CrimsonNoble
A/N: I's bored. Wanna blow shit up.
Disclaimer: I make no claims toward ownership of Harry Potter. I do,
however, claim ownership of Ange. 'Cause they're mine.
WARNING: This is rated R for a reason. Should you
choose to ignore said reason, read at your own risk. Masochism,
sadism, sensuality, graphic violence, and harsh language. Possible
male/male relationships, or female/female. Ye hast been warned.
Should any of the above be objectionable to you, there is a back
button on your browser, a convienient hyperlink back to the main Harry
Potter section of the site, and a simple right-click will reveal an
option for "back", if your computer works like mine. Can't help mac
users there.
Spoilers: OotP, GoF, PoA, CoS, SS.
Chapter 5:
Hogsmeade Station. 1620, September 1.
Harry stepped off the train, wondering somewhere in the back of his
mind if Draco had made it back on. Crabbe and Goyle being dead
couldn't have helped him.
Oh, yes. They were dead. A wise man had once said, 'Never believe your
enemy dead until you meet them in the afterlife.' Fuck that. Holding
their still beating heart was good enough for him.
His electric-green eyes flickered over the first years dismounting the
train, heading toward the voice of one Argus Filch.
Poor Hagrid. In a coma since the first years were attacked in the
middle of the lake last year...
Maybe he should end the man's misery. No, not man. Half-man.
How much blood did he have?
Harry patted a Thestral absentmindedly as he neared the door to the
carrige he wanted.
"Potter!"
Harry's eyes narrowed for the slightest instant before returning to
widely innocent.
"What is it, Snape?" He asked blithely.
"Its Professor Snape to you, Potter. Or better yet, since I don't want
you demeaning my name, 'My Lord and Master'." Snape spat.
"Righty-o then Snape. What is it?"
The man sighed. "Much to my displeasure, I have been given the
revolting task of making sure you make it to the feast safely. You are
not to ride in the carriges. Come with me."
"No."
"What!?" The man bellowed.
"No. Do you need me to spell it out for you? N-O. As in denial,
negative, opposite of yes, you have heard of this, right?" Harry
defined.
"This is not optional Potter! You are coming with me!" Snape raged.
"Nah. Do not think so." Harry continued his refusal.
Snape drew his wand. "Don't make me do this Potter."
"Then go away Snape."
The man snarled and started, "Pet-"
To be interrupted by Potter lashing out, catching his wand hand and
driving it into the flank of the Thestral.
The wand stabbed into its flesh, and it took off, dragging the carrige
behind it, the wand still stuck in its body.
Snape glared. "Fifty points for assaulting a teacher, Potter."
"Goody! Gryffindor is fifty points in the lead already!"
"That was minus fifty points, Potter."
"Nuh-uh! You said 'fifty points', not 'minus fifty points'. Thank you
Snape. Mabye I should assault you more, should I?"
Snape went a delicate shade of turquoise and brought his hand around
to slap the impudent child.
To have his wrist caught in a silken grip.
"Let go of me Potter. I think that will be a detention and minus one
hundred points..."
"Well Professor, seeing as how you were the agressor, and I have," he
waved his hand toward the students watching, "More than enough
witnesses to prove it, I think it is safe to assume that should you
choose to enact that pusnishment, I can get you put on probation..."
Snape glared.
"Of course, that will not be all I do. No, that would be too easy. For
you, I mean." He lowered his voice so only Snape could hear. "Then
I will have to disembowl you. And other such unpleasant things."
"Was that a threat Potter?" Snape demanded, his face twisting.
"You know, I think it was. Unless you don't think it was. In which
case, I suppose you're wrong."
Harry let the man's arm fall, and turned toward another carrige.
"Potter! Why aren't you in your robes?"
"I did not want to be."
"I think that warrants a negative ten points..."
"Whatever gets you off, Snape."
"MINUS ONE-HUNDRED POINTS POTTER!" The man bellowed.
"If it helps you sleep at night to know you have punished someone for
your own actions, sure. Whatever."
"If you do not come with me, Potter, I will be forced to continue
taking points from Gryffindor..."
"Too fucking bad term has not started and points cannot be modified
yet."
Harry continued away from the man.
"I can get you expelled Potter. You should think about that."
"Brilliant, o dear Snape. Expell the boy the world has placed their
hopes on? Of course! Why not deliver his head on a silver platter to
Tom yourself? Too much of a coward to take a seventeen year old who
hasn't even finished schooling yet?"
"I'm warning you Potter."
"You do that. But I am afraid you soon will not have any power. How
absolutely tragic."
Harry opened the door to the carrige.
"Enter and I will make your life, and your friend's lives hell
Potter."
"Ah, well. You see, that's a problem. I am no longer in your class.
As I am sure you well remember."
Snape did. Oh, how he had enjoyed crushing the child's hopes of
becoming an Auror.
"As such, I have no cause to see you outside of meals. Now, as much as
I have enjoyed this banter of ours, I must begone."
He stepped into the carrige and slowly shut the door.
Automatically the Thestrals began their climb to the castle.
Hogsmeade Station. 1647, September 1.
-------
Hogwarts. 1700, September 1.
With the Sorting just finishing, not that he had been paying attention
to it in the first place, Harry returned to giving a sort of vapid
glare at the girl on his left.
He actually had no idea who she was, just that she was annoying the
hell out of him.
He was twitching again. It was as if the slight fix he had recieved
from punishing Malfoy was already gone.
As such, it was understandable that he nearly flattened the closest
people when the doors to the Great Hall burst open and a pair of
Aurors stalked in.
Dumbledore looked surprised. And angry.
"What is the meaning of this?" He demanded threateningly.
"We have orders from the head of our department, headmaster. For the
arrest of one Harry Potter."
Instant pandemonium ensued, quickly silenced by the nifty wandwork of
Professor Flitwick.
"On what grounds?" Dumbledore's questioning voice brittle with anger.
The head Auror rolled open a sheet of parchment. "Five accounts of
murder, one account of destruction of public property, two accounts of
assault with intent to kill, two accounts of assault on ministry
employees, one account of self-defense resulting in harm, and one
account of theft."
Harry was confused. The hell? He hadn't stolen anything... recently,
at least.
"I refuse to let you take him."
"Then you will be charged with aiding and abetting, headmaster."
"Headmaster... I would like to add that Potter assaulted me earlier
this very day when you sent me to fetch him."
"Very well, one account of assaulting a civilian shall be added to the
list of charges."
"I still cannot let you take him."
Harry stood and moved forward.
"I will go Professor. There is nothing to fear, in a court of law
truth will prevail." Yes, it would. Though it would not be the truth
Albus Dumbledore hoped for. And it was suitably naive that it was
something he would say. Would have said. Whatever.
"Thank you, Mister Potter."
Harry held out his wrists, and was promptly shackled by the Aurors,
before his wand was confiscated and he was lead from the silently
chaotic hall.
Hogwarts. 1722, September 1.
-------
Courtroom 15, ???. 0430, September 4.
Harry yawned boredly as he listened to the array of charges against
him. He was impressed that they had managed to trace his movements to
the park that had burned by his Incendiary spell, and yet more
disgusted by the idea that they thought those bodies, those beasts,
had been people. More than that, he wondered who had talked about his
assault on Remus. Not that anyone knew the truth of that incident, but
someone had talked.
His charge of assault on Moody was highly unsurprising. After all, it
was kind of hard to miss a missing ear. The scars alone would have
gone unnoticed, but the ear went a bit beyond that. He could only feel
disgust at the idea of caring enough to attempt to kill Malfoy, of all
people. Sure, he'd broken the boy's jaw, and that was worth a harmful
intent charge, but he had put the child in full view of fully
qualified witches and wizards who could have easily fixed the damage.
Two ministry employees had confused him, but it was not shocking.
Moody had been called to active duty again, and Tonks had come back
smothered in blood, unconcious, after following him into a forest that
had shortly thereafter burned down, in which he had commited five
accounts of "murder". Not a hard conclusion to get to, espcially
considering the way her memory was shot to hell when she got smashed.
Which she was doing more and more now.
The theft, however... it was far beyond him. It was the one charge he
was completely innocent of, though that wouldn't get him far. He was
still looking at a total sentence of six or so consecutive life
sentences in the Labyrinth prison, fifteen years of solitary
confinement, twenty in a muggle prison, and of course, the fifty pound
fee for theft. Idiot muggles. He hadn't even been in London at the
time of the theft!
He quirked an ear at the silence that had descended upon the
courtroom. "Eh?"
The prosecution lawyer--Rodney, was it?--glared at him. "I asked,
Mister Potter, if you had anything to say for yourself."
"Oh, yes. Yes, I do. I plead guilty of all charges but theft, seeing
as I have no idea where the hell you pulled that one out of your ass,
and would like to add a few more while you're at it."
His arms ripped free of the chains, shattering the metal loudly enough
to hide the snap-sizzle of his arms as they whirled to aim at two
members of the bench. The retort was unmistakeable, as was the sight
of the head of one Cornelius Fudge exploding, and the arm of one
Nigel Kirkland falling from his destroyed shoulder.
"One account of assassination of a ranking ministry official. One
account of assault with deadly intent on a ranking ministry official."
A swarm of Aurors flooded the room, wands drawn and ready.
Harry counted, ignoring the mass screaming and attempt at mass exodus.
"Eighteen counts of assault on officers of the law, one count of
resisting arrest."
He ducked behind the stone chair, and heard the impact of several
spells on it. His hand shot out, and he snatched Rodney's wand from
where it had fallen.
He slithered out from behind the chair, and mumbled some random
gibberish under his breath, releasing spells as he did so.
Watching the damage the curses caused as they impacted the organized
Aurors. One particularly powerful Reductor shattered a shield, and
then a man's ribcage.
"Correction," he boomed, "seventeen counts of assault on officers of
the law, and one count of manslaughter."
From behind a desk, he gazed upward, and redrew the rune on his chest.
"I dedicate this blood, these deaths, this battle, this Chaos to
Loki."
He jabbed the wand back into the waistband of his still indelibly
white slacks, and jumped over the overturned desk. Most of the Aurors
immediately ducked for cover, though one brave soul stood long enough
to see the pure ecstacy in Potter's face before he passed out.
He bowled into the remaining sixteen Aurors, noting each impact, he
did have to make good on those charges after all.
Oh, look! A sacrifical lamb.
Harry snapped the man's arm, and stole his wand.
That was fifteen. He needed one more.
The last man cowered behind a bench, occasionally firing a curse over
the wood, more often than not hitting the Aurors Harry was using as
meatshields. Harry slashed the newly acquired wand at him, wondering
who's idea it had been to use pine, a notoriously powerful amplifier
wood, to create the benches. He thanked them.
And then he bolted from the room, darting through the empty hallways.
Mentally checking the elapsed time. Five seconds, Raye. You're getting
slow.
Yes, yes.
You could have run it in three.
Stealing wands was never a scenario.
The were unnecessary. Without a wand, it should have taken you four.
Alright! I fucked up! I had no exersize in over a month! A break!
He ignored his retort to his statement, in favor of attempting to
figure out where he was as he burst out of the building.
Holy. Fuck.
He knew that museum! It was the Louvre! He was in fucking Paris!
Courtroom 15, Paris. 0515, September 4.
Jess16--Dragon-boy's a coward. And a horny one to boot. Gets his kicks
off attempting to abuse the first years.
mistik-elf13--They are, the entire italicized portion, in order:
Place, Area. Time, Date.
Nigel Kirkland is from Bubblegum Crisis 2040. I don't dislike him, other
than he's in between Priss/Sylia, my... second-ish favorite pairing.