This whole thing just got a lot more complicated.
Slender gave a breathless-groan as he opened the door to what was once a bedroom in the mansion. The bed, dresser, and everything aside from a single desk and enormous set of filing cabinets had been removed. The desk had several pens, quills, and plenty of ink with a pad to the side with a mini-Operator-Symbol etched into it. Even as he watched it letters, notices, newspapers, and reports flashed into existence stacking on top of the previous one.
Evidently, the "Owl-Delivery" pad he'd bought had enchantments and charms to keep the ever-growing stack from collapsing all over his desk as it grew to three feet tall in one vertical column.
The corner of the room darkened as a messenger bird made its seventh trip that day between the Manor and Gringotts picking up statements, reports, and data on Harry's accounts plus Zalgo's account plus over 20 other accounts that had been willed to the "Savior of the Wizarding World' by wealthy war-widows with no notable descendants. It dropped its load on a random spot in the pile growing on his desk before wooshing back through the Ether to Gringotts.
This, coupled with his usual work, coupled with the Council's work, and letters trying to ingratiate him to the Goblin Nation gave him a sinking feeling that he would be seeing a lot more of this particular room for quite some time.
The room corner swirled in shadows as another messenger bird made itself known.
But instead of leaving its claw-full of letters and statements on the desk, it fluttered right up to his shoulder and perched itself with a cream-colored envelope in its beak. He recognized it as Adrien's assigned bird, "Scath" or some such name, and took the envelope.
Scanning the letter, he felt his dread grow.
He ignored the literal mountain of work growing in his office and headed downstairs to the lounge, sitting in his favorite wing-backed chair. The letter still in his hands as he contemplated it.
Every step deeper into this world was like walking through an Arachnomite's webbed lair deep in the UnderRealm's Eternal Forest. Escape one web and you walk into three more strands. Breaking those strands alerted a thousand sentinels to attack. An almost inescapable situation by any account.
Harry had promised to alert Adrien and Nikolas as soon as possible that expulsion was not an option. It was too risky. Too tricky. They were family of the supposed 'Boy-Who-Lived', but if any one of the three were to be expelled, who knew what these backwards madmen would do. What these desperate, brainless politicians would attempt if they had an opportunity to get their claws into a "national hero".
What a mess.
A dangerous game with high-risks that Slenderman was not willing to forgo without impaling a few people… or a few hundred.
…
He sighed ruefully as he considered his best course of action.
He had allowed Dumbledore to win once by his own admitted negligence in the significance of Housing.
He would not be made a fool again.
"But Dumbleodore-!"
"My answer is still no, Cornelius." The aged wizard replied firmly. His patience with this buffoon was growing thin.
"But the Wizarding public is in an uproar. Their savior is back, we are finally recovering from the Wizarding War, and NEWTS are the highest they've been in 10 years! But the Boy-Who-Lived is living with muggles! The pureblood sector in Dark, Light, and Gray are all in arms!"
"And regardless, we cannot push for him to be relocated!" Dumbledore argued, "He is now an American Citizen. MACUSA is much less friendly towards Britain and would see movement to take one of their citizens as an act of aggression. Believe me, if you wish, you will be the one involved with their Ambassador."
Fudge shivered nervously, his hands wringing his ugly lime-green bowling hat. He remembered the woman. No sense of respect whatsoever, especially from a muggleborn, but the first Auror to bring that up was met with a frosty gaze and a threat to freeze off something rather valuable to the man. In short, the US Ambassador had terrified him.
"But what can we do, Albus?" He wailed.
"Calm yourself, Minister, have a lemon drop." The Headmaster offered. The man accepted absently, quietly focusing on the dissolving treat in his mouth as he fretted fearfully, "Time is on our side. Harry Potter's guardian will be a challenge to deal with, but I have a plan. All I ask is that you stay calm and do not create attention or disruption around this scenario."
The Minister nodded meekly, scowling around the lemon drop, "Of all people, that man, that muggle to speak to me like that in front of the entire press, oh! Thank Merlin Rita Skeeter had not seen fit to drag me through the mud for that little encounter." He bemoaned, "And now he and his… children are running amok in Hogwarts! We've never had muggles in Hogwarts, why start now?!"
He rounded on the older man, "For that matter; how did they get in in the first place?! Muggles can't see Hogwarts!"
Dumbledore grimaced ruefully. "That is for the most part true, Cornelius, but you see I have done research into this shortly after Mr. Lindermann's arrival. As it turns out, Headmaster Ezra Grimmsworth had the wards reconfigured from the original layout. It allows passage and visitation of Hogwarts to muggles who are aware of magic to a degree that does not violate the Statute of Secrecy. We've never had an instance after that family as most muggleborns' parents are content to not interfere too deeply, especially if they and their children 'know' the wards will not allow them entry."
"B-buwhtat-" Fudge blustered.
"Alas, it's out of my hands." Dumbledore continued, "These wards were designed for a rather influential aristocrat family of a muggleborn to visit their son. It gained Hogwarts much credit from the Royal Family and a great deal of gold backing for generations after. However, the ward redesign was back in the early 16th century, I'm afraid. Centuries of layering on top of that ward would mean the entire scheme would have to be disassembled, leaving Hogwarts completely defenseless for upwards of a year, perhaps more."
"W-well we can't have that!" Fudge screeched. He could already see the faces of the Malfoys, Madame Bones, the Smiths, and more glowering at him as he tried to explain why their children were defenseless to adjust the wards just to repel a few muggles. It just wasn't worth his career.
"I'm glad you see my point," Dumbledore replied happily. The Minister continued fretting even as he said polite goodbyes and ducked into the Floo Network before he was gone in a flash of green fire.
…
Dumbledore enjoyed the blissful silence for a moment before he sighed as he took out a 'special' batch of lemon drops he had in his desk. They were laced with Firewhiskey.
Fawkes trilled in the corner, lightening his mood as the marvelous sour/sweet of the drop mingled with the warm, burning sensation of whiskey.
He eased back into his chair.
Mr. Lindermann was proving to be an unusual man to deal with. Especially for a supposed 'muggle'.
He hadn't lied to Cornelius in the slightest. It was a mild secret (one that he, himself, had known for decades) that the wards were configured to allow muggleborn parents entry, but most of them and their children were content to 'know' that wards kept muggles away, so visits wouldn't work out. Most took it at face-value and went on their way.
But, Mr. Lindermann… could not possibly be muggle.
Perhaps disgraced pureblood taking up a new name? A muggleborn that slipped through the cracks in America without MACUSA's attention? A bastard child educated in secret?
His apparating alone was enough to prove it, but Minerva noticed he was clearly less-than-impressed by her demonstrations of magic at Diagon Alley. He was clearly familiar with magic.
And wary of it.
His children, likewise, were both not magical nor squibs… and definitely not muggle.
He rolled the lemon drop with his tongue as he contemplated the conundrum.
Soon… soon these pieces would fit together.
And he had a feeling Harry Potter was keystone to it all.
"Are you ready?"
"Honestly? No."
"It'll be over soon."
"I still say this is a bad idea."
"Fine. Be quiet, here he comes."
Harry had no idea who thought their version of 'whispering' wouldn't be overheard, but it was laughable. He heard them all the way from the portrait hole and given the near-identical voices, he had an idea who was waiting.
He sighed as he walked into the main common room. His hunch was correct, the Weasley Twins were staring intently at him as he walked in, but quickly averted their gazes to make it seem coincidental and 'less suspicious'.
"Hello there, Mr. Weasley and Weasley. Can I help you with anything?" Harry asked politely. A quick glance around the common room confirmed no one was around and they'd all gone to bed.
"W-we wanted to talk to you about… things…" The one on the left said.
"…Things…?" Harry repeated skeptically. "Look, it's been a day and if you want to prank someone, I'm not in the mood to be the victim."
They frowned and he just held up his hand, "That said, goodnight to the both of you."
He began walking up the steps-
"We know about Laughing Jack."
He stopped dead on the third step, slowly walking back down. His brain buzzed; had they planned this meeting to be when no one else was around? Had they planned on talking to him alone? If so, for how long? For that matter, how'd they figure out L.J. and what more did they know?
He sat in the chair opposite the Twin's couch, not taking his eyes off of them. It would've been funny, a pair of nervous 13-year-olds being stared down by a midget 11-year -old, if the younger didn't have a glare that could kill.
"What do you know?" He demanded quietly.
"Now, hold on," Twin 2 said, "We'll tell you what we know only if you promise to tell us more. Deal?"
"Depends." Harry replied unwaveringly.
"No, mate," asserted Twin 1, "We're not giving over all our cards for nothing here. We want something in return, get it?"
Harry frowned. Negotiations weren't exactly his strong suit, but it seemed fair at the least.
"How about this," Twin 2 suggested, "We tell you what we know about Laugh-, er, L.J. and you tell us some more about him and the others. Then, we'll tell you about what we know about the Third Floor corridor. It's a big piece of gossip, but no one's actually come close to what's actually behind there."
"Took us by surprise," Twin 1 added.
"Almost didn't escape-"
"-but we did."
"And here we are."
"With information-"
"-we think you'll find."
"Interesting." The two finished in stereo.
Harry's brain ached a bit trying to keep up with them, but he considered…
"How about I add to it." He suggested. "You tell me what you know about the Third Floor and something else I might find useful in the future and I will let you ask one question I will answer honestly. But be warned, I may or may not be in the mood to elaborate too much if it's too personal. And lastly, you tell no one of anything I tell you."
…
Fred and George shared a glance.
"Well, we also have another option," Twin 1 replied.
Twin 2 continued "What's to stop us from talking to, say, a professor?"
*fwip fwip!*
They jumped at the sound grazing just by their ear and looked between them to see two sharp knives embedded into the upholstery just by both of their respective heads. They hadn't even seen where he'd pulled them from and barely saw his arms blur.
…
"You make a very convincing argument," Fred offered weakly.
"I don't mess about when my family is on the line. I'm sure you can understand," Harry leaned back in his chair, still a little twitchy. "Alright, so what did L.J. tell you?" Harry asked.
George spoke, "He told us that 'Slendy' was dangerous and could kill us if we became a threat to you or the others."
"He showed us… what he looks like… I think," Fred offered.
Harry's eyebrows raised slightly, "You think?"
"Well, it was so fast, we were too shocked, we're not sure what we saw." George countered.
"Anyways, Mr. Lindermann said because we knew about them through the Map that he'd know where to go to if someone talked."
"Map?"
The twins froze and George glared slightly at the other. They hadn't meant to give that tidbit.
"What map?" Harry pressed.
Reluctantly, they answered, "A map we found in our first year. It was confiscated by Filch and he never figured out how to use it."
"It shows the whole castle."
"And everyone in it."
"Anytime."
"Anywhere."
"Precisely." They finished together.
"So… you can see who is where in Hogwarts?" Harry summarized cautiously.
"It's more than that, mate."
"It's a prankster's best friend."
"Any teachers, ghosts, or Filch show up on the map and we know exactly where they are at any time. Best way to not get caught. Plus the hidden passages, trick doors, and concealed staircases."
Harry's eyes gleamed, those did sound interesting. "And how do you know who is where."
"The map tells us their names."
Harry's blood chilled, "Their… real names?"
They nodded.
The ward of Slender sighed, "So, I suppose that's how you first got suspicious, eh?"
They winced and went into a more in-depth explanation, beginning with the map, the unusual names beside their footprints, then Emily's portrait, and finally ending with L.J.'s brief explanation. By the end of it, Harry groaned, wondering what he had done to deserve being tossed into this mess.
"So… now you tell us about you." Fred requested quietly at the end of their tale.
"Fine," He sighed, "So as you know, we are here under false names. Except for Nikolas and Adrien. They didn't really know their names so it's more whatever they call themselves 'is' their name.
"Slendy isn't really Mr. Lindermann's nickname. In fact, his name isn't even Lidnermann, but that's something I'm not willing to share with you right now," He added sharply.
"Most of us have good reason to not use our real names. Especially since Slendy doesn't trust the Wizarding World."
"But why?" Fred asked, puzzled.
Harry considered, "Well… let's just say he's not fond of their… way of doing things and he's been around long enough to have good intuition on that sort of stuff."
"How long?" George interrupted.
"Long." Harry didn't elaborate. "Now, I think I've given away enough to ask about that… creature on the Third Floor."
"You saw it?" Fred gasped.
He shook his head, "Not exactly. We got mixed up and found this door. I heard breathing behind it. In retrospect it had to be the Third Floor considering how we were running from Filch at the time, but I didn't look through it."
The Twins sighed, "We managed to get through the door. A simple Alohamora was enough to get past the lock."
"Barely got out before that middle head crunched us to dog meat."
"I swear it tore the tail-end of my cloak off."
"Dog meat?" Harry asked as they started diverging.
"It's a Cerberus." Fred answered succinctly.
"A bloody, huge, three-headed dog," George elaborated.
"Great for guarding things."
"Not so great around kids."
"Not for family households."
"And definitely needs some walkies outside on a regular basis."
The other shuddered, "Keeping it indoors like that is just begging for it to be antsy, cranky, and eager for a little excitement."
"So, Dumbledore has an enormous creature locked away in a room in the castle, telling everyone not to go near it which would only encourage people to go near it." Harry concluded, "Why keep it in the castle in the first place?"
"Well, we had a theory," Fred began.
"Cerberus are famous for guarding things to their last breath. And considering they're one of very few creatures resistant to everything including Unforgivable curses, they're pretty damn hard to kill."
"It's a really closely held secret among trainers, breeders, and handlers how to get past them. Some have different methods, too."
"One trains the pups to respond to certain sounds like bells or whistles, another to certain smells, some certain songs, etc. It depends on the dog and the trainer and the need."
"If it was the same method all-across, thieves would have an easy time getting past them. But even then, you'd need to pry the secret from the handler's cold, dead mouths before they'd tell you."
"Especially since the Third Floor used to have this… gauntlet cavern underneath it in that exact classroom."
"Found it last year."
"Never really led anywhere."
"But the entrance is under that dog."
"And that is why Professor Dumbledore had to have put it there." They concluded.
Harry sat in the silence, digesting what they had told him. Something fishy was going on and Dumbledore was in the middle of the puppet strings.
"Now for our question." Fred announced.
Harry's head snapped up. He had almost forgotten that last bit of his promise. "Fine, I admit you were very cooperative and I'll honor our agreement. One question."
The two hushed together quietly whispering furiously.
Seconds stretched to minutes of back-and-forth barely-verbal communication. Harry had difficulties hearing the faint, harsh rises and falls in the whispers let alone following the path of conversation.
…
…
…
"Alright," George concluded, backing away from his twin. Their countenance was grim, absent of even the ghosted smiles they had on their impish faces at their most neutral.
"Our question for you, Harry Potter-"
"-is thus."
…
"Your guardian is dangerous."
"Your two 'Puff and 'Claw friends are dangerous."
"You are certainly dangerous," the Twin pointed absently to the knives still embedded beside them.
"That said-"
…
"Is everyone in your family as dangerous?" They spoke solemnly in stereo.
…
…
"Yes." Harry replied.
"Even the girl?"
"Absolutely."
"And they've… all done things?"
"As have I."
"Ah."
…
Silence stretched until Harry stood from his spot on the couch. He gave one last look at the two.
"Goodnight, you two."
Before he turned, Fred stood, face stony, "We swore we wouldn't tell. And we won't."
"Maurader's Honor," George added, equally stone-faced. "But we want your word that you won't come after our family."
…
"I cannot guarantee that." Harry admitted. "I'm not the one to call those shots. But I will do my best. Goodnight… Fred… George."
With that he left.
The twins collapsed onto the couch behind them.
Exhaustion wasn't enough to describe the absolute drain on their energy from the confrontation.
Fred pocketed the knives, casting a quick repair charm on the fabric.
"Freddie?"
"Yeah, Georgie?"
"Whaddaya reckon we've gotten ourselves into?"
"I don't know, Georgie. I don't know."
Shiloh looked up at the clock in her room as it chimed softly. Mr. Slenderman had taught her how to tell time and exactly what that meant. Then, he'd given her a schedule for her personal education, her general education, and a few chores around the house. The rest of her time was hers to choose as she wished, so long that she didn't venture too far from the Manor grounds.
She set aside her most recent project- a crochet hat- and went downstairs to the kitchen. It was very early in the morning (or very late at night) but the human-man, Timothy, was at the stove minding a pot of boiling water and stringy, white things called 'noodles'. She still didn't like the human on principal, but he wore his white mask and would allow her to observe him cooking, so she had developed a grudging tolerance for him.
This was her chore at this time. Since she never needed sleep and was near un-killable, she would bring meals prepared at odd hours to the hostile, nocturnal come-and-go tenants of the Mansion. Namely creatures like the Rake or Seedeater. She had aspirations to prepare the meals one day herself… once she understood why pickles, ketchup, and white wine don't mix.
Plus, her skills were rather questionable after the Explosive Blancmange incident (both Slender and EJ were absolutely stumped how she managed that).
He saw her come in and gestured for her to wait a moment. He fished out a steaming helping of the noodles and spooned it into a bowl. He set up the bowl on a tray with several other sides and a soda can before lifting it by the sides.
"Here," he grunted, passing her the tray. "It's for EJ. He should be in his lab."
"Is there any reason why he needs the Night Meals?" She asked. Doctor Jack was not a nocturnal tenant and didn't usually need meals at this hour.
"Slendy hasn't seen him all day. He's worried Jack's buried himself alive in a paperwork avalanche or something."
"I shall get the shovel," Shiloh responded seriously, setting the tray down at the table and swiftly making her way to the shed. Tim's arm shot out and snagged her arm before she could leave the room.
"Not like that, sweetheart." He drawled, tiredly.
She angrily swatted off his hand and he shrugged and picked the tray back up again before handing it to her.
"I just mean Jack's probably too caught-up in his work again, so I need you to take this meal to him and make sure he actually eats it, or at least some of it, seeing as you're pretty literal about everything," He muttered, turning back to the boiling pasta.
The homunculus huffed before turning to the basement door. Using her threads meant she didn't even have to balance the tray one-handed to open the door. As she descended the stairwell, she could detect a heavy, musky, and unpleasant quality to the air. Still unused to 'smells', she had to guess this was something related.
"Doctor Jack?" She called out, finally reaching the lab door.
Opening it, she almost dropped the tray in shock. The lab Eyeless Jack spent hours ensuring was as tidy, uncontaminated, and clean as possible was in absolute disarray. The entire room was practically a biohazard itself.
On tables, chairs, and a few that had spilled on the floor were empty or half-full blood bags. What's more, some had split open or dripped carelessly on the tiles, leaving coagulated messes already starting to putrefy and crust. Syringes were overflowing in a red/orange "Biohazard" disposal on the wall and more were just left lying around next to empty plastic capsules and tiny bulb-ended tubes.
The rest was all books, papers, and miscellaneous. Several books she recognized as coming from the Magical World the others had visited, but many more had images of human cadavers in varied positions, states of decay, and states of dismemberment.
The fluorescents were turned off and the only light came from a dull, blue glow from a computer monitor in the back, its drive whirring angrily from all of the tabs most likely open on the internet browser there.
"Doctor Jack?" She cautiously ventured in further-
A hand suddenly grabbed her shoulder and she spun around, dropping the pan in surprise as her threads whipped out poised to impale the threat.
She focused in the dim lighting and saw Eyeless Jack grinning at her, "Shiloh! That's great! Excellent! You're just in time!"
She took in his wild and haphazard look. His clothes were wrinkled and clearly over-worn. His lab coat was smeared with blood and stains from a few more colorful chemicals. His face had actually grown a slight beard in that time, giving an unshaven, unkempt look to him. Even without his eyes, she could tell there was a manic gleam behind the blackness in the sockets.
"Come on! Come on!" He started dragging her to a table with a pile of papers and diagrams, absently stepping on spilled bowl of noodles in the process. "Here! Look! It connects, it all connects! God, I can't imagine how the f*ck this works, but damn it if it doesn't! I mean… God! Look at it!" He jabbered, pointing from diagram to diagram as the homunculus struggled to follow his line of speech, let alone his attempt at communication.
He suddenly stopped, 'gaze' fixed on an open book detailing the human body. "I need to analyze the bodies. Yes! That's the next step!" He exclaimed excitedly. "How they channel it! Where they absorb it! The relationship in the mental-physical dependence!"
He started burying himself in another pile of papers and books, desperately reading like a starving man at a buffet, muttering incoherently.
"Doctor Jack?" She called uncertainly. The eyeless doctor didn't reply. Didn't even acknowledge he heard. "Doctor?"
She put a hand on his shoulder to grab his attention, but he roughly nudged it away and returned to his work. She considered her options. "What was it that matchmaker host said to do? Oh, yes!"
She grabbed the doctor's shoulder and arm this time-
And flung him halfway across the room, leaving a dent in the wall behind him as he slid down into a pile of books on the floor. He groaned miserably.
"Doctor Jack?"
"Shiloh. What. The. F*ck?" He grit out in pain.
She shrugged unapologetically, "I'm sorry, but the host of 'Why You So Cray-Cray?' said it's the best way to handle unresponsive, manic, obsessive boyfriends."
"Boyfriend?" He asked incredulously, still majorly ticked at his aching back, shoulder, spine, head, and general body parts.
Another shrug, "I improvised. You're a boy. Close enough." She continued, "Anyways, the host said the best thing to do with hysterical or 'Cray-Cray' boyfriends is to induce physical pain and shout 'Calm down. You're acting Cray-Cray' or something to that effect."
"I think she meant a slap. Not a bodyslam into the wall." He offered sarcastically.
"Good point." She leaned in. *SMACK* "Calm Down! You're acting way Cray-Cray! Did I do it right?"
Cheek (and pride) stinging, EJ just replied, "Yep. That'll do."
"Excellent," Shiloh stated neutrally, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him to his feet. He hissed in pain as she continued out the door.
"W-wait! My research!" He protested.
"It will be there when you get back. You need to eat and rest." Shiloh responded resolutely.
"I'm fine! I feel fine!"
She paused a moment, "When did you last eat?"
"Yesterday."
"And what day was yesterday?"
"Monday."
"Doctor Jack, it's Thursday."
"Oh."
She proceeded to drag him upstairs and sit him down forcefully into a chair at the dining room table, practically force-feeding spaghetti until he convinced her he would eat the rest alone. She considered her job done and left.
"I believe I've found my new threat." He turned and saw Slender walking in calmly with an invisible 'smirk' clearly being projected from him. "Take care of yourself or I'll send Shiloh to 'help' you."
"Yeah, well, fair warning, her idea of 'help' is throwing you half across a room."
"I'm aware. Timothy informed me."
"Bastard probably got a riot from it." He muttered quietly.
"Be that as it may, I'm curious what exactly has you so preoccupied that you- of all people- forget to eat."
The eyeless doctor's fork stopped half-way en route to his mouth as he remembered his thought brainstorm during his little manic episode.
"Slenderman, I need to ask for a favor."
AN: keep in mind, Harry's 11. As far as he's concerned right now, those carnival balloons are just some prank supplies or something. And before you go off on me for that... it's Gryffindor... the Party School equivalent of a Hogwarts House. You *cannot* say that some muggleborn upper year students don't bring along protection or that the entire House doesn't have a not-so-secret stache hidden in case someone needs it in a hurry.
And if you didn't understand any of what was just said... refer to the story rating. You may be in the wrong part of FFN.
I recently re-watched a Slenderman youtube series Tribe Twelve and noticed a scene where Noah transported to the Operator Symbol in the entry "Nature Trail Visit". It's canon; Slender-port symbols! Woot!
I didn't intend for that, but I thought it was cool when I watched and noticed it recently.
The shiv broomstick is from "R Rated Harry Potter". Kinda gruesome, but a funny video if you want to look.
Thanks for reading!
Sincerely,
-Crow
I've looked back at my older chapters and considered that some of my characters seem rather Gary Stu in nature so far. A bit too perfect and inhuman, so I wanted to try to expound on them briefly here. Some may or may not agree, but I wanted to give some headcanon anyways.
Harry
-Quick to anger, especially if his foster family or 'freakishness' is brought into a conversation
-Is protective to a fault, often disregarding his own safety in the process (somewhat canon)
-Has a bad habit of sharpening knives excessively when upset or distressed
-Has moderate anxiety about being separated from the Pastas, often resulting in mild bouts of accidental (or not-so-accidental) magic
-His time in America has made him more outspoken (for better or worse) and his time with Jeff has expanded his… vocabulary, even if he doesn't really understand the words in context
Nick
-A bit of a laid-back (read: Lazy) goofball, but he is pretty good comic-relief, even in real life. He is very loyal to those he cares about (Hufflepuff showing through)
-He is uncomfortable or upset facing reality of corruption in 'good people' like politicians or policemen or judges, wishing for 'fairness' (another "Hufflepuff" trait). This admittedly wishful thinking is borderline naivete, but he likes it.
-He's actually pretty cowardly especially compared to more reckless Pastas like Harry or Jeff. He prefers to take a sneakier route that has less chance of unnecessary confrontation
-He is more passive, but also rather non-committal and sometimes waffles-around, stalling in personal decisions, big or small, to weigh the possible outcomes
-He has a big mouth that is sometimes socially awkward or borderline annoying
Adrian
-Extremely quick to anger and slow to forgive
-A bit broody, maybe a smidge melodramatic (I mean, a scythe? C'mon, he's really pushing it)
-Hates waking up in the morning or from a nap. He enjoys sleeping and is grouchy(-er) and (even more) irritable for a while after waking unless he has a full 8 hours and then-some to wake up of his own volition or he is presented with a drink that is gratuitously laced with caffeine.
-He tends to ignore the emotional side of an argument, preferring logic, but sometimes forgetting to consider other people's emotional desires as well. Pitiful in love advice.
-He's very serious, often either not getting or not really enjoying a joke or prank as others might. He can loosen up around Harry and the others, but even his 'loose' is Jeff's 'formal', though he can still enjoy a good time.
Slender
-He's powerful and his tentacles allow extended reach, coupled with teleportation makes him difficult to hit and easy to be-hit-by. However, if immobilized completely (say, with magical amber?) he can't teleport as effectively. And he only has upwards of 15 tentacles to 'deploy' at any one time and a severed tentacle takes almost a month to regrow fully and regain full mobility.
-He's rather perfectionistic, preferring cleanliness and simplicity rather than extravagance or wasted energy (his glamour, his room, his suit, etc.)
-He's often very formal. He dresses, acts, and speaks deliberately, formally, and politely
-He likes to be in control whenever possible, though not to the extent of Dumbledore's machinations, just enough to have a steady plan. Slender likes to be kept in the know and will try to gather as much information as possible before acting on it
-He gets flustered and stressed if things don't go according to plan or something he was not aware of disrupts the plan and endangers his wards, his territory (the Mansion), or the UnderRealm and its secrecy.
-Being an entity that can teleport anywhere in the blink of an eye on a rather comfortable, smooth ride, he isn't used to speedy modes of transport outside of his control. He gets motion sickness on roller-coasters, cars, trains, and buses (I cannot wait until a certain bus). It's already made an appearance at Gringotts.
-Genuinely cares for those he takes in, but isn't afraid to put his foot down on disruptive, destructive, or dangerous behavior (though, given what happens at the Mansion on a weekly basis, the bar for those standards is pretty high).
-When he gets angry… he's beyond pissed.