Prologue: Part III
An Oath To My Blood
If you are Potter enough you will find him before he finds you, if you are De Sade enough you will sneak underneath his defenses and into his good graces, and if you are Black enough then you will beat him at his game and survive.
You will live through this war and despite everything that's been done to manipulate your life you will take it back from others' hands.
Adieu my son.
--Your father Sirius Black March 15, 1994
P.S. You're probably confused and maybe in pain right now. The potions and spells that are wearing off will do that to you. I advise you study up on Animagi because that grim form is quite painful until you change the way of transforming. It's a trait of a breed of Vampires that I unfortunately ran into when I was a child. It's sort of a half vampire half werewolf deal going on. Although you can control the transformation just as long as you do it at least once a month.
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Wide eyes stared at the paper mulling the information over until some sense could be made of it. Not that the letter didn't make sense, it was the mixed emotions. From the casual tempo that it started with to the tragic particulars and then the damn near depressing things until it was casual again at the very end.
'I am the son of a madman.' His body trembled and suddenly dropped to the ground after having gone back to normal. This time when he pushed himself to his knees and hands a curtain of platinum blonde hair fell in front of his face instead of the raven black. The enchantments were finally stripped and he was beginning to grow into himself.
"You bastard." He whispered so softly that even he barely heard it. "You left me. You abandoned me. You didn't want me." A tear slipped down his face and fell down onto the back of his hand. He shuddered and the sob he'd been trying to repress echoed through the room.
It had been years since he cried. And even then those tears were silent and fear filled. They didn't even make it past the small cot he slept on in his little cupboard. The last time he cried was when he was six years old. It was a whimper of a scared and miserable little boy.
But this was a harsh, bitter sound. His breath did not hitch in an attempt to quiet the cry. His voice was not stopped in his throat but sang a pitiful song. It sang of a thousand hardships, of a thousand betrayals. He bawled like a child in a man's body.
He lowered himself onto his elbows and buried his face into his forearms. Hot tears slid down his naked arms and with one fist he banged hard on the wooden floor while he howled his sorrows.
He grieved for the first and last time. He grieved for the mother he lost at birth, for the father that he lost the minute he signed him over to his new parents. He grieved for Lily and James Potter. He grieved for Sirius' death. He grieved for the wasted years. But most of all he grieved for Harry Potter, who had been dead for a long time and was now dead to him.
Whoever said crying was a weakness was an idiot, because at that moment it felt like bliss. The release of pent up emotions would add years to his life expectancy. His throat felt raw and his skin was itching from the saline in his tears but in his whole life he never felt better than he did then.
It was twenty minutes later that he calmed down. He lay bereft of clothing that had been tattered in his transformation and clutching the last thing he received from Sirius.
He could feel that his eyes were swollen and he could no longer breathe through his nose. Every breath that he took in stung and he was exhausted.
"I trusted you." He said just as quietly as the first time he spoke after reading the passage Sirius left him. "I trusted you above everyone. I loved you more than life itself. You betrayed my trust and my love." His voice was hallowed and empty. Nothing could sooth his pain.
A sudden flash of anger burned in his eyes and his voice took on a raspy quality when he yelled out, "You left me alone to be with your precious MANON!" His mother's name was spat out like it was a plague. "Fuck you SIRIUS BLACK! FUCK YOU!" His eyes flashed silver in his anger and shone in the dark of night. "YOU'RE NO FATHER OF MINE!"
But the anger that fueled that outburst was soon spent just like the rest of his energy.
However, he understood his Sirius' choice perfectly.
After all, who wants to take care of a worthless freak?
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"Potter wake up! Last night's racket was the last draw!" The nasal voice of the blonde ostrich-like woman on the other side of the door rang through the room. Her poundings for the last fifteen minutes were ignored and the occupant she was shouting for was no longer inside.
"You stupid boy! Just you wait until Vernon hears of this!" Petunia screeched again through the door giving it an extra thump for good measure with the foot of her shoe and sliding the newly installed lock on the outside closed. If one were to have sharp enough hearing they could make out her slipper clad footsteps heading down the hall toward the stairs until she finally descended into the kitchen and made breakfast.
'No, I won't wait anymore, this time you will.' The words echoed. These few words were the answer to his every problem. They were the solution to his every obstacle. They played over and over again in his mind. Constant thoughts of revenge and of hate brewing behind his eyes.
They thought that Malfoys could spite, that Blacks were deranged, that de Sades were perverse, that the Dursleys could hate. But none of them knew true hatred like he did. The utter revulsion, the complete loathing that burned inside of him could not be matched by any witch, wizard, muggle, squib, animal, or dark creature.
It was time he became the predator instead of the prey.
He could feel it coursing through his body. The need to rip, the urge to corrupt, and the compulsion to conquer; it was all there. Brewing, dancing, and twirling in his veins and pumping through his little black heart just like Sirius thought it would. It was always there guarded by the expectations of society and by the good name of Potter.
This was a type of lust he had never felt before.
This was a new breed of monster that the world had created, a cunning beast in the guise of a young man.
'A wolf in sheep's clothing.'
He hadn't moved an inch since he fell silent early that morning. For hours his body was as still as a corpse in rigor mortis. Last night's screaming had only fueled the Dursleys' anger and wore away the thing veil of patience they kept in order to save their own hides. He endured the pain of the last few hours quietly as his body finished doing the growing it was supposed to have accomplished in the past 16 years. When the magic had run its course the Dursleys would begin to run theirs. Now his own patience was wearing away.
It was time to rise again. It was time for Lucien Black to take his place in the world.
He was tired of being a puppet. He was tired of running and hiding. He craved the life that had been so unfairly stolen from him. And now that the muggles he grew up with had reestablished their foolish bravery. He would break it and break them before they had a chance to put him back in the cupboard; whether it was the real thing or the proverbial one.
Slowly he began inching himself into a position where he was on his hands and knees. The aching in his body made his muscles spasm but he continued with resolve. The sunlight coming through the window cast a glint on something to his right that reminded him of the snitch. It was a penknife, sharp as a surgeon's knife. He reached over and pawed it.
It was time to seal his oath.
"I am Potter enough." The blonde spat. "I am de Sade enough." He kept pushing himself up off the floor with a new resolve. "I am certainly Black enough." He finished grasping the penknife that sat on his small desk and opened his other hand drawing a line across his palm. Thick crimson blood welled up and dripped down onto the floor where it began eating through the wood. Like a corrosive potion it dissolved the floorboards where it landed and dried up. His bitter emotions stimulated its acidity.
"By my blood I will have my life back and I will have my vengeance!" He hissed clenching his fist hard in order to squeeze more blood out.
"My name is Lucien Black. My family abandoned me for the afterlife. Voldemort is the name of my enemy. Dumbledore is the name of my obstacle. Vengeance is my goal and my first victims will be a muggle family who had the gall to treat a wizard like a common house elf."
He stood shakily like a newborn colt on unsteady legs and moved toward the door where he leaned up against it. He breathed deeply while willing away the dizzy feeling that overcame him. When the room stopped spinning he tried to open the door forgetting for a moment that it was locked from the outside.
Dropping the penknife and gripping the handle with both hands he leaned backwards and placed a foot on the door frame where he began pushing against it and pulling on the handle. The lock didn't break and the door didn't move. Before long he was out of breath and his quivering muscles were beyond exhausted.
Falling to a heap on the floor the boy crawled across the room to lean against the wall opposite the door. He had one last hope of getting out of the room without using magic. He stood again, his legs weaker than before. Determined to do the deed he crouched, sprung forward and took one great leap before his right shoulder encountered the door.
A crack of wood, a pain filled howl, and a body hitting the floor were the consequences in his second attempt at freedom. Tears welled up in his eyes and his gripped his shoulder tightly.
"Bloody hell!" He hissed sure that he most likely fractured something. "You couldn't have said anything useful could you Sirius? No nice little 'P.P.S. You don't possess super strength'!"
Although he could not break the door down he was heavy enough to make some kind of impact. A deep groove where flesh met wood and a slit down the middle of the door was plainly visible as well as some damaging along the door frame.
"One more try can't hurt, can it?" He wondered wearily.
It took another try on the door to crash through the wood. He lay in the wreckage for a few moments recovering from the painful impact. Extracting himself from the wooden splinters he kicked all the fragments into the room and did his best to damage the door frame from the outside to make it look like the room was broken in from the outside.
By the time he was done the commotion he made had drawn Petunia up the stairs. The air had become hushed. Not a sound was heard between the two of them except the frantic heart beat of the older woman. It began to pick up faster and faster. It felt like a drum beating loudly in his mind.
And as he moved forward the earth stopped moving and she remained frozen in place. Her pale eyes were staring at him in wonder. Not even the dust rose and fell, the world was awaiting his next move.
It somehow seemed to know that Lucien Black was going to commit a mortal crime. It would mark his birth and his eventual death.
He suddenly stood behind the older woman delightfully aware that he now towered over her. His nose was so overloaded with different scents that is was hard to pick out hers in the mix. But what he could pick up was the pheromones and hormones in the air. And when he wrapped his arms around her middle time started again and she let out a large breath.
Her blue eyes were wild now searching straight ahead of her where the platinum haired stranger used to stand only a second ago. The arms around her were slimmer than her husband's, longer, and stronger. The body behind her was as well, and long blonde hair shades lighter than hers like singular strands of white gold spilled over her shoulders as someone's head bent forward.
"W-who a-are you?" She breathed raggedly clutching at the arms around her waist and digging her fingernails into the skin that she came in contact with.
Lucien bent his head further and she was able to see as she angled her head backwards that the emerald green eyes that stared at her only moments earlier from across the hall melted into quicksilver and the black pupils lightened to a periwinkle and began to mix into the quicksilver in a swirl until they disappeared.
The colors mesmerized her and the ice cold of the body against hers slowed the speed of her brain activity until she had to fight to keep breathing.
"Who am I?" The man breathed against her neck sending shivers down her body. He inhaled making a show of taking in her scent. "It saddens me that you can't remember the boy that you so graciously raised under your roof." His deep thick French accent transforming into a higher pitched Oxford British she found familiar.
Her eyes rolled to the back of her head when his arms tightened around her torso and squeezed her harder lifting her up against his body until her toes no longer reached the ground. Her lungs pumped desperately for a breath of air and she started seeing spots. She clawed harder against his arms but didn't manage to draw any blood.
"Think Petunia. Who am I? Who has occupied your little cupboard under the stairs like an animal for ten years? Think hard Petunia, no matter how stupid you are even you know this. Your life depends on this answer."
He squeezed harder and her mouth opened wide as her body convulsed giving her the impression of a fish on dry land.
"Time is running out Mrs. Durlsey. Hurry." He whispered listening to her increased heart rate.
"P-p-p" She gasped opening and closing her mouth in a desperate attempt for air.
Lucien leaned closer to her mouth and squeezed her midsection harder. "What was that?" A small trickle of blood came up her throat and spilled down her chin.
"P-p-p-po" Tears ran down her cheeks and snot began dripping from her nose. A few drops fell on his arm and he shuddered in disgust. The stench of fear coming off of her was so palpable that he could feed on it.
"I can't understand you mon cherie." Her ribs started creaking from the pressure and her ears began to bleed.
"P-p" Her desperate attempts to get out of his arms began to weaken and her body began getting slack. Her heartbeat slowed and when she was on the very verge of losing consciousness Lucien let go of her. Gently leaning her body against his and tilting her head back so that air would be easier to attain.
"P-p-pot" She attempted gasping for precious oxygen and clutching onto his naked shoulders.
"No." He whispered to her. He turned her around to face him and wrapped an arm securely around her waist. He brought his other hand it up to her forehead and began tracing a jagged pattern into her skin with his index finger. He did a partial transformation and his fingernail suddenly lengthened into a thick black claw. Lucien continued making the pattern until his claw had retracted and his fingers were crimson and covered in blood.
Petunia whimpered weakly and let out a dry sob when his hand went to her throat and began applying pressure.
"You never played games with me Aunt Petunia. I think I'll play one game with you for old time's sake just to show you what fun you missed. This game is called 'Jeu du Foulard'."
Slowly he began to squeeze the slender column that was her neck. Her eyes became wide in fear again.
"Are you enjoying yourself Aunt?" He said his eyes moving from hers to her bleeding forehead where his tongue darted out unexpected and lapped at it out of curiosity.
"No matter how sour I might think you are your blood is surprisingly sweet. Perhaps I should bleed you to death?" He licked her forehead again relishing the coppery liquid.
"Please." She choked out feeling light headed from lack of air.
"It's a little late to beg Petunia." He squeezed harder and once again she was on the verge of blacking out but he released his hold on her neck and her heart started pumping faster again.
"Please don't kill me." Her tear filled eyes were starting to fill with her blood. It dripped over her brows and filled her vision with the color red.
"Why shouldn't I kill you? Give me one good reason Aunt."
She stilled and finally said two words that would have stopped him had he done this before the knowledge of his true heritage. "Your mother--."
"Is rolling in her grave." He finished her sentence and began squeezing her neck again. "Because of you." A single tear slid down his pale cheek. "All you had to do was love me! WHY COULDN'T YOU LOVE ME?!" He snarled it in her face making her cry out in alarm.
"Say you love me." He hissed. His anger causing him to tighten his grip on her body. He was strangling the very air out of her without even knowing it. "Say it!"
She was so very afraid. Her body was trembling and there was urine running down her leg. She stunk of terror. But she was so very beautiful at the same time. Her frailty appealed to him like nothing else ever had.
Something akin to pleasure began to cloud his mind. The scent of fresh blood as well as the heightened smell of fear overloaded his nose. Her thrashing body rubbing against his and the wild look in her eyes pressed him to squeeze harder and pull her tighter against him.
He removed the hand from her neck but kept applying pressure to her waist. He ripped at her bathrobe and undergarments in a lustful haze. His fingernails ripped the skin on her hips to ribbons and dug into her bone as he violated her and kept thrusting into her with vigor.
"Maybe you love me after all Aunt." He was beside himself with pleasure and his eyes were rolling back just as hers were but for a different reason. Soon he saw fireworks behind his eyelids and his excitement died down.
So wrapped in his pleasure was he that Lucien didn't know Petunia was dead until the drums in his head had died down and her body was even colder than his.
He let her drop to the ground and stepped away from the rapidly cooling corpse. Her blood and his semen mixed together on the second floor of Privet Drive.
"One down two to go."
He was already getting hard again with the anticipation.
He opened a door closest to him where the occupant inside was just getting dressed in his work clothes. Since none of the noise from the hallway made it through the door the man inside hadn't expected anything amiss in his household. Beady eyes stared at the beautiful stranger in the doorway half in fear and half in lust.
He licked his lips and sent the man his most charming smile. "Hello Vernon. Would you like to play with me?"
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Several hours later found Lucien sitting at the kitchen table sipping a cup of coffee and neatly piling muggle currency into a stack after having counted it. Three mutilated bodies were propped up in their usual spots at the table keeping him silent company. The stench of death filling the house and trails of blood painting the floors and the walls a rusty red. It was his first true masterpiece.
Lucien having found nothing suitable to wear found a beige overcoat obviously made for a man a foot shorter than him and four times his girth. There were house slippers on his feet that left part of his heels unprotected and large sunglasses over his eyes to hide the swirling colors.
It was either that or Dudley's tent-like school uniform that made him closely resemble a clown.
He stood after having finished his breakfast and hid the money in one of the pockets of the coat before heading back up to the second floor and the smallest bedroom. Once there he collected all of the papers he received from Gringotts, his invisibility cloak which he hid inside his coat, and his wand.
He opened the bedroom window and stuck his arm out, pointing the wand heaven wards and spoke the spell he'd seen done in his dreams many times.
"Mosmorde!"
A green skull hovered over the house of Privet Drive during high noon on July 31st and if anyone had been around they would have seen the back door open and close by an invisible hand and the shuffling of footsteps moving two blocks down where the Knight Bus appeared and moments later disappeared.
An invisible stranger boarded and the bus would be found later that night.
TBC.....
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Finally the third and last part of the prologue has been completed! Bwahaha. Good or bad? I already told you guys that Harry would be evil and sick and all things bad. Didn't I?
Well if I didn't, my bad. Hehe. Please don't kill me because I took so long to update. I already have very good ideas for the next chapter and it seems I've found my muse. So it won't be far behind. I solemnly swear on my precious coffee.
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!!! (Only if you want to, no pressure) I just won't post the next chapter until I'm satisfied with the reviews! :P I want to thank all of my reviewers, you guys really encourage me to write more, sometimes I'm just a bit slow. Oh and special thanks to Zachiliam for making corrections on my poor French. I've reposted both of the first chapters with minor corrections.
Kateri1: Thank Kateri. I try.
TheMadHatter33: Suck isn't even a strong enough word for it Mad. And apparently Harry agrees with you. Keep watching for updates!
Selua: Yeah I thought it would be interesting to connect him with someone realistic because I noticed that most people like to relate him to one of the founders and while that's cool I just wanted to do something new.
Alynna Lis Eachann: Thankies Alynna! I personally love Sirius-is-Harry's- father fics. Glad you do too.
S1: Whoa S1! Down S1! You almost knocked me over with your enthusiasm. lol. I'm glad you like.
Captain Oblivious: Hehe. don't worry about being inarticulate. I find myself like that early in the mornings as well, or just very sarcastic. Though I don't know how sarcastic you can get when grunting. Basically I'm useless without my coffee. I'm just glad you liked the story.
Lady of the Dawn: blushes Aww. That's so sweet. No one's called my writing beautiful before. Bwahaha in your face English Teacher! Honestly my teachers think I'm hopeless.
Zachiliam: Thanks so much for pointing me in the right direction with the French. Unfortunately I can't put the hyphen in between Et and tu though. Believe me I've tried. Oh and you know I didn't notice that my settings didn't accept anonymous reviewers! Thanks for pointing that out too. Thanks for all the help! I'll talk to you later!
MarsIsBrightTonight: bows Thank you very much. Your support means a lot. And I'll keep the super powers thing in mind. Though to tell you the truth I didn't plan on making him invincible, just determined. I'm glad you like it so far.
DarkJamAB: turns her back while DarkJamAB cries discreetly passes a tissue to Dark Well my friend, I'm glad that you liked the story. I really like to bring the readers into the story and try to make them feel some of the characters emotions. I'd say it worked quite well. Haha. I guess I should update soon so you won't stab me with a butter knife.
Mr. Happy Java Man: You have a good point about the fact that there's no proof that Sirius is dead but I can't make any promises. Keep checking the updates and maybe you'll be in luck one day. lol. I'm really glad you liked the story, I love any kind of story where Sirius is related or interacts with Harry.
Natural-mystic: I'm glad you like! And I'll update soon!
Star Lizard: Thank you for reviewing again! Yes Harry has certainly changed. How do you like Lucien so far? Good, bad, so-so?
Lonlyheart: Thanks lonly I'll try not to be long in updating the next chapter.
If you are Potter enough you will find him before he finds you, if you are De Sade enough you will sneak underneath his defenses and into his good graces, and if you are Black enough then you will beat him at his game and survive.
You will live through this war and despite everything that's been done to manipulate your life you will take it back from others' hands.
Adieu my son.
--Your father Sirius Black March 15, 1994
P.S. You're probably confused and maybe in pain right now. The potions and spells that are wearing off will do that to you. I advise you study up on Animagi because that grim form is quite painful until you change the way of transforming. It's a trait of a breed of Vampires that I unfortunately ran into when I was a child. It's sort of a half vampire half werewolf deal going on. Although you can control the transformation just as long as you do it at least once a month.
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Wide eyes stared at the paper mulling the information over until some sense could be made of it. Not that the letter didn't make sense, it was the mixed emotions. From the casual tempo that it started with to the tragic particulars and then the damn near depressing things until it was casual again at the very end.
'I am the son of a madman.' His body trembled and suddenly dropped to the ground after having gone back to normal. This time when he pushed himself to his knees and hands a curtain of platinum blonde hair fell in front of his face instead of the raven black. The enchantments were finally stripped and he was beginning to grow into himself.
"You bastard." He whispered so softly that even he barely heard it. "You left me. You abandoned me. You didn't want me." A tear slipped down his face and fell down onto the back of his hand. He shuddered and the sob he'd been trying to repress echoed through the room.
It had been years since he cried. And even then those tears were silent and fear filled. They didn't even make it past the small cot he slept on in his little cupboard. The last time he cried was when he was six years old. It was a whimper of a scared and miserable little boy.
But this was a harsh, bitter sound. His breath did not hitch in an attempt to quiet the cry. His voice was not stopped in his throat but sang a pitiful song. It sang of a thousand hardships, of a thousand betrayals. He bawled like a child in a man's body.
He lowered himself onto his elbows and buried his face into his forearms. Hot tears slid down his naked arms and with one fist he banged hard on the wooden floor while he howled his sorrows.
He grieved for the first and last time. He grieved for the mother he lost at birth, for the father that he lost the minute he signed him over to his new parents. He grieved for Lily and James Potter. He grieved for Sirius' death. He grieved for the wasted years. But most of all he grieved for Harry Potter, who had been dead for a long time and was now dead to him.
Whoever said crying was a weakness was an idiot, because at that moment it felt like bliss. The release of pent up emotions would add years to his life expectancy. His throat felt raw and his skin was itching from the saline in his tears but in his whole life he never felt better than he did then.
It was twenty minutes later that he calmed down. He lay bereft of clothing that had been tattered in his transformation and clutching the last thing he received from Sirius.
He could feel that his eyes were swollen and he could no longer breathe through his nose. Every breath that he took in stung and he was exhausted.
"I trusted you." He said just as quietly as the first time he spoke after reading the passage Sirius left him. "I trusted you above everyone. I loved you more than life itself. You betrayed my trust and my love." His voice was hallowed and empty. Nothing could sooth his pain.
A sudden flash of anger burned in his eyes and his voice took on a raspy quality when he yelled out, "You left me alone to be with your precious MANON!" His mother's name was spat out like it was a plague. "Fuck you SIRIUS BLACK! FUCK YOU!" His eyes flashed silver in his anger and shone in the dark of night. "YOU'RE NO FATHER OF MINE!"
But the anger that fueled that outburst was soon spent just like the rest of his energy.
However, he understood his Sirius' choice perfectly.
After all, who wants to take care of a worthless freak?
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"Potter wake up! Last night's racket was the last draw!" The nasal voice of the blonde ostrich-like woman on the other side of the door rang through the room. Her poundings for the last fifteen minutes were ignored and the occupant she was shouting for was no longer inside.
"You stupid boy! Just you wait until Vernon hears of this!" Petunia screeched again through the door giving it an extra thump for good measure with the foot of her shoe and sliding the newly installed lock on the outside closed. If one were to have sharp enough hearing they could make out her slipper clad footsteps heading down the hall toward the stairs until she finally descended into the kitchen and made breakfast.
'No, I won't wait anymore, this time you will.' The words echoed. These few words were the answer to his every problem. They were the solution to his every obstacle. They played over and over again in his mind. Constant thoughts of revenge and of hate brewing behind his eyes.
They thought that Malfoys could spite, that Blacks were deranged, that de Sades were perverse, that the Dursleys could hate. But none of them knew true hatred like he did. The utter revulsion, the complete loathing that burned inside of him could not be matched by any witch, wizard, muggle, squib, animal, or dark creature.
It was time he became the predator instead of the prey.
He could feel it coursing through his body. The need to rip, the urge to corrupt, and the compulsion to conquer; it was all there. Brewing, dancing, and twirling in his veins and pumping through his little black heart just like Sirius thought it would. It was always there guarded by the expectations of society and by the good name of Potter.
This was a type of lust he had never felt before.
This was a new breed of monster that the world had created, a cunning beast in the guise of a young man.
'A wolf in sheep's clothing.'
He hadn't moved an inch since he fell silent early that morning. For hours his body was as still as a corpse in rigor mortis. Last night's screaming had only fueled the Dursleys' anger and wore away the thing veil of patience they kept in order to save their own hides. He endured the pain of the last few hours quietly as his body finished doing the growing it was supposed to have accomplished in the past 16 years. When the magic had run its course the Dursleys would begin to run theirs. Now his own patience was wearing away.
It was time to rise again. It was time for Lucien Black to take his place in the world.
He was tired of being a puppet. He was tired of running and hiding. He craved the life that had been so unfairly stolen from him. And now that the muggles he grew up with had reestablished their foolish bravery. He would break it and break them before they had a chance to put him back in the cupboard; whether it was the real thing or the proverbial one.
Slowly he began inching himself into a position where he was on his hands and knees. The aching in his body made his muscles spasm but he continued with resolve. The sunlight coming through the window cast a glint on something to his right that reminded him of the snitch. It was a penknife, sharp as a surgeon's knife. He reached over and pawed it.
It was time to seal his oath.
"I am Potter enough." The blonde spat. "I am de Sade enough." He kept pushing himself up off the floor with a new resolve. "I am certainly Black enough." He finished grasping the penknife that sat on his small desk and opened his other hand drawing a line across his palm. Thick crimson blood welled up and dripped down onto the floor where it began eating through the wood. Like a corrosive potion it dissolved the floorboards where it landed and dried up. His bitter emotions stimulated its acidity.
"By my blood I will have my life back and I will have my vengeance!" He hissed clenching his fist hard in order to squeeze more blood out.
"My name is Lucien Black. My family abandoned me for the afterlife. Voldemort is the name of my enemy. Dumbledore is the name of my obstacle. Vengeance is my goal and my first victims will be a muggle family who had the gall to treat a wizard like a common house elf."
He stood shakily like a newborn colt on unsteady legs and moved toward the door where he leaned up against it. He breathed deeply while willing away the dizzy feeling that overcame him. When the room stopped spinning he tried to open the door forgetting for a moment that it was locked from the outside.
Dropping the penknife and gripping the handle with both hands he leaned backwards and placed a foot on the door frame where he began pushing against it and pulling on the handle. The lock didn't break and the door didn't move. Before long he was out of breath and his quivering muscles were beyond exhausted.
Falling to a heap on the floor the boy crawled across the room to lean against the wall opposite the door. He had one last hope of getting out of the room without using magic. He stood again, his legs weaker than before. Determined to do the deed he crouched, sprung forward and took one great leap before his right shoulder encountered the door.
A crack of wood, a pain filled howl, and a body hitting the floor were the consequences in his second attempt at freedom. Tears welled up in his eyes and his gripped his shoulder tightly.
"Bloody hell!" He hissed sure that he most likely fractured something. "You couldn't have said anything useful could you Sirius? No nice little 'P.P.S. You don't possess super strength'!"
Although he could not break the door down he was heavy enough to make some kind of impact. A deep groove where flesh met wood and a slit down the middle of the door was plainly visible as well as some damaging along the door frame.
"One more try can't hurt, can it?" He wondered wearily.
It took another try on the door to crash through the wood. He lay in the wreckage for a few moments recovering from the painful impact. Extracting himself from the wooden splinters he kicked all the fragments into the room and did his best to damage the door frame from the outside to make it look like the room was broken in from the outside.
By the time he was done the commotion he made had drawn Petunia up the stairs. The air had become hushed. Not a sound was heard between the two of them except the frantic heart beat of the older woman. It began to pick up faster and faster. It felt like a drum beating loudly in his mind.
And as he moved forward the earth stopped moving and she remained frozen in place. Her pale eyes were staring at him in wonder. Not even the dust rose and fell, the world was awaiting his next move.
It somehow seemed to know that Lucien Black was going to commit a mortal crime. It would mark his birth and his eventual death.
He suddenly stood behind the older woman delightfully aware that he now towered over her. His nose was so overloaded with different scents that is was hard to pick out hers in the mix. But what he could pick up was the pheromones and hormones in the air. And when he wrapped his arms around her middle time started again and she let out a large breath.
Her blue eyes were wild now searching straight ahead of her where the platinum haired stranger used to stand only a second ago. The arms around her were slimmer than her husband's, longer, and stronger. The body behind her was as well, and long blonde hair shades lighter than hers like singular strands of white gold spilled over her shoulders as someone's head bent forward.
"W-who a-are you?" She breathed raggedly clutching at the arms around her waist and digging her fingernails into the skin that she came in contact with.
Lucien bent his head further and she was able to see as she angled her head backwards that the emerald green eyes that stared at her only moments earlier from across the hall melted into quicksilver and the black pupils lightened to a periwinkle and began to mix into the quicksilver in a swirl until they disappeared.
The colors mesmerized her and the ice cold of the body against hers slowed the speed of her brain activity until she had to fight to keep breathing.
"Who am I?" The man breathed against her neck sending shivers down her body. He inhaled making a show of taking in her scent. "It saddens me that you can't remember the boy that you so graciously raised under your roof." His deep thick French accent transforming into a higher pitched Oxford British she found familiar.
Her eyes rolled to the back of her head when his arms tightened around her torso and squeezed her harder lifting her up against his body until her toes no longer reached the ground. Her lungs pumped desperately for a breath of air and she started seeing spots. She clawed harder against his arms but didn't manage to draw any blood.
"Think Petunia. Who am I? Who has occupied your little cupboard under the stairs like an animal for ten years? Think hard Petunia, no matter how stupid you are even you know this. Your life depends on this answer."
He squeezed harder and her mouth opened wide as her body convulsed giving her the impression of a fish on dry land.
"Time is running out Mrs. Durlsey. Hurry." He whispered listening to her increased heart rate.
"P-p-p" She gasped opening and closing her mouth in a desperate attempt for air.
Lucien leaned closer to her mouth and squeezed her midsection harder. "What was that?" A small trickle of blood came up her throat and spilled down her chin.
"P-p-p-po" Tears ran down her cheeks and snot began dripping from her nose. A few drops fell on his arm and he shuddered in disgust. The stench of fear coming off of her was so palpable that he could feed on it.
"I can't understand you mon cherie." Her ribs started creaking from the pressure and her ears began to bleed.
"P-p" Her desperate attempts to get out of his arms began to weaken and her body began getting slack. Her heartbeat slowed and when she was on the very verge of losing consciousness Lucien let go of her. Gently leaning her body against his and tilting her head back so that air would be easier to attain.
"P-p-pot" She attempted gasping for precious oxygen and clutching onto his naked shoulders.
"No." He whispered to her. He turned her around to face him and wrapped an arm securely around her waist. He brought his other hand it up to her forehead and began tracing a jagged pattern into her skin with his index finger. He did a partial transformation and his fingernail suddenly lengthened into a thick black claw. Lucien continued making the pattern until his claw had retracted and his fingers were crimson and covered in blood.
Petunia whimpered weakly and let out a dry sob when his hand went to her throat and began applying pressure.
"You never played games with me Aunt Petunia. I think I'll play one game with you for old time's sake just to show you what fun you missed. This game is called 'Jeu du Foulard'."
Slowly he began to squeeze the slender column that was her neck. Her eyes became wide in fear again.
"Are you enjoying yourself Aunt?" He said his eyes moving from hers to her bleeding forehead where his tongue darted out unexpected and lapped at it out of curiosity.
"No matter how sour I might think you are your blood is surprisingly sweet. Perhaps I should bleed you to death?" He licked her forehead again relishing the coppery liquid.
"Please." She choked out feeling light headed from lack of air.
"It's a little late to beg Petunia." He squeezed harder and once again she was on the verge of blacking out but he released his hold on her neck and her heart started pumping faster again.
"Please don't kill me." Her tear filled eyes were starting to fill with her blood. It dripped over her brows and filled her vision with the color red.
"Why shouldn't I kill you? Give me one good reason Aunt."
She stilled and finally said two words that would have stopped him had he done this before the knowledge of his true heritage. "Your mother--."
"Is rolling in her grave." He finished her sentence and began squeezing her neck again. "Because of you." A single tear slid down his pale cheek. "All you had to do was love me! WHY COULDN'T YOU LOVE ME?!" He snarled it in her face making her cry out in alarm.
"Say you love me." He hissed. His anger causing him to tighten his grip on her body. He was strangling the very air out of her without even knowing it. "Say it!"
She was so very afraid. Her body was trembling and there was urine running down her leg. She stunk of terror. But she was so very beautiful at the same time. Her frailty appealed to him like nothing else ever had.
Something akin to pleasure began to cloud his mind. The scent of fresh blood as well as the heightened smell of fear overloaded his nose. Her thrashing body rubbing against his and the wild look in her eyes pressed him to squeeze harder and pull her tighter against him.
He removed the hand from her neck but kept applying pressure to her waist. He ripped at her bathrobe and undergarments in a lustful haze. His fingernails ripped the skin on her hips to ribbons and dug into her bone as he violated her and kept thrusting into her with vigor.
"Maybe you love me after all Aunt." He was beside himself with pleasure and his eyes were rolling back just as hers were but for a different reason. Soon he saw fireworks behind his eyelids and his excitement died down.
So wrapped in his pleasure was he that Lucien didn't know Petunia was dead until the drums in his head had died down and her body was even colder than his.
He let her drop to the ground and stepped away from the rapidly cooling corpse. Her blood and his semen mixed together on the second floor of Privet Drive.
"One down two to go."
He was already getting hard again with the anticipation.
He opened a door closest to him where the occupant inside was just getting dressed in his work clothes. Since none of the noise from the hallway made it through the door the man inside hadn't expected anything amiss in his household. Beady eyes stared at the beautiful stranger in the doorway half in fear and half in lust.
He licked his lips and sent the man his most charming smile. "Hello Vernon. Would you like to play with me?"
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Several hours later found Lucien sitting at the kitchen table sipping a cup of coffee and neatly piling muggle currency into a stack after having counted it. Three mutilated bodies were propped up in their usual spots at the table keeping him silent company. The stench of death filling the house and trails of blood painting the floors and the walls a rusty red. It was his first true masterpiece.
Lucien having found nothing suitable to wear found a beige overcoat obviously made for a man a foot shorter than him and four times his girth. There were house slippers on his feet that left part of his heels unprotected and large sunglasses over his eyes to hide the swirling colors.
It was either that or Dudley's tent-like school uniform that made him closely resemble a clown.
He stood after having finished his breakfast and hid the money in one of the pockets of the coat before heading back up to the second floor and the smallest bedroom. Once there he collected all of the papers he received from Gringotts, his invisibility cloak which he hid inside his coat, and his wand.
He opened the bedroom window and stuck his arm out, pointing the wand heaven wards and spoke the spell he'd seen done in his dreams many times.
"Mosmorde!"
A green skull hovered over the house of Privet Drive during high noon on July 31st and if anyone had been around they would have seen the back door open and close by an invisible hand and the shuffling of footsteps moving two blocks down where the Knight Bus appeared and moments later disappeared.
An invisible stranger boarded and the bus would be found later that night.
TBC.....
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = AUTHOR'S NOTE
Finally the third and last part of the prologue has been completed! Bwahaha. Good or bad? I already told you guys that Harry would be evil and sick and all things bad. Didn't I?
Well if I didn't, my bad. Hehe. Please don't kill me because I took so long to update. I already have very good ideas for the next chapter and it seems I've found my muse. So it won't be far behind. I solemnly swear on my precious coffee.
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!!! (Only if you want to, no pressure) I just won't post the next chapter until I'm satisfied with the reviews! :P I want to thank all of my reviewers, you guys really encourage me to write more, sometimes I'm just a bit slow. Oh and special thanks to Zachiliam for making corrections on my poor French. I've reposted both of the first chapters with minor corrections.
Kateri1: Thank Kateri. I try.
TheMadHatter33: Suck isn't even a strong enough word for it Mad. And apparently Harry agrees with you. Keep watching for updates!
Selua: Yeah I thought it would be interesting to connect him with someone realistic because I noticed that most people like to relate him to one of the founders and while that's cool I just wanted to do something new.
Alynna Lis Eachann: Thankies Alynna! I personally love Sirius-is-Harry's- father fics. Glad you do too.
S1: Whoa S1! Down S1! You almost knocked me over with your enthusiasm. lol. I'm glad you like.
Captain Oblivious: Hehe. don't worry about being inarticulate. I find myself like that early in the mornings as well, or just very sarcastic. Though I don't know how sarcastic you can get when grunting. Basically I'm useless without my coffee. I'm just glad you liked the story.
Lady of the Dawn: blushes Aww. That's so sweet. No one's called my writing beautiful before. Bwahaha in your face English Teacher! Honestly my teachers think I'm hopeless.
Zachiliam: Thanks so much for pointing me in the right direction with the French. Unfortunately I can't put the hyphen in between Et and tu though. Believe me I've tried. Oh and you know I didn't notice that my settings didn't accept anonymous reviewers! Thanks for pointing that out too. Thanks for all the help! I'll talk to you later!
MarsIsBrightTonight: bows Thank you very much. Your support means a lot. And I'll keep the super powers thing in mind. Though to tell you the truth I didn't plan on making him invincible, just determined. I'm glad you like it so far.
DarkJamAB: turns her back while DarkJamAB cries discreetly passes a tissue to Dark Well my friend, I'm glad that you liked the story. I really like to bring the readers into the story and try to make them feel some of the characters emotions. I'd say it worked quite well. Haha. I guess I should update soon so you won't stab me with a butter knife.
Mr. Happy Java Man: You have a good point about the fact that there's no proof that Sirius is dead but I can't make any promises. Keep checking the updates and maybe you'll be in luck one day. lol. I'm really glad you liked the story, I love any kind of story where Sirius is related or interacts with Harry.
Natural-mystic: I'm glad you like! And I'll update soon!
Star Lizard: Thank you for reviewing again! Yes Harry has certainly changed. How do you like Lucien so far? Good, bad, so-so?
Lonlyheart: Thanks lonly I'll try not to be long in updating the next chapter.