DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, that's JK Rowling's creation.

As I See It - Chapter 1

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I don't know how long I'd been here. It seemed like hours, but it could have been days. Not that it mattered any more. I was trying to get drunk, but nothing seemed to work. I'd even contemplated hoofing it down to one of the dealers on Polk Street for a fix, but I'm sure that wouldn't even do it for me. I guess my attempt at self-induced destruction and escape just weren't working.

The bar was okay. The music was way too loud, the lights too bright, and the patrons too false. Everybody was spruced up, trying to pick up their next trick. Sure, they called it a date, but all they really wanted to do was get you home, fuck you, and shove you out the door. "Wham! Bam! Thank you Ma'am!" Well, almost. In this particular bar you could replace "Ma'am" with "Sam" and it'd be more accurate. It was the perfect place for me to hide, really. Not that I didn't enjoy the sights or anything. I just wasn't in the mood for sex tonight.

I feel a buzzing on my hip. Great, my mobile's ringing again. It'd better not be him. I unclip the blasted thing and take a look at the glowing readout. Yes, it's him. Dammit! Won't that fucker get it through his fucking skull that I'm NOT interested.

I ponder the situation for a minute before deciding to answer. On the one hand, if I ignore the call, I can pretend I'm not at home. On the other hand, he'll just keep ringing me and ringing me until I finally pick up and start screaming. It's either that, or I'll just throw another $400 mobile phone into another cement wall as hard as I can. A waste of money, really.

I decide to answer. "What the fuck do you want, goddammit?"

"What the fuck do I want?" he responded, "I'll tell you what the fuck I want. I want you on this goddamn job is what I want. Where the hell are you?"

"Fuck off. I've been telling you and your fucking goonies for the last month, I'm done. Don't fucking call again."

I hang up and re holster the phone. I start to count the seconds....

Ten, nine, eight.... The current song ends and the lights go down. Oh shit, another fucking drag show again?

Seven, six, five.... The crowd hushes. A spot shines on the curtains. Yup. It's another fucking drag show. Why can't these men just enjoy being men? I'll never understand the attraction. I mean, if I want a woman, I'd date a woman. If I wanted a man, I'd date a man. I'm not into the cross-dressers or the transsexuals. No offense ladies, but I'd rather enjoy somebody who's not wearing a false face.

Four, three.... The music starts. It's a slow ballad. The queen on stage starts her song. Oh yes, I recognize this song - it's that one that Bette Midler sang in the movie The Rose. She was good with it. This queen must be lip-syncing. She sounds too much like Bette to be real.

Two.... Nope, she's not lip-syncing. This is her voice. Damn, she's good! I start for the door. My phone's about to ring and I don't want to yell over the performance going on now.

One.

Buzzzzzzz.

God DAMN it!

I unholster the phone again. "Come on Pike, I mean it. I'm finished. I have no desire any more to put my life on the line for you and yours. Tell that boss of yours to find another 'go-guy' for this job. I'm done."

"No can do, Prongs," Pike replied. "My orders are specific. You are working this gig. If I need to bring you in by force, then that's your problem."

I hear the squeal of a car taking off from the light. Fucking kids and their street rockets.

"And how do you expect to do that?" I'm getting impatient now. This phone is starting to feel like a nice projectile.

"Oh, it's easy," he replied, "and I didn't know you liked to hand out at fag bars. I should have had a piece of your ass before you became a liability."

Oh shit. I look around. The squealing of tires wasn't some punk kid. It was the van in front of me. I hang up on Pike and re holster my mobile. I don't feel like giving up my tricks just yet. I smile at the nice thug with the semi-automatic and step into the van willingly. It's better to go peacefully and still be able to work the gig than it is trying to type with broken arms, fingers, etcetera. You get the idea.

I look to the passenger seat in front. Pike's got a huge shit-eating grin on his face. "I knew you'd see it my way Prongs," he says. "And now I know where you got your handle. You like dick, don't you. Call it a 'prong' I'm sure. Yeah, you're a real fag."

I glare at him. If only this guy know the truth.

"Too bad the boss likes your work. I'd have to fuck you up otherwise. I'm not really into fags."

"And you've sucked my dick enough to really know I'm a fag, huh Pike?" I retort.

*POW!*

Ouch! Those Glocks hurt when you get cuffed upside the head. I laugh. "You have no clue, don't you?"

He smiles at me. "No, care to enlighten me Prongs?"

I shake my head, "Not today, thanks." I sit out the rest of the ride in silence. It's nice watching the buildings go by. I'm surprised though. Instead of heading south into the Hunters Point district, we're heading up Van Ness toward the Sunset. Nope, not stopping there. Looks like we're crossing the Gate and heading up to Marin. Beautiful country up there. If only there wasn't so much traffic, I'd probably get up this way more often.

"Where the hell are we going?"

"Boss got you a new gig up in Novato. Says you should be nice and happy with the setup up there. He's got all the newest versions of the equipment you requested last time." Pike looks at me with a wink. "He's even doing some new construction. Deeeeeeeep foundations for some big buildings. Deep enough that if you fuck us over or decide you don't want to work for us any more, we won't have to worry about you talking."

Aaaaah yes. A foundation burial. Lovely shit that is. That's where they drop you in wet cement and let you drown. If only they knew how much that weakened things, they wouldn't do it. Especially in this earthquake-prone area. I laugh.

"What's so fucking funny, wise guy?"

"Oh nothing," I reply, "just that foreign substances, when introduced into concrete, weaken it as it hardens. Plus, the preservation is very good."

He's looking at me like I'm crazy. Yeah, I probably am. I give him one of my best smirks to go with it. "You can certainly bury me in concrete, I don't give a flying fuck. No, really. I don't care. I'm not doing this gig. You can tell the boss to kiss my rosy red ass."

No, that didn't go over well. There's a sudden swerving, a screeching of tires, and a LOT of swearing.

Pike looks at me for a minute or two, the disbelief evident in his eyes.

"You're goddamn serious, aren't you?"

"Yup."

Pike gets out and opens the door. We're in an unincorporated area somewhere just south of Novato. I think there's an old closed-down military airbase around here somewhere. He opens the sliding door and pulls me out. The big lug steps out after.

"Well, Prongs, it looks like you, me, and Jose here get to go for a walk. Only you won't be returning to the car."

"Great! I've always wanted to end it in the forest. Leave my body to decompose for the lions and other animals out here. It's the best way to go." *smack!* Right hook, meet mister jaw. Oh yeah, that split my lip. I spit out the blood, making sure to hit Pike's new trainers.

"What, I don't get a kiss before dying, Pike?"

"Fuck you! Now march!"

I feel the semi-auto prod me in the back and start off into the trees. These guys /really/ don't get it, do they? If they knew my history, they *certainly* wouldn't be leading me into the woods. No, they'd be taking me to Ghirardelli Square and splattering my brains for the pigeons to feed on. They don't know my past.

Stupid fools.

I haven't been sitting idle since I left the castle I called home. No, I managed to find somebody to train under. I furthered my education. For three years straight I trained physically, mentally, and magically. I learned all I could from my mentor about the muggle appliances called computers. I learned about the internet. I learned more about magic in the first year with this guy than at seven years of school.

And I learned to kill.

Why else would I have left the wizarding wold six years ago? I guess I just didn't care any more. I left merry ol' England to worry about Voldemort and his merry band of Death Eaters only a day before my graduation. I was tired of being the saviour of the wizarding world. I didn't care any more what happened over there. I was tired of caring about anybody else.

Yes, fuck you, World. Harry Potter is only looking out after himself.

Fuck Dumbledore and his manipulating bunch of bastards. Fuck Voldemort and his god dammed batch of purity hounds.

After Sirius, it was Remus. Then Hagrid got himself buggered over. Then Ron and Hermione started seeing each other and had no time for me. I found myself alone, with more and more pressure every day. One day I woke up, made up my mind that I was leaving, and a funny thing happened.

I laughed. I actually fucking laughed! I was empowered! I no longer had to worry about what anybody else thought. I actually made a decision for myself and decided to stick with it. Screw 'em all, but I needed a fucking break. If things were still fucked up when I came back home, then I could deal with that later.

I left everything I had behind except my wand and my Gringotts key. No, don't ask how I ended up with that, I won't tell you. It's enough to know that those goblins keep to a strict code of confidentiality. One could walk into any of their branches around the world and make a withdrawal and those goblins wouldn't tell you a God damned thing about it. I gotta love 'em.

So money was no problem. I spent three years soaking up everything I could learn like a fucking sponge. My mentor was just fucking awesome. He taught me everything I could possibly dream of learning. He also taught me some cruel, hard lessons.

The first time I had to kill a man I cried. He kicked my ass for that. The solution for that? I had to do it again. Only this time I had to pick somebody at random and make it quick. I had to use my bare hands this time. No fancy muggle weapons, no pretty and colourful unforgivable curses. Just my hands. The first murder was in self defense. The second one was in cold blood. They both felt like shit. The lesson here was that life sucks sometimes. I learned very quickly that emotion has no business interfering in my life any more. Yeah, I know you're appalled, but I will tell you this - you know that random person I killed? Yeah, I found out later that it turned out to be Gregory Goyle. He'd gotten strung out on Heroin. That's why he looked like an average Joe instead of another big fucking lug. I snapped his neck like a toothpick and was gone before the body hit the ground. I read about that a month later. I went and pissed on his grave.

That was just before I came to the States. About that time too many Death Eaters started turning up on my doorstep. It was only a matter of time before the Ministry -- or worse, Albus fucking Dumbledore -- turned up as well.

After I got here, I started turning out some cracking gigs for a quick buck. I really didn't need the money. But shit - if my father knew what I was doing with his fortune, I'm sure he'd be spinning in his grave. Or wherever the fuck they buried or cremated him. That was another thing that bugged me. Dumbledore never told me where my parents were laid to rest. Fucking bastard.

So I developed a reputation for being good. It's not like I was taught by one of the best you know. Somewhere along the line I got tangled up with Pike and ended up in the San Francisco Bay Area. I watched that whole Dot Com Bubble bullshit thing pass over and go sour. But the jobs were good, the living was better, and the nightlife was the best.

And then it happened.

Then I started developing a fucking conscience.

I dealt with it fine for the last year and a half, but then I just couldn't take it any more. I stopped taking gigs and I stopped taking Pike's fucking calls. About a month ago, I beat the shit out of him. The problem was, I let him live. I figured if I kicked his ass hard enough, I'd never hear from him again.

And now look at me.

Now I'm being lead at gunpoint into some uninhabited stretch of forest, presumably to go meet my maker.

Fucking fools.

They think I'm unarmed.

Shit, one of the first things I learned to do under my mentor was to transfigure my wand into something inconspicuous. I wore a ring for the first two years I trained. The last year I spent slowly grafting that ring permanently to my finger. Now I've got this really wicked tattoo on my wedding finger. It freaks out wizards because they think I'm doing wandless magic. It freaks out the muggles because they think I'm sort of demon-possessed madman. Not a bad side-effect, if you ask me.

But there are better side-effects to having your magical focal point grafted onto you.

First, there's the benefit of added control. Sure it may take a wile getting used to making wand movements with your hand, but it's not that different. Once you get that down, you can make them so subtly that only the trained eyes can catch it. Hell, I think the only people out there today who could tell I was casting would be my mentor if he were still alive, and that bastard Dumbledore.

The second benefit is the fact that I don't really need to say the incantations aloud for most spells. The "wand" can hear me now just fine. Again, only the best trained wizards would ever know if I was casting. Still, some spells are just too damned much fun to cast without getting fancy.

Of course shouting the incantation out forcefully has the added benefit of being just that much more powerful. Unfortunately, if you get too wild, you're more apt to screw it up.

So now you know my background. These poor sods haven't got a clue. Silently I cast the imperius curse on Jose. He's still going through the motions of holding me at gunpoint, but I have a surprise for Pike when we stop. I can't wait to see the look on that fucker's face when he realizes he's gonna die. I'm looking forward to it!

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