AN: Happy Halloween, everyone! One of the worst years ever, trick or treating is practically cancelled, but they cannot prevent our determination for a spooky orange-and-black barrier to the creeping spread of Christmas in the calendar year! I hope you all are safe and I hope you enjoy this chapter!
...
A fun story I wanted to share:
We were playing Risk with my siblings and at one point, my sister made several poor moves. After losing her fifth invading dice roll, she shrieked, "I'm fine! I'm fine! I am Emotionally. Stable!"
We couldn't stop laughing long enough to take my turn.
.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't owned by me. It's owned by she-who-shall-not-be-named-presently.
.
P.S. Funny thing. So, my last chapter I said I had no other accounts with this username. I remembered I had an old AO3 account I made a few years ago and then forgot about. Well, cue me finding it in an old password safe and voila! I still had it registered to me!
I have been using AO3 for a while as a reader and thought it looked fun with a lot of different style choices and options, so I put up an old story to try it out and get a feel for the platform. It was actually pretty nifty and I had fun with tags and such, so I thought as the Halloween thing this year, I'd cross-post a couple works. The Account is The_Smiling_Crow if anyone's interested. It's the exact same story, I just had fun with the website.
"I'm just saying, it's a stupid distinction," Nick argued.
"It's historically and architecturally accurate, regardless of whatever you have to say on it," replied the amnesiac.
"Well, I look at these things and I think 'gargoyle'," The corpse huffed, pointing at the stone statue hunched over the steep drop-off of the tower.
Adrian gave a long-suffering sigh, "It's called a 'grotesque'. The term 'gargoyle' comes, specifically, from decorative water-spouts' 'gargling' sounds. Gargle. Gargoyle."
"Well, I think 'grotesque' and I think my third-grade math teacher's unibrow, scowl, and big, hairy face-mole."
"Thank you for that lovely image."
"It's cultural conditioning, I tell you! Harry back me up, here! What do you think when you see a big, ugly statue-thing with wings hunched on an old castle wall?"
Harry glanced apologetically at Adrian, "I think 'Gargoyle'. Sorry, Ay."
The amnesiac rolled his eyes as Nick crowed in triumph. Harry shrugged, "It kind of is cultural conditioning."
"Exactly!" Nick exclaimed, "First, there's that old animated show with the cop-lady and the sunlight-to-stone type of gargoyle, then there's Disney and the Hunchback movie!"
"Well, I think the marketing team would've had a problem pitching a show called 'Grotesques'." Adrian pointed out, already walking away. "Come on, we'll be late for Transfiguration."
Harry dutifully hoisted his pack and followed after. Nick took a moment to glare at the stone 'gargoyle' and reached over to poke at the statue they'd paused to argue over. The statue's jagged jaws snapped at his finger warningly and it chuckled a deep, gravelly laugh as the 'Puff scampered away. Harry heard a low, resentful murmur growl something about 'ugly statue-things'.
Harry shook his head in a 'what can you do' fashion. For all his dense moments, Nick was a fun character to be around. Case-in-point, a rather memorable Quidditch game just last month.
Harry shivered violently on his broomstick. Quidditch… in February. Just a lovely way to start off the new term. Wood down his back, the Twins oddly avoiding him during practice, and Snape of all people acting as the referee.
Barely 30 seconds into the game and their 'fair-minded referee' has already awarded two penalties against the House he loathes more than the other House he only slightly loathes. Outside of Slytherin, no one was cheering. Gryffindor was obviously in a self-righteous froth, Ravenclaw was decidedly neutrally-displeased, and even though the penalties were in Hufflepuff's favor, their fair-mindedness saw them as ill-begotten.
Snape seemed to turn a sneer and a blind eye to all of it, dismissing the booing and signaling for the game to continue.
Then, amidst the boos, a sound started rumbling forwards.
Harry sourced the sound and looked towards the Hufflepuff stands, where Nick was trying to persuade Hannah and Susan sitting beside him to mimic his actions.
Very distinct actions.
Two foot-stomps and a clap.
From there, it spread outward like a musical virus, quickly filling out the Hufflepuff stand Nick sat in and spreading to the next. Purebloods stared around in bewilderment and confusion as their muggleborn and half-blood peers eagerly seemed to immediately catch on.
Harry grinned as he found himself surrounded by a stadium full of absolute lunatics making the stands shake and shudder with the unified beat.
The teachers' stands were looking around, baffled at the phenomenon, while surprisingly Snape seemed to recognize the beat. Enough to go reddish-purple with a deepening scowl before it caught on.
The singing started in Ravenclaw (Adrian rather suspiciously-adamantly denied it starting in his section), but the other houses hardly needed any encouragement.
"We will, we will ROCK YOU!"
"We will, we will ROCK YOU!"
The entire game stuttered in confusion until players realized the game was still being played by anyone remotely familiar with muggle culture.
And during it all, Professor Snape seemed to be torn between sneering at the song, gnashing at the general mayhem, and trying to moderate the game.
So, he was understandably surprised to see a small, red figure barreling towards him, it's rider vindictively grinning. Just before the rider practically grazed his shoulder with a slight, last-minute change in direction.
The look of momentary panic and confusion on Snape's face was icing on the cake as Harry gave his most innocently doe-eyed expression of 'did I do that?' as he tossed the golden snitch in his hands.
Of course, the resident potions master was in a foul mood for the rest of the week… and month… and probably semester, but no one else would probably notice.
Wood wouldn't stop squealing like a girl asked out to prom when the latest point tally-up put Gryffindor in a solid lead for the Quidditch cup this year.
Aside from that, life went on. Harry was admittedly surprised as an entire month after that Quidditch match went by without some terrible inconvenient Event happening. No evil dragons attacking the castle. No evil warlocks coming with a horde of the undead or something. No peasants or farmers asking for mundane side-quests.
Just (magical) school and (magical) homework afterwards.
Aside from one incident, but that was a little more insubstantial since Harry and co. were largely left out.
Word had spread how one evening, a few weeks ago, Hagrid's hut had almost burnt to the ground. A couple stray students saw the smoke rising from his hut's roof and the diminutive figure of Professor Flitwick conjuring a torrent of water to help put it out.
Gossips tutted how he probably left something too close to his fireplace, but most of the students were happy a majority of his belongings were saved. Everything else was magicked back to how it was in less than an afternoon.
But more fantastical rumors spread in the underbelly of those conversations. Students speculated he might've picked up some kind of slightly-somewhat-less-than-legal live contraband. It wasn't entirely out the question, knowing the man's love for exotic (and dangerous) magical creatures.
The fire gave people speculation. Some said it was phoenix, others a kind of fire-breathing peacock apparently native to Burma, and even more suggested a dragon of all things.
But it quickly became yesterday's news. A passing thought in the face of studying, studying, hormones, and more studying.
(Although the Proxies' patrol caught a little late-night rendezvous with a sorrowfully heartbroken Hagrid, a contingent of wizards in dark cloaks on broomsticks, and a mysteriously large crate that occasionally rattled and briefly plumed with fire.)
Harry was brought out of his thoughts as he had to separate from the other two to trudge down the spiraling staircase to the dungeons. Potions with Slytherin today. Such fun.
Arriving in the classroom, he gave a quiet sigh seeing one seat available next to an overeager redhead.
"Hiya Harry!" The first-year Weasley exclaimed as Harry settled next to him.
"Hello, Weasley," he cordially responded, not looking away from his things as he mechanically unpacked them.
"Rotten that we have to finish off the day with Snape," Ron sneered at the name. "But between you and me, I bet we could knock the socks off of him, eh?"
"Sure thing, Weasley," Harry absently replied, trying to unstopper a vial of porcupine quills.
"I bet he'd just dock points either way, '100 points from Gryffindor for not failing like you were supposed to'," He mocked in a poor impression of the Professor.
"That he would…" Harry grunted, now grappling the cork with his fist and wrenching it one way and another to try and get it off.
Ron slid his stool right beside his lab partner, "Hey, after class, you think we could try a game of chess? Or gobstones. I heard Seamus got a new set we could help break in."
"I'm… a little… busy… this afternoon… fracking corks!" he muttered angrily, readjusting his grip. His face was getting red from the effort.
"Oh, is it stuck?" Ron asked eagerly bustling right against Harry, flicking out his wand. "Mum taught us this spell-"
"Weasley," Harry grit through grinding teeth. "I am perfectly fine, and I don't. Need. Your. Input!"
*pop*
*SMACK!*
"D'oof!" Ron's exclamation was muffled by his hand coming up to his nose, where the back of Harry's hand socked as the cork finally released the seal. Blood dribbled between his fingers and the base of his chin. Ron's eyes moistened with pain and he looked at Harry with incredulous betrayal. "Oi, what was that for?!"
A cold hush came over the classroom, along with a dark shadow over the first years.
"What… is this… rumpus?" Snape growled lowly from behind them.
"Harry hit me!"
"Ron invaded my personal bubble!"
"Well, it seems rather cut and dry to me," Snape silkily concluded as he drew himself up. "Weasley! Go to the Hospital Wing and try not to drip blood all over the flagstones on your way."
Ron nodded and scampered away as quick as he could while the Dungeon Master's attention slid to the other. "As for you, Potter, detention and 30 points from Gryffindor. And I will be speaking to your Head of House about this. Now, all of you, get back to work!"
The sounds of chopping, bubbling, and brewing resumed at full throttle while Harry internally grumbled at the prospect of completing a partner-project-level potion alone. His occasional side-glances at the potions master were met with a disdainful sneer of low expectations and vindictive pettiness.
Ugh, why couldn't Sally have succeeded when she had the chance?
"The test results came in, sir. I'm sorry, but you're sterile."
"B-but, how!? I'm a father!"
"I'm sorry, mi amore, I never wanted you to find out like this!"
"W-what do you mean, cariña?!"
"Our son… he is not yours!"
"Then who? Who is this man?!"
*SLAM!* They turned to the opened hospital room doors.
"That would be me; Brother!"
"I KNEW IT!"
The four people in the hospital room turned in complete shock towards the open window. Outside, a small, black, furry creature sat on a tree branch. A fist of popcorn frozen between a bucket in his lap and his open mouth.
…
…
With a blur of movement and gangly limbs, the creature vanished in a flurry of lightly-buttered popcorn.
"Damn, just when it was gettin' good!" The Stalker grumbled, plucking a stray piece of popcorn from his fur. Being one of the best Stalkers in the UnderRealm had its perks, like vacation days and lots of freetime to check up on human drama.
And oh, boy, had he found a juicy one!
He'd been following this crap-storm for the last couple months and it was all coming to a head this spring season!
So, get this;
The Husband and his Wife had a Son. The Husband was cheating on her with his Secretary, who is his Wife's best friend. The Secretary is embezzling from her Boss to sustain her druggie Brother who happens to be the best friend of the Husband. The Husband is in huge debt because of a fraud account his Boss set up, hoping the Husband would take the fall. But the Secretary found the paperwork for it and was about to spill the beans when the Boss threatened to expose her embezzlement and to get her brother arrested too. The Secretary confided in the Mail Room Guy, whom she had begun a very-passionate relationship with. Little did she know, the Mail Room Guy was actually the Twin Brother of the Husband, whose face was altered slightly from reconstructive plastic surgery after a small bush plane accident in the Canadian forests, which also gave him amnesia. The Twin had found his way to the city by chance and acquired a job in that very company. Using his position around the company, the Twin broke into the Boss's office and stole the incriminating documents, to take them to the police instead. However, before he could make the drop-off, he was struck over the head by a swallow with a coconut and remembered everything! Including how his Brother had betrayed him most horribly, leading to conflict over to clear his Brother's name or not! All the while, he remembered that a little over 10 years ago, the Twin had engaged in an affair with the Wife before her wedding and before the accident.
How did that tie into anything?
Give you a hint; a week ago, the Son celebrated his 10th birthday.
But enough of that now. He sighed, hoping they would dismiss his enthusiastic reveal as a collective hallucination so he could get back to… well, stalking them for months-on-end. What would happen now?
Would the Twin spill everything?
Will the Boss get arrested for his crimes or successfully frame the Husband?
Will the Secretary settle with the Twin or will her tryst with the Husband be revealed and destroy any hope of that?
Will the Wife make a fracking decision on those living room drapes? Seriously! The last five months she's been puttering away on catalogues doing absolutely nothing and sighing in dissatisfaction every time she walks in the room! It was driving him nuts!
He rose out of the bush he'd hidden his civilian disguise in, careful to tuck his tail under the trenchcoat as he hunched his way through the dark streets. Passing a subway stop, he paused as he heard the sharp, distinct cry of one of the Council's Messenger Bird somewhere nearby.
Slinking his way to an alley, he gave a heavy sniff of the air around him. Scrunching his nose at the distinct… smells of an alleyway frequented by drunks, the homeless, and garbage trucks, he didn't smell any fresh humans in the area.
Raising an arm draped in the overcoat, he gave a reciprocating whistle and a black shadow separated from the ledge of the buildings making up the alley. The Bird landed on the outstretched perch with a sealed, slate-gray envelope in its beak.
The Stalker raised an eyebrow at the sealed, gray wax over the flap. Gray wax typically indicated something more… covert.
Breaking it open, he began to read.
…
"Oooooh! Hoo-hoo-hoo boy!" He enthused through a wide grin. "Forget the dunces back there, this drama's gonna be good."
The continuous scratching of a quill on parchment was disturbed only by the occasional flit and quiet squawk from Fawkes.
At last, the quiet *chime* of the hidden bell above his doorway interrupted his work, which he set down with an eye-twinkle and a smile. He waited a moment before calling out, "Come in, Minerva!"
The witch on the other side huffed and let the loose knocking-fist fall before she entered, unimpressed by his little trick. "Yes, Headmaster?"
"I wished to see you regarding some news I overheard," Dumbledore began, folding his hands pleasantly in front of him. "I heard Mr. Potter was involved in an altercation this morning and was assigned a detention by Severus."
McGonagall sighed, "I take it he told you himself? Well, I have eye-witnesses that it was just an accident. Though, Severus has staunchly refused to rescind his reprimand."
The headmaster nodded, "I understand, I understand. Still, if only to assuage Severus, I have an idea for Harry's detention."
"Really, Dumbledore, can't you just dismiss this matter entirely? It was an accident and Mr. Weasley was completely fine after a quick visit to Poppy."
"Minerva, we cannot allow students to get away with physical injury to one another," Dumbledore explained calmly. "My proposal is that we assign Mr. Potter's detention to Hagrid."
"Hagrid?" She probed. The half-giant was well-meaning and amicable to the students in general but hardly the peak of 'responsible'.
"Yes, as I understand it, he's rather fond of Harry and his family seemed rather comfortable with him as well. Plus, he has a small project around the grounds this week and he admitted he could use some volunteers."
The witch's mouth tersed in thought, before she relented, "I suppose it wouldn't do to waive Potter's punishment given that blood was quite literally spilt. But are you sure Hagrid-?"
"Minerva; I trust Hagrid with my life," Dumbledore said resolutely. The phrase twinged with something in the back of her mind, but she couldn't pinpoint the thought before it left just as swiftly.
Though stiffly, she gave a quick nod, "Very well, Headmaster… will that be all?"
"Yes, I just wished to tell you about this exchange in person. Goodnight, Minerva," He dismissed. With that said, the Transfiguration mistress gave a quiet sigh and left the room.
In his mind, this detention was a blessing in disguise. Harry and his 'brothers' generally kept their heads down. Aside from the altercation with the troll on Halloween and the quiet detention Minerva oversaw after his broomstick lesson, he was generally not the trouble-maker the elderly wizard had expected.
Well, not a trouble-maker in a way that could be caught.
Severus's ferret still had no official culprit, after all.
It seemed Mr. Potter was his father's son, after all.
This detention could be something he could spin to his advantage. Hagrid had said the centaurs were anxious in the Forbidden Forest and just last week, he'd found the third dead unicorn carcass this year. Unicorn blood was a dangerous failsafe against death, but if, say, someone not-quite-as-dead-as-Britain-hoped was still alive, it would sustain them enough to attain something more permanent hiding just behind the Third Floor's gauntlet.
That is, if Tom was lurking in the Forest in the first place.
Kept safe beside Hagrid, Mr. Potter could be just the lure he needed.
In the dim light of the halls, a slender figure soundlessly strode across the corridor, an antique violin gingerly tucked under their arm. Stopping a moment before the locked door, Slender sent a pulse of Sigma which said no consciousnesses alive, dead, or painted were in the vicinity. Then, he approached the door and set a hand against the wood.
Expanding his senses, he 'felt' the wards of the school. He had discerned, over time, that the wards surrounding Hogwarts acted not only like a 'bubble' around the castle and grounds, but also like a spiderweb, with gossamer strings criss-crossing inside the 'shell'. One of those wards was one that specifically meant to dampen time-space disruptions; however, he was not terribly concerned with it.
His teleportation ability was not this 'Apparition' nonsense the wizards used. His was a needle gracefully parting through the weave of the fabric of the universe and entwining in and out with ease. By comparison, Apparition was similar to holding the fine, silk tapestry of the universe in front of a canon and shouting 'Fire!'.
However, within this particular area of the castle was a secondary 'shell' with its own network of strings. A series of 'tripwires', so to speak, that were linked to energies clearly meant to serve as alarms. These tripwires monitored within the area for any disruptions in space-time, so he could not simply enter and leave at his leisure or risk detection or whatever other unpleasant surprises these wards had installed.
However, very short teleportation using his refined methods should allow him to slip by unheeded. It was frustrating to have his most versatile resource limited like this, but he could live with it. For now.
The world rippled slightly and Slender disappeared in a phantasmal cloud of dispersing, black smoke.
Reappearing inside the room, he immediately noted the enormous monstrosity of a dog. Its three heads were laying across its forepaws twitching in its sleep. One head, snorted and its eyes split open abruptly as it detected a new presence. Jerkily, it roused its two brothers, one heaving an enormous yawn before focusing on the white-haired individual before them.
Standing, the creature was easily as tall as the vaulted ceilings of the room. Each of the three heads was the same breed, some kind of boarhound if his memory served, with boxy muzzles, short triangular ears, and short gray fur all across the shared body.
Slender readied his teleportation to avoid the castle's defenses and leave the room if Plan A didn't work. He recalled his discussion with Hagrid just a few weeks ago, and consulted Toby (surprisingly) on the nature of a Cerberus. If this wasn't true… well…
At least it would be an opportunity to put an old, rusty skill of his to use.
The dog snarled and gnashed as it approached. In response, Slender settled the violin beneath his 'chin' and raised the bow.
The strings resonated with an old lullaby. A haunting, mournful tune long-forgotten in the mountain range villages of present-day Romania. The notes drifted through the air entrancingly and the heads' snarls quieted.
The beast rumbled deep in its chest as the heads slumped into the criss-crossed forepaws. Within seconds, the Cerberus was back to sleep.
Still absently playing the never-ending lullaby's loop, the entity inspected the room and spotted the trap door just under the dog's forepaws. Allowing the song to fade, he silently teleported to the floor below in a wisp of smoke.
In the darkness of the chamber, his eyeless 'sight' let him perceive a tangle of tentacle-like vines snaking across the floor in a strategic 'net' from the pots they were station at around the edge of the room. Around where he stood, the vines slithered away in a quick retreat from his Presence. Increasing the Sigma he emitted, he cleared the path to the doorway and into the next room.
It was high time to find out just Dumbledore and this mysterious 'Flamel' were up to once and for all.
AN: If anyone was curious, the lullaby I had in mind that Slender played was Transylvanian Lullaby from Mel Brooks' film, 'The Young Frankenstein'. A classic!
The whole bit with the Husband and the Wife and the Secretary was just some bull I typed up in 10 minutes from a vague outline off of multiple telenovela tropes.
EXTRA!
Earlier, User swiftrabbit left a review about BRVR and it made me think about him and how he doesn't get a lot of screentime. They gave me some inspiration so I typed up this cracky, non-canon fun based upon it. I sent it to them in a PM and got the okay to post it here. So, thank you swiftrabbit and thank you everyone who is reading!
Short 1
BRVR liked Brother-Harry's new dwelling. It was large with many places to climb, hide, leap from, and so many fat rats to chase, eat, or kill.
And there were challenges here too! Wonderful games!
He had assumed all pokemon ony existed in his Game before Brother-Harry brought him forth, but now he had found them again! And he was determined to win this new game!
He had bested the numerous Spinarak in the forests and even managed a few hits on a curious human-rapidash hybrid before fleeing. One of his proudest moments was when he had defeated a Tentacruel in the lake. It was a surprise as his programming claimed the pokemon only inhabited designated 'ocean' zones. But a victory was a victory!
His most confoudning adversary, however, was an elusive pokemon with brilliant red, orange plumage. Like the legendary Moltres and Ho'oh combined, but glitched with psychic abilities. A bird pokemon shouldn't be able to use Teleport! It wasn't in its programming!
He would beat that fire-bird-glitch one day. He was sure of it.
In the meantime, he had other challenges. Such as-
*pop*
BRVR stilled as he spotted one of his most-favorite targets.
On swift, silent paws he slunk behind the floppy-eared tiny-human nervously tending a fireplace. The lightning-shaped tail on his butt waggled eagerly, carefully calibrating.
Ready...
Steady...
Then the elf screeched and popped away in terror, leaving BRVR mid-crouch and disappointed. Angrily, the sentient computer program stalked up to the offending object that scared away its prey.
He chewed his frustrations out morosely on the yellow-black tie of the badger-clan students.
...
Mipsy sobbed to herself as a few spare elves helped her calm down.
"It was terribles! Oh, I saw the yellow and black and I rans! Oh, shame! Shame upon Mipsy for not tending the fireplace enough! Oh, ohhhh," she wept.
...
For weeks afterwards, Harry had to fend off angry Hufflepuff students, grumpily attending lessons with half-chewed, half-singed ties.
Harry plopped on his bed, looking at his offending partner-in-crime (literally).
BRVR was in a remarkably good mood today.
Around his mouth were tufts of red-orange feathers.
And he grinned widely like the cat that finally caught the canary.
SHORT 2
BRVR slunk around the halls, thoroughly bored out of his mind. Brother-Harry was busy again today. In those rooms with all of the other human-children sitting about listening to the human-adults talk and talk and talk. He couldn't fathom what on earth they could be talking about for so long to keep their attention.
So, he wandered about the castle grumpily. Looking for something to do.
He had paced the hallway once more before spotting a partially-open door that he hadn't recalled being there before.
Curious, he slunk inside-
"Piiiikaaaaaaa," It whispered in awe.
Piles of post-owl caracasses.
Furniture *begging* to be scratched and climbed and toppled.
The unmistakable 'scritch-scratch' of mice and rats scurrying in the depths.
And yarn.
Miles and miles of glorious.
Colorful.
Yarn.
He had found Paradise at long last.
And the first thing he did was bat a sparkly, diamond crown off an ugly bust gleefully purring as it clattered upon the ground. The enraged spirit within emerged, red eyes glaring at the creature.
BRVR delighted! A Ghastly! How fun!
"You miserable creature," The shade snarled. "I'll use you as a mop-up rag for this!"
"Pi-"
"Kaaaaa-"
"What are you... oh dear."
"CHUUUUUUUUU!"
...
In the depths of Gringotts, a cup erupted in lightning, triggering the vault's defenses. The resulting explosion destroyed not only the Lestrange vaults, but the Malfoy, MacNaire, Goyle, and several other pureblood families of darker tendencies.
...
In a house in London, a locket burst apart, destroying itself and the nearby portrait of a mad-eyed crone.
...
Beneath Malfoy Manor, a book detonated, destroying the secret underground vault of dark items and subsequently most of the manor as well.
...
A shack in Little Hangleton exploded without much fanfare or notice.
...
In the depths of the forbidden forest, the former-professor of Hogwarts stalked a unicorn.
*BOOM!*
In a splurge of gore, the back of his head exploded.
...
"Hey, have either of you seen BRVR?" Harry asked the other two.
Both Nick and Adrian shook their heads.
"Hmm, guess we'll have to just carry on without him." Harry surmised, returning back to the plotline, rubbing absentmindedly at his tingling scar which gave a pathetic little 'poof' of smoke and was no more.
And that is why BRVR has been missing this entire time!
Happy Halloween!