AN: Hey... still not dead. Yay!
"Not that I'm not grateful for Slender taking me out early for school… but, why exactly did Slender take me out early for school? I didn't even think wizard-schools had a 'sign-out' program."
"I have some tests I need your help with. So, just take a seat, Nick, and I'll be over in a jiff." EJ commented behind him as he sifted through drawers of supplies and equipment. He set up something that looked like a multi-pronged Trypanophobe's nightmare. Several 'tentacles' ending in needles connected to feeding capillary tubes winding up a long stalk.
He set up the wicked-looking device above a machine that hummed quietly in the corner, slotting it in place as he bustled back to the countertop.
"Thanks again, for sneaking these out. These vials are going to be a great help," He held up the tray of vials, each one filled with varied amounts of crimson blood. The vials, themselves, were imbued with a small rune symbol 'freezing' the blood in place. Quite literally on a quantum level 'freezing' all temporal interactions inside the vial or at least slowing it down significantly.
That way, the precious genetic code inside was as intact three weeks later as it had been when it was first 'harvested'.
Part of science is repeatability of experiments. Too many scientists, eager for fame or grant-funding results, cut corners or jumped to conclusions. The equivalent of looking at a pitri dish of cancer cells, spilling some sugar over it and saying 'Eureka, candy cures cancer!' the second it kills off enough cells.
If he still had eyes, he'd probably lose them again with the amount of eye-rolling 'daily glass of red wine cures diabetes' or 'chocolate cures depression' magazine articles.
Now, most scientists weren't himself… or more humbly-speaking, most didn't have access to the resources he head. What would take months, years, or even decades he could probably fit in before dinner, if he was feeling sluggish that morning.
But even he needed a decent sample size if he was going to delve into reality-altering, paradigm-shifting science.
So, he discretely asked Nick to do a little… less-than-ethical 'blood drive' around the school.
It's not like they'll notice, except for waking up with a couple (dozen) bedbug, louse, and midge bites.
Let it be said, Jurassic Park has its merits.
Nick's ability to manipulate hematophagus species meant he could inconspicuously move a single bug or a swarm through the castle to collect samples from people as they slept in their quarters.
It was inconspicuous, yes, but a flea is… well… tiny.
Even a single person's 'sampling' using this method could take all night. Thankfully, the corpse-boy could manipulate well-enough in his "sleep", though he didn't biologically need it anymore.
Slowly, but surely, drop by drop an aliquot was collected of an individual's blood. Even individuals whose blood would be near-impossible to approach otherwise couldn't escape a tiny bedbug or midge bite in their rooms.
'Purebloods', muggleborns, squib (Filch), and even a bit of Flitwick the half-goblin wouldn't notice losing a couple milliliters of blood to a few midge bites.
He fit the needle 'appendages' into several vials and started up the machine, blood from labeled vials sliding their way up into the blood sequencer below.
"Excellent work, Nick." He complimented once more.
"Yeah, thanks," The undead teen beamed proudly. "I even managed to influence leeches briefly to get a couple really large samples from people who took a late-summer dip in the lake."
"Leeches?" The doctor raised an eyebrow over his socket.
"They're the same family as earthworms, technically speaking. It's awesome, did you know-"
"Okay, now I need you to take off your shirt." EJ instructs, cutting off the rambling preemptively. He walked determinedly around the lab space, collecting equipment on the racks, cupboards, and drawers.
"M-my shirt?"
"And then lay down in that chair over there." EJ nodded, not looking away from his search.
Nick gazed apprehensively at a chair that looked unnervingly similar to a dentist chair he had in a nightmare once; leather straps and all.
He warily sat down and EJ finally glided over from his search and pressed a button reclining the chair and raising the seat. Then, in a practiced motion, EJ strapped his hands, legs, torso, and head down.
Nick's skin erupted with goosebumps. This was such déjà vu for his dentist nightmare.
EJ turned to his gurney of supplies and held up a cold, steel, and very sharp device that looked like something Cenobites would brush their teeth with.
"Woah! I didn't sign up for this!"
EJ raised another eyebrow, "Slender told me you said- quote- 'I will do literally anything if you get me out of school for McGonagall's quiz on Friday'. This is going to take all day, so you'll be out of class for that long."
"Wait! Why me?!" He wailed.
"Because you're dead and the only one with a physical body we know handles magic. Now hold still… this will hurt a lot more if you don't." He fiddled with the buttons on the device as an evil-looking drill started spinning.
Nick whimpered pathetically.
Oh, God, this IS the dentist nightmare!
*whirrrrrrrr*
Slender walked in the lab space later that afternoon.
"Good evening, Jack, how did-"
He paused, looking at the bug-loving ward huddled in a corner. He was in the fetal position, hugging himself tightly, rocking in place with a blank-eyed stare at the floor muttering something about 'intestines stay in… intestines stay in…'
Hmm, brings back memories.
"I take it things went well?"
"Well enough," The eyeless doctor answered, setting another tray of equipment into the autoclave.
"Hm, well, let's discuss this a little more privately." Slender 'cleared his throat' loudly, "Nikolaus, I bought some of those fruit pops you enjoy. They're in the freezer upstairs."
"Yes!" With renewed vigor and sanity, the teen raced up the stairs for his frozen treat.
"Well, that deals with that," Slender said off-handedly, "Now, to business. What have you learned?"
"A lot," EJ nodded, guiding the entity to his notebook. "Nick's body is dead, but it 'acts' alive enough that I can examine the effects of magic on the body. Or rather, through the body.
"It's like their bodies are antennas. Almost like yours, actually. You can pick up and send out electromagnetic signals and wavelengths, but theirs are more fine-tuned for some… frequency, wavelength, energy-base or something that I'm not entirely sure what it even is, yet." He admitted.
"I see…" The entity hummed thoughtfully. It was true, given his nature with Sigma radiation, he was in-tune with different wavelengths around him; radio frequencies, particularly. It irked him for weeks that some AM station kept sifting through the Ward shields. Until he had that fixed, he found himself with a 'song stuck in his head' that was actually the radio station playing the same song over and over.
"Now, I must ask… what about 'her'?"
Jack winced and silently led the pair to the morgue.
He opened a square steel door and a tray pulled out holding a tiny figure obscured with a white sheet. "The decomposition is bad… but I can see parallels just at a glance between Nick and her. Like… the difference between a ham radio set and the Arecibo Observatory. Still technically picking stuff up, but nowhere near as powerfully or precisely."
"A-and the genetics matter, too," he continued excitedly. "It's like… an incomplete sequence, a couple mutations here and there and she'd have been as 'magical' as Harry."
"I had to be sure. Jeff, Toby, and the rest are alive, so I can get living samples of their blood anytime. But Sally and BEN were outliers in the equation I didn't have an easy answer for. But BEN's body was lost at sea, so I had to… well, I had to ask you to get me Sally's." He said somberly.
Slender nodded, "I've noticed she's been restless lately."
EJ sighed, "Yeah, ever since I brought her body here. I think she can tell it's not where it should be but doesn't know what to really make of it. So, it's just a sort of ancy-nervousness. I can't tell if it's better or worse that her body is close by to her. 'Better' because she'd probably be a lot worse if it was missing from her grave and off in Europe or something, but at the same time…"
"How long until we can reinter her?"
"Give me a week, at most. By then, I'll have Nick's data all compiled and I can do any more examinations I need to do. The morgue freezers are state-of-the-art, so I'm not worried about further decomp."
"And the blood?"
Eyeless Jack's… well, eyeless nature let him absently 'glance' at the old report on the table just beside them.
It was from that initial moment of discovery, when he tore off the 'anonymity' strip for the blind test and "Woods, Jeffery" was typed clear as day from the bloodbag.
It felt surreal to consider at first. Jeff of all people? A wizard? He had to re-run the test with several other blood bags of the serial-killing teen's reserves before he accepted that it wasn't a fluke.
But even then, Jeff wasn't a wizard…
Not a full one, at least.
The physiology between Harry and Jeff was too different. Even taking into account Jeff's chemical-bath alterations. And it got further as he compared the blood from others as well.
Harry's blood, Nick's blood, and the blood from that Ravenclaw kid he scratched at the Feast all that time ago, they all had the same mutations in place and by Hogwarts' standards, were 'confirmed magicals'.
Jeff's blood was similar, but so very different.
And not just his, but when he knew what to look for, he could see the arching pattern between them start to form, clear as day. Jeff was similar to Toby, several come-and-go Proxies, even several international Proxies operating in Japan to Egypt. It was a spectrum, sure, but accounting for outliers, the mutations were predictable. Even Sally…
He grimaced internally at the thought, returning to the conversation.
"I'm starting to see a pattern in Proxies like Jeff and Toby, but I'll need to run more tests on different 'magicals' to be sure of things. I just got samples from Nick, so I'll be busy with those for a while."
"I see, then I won't keep you." The entity nodded, leaving the morgue.
Jack slid the body tray shut and left for his lab space, away from the chill of cold storage.
He slid out a vial of blood from the tray and methodically started handling the micropipet. The blood was added to the respective cuvettes for each test as he mechanically disposed the plastic tip and moved on to the next.
The repetitive action of the familiar test didn't stop the gnawing guilt at his brain.
His thoughts still returned to the small corpse just in the next room over.
He, personally, ensured the body would be put back with proper rites, and even a new coffin. But he still felt… nauseated. Awful. He knew this girl… he knew this girl after she died.
He knew the little ghostly-girl who loved playing pretend with anybody she could rope in. Who could make friends with the unlikeliest tenants. Who loved sugary foods and adored the fact that she didn't get stomachaches afterwards anymore.
He also know the ghost who suffered so much, who was betrayed by people she was taught to trust, and who played dangerous games with her victims.
It felt depressing.
It felt horrifying.
It felt mortifying.
It felt grim.
It felt wrong.
But he needed that second body for his experiments. To confirm theories and hers was the only one he could examine properly as a comparison to a 'near-magical' body without a risk to another Proxy's life or whose corporeal form wasn't missing.
He sighed heavily.
He promised to himself that as soon as that body was back in its place… he'd treat that little girl to an entire week at Yekcim's park.
Glass shattered in the alleyway as a body tucked and rolled out the window.
They landed awkwardly against the dumpster with a reverberating bang of metal, before glancing up at the window, vacant of their pursuer. The woman hoisted herself off the ground and started running off. Her livelihood got her in deep with some crazy web of creeps and some kind of 'Council'. Well now it looked like they wanted to silence her.
She shook off the would-be assassin.
Time to head out and lay low.
Meanwhile, on the roof of the building the woman just vacated, the door access was kicked open as another figure sauntered over to the edge.
A high-caliber sniper rifle was readily assembled on the exact west-facing building side the woman had escaped out of.
"Predictable," She muttered to herself, settling along the ledge.
She picked up the scope and stared down the barrel at the informant who got a little too deep in the UnderRealm for the Council's liking. Her one good eye firmly on the figure.
The other was clicking rhythmically like a pocket watch.
The little figure was running in the exact pattern she'd mapped out as the most likely escape route. Like the slow tick of a clock hand turning each hour. Each second. Precise. Inevitable.
Predicta-
The scope was blotted out by a yellow lens.
"Hello!"/ "Jesus!"
She scrambled back from the ledge of the building as a lanky figure crawled over the edge, spilling onto the rooftop.
"TOBY!" She roared.
"CLOCKY!" He responded cheerfully sitting up, undaunted by her venomous glare.
Clockwork's still-organic eye twitched before she stormed back to the rifle. "What are you doing here, Rogers, this is my gig."
"Aw, what's wrong? I'm providing companionship," He smiled behind his perpetually-smiling mask.
"Well, I don't want 'companionship'," She mocked. "I want silence."
…
…
She prepped the gun against the ledge, knocking the scope in place, perfectly aiming exactly where she knew the victim would be in precisely 46 seconds. The bullet loaded in place, and-
"You need a new catchphrase."
Her focus shattered.
"What?" she hissed, eye ticking faster in agitation.
"Well, you always say that whole 'Your time is up' and it's pretty lengthy."
"It's not like they're going to be around to hear it again." She muttered angrily, then louder, "Besides, Jeff's got his whole 'Go to Sleep' thing, Sally's got her 'Play with me' deal, even BEN's got his 'you shouldn't have done that' thing. If it works don't fix it."
"Yeah, but it makes it more interesting to come up with new ones." Toby exclaimed. "I mean, I like to spice things up with movie quotes. Like this one time, a woman was trapped in her bathroom! I broke down the door with my axe and said "Heeeere's Toby!" through the crack! It was awesome!"
Clocky huffed frustratedly and returned to her mark-
-just in time to see her red hoodie flash past her scope.
"SHIT!"
She booked it to her back-up vantage point, hastily setting up the sniper rifle again.
"Ooh, my bad. Did I distract you?" Toby yammered. Clockwork ignored him in favor of settling on a new vantage point. This one, less precise, but in the grand scheme, still a 75% chance the victim would turn this way.
"Oh, careful. You're gonna miss." Toby commented. "Well, better take the shot, you're letting her get away."
Clocky hissed, "If you just give me a second to concentrate, I could-"
"Going to miss it, going to miss it! Hey, Clocky! Hey! Hey Clockwork-"
*BAM*
The shot rang through the air and struck… messily.
"THERE! I TOOK THE F*CKING SHOT! SHE'S DEAD, THERE'S BLOOD EVERYWHERE!" Clocky roared.
…
"See? That's a good catchphrase. Long, but I can dig it." He prattled.
…
…
"… You look stressed," Toby hummed. "Oh! I got coupons for McDonald's! Wanna go with me?" He offered.
…
She slammed her fist in his gut, grabbed his arm, and threw him over her shoulder and over the ledge.
…
*crunch*
There was a faint, but nasty crunch sound at the bottom.
…
Blissful silence.
…
"Okay, raincheck. Got it!" The Proxy called back up.
Clockwork sighed, stowing away the gun.
"He'll get by
Without his rabbit pie.
So, run rabbit, run rabbit
Run-Run-Run"
"You know, this song is supposed to be a children's song, but it's got serious serial killer vibes." Nick commented, not looking up from their essay for Flitwick. The song from the phonograph player echoed quietly through the empty classroom they sequestered for themselves.
"Really? I wouldn't know," Harry deadpanned wryly.
"Most fairy tales and children's songs are macabrely inappropriate," Adrian offered from the side. "Like 'Ring Around the Rosie' is a game about people dying from the Black Plague. Or 'London Bridge' has a final verse about sacrificing a watchman by bricking them up in the mortar."
"What?!"
Adrian grinned nastily before returning to his paper. The faint tug of a smile on the corners of his mouth.
"He's lying," The corpse accused. "Harry, he's lying right? You're British-"
"Stereotype."
"Yeah, but you know the whole London Bridge song, right? Is he right?"
Harry sat back and hummed. "That's… one way to interpret the watchman verses."
Nick groaned, "Nooo, my childhood is a lie!"
"You wanna know another?" Adrian grinned.
"Noo…"
"Humpty Dumpty wasn't an egg."
"Nooooo…!"
Harry glanced bemusedly as Nick slid down on the floor like a liquid, bemoaning his 'lost childhood'. "Oh, don't worry about London Bridge. Nobody pays attention past the first verse, anyhow. Think about the 'wheels on the bus' song. That's innocent, right?"
"The rabbit on the road goes squish-squish-squish." Adrian sang.
"I hate you." Nick glared from his spot on the floor.
"I live to be an asshole." He bowed in return.
"If it makes it better, I always thought opera songs and stuff were more serial-killer-ish," Harry suggested. "I mean, Jeff likes scream death metal, but in movies it's always the creepy, posh, polite guy monologuing with some fancy opera record playing. You know, before he tears off your cranial cap and sautés little bits of your brain to feed to you. Or himself."
Nick huffed, "That does sound like EJ, but I mean seriously it's got the whole 'run rabbit' thing going on and that sounds like the kind of stuff a serial killer would play if he did that rich-person thing where you hunt someone on an island."
"You mean 'The Most Dangerous Game'?" Adrian asked.
"Mm-hm."
"I don't think rich people actually do that," Harry shrugged.
The amnesiac ghost hummed with thought, "Well…"
"I suppose…"
"I mean, rich people are crazy…"
…
"I bet Slender knows," Nick said suddenly.
"Slender knows everything," Harry retorted. "He has the Roswell autopsy on DVD and Babushka Lady's photos framed on the wall."
"Does he?!" Nick gaped.
"No."
"Aww…"
…
…
"Do you think a Proxy might've curved the JFK Magic Bullet?"
"I'm just saying, a lot of conspiracy boards don't add up. But if we account for-"
"Drop it, please?"
The sound of raised voices brought the professor up short. Curious, he slowed beside the slightly-ajar door of a seldom-used classroom on the fourth floor.
Quirrell felt his Lord simmer with rage and glee at the sight of Harry Potter. The miracle child, himself, back in the world's eye after Dumbledore hid him all too well.
However, Quirinus's position as Muggle Studies professor beforehand let him know a little secret; the old fool had lost the boy years ago and was clutching straws in the hope the boy was alive and the Hogwarts Letter would find him.
And now, he reappears with a curious 'family' in tow.
The Dark Lord's mind was one with his own, allowing him glimpses of the desire to simply kill the two 'brothers' and have Harry Potter, a defenseless First Year, to torture and finally kill, cementing his eventual return and eternal rule.
But his Lord's mind works so fast, too fast for Quirinus to follow. The thought dismissed as fast as it came. Harry Potter would die, oh yes, but not tonight. There was so much more that needed to be put into place beforehand.
Until then, it was watch… and wait.
And what is that noise?
"Run rabbit, run rabbit,
Run Run Run."
The device stirred Quirinius's memories as a phonograph. Magical versions existed, of course, but enhanced far beyond what muggles could accomplish. The song, however, was unfamiliar to him.
Woolworth. Mrs. Cavendish. The War. The Blitz. The bombs. The-
His Lord's mind settled immediately.
'You will do well not to think on it Quirinus.' His Lord's voice rang clear in his mind.
'Yes, of course, Master. I apologize, I was merely-'
'Don't bother me with your details.' His Lord interrupted.
The pair continued observing the three strange children. One, the Boy-Who-Lived-to-defy-expectations and not take too fondly to the other students. Two American, one with a fondness for sharp acerbic wit (perhaps, he would have made a decent Slytherin had he not been a mudblood) and the other rather simple and foolish, but what else to expect from a Hufflepuff?
Though, their closeness with Harry Potter gained him interest. The man, Lindermann, had Dumbeldore on edge, Dumbledore himself. Just what secrets would garner that interest?
Just what did this Mr. Lindermann know?
Perhaps he should confront this simple muggle, torture it out of him if it was even worth his time. And those wards. Perhaps, a good target practice-
After all, what could a muggle do against-
"Run Run Run Run Run Run Run Run Run Run-"
BAM!
Harry's fist slammed on the table nonchalantly, allowing the phonograph's needle to skip forward and continue playing.
…
His Lord had never studied Divination. Quirinus, himself, studied merely as an easy 'O'. The class was useless, but all he gained from it was, perhaps, a slight appreciation for coincidences… and warnings.
His forearms erupted in goosebumps. Unsettled.
'You fool, it's merely a song and a faulty muggle device. Now go. There is work to be done.' His Lord's voice commanded.
Quirinus shuffled away from the group. Pushing the ominous feeling of dread away from his mind. There was more to focus on.
There was a Halloween to plan.
…
Behind him, the song's final verses drifted after him.
"Run, rabbit, run, rabbit.
Run, Run, Run."
AN: Gonna be honest, I'm a little 'meh' on this chapter, but I felt I needed something to transition back into this story.
…
AN: I'm not an active shipper. Some ships I can dig, others make my gut roil (Lookin' at you Underage-Teen-Harry-X-any-adult-over-20), but for the most part it's just not the focus of my plotlines. I put it this way with a friend; 'for me, romance should be a side quest, not the main goal of the story'.
Unless it's explicitly a romance or slow-burn kind of story, it just becomes messy if you focus too much on the romance and not enough on plot progression.
On that note, I'm not really into Clocky much. She's a little… cliché as a creepypasta with some Mary-Sue-ness, but I can appreciate her character art and design and I thought I'd have a little fun and make my own headcannon with her as a perfectionistic, cold and calculating killer who despises Toby's unpredictable behavior. Mostly to have a one-sided love-hate thing with Toby. Why? Because I thought it was funny.
Also, yes, that was a Hellsing Abridged reference. Thank you for noticing.
Until next time,
-Crow
-Clockwork: "Clockwork: Your Time Is Up" by Soffbois (*warning; very disturbing content and a little mary-sue)